his computer, so he wouldn’t have to see the twisted emails piling up there, but he didn’t want to turn off his phone. What if his kids needed him?
Meanwhile, Cari’s family still waited for answers. They still received the occasional text or Facebook message from someone claiming to be Cari. None of the notes sounded like her. Nancy repeatedly told skeptical police that someone had stolen her daughter’s identity, but no one would listen, and she was discouraged.
Where is my daughter? It was Nancy’s first thought when she opened her eyes in the morning. On April 17, 2013, approximately five months after Cari went missing, Nancy received a phone call from a man identifying himself as Dave Kroupa. “Cari called me,” he reported. “She’s at a homeless shelter in Omaha. She wants you to pick her up.” It was the best news Nancy could have imagined, but she began to tremble. After months of believing her daughter was gone forever, she was now learning she had been wrong. Cari was alive! Did this mean that Cari really did have a breakdown? Was she okay now? Whatever her state of mind, Nancy would help her heal. They would get through it together.
According to the caller, her daughter waited for her at The Siena/Francis House. “Mark was out of town, and I didn’t think I could drive, so I called my brother.” Jeff lived nearby, and he rushed over to pick up his sister.
Nancy called Deputy Phyllips, and he told her that he and Detective Oetter would meet them at the shelter. The thirty-minute drive felt like forever as the familiar terrain rolled past the window. She stared at the endless cornfields she’d seen a thousand times, first as a child riding in her parents’ car, and later as a mother driving her children. She knew this land so well, but today it felt surreal.
On the last leg of their journey they crossed the Missouri River via the Grenville Dodge Memorial Bridge, eight lanes of traffic connecting Council Bluffs to Omaha. Midway across the bridge westbound travelers are welcomed by a giant, green overhead highway sign announcing, “Nebraska . . . The Good Life. Home of Arbor Day.”
Siena/Francis House holds the record for the area’s busiest homeless shelter. It is just north of downtown Omaha, about a mile west of Iowa as the goldfinch flies. Surrounded by warehouses, factories, and vacant lots, the facility is well kept, and on the outside resembles an elementary school with its landscaped grounds, wide, clean walkways, and big rack of bicycles near the front entryway. Founded in 1975, the institution has a policy of “unconditional acceptance,” and opens its doors to everyone in need, including the chronically addicted and mentally ill. As Jeff pulled up in front of the building, Nancy glanced anxiously around, half expecting to see her daughter waiting outside.
They had arrived about the same time as the detectives. “They didn’t want us to go in,” Nancy recollects. “They had a photo of Cari and took it in with them.” She wasn’t sure why the investigators asked them to wait outside, but she did as they requested. Jeff, too, had been devastated by his niece’s disappearance, and he tried to reassure his anxious sister as they waited. They nervously eyed the door, eager for a glimpse of Cari.
Any minute now, Nancy’s prayers would be answered. Any minute now, her tall and lovely daughter would walk out that door and into her arms, and Nancy would hold on tight. But the detectives came out alone. Phyllips shook his head, and Nancy’s heart sank. Cari was not there and never had been. No one at Siena/Francis House had recognized her picture.
Heartbroken, Jeff and Nancy headed back to Macedonia. The horrific roller-coaster ride of grief and then hope and then loss again left Nancy nauseous. Remembering the heartless hoax, she says quietly, “Talk about being kicked in the gut!” She was glad she hadn’t told Maxwell. She had made the wise decision to wait until she had a grasp on the situation before sharing the news with him. If there was anything that hurt more than missing her daughter, it was knowing that Max grieved for her, too. The boy was stoic around his grandparents, trying to spare them the pain of knowing he was in pain, but he grieved openly at his girlfriend’s house.
When Dave Kroupa was questioned about his call to Nancy, he was surprised. He had not phoned her for any reason and certainly