Her Mother’s Grave

Chapter Forty-Three

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Josie said, looking from Gretchen to Noah, who stood in front of her desk like a couple of school children being reprimanded by the principal.

Noah shook his head, a mournful look in his eye. “I’m sorry, Boss. Handy Helpers Cleaning Service went out of business in 1984, when the owner died. Car accident. Not long after Belinda disappeared.”

“I talked to a couple of his relatives—a niece and nephew. No one kept any of the records from the business,” Gretchen said.

“So there wouldn’t be any personnel records,” Josie said.

“Sorry, Boss,” Noah offered.

Gretchen said, “There is still Sophia Bowen, the judge’s wife. If she used to hang around with Belinda and the girl from the cleaning service, maybe she can offer us a lead. She said she can meet with us later today, and she lives in Denton now.”

Josie considered this. Interviewing Sophia Bowen had been a priority to begin with, but she had really hoped that the cleaning service personnel records would give them something more solid than someone’s memories. A first and last name. A date of birth. A social security number. Anything that might tell them the identity of Josie’s mother before she stole Belinda Rose’s life.

“I’ll go with you,” Josie said. “Where are you with the list of girls who lived in Maggie Lane’s care home during the time Belinda was there?”

“Well, that’s the good news,” Gretchen said, pulling a sheaf of papers from her back pocket and handing them to Josie. “I have a complete list, and Angie is on her way to the station to talk to us.”

The disappointment Josie felt just moments earlier gave way to hope. “That’s great.”

Gretchen helped Josie spread the pages across her desk. “There are fourteen girls in all who lived at Maggie Lane’s care home while Belinda was there. Two of them we can eliminate because they were adopted out before Belinda turned ten. Three of them are dead. One is in prison. Two were moved to different foster homes before Belinda reached high-school age. That leaves six of them, including Angie Dobson—that’s her married name—who is on her way here.”

Gretchen pointed to a photo of a woman in her early fifties with long brown hair just starting to show strands of gray. The photo looked as though it had been pulled from a social media account. In it, Dobson stood on a beach at sunset, smiling with sunburned cheeks, a Hawaiian-print sleeveless sundress wrapped around her thick frame. The straps of her bathing suit peeked from beneath the dress, cutting into her tan shoulders. “She lives outside of Philadelphia, but her daughter goes to college here, and she’s in town to visit. She graduated the same year that Belinda would have graduated.”

“What about the others?” Josie asked, studying each of the photos, most of which had been pulled from social media. There was one mug shot and the photos of the three women who had already passed on, accompanied their obituaries. All looked to be in their forties or fifties. None resembled Josie’s mother.

“I’ve spoken to them all,” Gretchen said. “They didn’t have much to offer. Belinda did her own thing. Most of them didn’t like her because Mrs. Lane seemed to favor her. Then she got the job at the courthouse and was hardly ever home. They confirmed her gaining weight shortly after she started at the courthouse, running away for three months, and then when she came back, always being over at Lloyd Todd’s place. A couple of them said they suspected that she was pregnant, but they couldn’t say for sure. None of them recall her talking about where she went when she ran away. Two of them said they thought she had a few friends at the courthouse, but they don’t remember any names. None of them remembered the names of any of her friends other than Lloyd and Damon Todd.”

“So, this Angie is our last hope as far as the care home girls go,” Josie said.

Gretchen nodded. “Yeah, hopefully she knows something the others didn’t.”

“Well if Belinda didn’t confide in anyone at the care home,” Noah piped up, “there’s still Judge Bowen’s wife.”