The Shadow's Edge by Patrick Dakin Page A

operation called Toddler Town in an upscale area of Lewiston, at least that was the impression one got from her ad. I knew from the map at the back of the phone book it was far removed from where Callie had made her appearances at Cheng’s Grocery. “Toddler Town Daycare,” she shouted into the phone.”
                  “Hello,” I said loudly enough to hopefully be heard. “I was wondering if I could talk to someone about the Caring Companions support group?”
                  “Yes. How can I help you, sir?”
                  “Is it possible that I could stop by to see you? I have a few questions that would probably be easier to deal with in person.”
                  “Yeah, no problem,” she answered, “but can it wait till this evening? I’ve got my hands full here till five thirty.”
                  “Sure,” I said. “Any time at all is fine.”
                  “Okay. I’ll give you my address.”
                  “That’s okay, I’ve got your ad from the phone book. I can find it.”
                  “No, that’s the Daycare,” she clarified. “The support group meets on the other side of town, near my home. It’s on Fir Street, just off Union. Do you know the area?”
                  “Yes,” I said hardly able to believe my ears. “I think I do.”
     
                  I waited until I figured she’d be done with dinner before calling on Lauren. Her home was easy to find - it was within a stone’s throw of where I had been parked for the better part of a day. It was a restored two and a half storey, century-old structure - what was known as an American Four-square - and probably the nicest home within a six block area. When I knocked on the door I was greeted by a tall, dark complexioned woman about forty who looked like she weighed around eighty pounds. My first thought was that the daycare kids probably ran her so hard they had made her anorexic. “Hello,” I said, “I’m Jack Parmenter. I believe I spoke to you earlier about the support group?”
                  “Hi,” she said. “Come on in. I’m Lauren. Please excuse the mess. I haven’t had a chance to get to the cleaning yet. Busy these days.”
                  The sound of children running and yelling in various parts of the house was harder to ignore. “Not a problem,” I assured her.
                  “Have a seat, Mr. Parmenter. Can I get you anything?”
                  “No, nothing. Thank you.”
                  She sat opposite me, perched delicately on a divan. “So, how can I help you? You wanted some information on the support group meetings? I should say right up front, our group is really just for women. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression from the---”
                  “It’s, uh, not for me exactly,” I said.
                  “Oh … your wife? You’ve lost a child?”
                  “Yes, we have. But it was a long time ago. The thing is … I don’t really know how to say this without sounding a bit loony I’m afraid. My wife, Callie Parmenter, is missing. It came to my attention that she might have been in contact with you seven years ago and I was wondering if she might have contacted you again recently.”
                  Lauren’s reaction to this was complete and, I was certain, genuine surprise. “Gee, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know anybody by that name. There’s certainly been no one by that name at our meetings recently. But, you know, if she was in contact with us seven years ago that would have been my mom. She used to run the meetings before her stroke.”
                  “I see. Does your mother live near here?”
                  “Right here as a matter of fact. We converted the rear of the main