It has been seventeen years to the day. Today, as with every other year, the parents of Emily Turner are told that they should accept the probable death of their daughter.
March 10th, 1995, just three days after Emily's fourth birthday. Michael and Corrine Turner were downstairs watching late night television when their young daughter was snatched from her bed upstairs. This case has baffled police and FBI for years. There were no signs of a break in, no DNA traces left behind and no witnesses to this tragedy.
Emily was attending a local kindergarten and was said to be one of the most popular girls in her class. Her family and friends have all said that Emily was a normal, happy little girl and they cannot understand why she was targeted. The kidnapper did not contact the family for ransom, or to declare the child dead, so the motives behind Emily's abduction have remained unclear.
Emily is now twenty one years old, and her parents become more desperate every year to see their little girl return home safely.
The photograph below on the left is Emily on her fourth birthday, smiling and playing with the newest additions to her vast collection of toys. On the right is an artist's impression, assisted by face ageing software, showing what Emily is likely to look like now. Emily can be identified through her particularly green eyes and a small red birthmark on the inside of her left wrist.
If you have any information regarding Emily Turner, please contact the local authorities. Michael and Corrine Turner are longing to be reunited with their daughter and are offering a $50,000 reward for anyone that can give information that will bring their little girl home.
I stare at the article in complete shock. This cannot be about me, I lived with my parents until I was fourteen. But the evidence is not exactly on my side.
"That green eyes thing is just a coincidence! there's no way that's you." Wade assures me, folding the paper in half and tucking it under his arm. Maybe he's right. Maybe it is just a coincidence, there are plenty of dark haired girls with green eyes in this country. But I can't lie to myself. I raise my left wrist and look at the mark that I have hated for as long as I can remember. The small red oval shape that everyone thinks is burn. I turn to face Wade but he is gone.
"Wade?" I call, turning in every direction to try and find him. Then he comes bounding out of the convenience store with his cell phone to his ear. He hands me a can of grape soda and leads me towards the car.
"Yes, we need replacements...Well, it's important. Put her on another assignment then, but she's not right for this one." Wade hangs up and hands me the keys. He tells me that Maggie is waiting for me at my apartment and that he'll meet me there later. I drive home, but I walk straight past Maggie and into my bedroom, where I lay on my bed and let the tears spill over. I cry until there are no tears left and, exhausted, I fall asleep.
"Wake up." Wade is shaking my shoulder, I feel like I have slept for days.
"Leave me alone." My throat is a little dry, but I really just want to go back to sleep.
"Come on, Jen, we have to talk about this." Wade pleads, scooting himself up the bed to lead back against the pillows.
"Jen? Don't you mean Emily?" I spit, feeling the biggest betrayal of my life.
"No, I mean Jen. To me, you're always going to be little Jenny that I drove past on the freeway." Wade smiles at me, trying to make me feel better. "You're going to take some sick days and I have a few days off now, too."
"So? Wait, but I don't want to take sick days!" I object, needing work more than ever to distract myself.
"Well you're taking the sick days. We are going to Stenton."
"Why?" I sigh, rolling onto my side to face Wade.
"Because that's where your parents live." Wade sees the look on my face when he says parents, "Well, the people in the article." He quickly corrects himself.
"I don't know..." I'm hesitant to agree to go with him.
"Come on, this could be exactly what you need! I don't even have to come inside with you, you can go alone. Or I could come in, if that's what you want?" He offers. Even though Wade can be cocky and kind of annoying, he's always looking out for me. He's just like a big brother to me, and no matter how irritating he is, he's my family.
After another round of Wade's persuasion, I agree to go and see those people. I throw Wade out and call Maggie in.
"I don't know what to wear." I confess. What do you wear to go and see people that may or may not be your real parents? We settle on another surveillance outfit: light gray skinny jeans, a Rolling Stones tank top and my leather jacket. The idea is to make me seem as normal as possible, but I'm still taking a gun with me. No way am I walking in there unarmed.
Wade drives me to the end of the town entrance road then pulls over.
"You're going to have to walk from here. I never come here, so Skyline could get a little suspicious if they pick this up on the GPS." He explains and shuts the engine off.
"Okay. I'll call you when I'm done." My hands are shaking so much that I have trouble gripping the door handle. Wade reaches over and opens the door for me.
"You may want to go in through the back door. Just to avoid, you know, a scene." He warns as I stumble out of the car.
"Thanks." I smile weakly at the reassuring expression on his face. I begin to walk briskly through the streets leading to the Turner's house. the houses along the way all look the same, reddish brown brick with closed curtains in all the windows. I don't encounter many people as I walk and, before I know it, I am standing at the back gate of the Turner house.
YOU ARE READING
Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice
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