I did not know Dana Whitfield in my first life. She was one of the names on the list that had been released to the newspaper after Martin Blakely's arrest. The article had run her photograph, small and grainy, in a sidebar under the headline. She had been found alive in the storage unit in El Cajon. She had been in the hospital for six weeks. She had not spoken to reporters.
In this life, she was not officially missing yet. She was just a woman who had stopped showing up to work. She was a dental hygienist. She had a cat and an apartment with a view of a parking lot. She had gone to a bar on a Friday night and told a friend she was meeting someone, and then she had not come home.
I found all of this because I asked Hannah to look.
Hannah had a way of asking questions that did not sound
