More artful, polished romantic suspense by the genre's most dependable practitioner--this one built around a young single mother's search for her daughter, who was kidnapped from a grocery cart some seven years before the novel begins. Whitney gets things off to an elegantly economical start, sending Jennifer Blake to Vancouver Island, B.C., at the invitation of a rich old lady, Corinthea Aries--who thinks that the girl whom a grubby, itinerant couple is trying to pawn off on her as her great, grandchild is really Jennifer's own long-lost Debbie. Corinthea's home, Radburn House, in the quaint town of Victoria, turns out to be a hornet's nest, full of shifty-eyed servants, loonies locked up on the third floor (though Corinthea's elderly brother, Tim, isn't crazy but deaf), eerie North American Indian lore, and an accommodating psychic who, in a sÃ‰ance, gets little Debbie to remember a detail from her past life with Jennifer. This last, more than anything, convinces Jenny that the child, who occasionally smiles in a familiar way, is her own. But how to prove it? And whom to trust? Surely not Farley and Peony Corwin, the couple who most likely murdered Corinthea's grandson in the jungles of Brazil; nor Dr. Joel Radburn and his weird mother, Letha--the witch; and what about the handsome but skittish chauffeur, Kirk McKaye? Whitney pulls more than a few aces from her sleeve in solving the mystery, and, as usual, displays her remarkable ability to make strange doings credible. So, despite the rather too-attenuated climax, this is solid Whitney, ergo solid commercial fare.