“I’m sorry, too, Mr. Weir. The odds that this will lead to anything—”

“Are better odds than I had this morning.”

“If you want to see it that way,” I said, giving up, “I can’t stop you.”

“But you can do what they say.”

Reluctant to offer any more hope than I already had, I felt tension crawl up my spine, hunch my shoulders. It was easy to believe in my abilities when it would benefit a cause. I just didn’t know how advantageous my talents would be in this particular case. Maybe hope itself would benefit Mr. Weir. It was the least I could offer him.

“Yes, Mr. Weir, I can do what they say.” I waited for that little jewel to sink in, for his mildly shocked expression to return to normal, then said, “They’ll be taking you to the Reception and Diagnostic Center in Los Lunas for evaluation before sending you to prison. I can brave the hordes of Los Lunatics and visit you there if you’d like. Keep you up to date.”

A reluctant smile appeared at last. “I’d like that.”

I spoke to Barber through the side of my mouth. “You got any more questions?”

He was still buried in thought and simply shook his head.

“Okay,” I said to Weir, “see ya soon.”

After hanging up, I started to put my notepad and pen away when I had an epiphany. Of sorts. I turned and tapped on the window to get Mr. Weir’s attention.

The guard allowed him to walk back and pick up his phone again.

“How old is he?” I asked as I balanced the phone on my shoulder and tore through my notepad, clicking my pen to the ready.

“Excuse me?”

“Your nephew. How old is your nephew?”

“Oh, he’s fifteen. Or he was. I guess he’d be sixteen now.”

“And they still haven’t found him?”

“Not that I know of. What—?”

“How old was the kid? The one in your backyard?”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Barber said.

“He was fifteen. Do you think there’s a connection?”

I winked at Barber, then leaned toward Mr. Weir with a touch more promise in my eyes. “There has to be, and I’ll do my damnedest to find out what it is.”

* * *

The last thing I wanted to do was jump to conclusions, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that those two boys ran in the same circles. Two boys with similar backgrounds, one missing and one dead? My mind screamed predator.

Though I needed Barber’s files, I didn’t want to deal with Nora, the lawyers’ administrative assistant. If she was anything like other administrative assistants I knew, she had only slightly less power than God at her fingertips, and she wouldn’t take kindly to any nosing about. Breaking and entering was much safer. But breaking and entering would have to wait until nightfall.

In the meantime, Uncle Bob was rounding up everything APD had on the case, and Barber was headed to Mr. Weir’s sister’s house to see if there’d been any contact with Teddy, the missing nephew. I decided to send in Barber first to get the lay of the land before I talked to her, figuring I could use the time to mosey back to my office and glean as much information as possible off the Internet. As I headed out of the detention center, I opened my cell and called Cookie.

“Hey, boss,” she said by way of a greeting. “Planning a jailbreak yet?”

“Nah. Believe it or not, they’re letting me walk out of here.”

“Crazy people. What are they thinking?”

“Probably that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

She chuckled. “You have three messages, nothing too pressing. Mrs. George still swears her husband is cheating and wants to meet with you this afternoon.”

“No.”

“That’s what I told her, only I wasn’t quite so wordy about it,” she said teasingly. “Everything else can wait. So, what’s up?”

“I’m glad you asked,” I said, walking out the glass doors. I did a quick scan of the area for Billy, but he must’ve had better things to do. “The lawyers gave me some interesting news at lunch.”

“Yeah? How interesting?”

“Pretty darned.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Can you pull up the prison registry and do a search for the name Reyes?”

“The prison registry?”

I cringed. She made it sound so … criminal. “Yeah, long story.”

“Well, there are about two hundred inmates and/or parolees with the last name of Reyes.”

“That was fast. Try it as a first name.”

I heard clicking; then she said, “Better. There’re only four.”

“Okay, well, he’d be about thirty now.”

“And then there was one.”

I stopped with my key halfway in the door. “One? Really?”

“Reyes Farrow.”

My heart thrummed nervously in my chest. Could this really be it? After all these years, could I finally have found him?

“Do they have a mug shot posted?” I asked. When Cookie didn’t answer, I tried again. “Cookie? You there?”

“My god, Charley. He’s … it’s him.”

My keys fell to the ground, and I braced my free hand against Misery. “How do you know? You’ve never seen him.”

“He’s gorgeous. He’s exactly like you described.”