He clicks, and a photo of Larry Reyes in an outdoor setting by a pool with the other man flashes.

“This is a photo of Reyes and Luis Sanchez, head of the Jalisco cartel, taken last summer.” He flashes another photo of the two men in a restaurant in Mexico City. Another photo flashes of Reyes and a group of men on a city sidewalk. “There’s no financial evidence of wrongdoing. At least not by Larry Reyes. But we know he has connections.”

Agent Ryland adds, “To be clear, we have no reason to connect this kidnapping to Larry Reyes. But, of the board of directors and executives, he’s the only man with a compelling background.”

“It’s guilt by association,” Jack says. “Larry’s a young guy who likes to party in Miami. He’s successful for his age.” Jack turns to me, addressing me as if he and I are the only two people in the room. “I’ve already told them I don’t think he’s involved.”

“Is he based out of here or Texas?” Sullivan Arms is headquartered in Houston, Texas. But the security camera footage showed he visits Jack in San Diego regularly.

“He’s a frequent business traveler.” Jack sounds resigned.

“Where’s he live?”

“He has an apartment here.” He exhales loudly. “He likes it here. Look, I’m tired of you guys coming up with theories and being wrong. You are wrong on this one. We’re going to pay and get her back.”

“If we’re wrong, you won’t mind us talking to him, right?” Jack’s eyes flick to mine. He’s listening to me. “You’ve talked to the cops for extensive periods of time since this began. If he’s innocent, like you say, he won’t mind talking to the FBI. If he’s your friend, he’ll do anything he can to help you get your daughter back.”

Jack rubs his jaw. He’s considering it.

“We’ve reached out to him already. Sent agents by his addresses both here in San Diego and Houston. No one home.”

“Just because he wasn’t home doesn’t mean he’s guilty.” Jack heads over to his desk, head bent down, jaw muscles flexed. “Let me call him.” He turns his head to Ryland. “You didn’t tell me you sent agents by.”

“Didn’t need to tell you. In this investigation, we can talk to anyone we like. The goal is to find your daughter. Remember?”

Jack dials a number. With the phone pressed to his ear, he sinks into his desk chair. His gaze flickers over the room and settles on the frozen screenshot of his daughter. Her legs and arms are thin and underscore her youth. Her expression is one of terror. She’s afraid of the person filming her.

Every single agent in the room watches Jack. Quiet prevails. We all want to hear this conversation.

Jack purses his lips and ends the call. “Voicemail,” he announces.

He dials another number.

“Linda. Can you tell me where Larry Reyes is? I can’t seem to get him on his cell, and I need to speak to him.”