“No one’s proved anything was done to him. Isaac might have just up and taken off on his own,” Jarrod reminded J.D. as he picked up a pencil and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers. “But I agree with you. Ever since Tiffany Santini moved down here, her boy’s had more than his share of scrapes with the law. Until now they’ve been minor. Nothing like the Wells mess.”

J.D. relaxed a little. Smith seemed to be on his wavelength. “So what happened to Isaac?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Jarrod admitted. “People usually don’t just disappear without a trace. Sooner or later he’ll turn up.”

“Alive?”

“We can only hope.”

J.D.’s stomach clenched. What had Stephen gotten himself into? He reached into his back pocket and slid out his checkbook. The pain in his leg twinged a bit. “What kind of a retainer do you want to prove that the kid’s innocent?”

Jarrod snorted. “I’m already working on the case.”

“I know, but everyone needs incentive.” He snagged a pen from a cup on the desk.

With a smile that bordered on evil, the investigator shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve got plenty.” He stood and thrust out his hand again. “I’ll keep you posted.”

J.D. had no choice but to take the man’s hand. “I’d feel better if we had some kind of agreement.”

“You’ve got my word. That’s good enough,” Smith insisted. “Trust me, I’m going to find out what happened to Isaac, come hell or high water.”

* * *

“Okay, kiddo, I want the entire story. Beginning to end,” Tiffany insisted as she nosed her car into traffic. Mrs. Ellingsworth was watching Christina and she and Stephen were alone, on their way to do some errands. He hadn’t wanted to accompany her, not with so many questions hanging in the air, but she had forced the issue and won.

“’Bout what?”

“Let’s start with yesterday,” she said as they drove along the tree-lined street. Joggers and dogs ran on the sidewalks, dodging mothers with strollers near the park. “Do the keys the police found on you belong to Isaac Wells?”

Staring out the passenger window, Stephen lifted a shoulder.

“Do they? And don’t give me any song and dance about you finding them in the park. That’s not what happened and we both know it.”

“Okay,” he said, rebellion flaring in his eyes. “They were his.”

Her heart plummeted. “Oh, Stephen.”

“You wanted to know.”

“I need to know the truth.” Her hands began to sweat “Let’s hear it.”

He sighed as if pained. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Wrong. It’s a very big deal. The man is missing. No one knows where he is or even if he’s dead or alive. And you lied to me.”