“Jake, if you need to sleep, get on it in the morning,” Farnsworth said.

“We’ll do it now, and then call it a day.”

“Keep us posted,” Conklin said.

Malone waved to indicate he’d heard him and headed for the detectives’ pit where Carlucci and Dominguez were working on reports. “Ladies, we’re going to talk to our gunmen again, and here’s the plan.” He mapped out the strategy of making the others believe that one of their associates had started talking and it would go bad for the others unless they fessed up right away.

“They’re going to want lawyers present,” Carlucci said.

“We’ll tell them we can absolutely get their lawyers here, but that might take until morning, and things are happening right now. It’s up to them as to whether they want to cooperate. We want to know if any of them have info about the whereabouts of Dustin Jacoby or have had any contact at all with Courtney Hamilton in the last week.”

Dominguez nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Malone handed each of them a case folder, keeping one for himself, and called downstairs to the sergeant working the desk in lockup, asking to have the three men brought upstairs to interrogation rooms. “We’d prefer if they didn’t see the others being moved.”

“You got it, Cap. We’ll have them upstairs in five minutes.”

It’d been a while since Malone had done an interrogation on his own. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten how it was done.

He’d taken Chris Kinney for himself, because they’d agreed earlier that he seemed to be the ringleader. Kinney had a rap sheet that dated back to high school when he’d been involved in an armed robbery at a convenience store in Southeast that put him in jail for five years. Since getting out four years ago, he’d stayed off the radar until now.

Kinney was stocky but muscular. He had close-cropped blond hair and a scar that slashed through his bottom lip. His arms were crossed, his expression defiant. “I got nothing to say.”

“Well, you might want to listen, then. Here’s what’s going on. Your buddies are talking.”

“No fucking way they’re talking. They know better.”

“I guess the thought of a long stretch in federal prison has them reconsidering their stance.”

“Nice try, but I ain’t buying.”

“Does the name Dustin Jacoby mean anything to you?” Malone asked, playing a hunch.