Macey ended the call. “When did you say that woman went missing?”

“November sixth,” Max said.

“Peter Molinar hasn’t been to work since the fourth.”

“I think we should check his apartment in Falcon Heights,” Niki said. “It’s only fifteen minutes away.”

“How about this,” Max said. “You two go to Falcon Heights and I’ll stay here and watch this place. If he shows up, I’ll call you.”

Greene gave Max a suspicious look. “You’ll call as soon as you see him? And you’ll stay in your car and wait for us?”

“This is your show. I’m just a consultant.”

After they got back into their respective cars, Max waited for Macey and Niki to drive out of sight and then returned the call to Lyle.

Lyle answered the phone, no hello, no greeting, instead blurting, “They were cell mates. After Reed got convicted for hitting Sandy, he did time in County. Molinar was there for possession of stolen property. He sold some jewelry at a pawnshop and cashed a couple stolen checks. Reed and your guy Molinar shared a cell.”

“Were the stolen checks his mother’s?”

“Bingo. I didn’t remember the case, but Joanna did. The mom wrote up an affidavit for the jewels and drove up here to testify that he didn’t have her permission to write checks on her account. I guess the guy had a bit of a gambling problem. Molinar was sitting pre-trial. They were together for three months.”

“We have our connection.”

“What next?”

“The detective from St. Paul is going by the book. She wants to shake Molinar enough that he’ll call Reed, then subpoena the phone records from the cell towers.”

“That’ll take weeks.”

“I know.”

“That’s bullshit. We can’t wait that long. Reed will get spooked and run. We got him in our sights.”

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“I’d love to tell you, but it would make you an accessory to something really illegal.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass. I’m going nuts up here.”

“I’ll call you in a bit and fill you in if all goes well.” Max hung up before Lyle had a chance to argue any further.

Max thought back to what Niki had said about his instincts, about how she had come to trust his intuition. Well, his gut was now telling him that the path to finding the boy led through Olivia Molinar’s house.

The park was empty on that cold November morning. From his car, Max studied the garage. He imagined Reed Harris—on the night that he broke into Mrs. Molinar’s house to kill her—parking very near to where he now sat.

It was starting to make sense. Olivia had turned her son in. She’d refused to post his bail, and she’d even testified against him. She’d had enough wealth to get him out of his jam, but Peter was a gambler, and that was the thing about gamblers—they never fully got out of their jams. She was probably trying to teach him a lesson—hard love. It was a pretty good bet that Peter Molinar hadn’t learned his lesson.