“If Sydney canceled her sleepover with Jolene, then someone had to have picked her up. Someone with a car.” Charlie went through his notes again. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but he was certain he’d know it when he found it.

Wilson grunted from his desk. “Maybe she walked.”

“Wilson, you interviewed the neighbors and none of them saw Sydney leave that night?”

“Right.”

“We, or I, assumed she was taking her work to the gallery. What if someone was picking it up for her?” Charlie pulled up an aerial map of Sydney’s neighborhood. He honed in on the four long rows of buildings on the east side of the neighborhood. They were self-storage units he’d seen the day he and Sheriff Huggins spoke with the Donovans. He zoomed in. “Has anyone contacted the self-storage company?”

Both men looked at each other before shaking their heads.

“Call them. They probably have cameras all over the place. Maybe one of them caught Sydney leaving that night.”

Frost jumped out of his seat and hurried down the hall to his office.

“If I had half his energy . . . or his brains.” Wilson shook his head.

“How’s your wife?”

“She’s on bed rest. My mama is here helping.” Wilson’s long fingers rubbed his knuckles.

“Do you have a name picked out yet?”

“Benjamin Samuel.” Pride accented each syllable.

Charlie imagined Wilson would be a good dad. Teaching his son the value that an education carried more merit than the skill of throwing a football. Would Charlie take as much pride in teaching his child the fundamentals of life? He hoped so. At least he knew his son would never have to worry about his dad not being there for him.

Charlie would never choose his career over those he loved.

A torrent of fresh emotions filled his chest as the faces of Lane and Noah filled his mind. Who would teach Noah how to throw a ball? A pang of longing filled him. Could he be there for Noah? The little boy was already charming his way into Charlie’s heart, and his mom . . . well, he couldn’t deny the way being next to her made him feel. His heart clenched at the possibility. Was there any room in Lane’s and Noah’s lives for him?

Deputy Frost rushed down the hall. His dark glasses slid down his nose. He pushed them up. “Diane from U-Store We-Store is sending us the video footage from the day Sydney died.”

“Sending it? When?”

“Shouldn’t take long. Her son is going to upload the footage and send it.” Frost’s smile consumed his face. “There’s more. After I saw how much Sydney’s paintings were selling for, I did a little research.”

Wilson and Charlie exchanged a look.

“What did you find?” Charlie prayed the research was legal.

“Nothing. Well, nothing and then something.”

“Come on, Frost,” Wilson grumbled.