Rebecca pulled one of the earbuds from her son’s ear. “Mr. Bentz wants to know if you saw anyone leave this?”

“Uh-uh.” Tony was looking down at his feet.

“You sure?” Bentz asked.

The kid shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure,” Bentz said, urging him to think of something, anything that would help him save his wife.

“I, uh, I heard something,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “You know, like a slap. Maybe when she dropped it?” He didn’t sound certain.

“She?” Bentz asked.

“Or him.” Tony frowned, concentrated, then acted as if he were afraid to give the wrong answer. “I dunno.”

“But you saw someone?”

“Not really, but there was a runner going by. You know, jogging.”

“And you thought it was a woman?” Bentz’s heart was beating double-time. He wanted to shake the words from the kid’s body. A jogger had been caught on the webcam at Santa Monica Pier the night Bentz had jumped into the water after Jennifer, and he thought he’d seen a runner on the street near Lorraine Newell’s house on the night she was killed. And now?

“Look she, he, was wearing sweats and a cap. I really couldn’t tell. Can I go now?”

“No,” Bentz said. Sweats and a cap on a warm morning…had to be a disguise. Had to. Bentz knew he was grasping at straws but he’d take anything, the tiniest shred of a clue that might lead to his wife. It was all he could do to appear calm, keep his voice even when he was screaming inside. “Look, Tony, I think I might want you to go to the police station and talk with a police artist.”

“Hey, no.” Tony shook his head as if a police station was the very bowels of hell. “The cops? Nuh-uh.”

“He’ll be there if you need him,” Rebecca said firmly.

“No, Mom. I didn’t see nothing, not really. I’m not even sure about the runner. She was crossing the street…I mean, I don’t think she came to the door.”

“But you don’t know.”

He shook his head, bit his lower lip.

“Tony has a tendency to watch TV or play video games when he’s supposed to be working.” Then as if realizing he was underage, she amended, “I give him his allowance if he watches the desk for me.”

Tony’s employment or lack thereof wasn’t any of Bentz’s concern. Not now. Though he was still reeling from the photo of Olivia, he now felt a grain of hope. A drop of adrenaline coursed through his blood. Here, finally, was something solid to go on. “Do you have a security tape?” Bentz asked and Rebecca nodded. “Of the parking lot and front door?”

“Sure, and of the lobby, too. Our security equipment is pretty cheap, but you’re welcome to a copy of the videotape.”