Gross. “Mr. Grace, are you the only one working today?”

Davy shrugged. “Yes. Both Pete and Cory got some kind of flu. Or so they say.” He smiled.

“You think that might not be true?” A.L. asked.

“They’re probably fishing. They know that Troy has his head somewhere else so there’s little danger of it catching up to them.”

A.L. had said that Troy had known Pete Seoul and Cory Prider for a long time. But now they were potentially goofing off while Troy was dealing with something horrific. With friends like that, who needed enemies? “You happen to have phone numbers for Pete and Cory?” Rena asked.

“Cell numbers,” Davy said.

“Good enough,” she said. They would call and ask the two to come to the station to answer some questions. That should get their attention.

Pete Seoul and Cory Prider had indeed been fishing. Pete’s nose was sunburned and Cory’s pants looked as if he’d fallen in. They both looked to be in their early forties. They took Cory first.

“You got a Coke or something?” Cory asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Rena started to get up but settled down as A.L. said, “No.”

“Water?” Cory asked.

Rena didn’t budge. She knew what was coming. A.L. had made up his mind. These guys were pieces of shit.

“No,” A.L. said. “You were absent from work today?”

“Yeah.”

“Sick?” A.L. asked.

Cory shrugged, maybe a little sheepishly. “Mental health day.”

If he’d needed fresh air, he could have joined the volunteers searching for Emma. “I imagine Troy Whitman’s mental health isn’t all that great right now,” she said. “Probably doesn’t need to be worrying about his business.”

“We did him a fucking favor. If we don’t work, we don’t get paid. And quite frankly, there is barely enough to keep Dutiful Davy busy.”

“You don’t like your coworker?” Rena asked.

Cory shrugged. “He’s...let’s just say that he’s a simple guy. And sometimes that can get on a person’s nerves.”

“Not enough work. Not crazy about your coworker. Doesn’t sound as if there are great benefits. I guess I’m curious why you stay,” A.L. asked.

“Some work is better than no work. And I like Troy Whitman well enough. I feel damn sorry for him. A missing kid is bad.”

“You have children, Mr. Prider?” Rena asked.

“No wife, no kids. That I know about, anyway.” He smiled without showing any teeth.

Neither A.L. nor Rena smiled back. “Walk me through your day on this past Wednesday.”

Prider let out a loud sigh. “I left my apartment around 6:30. Stopped at Pancake Magic for breakfast like I usually do, and got to work about 7:15. I was the first one there. I unlocked the doors, made the coffee and finished a brake job on a car that had been left overnight.”