Gi-Gi leaned forward. “Barrett dropped me off at the garage and went back to work. I drove it to pick up our young children from school. I did that and was halfway home to our house when it died. Just died. Left us stranded. Well, the first thing I did was call Barrett.”

“I was at work. Left as quickly as I could but it wasn’t soon enough. A couple of redneck local boys stopped, supposedly to help.”

“They had horrible teeth. You know, the kind that meth users have.”

A.L. allowed himself to wonder how many meth users Gi-Gi Thompson encountered on a regular basis.

“I saw Breaking Bad,” she added. “Every season.”

There it was.

“If Barrett hadn’t come when he did, there’s no telling what might have happened. I mean, they were looking at my kids and it was giving me the chills.” Gi-Gi stopped. Put her red-painted index finger into the air. “I just thought of something. What if... Oh, I can’t even say it.”

“Just say it, honey,” Barrett said.

“What if those two men are behind Emma Whitman’s disappearance? What if they took her? Oh, Barrett. Doesn’t that just make you sick?”

Barrett Thompson looked at A.L. “My wife isn’t accusing anybody but I’ve learned over the years not to dismiss her ideas. She’s generally spot-on.”

“Can you describe the men in greater detail?” he asked, looking at both Gi-Gi and Barrett.

“White,” Gi-Gi said.

“Hair and eye color?”

“One had brown hair and the other had red hair. I don’t remember their eyes. Creepy, if that’s a color.”

“Height, weight?”

Gi-Gi looked at Barrett. He was evidently the height and weight expert.

“They were both kind of wiry. The redhead, I’d guess five-ten, maybe one fifty,” Barrett said. “The other was taller, could have been six feet. But not more than a hundred and seventy pounds.”

“Any distinguishing marks or tattoos?” A.L. asked.

“Not that I saw,” Gi-Gi said.

Coyote Frogg had a sleeve tattoo. Hard to miss unless he was wearing long sleeves. “Do you recall what they were wearing?”

“Dirty jeans. Shirts. Nothing memorable,” Gi-Gi said.

“Long sleeves?” A.L. asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” She smiled. “I guess that’s sort of weird. It’s been hot.”

“What were they driving?” A.L. asked.

“An old Jeep. The kind where the sides come off,” Barrett said.

“Color?”

“White. It was filthy, though,” Gi-Gi said. “Looked as if it hadn’t seen a car wash in several years.”

“Noticeable dents or marks?” A.L. asked.

“Not that I noticed,” Barrett said.

“Did you get a license plate?” A.L. asked.

Gi-Gi snorted, a most unladylike noise. Even Barrett looked surprised. “We were a little busy, Detective,” she said.

He’d had enough of these people. But he had one more question. “When they drove off, what direction did they go?”

“North,” Barrett said. “Away from town.”