“I don’t have a clue. Emma Whitman has never been in my backyard. None of the children from the day care have ever been at my home. I don’t mix business and pleasure. I give a lot of my life to the Lakeside Learning Center and generally, I’m pretty damn content to do that. But when I go home, I want to leave it behind.”

“So you’re saying that Emma has never been in your backyard or your home?” Rena asked.

“That’s what I’m saying. And quite frankly, Detective, if this is going to go much longer, I want to call my attorney.”

A.L. pushed his chair back and tapped Rena on the shoulder. “Excuse us for a minute,” A.L. said, looking at Alice.

The woman nodded.

Once they were in the hallway, A.L. leaned close. “What’s your gut saying, Morgan?”

“It’s not very talkative right now. But we don’t have enough to take this much further.”

“Agree. But we start digging,” A.L. said.

Rena nodded. There would be little they didn’t know about Alice Quest. “I’ll shake her loose,” Rena said.

A.L. turned to walk back to his desk. Rena reentered Room 2. “Alice, we appreciate you coming in. That will be all for today.”

“Do you believe me?” Alice asked. “Do you believe that I had nothing to do with Emma Whitman’s disappearance?”

Rena said nothing.

“Listen to me, Detective,” Alice said, her voice hard. “If even a whiff gets out that I might be a suspect, my business will be ruined. I’m not going to let the Baywood Police Department do that to me. Do you understand?”

Again, Rena was silent.

Alice reached for her purse, which had been sitting on the floor by her feet. She opened it, tore a piece of paper from a small lined notebook and wrote a name on it. She shoved it across the table at Rena. “That’s my attorney’s name. If you need anything else from me, you call her.”

Sandra Whitley. Alice hadn’t included a number.

“We’ll do that,” Rena said.

Alice picked up her purse and walked out of the room.

Rena went back to her desk. Pulled out her chair. Sank into it. “I don’t know, I just don’t know,” she said.

A.L. was scrolling through his cell phone. He looked up. “We keep working the case. All we can do.”

Rena leaned her head back, far enough that she could study the ceiling tiles. Finally looked at him again. “Tell me why Tess called you Able.”

A.L. sighed. “When we were in California, I evidently spent a little too much time sleeping in a hammock. She was convinced that A.L. is short for Able Loafer.”