“Yeah. Here’s the list if we filter out those that were known to be committed by biological or adoptive parents,” A.L. said.

Less than half a page. She tossed it back to him. He left it on his desk where it landed. “Wow. So we were right to give Troy and Leah Whitman a close look.”

“Speaking of close looks, I’m meeting Troy at Garage on Division at 8:00 to look at his service scheduling records. Getting a technical assist from Shawn.” Everybody in the Baywood Police Department knew Shawn. Data forensics was becoming a bigger part of every investigation and Shawn Moby was a fucking magician when it came to ferreting out information that lived in the cloud.

“What are you looking for?” Rena asked.

“Troy says that he was at work early on Wednesday, contrary to what Pete and Cory said.”

“Not a very big place,” Rena said. “You think they’d run into each other if they were all there.”

“Yeah. He said he was in the office area and they were working in the bays. That sort of matches up to what Cory Prider said. He got to work first and then finished up a brake job that had been started on Tuesday. Pete Seoul said he got to work at 7:30 and I guess it’s safe to assume that he started working on a vehicle.”

“Why don’t we just ask them whose vehicles they were working on?” Rena asked.

“Because I don’t really want to talk to those two idiots again and I don’t trust their memory or their intent. Remember how Pete sent us scurrying to Alcamay Corners? I think it’s better to review the records. Plus I wanted to send a message to Troy. That any unexplained absence on Wednesday was going to get critically reviewed.”

“Depending on when the brake job got finished, you’re assuming that maybe that customer would have seen Troy? Or maybe the driver of the vehicle that Pete Seoul was working on.”

“Bunch of maybes but then again, maybe we’ll get lucky. I’d better get going.” His cell phone buzzed. He picked it up. Read the message, then tossed his phone aside.

“What?” Rena asked.

“That’s Troy. Said he couldn’t be at the garage at 8:00. There’s something he has to do.”

“What could be more important that cooperating with the detective who is investigating his daughter’s disappearance?” Rena asked. “I think he needs to—”

She saw Ferguson, who was across the room at his desk, lean back in his chair and point the remote control in the direction of the television that was mounted on the wall. “Hey, guys,” the detective said. “You got to see this.”