“Yes. And the proprietress, a lovely English woman who married a Wisconsin farmer and opened the store to save her sanity, or so she said, did remember Coyote Frogg and his friend. Her recollection is that they were in a bit of a hurry and only interested in purchasing something to wear. Her selection was limited and they took what fit. It’s the type of store that writes their receipts by hand and she was able to find her copy of the transaction. They paid cash and purchased the clothes the afternoon of Emma’s disappearance.” She stopped. “Do not start without me.”

“You better hurry,” A.L. said.

“Ten minutes.”

It would take him that long to get things set up. “I’ll meet you in Interrogation Room 1.”

Coyote’s friend’s name was Peyton Dowl. A.L. was willing to bet his left nut that he was some relation to Pierce Dowl, the owner of the white Jeep. He was, however, more interested in Coyote so he left Peyton twiddling his thumbs in a conference room while he ushered Coyote into the interrogation room. Rena introduced herself and passed over a card. Coyote was already cradling A.L.’s card in one closed fist. He’d been advised that he’d been picked up for questioning in an ongoing investigation. He was not yet under arrest.

“Mr. Frogg, can you tell us where you were this past Wednesday morning between 7:00 and 8:00 a.m.?”

“I imagine I was sleeping.”

“Don’t want you to imagine. Want you to think. Where were you?” A.L. asked in his best I don’t tolerate bullshit tone.

“Okay, man. No need to flip out. I was at my house. Pey and I are renting a place east of Highway 94, north of Walnut Road.”

That would be north of the spot they’d intersected with Gi-Gi Thompson, which matched the Thompsons’ statement that the Jeep had headed north.

“Pey is Peyton Dowl?” A.L. asked.

“Yes.”

“Address of your house?” Rena asked.

“Sprint Trail. I have no idea what the house number is. It’s not like I’m having my mail forwarded. But there are only three houses on the road. Ours is the yellow one.”

It was enough. A.L. sent a quick text to get officers on the way. He didn’t hold out much hope. If Emma was there, or even had been there, it was unlikely that Coyote would have offered it up so quickly.

“Anybody be able to verify that you were at that address on Wednesday morning?” A.L. asked.

“Pey.”

“Anybody else?” A.L. asked.

“Ain’t nobody else living there.”

“Mr. Frogg, where were you on Monday of this past week?”

“Pey and me were in Baywood. We were able to pick up some hours at the Go and Glow.”