The door opened wider. Behind the woman, sitting on a couch, was a teenage boy with earphones on. When he saw the badges, he took off the earphones and looked a little spooked as if he thought they might have come for his pot stash. Their couch was old and sagged in the middle. The tables were scratched but the kid’s drink was sitting on a coaster. There was a healthy-looking red mum in a pot on the windowsill.

“May I have your names, ma’am?” Rena asked.

“Gloria Anderson,” she said. “This is my son, Conner Anderson.”

“Anybody else live in this apartment?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m divorced. I...hope you’re not here about my ex,” she added, with a quick glance at her son.

“No,” Rena said. “We’re investigating the disappearance of a five-year-old child from the Lakeside Learning Center, about two blocks over.”

“We both got the alert on our phones,” she said.

“Have you seen this child?” A.L. asked, holding out his cell phone.

Gloria looked at the picture. Motioned for her son to get up off the couch and look. Both shook their heads.

“Where were the two of you today?”

“Working,” the woman said. “At Price Lumber. I’m a bookkeeper. Conner was in school.”

“What school?” A.L. asked.

The woman looked surprised at the question. It was good to get basic details from everybody. They might not run every story down but at least they had it in case it became important later.

“Baywood High. He’s a sophomore. I dropped him off on my way to work, around 7:45. He’s a good boy, a good student.”

“That’s great, ma’am,” A.L. said. “How long have you lived here?”

“Four years.”

He was more interested in newcomers. He passed his card to the woman. “If you see this child or think of anything that might be important, I’d appreciate a call.”

“Of course.”

“One last question,” A.L. said. “We’re interested in talking to two young men, both white, one with brown hair, the other with red hair and an arm sleeve of tattoos. Does that description ring a bell?”

“No,” Gloria said.

“Mom,” Conner said. “I saw those guys. A couple days ago. On the corner.”

“Which corner?” A.L. asked.

“The corner of Wake Street and Clayton Avenue. The bus stops there.”

Clayton was the next street over. Wake was two blocks down. It was the closest bus stop to this area. And the really good news was that all the city buses were wired with video. “Do you recall what day and time that would have been?”

“I think it was Monday and it was after school. So maybe 4:00, 4:30.”

“Anybody with these two men?” Rena asked.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I wasn’t really paying attention to them but the one guy has really red hair. He’s hard to miss.”