A.L. thought he heard the faintest bit of hope in the older man’s voice. He understood. The case haunted Doug Franklin. If it was the same person and he and Rena managed to find the asshole, then there could be closure here in Dover. “I don’t know. We can’t ignore the possibility. We’ve got an eyewitness who places two strangers at a restaurant across the street from the day care the night before Emma disappeared. That sound remotely familiar? These guys were described at early to midthirties. Ten years ago they’d have been early to midtwenties. Both white. One is a redhead with a sleeve tattoo.”

Doug Franklin tapped his index finger on the table. “The janitor had a kid. He was maybe nineteen or twenty. Red hair. I don’t remember any tattoos.”

Those could have been acquired in the last ten years. “You know where the kid is?”

Doug Franklin shook his head. “The janitor’s name was Trapper Frogg. I don’t remember what his kid’s name was, which is weird because it was an odd one. Old age, I guess. It’ll be in the file somewhere. I remember talking to him.”

“Great,” A.L. said. “We also want to talk to Corrine Antler’s parents. Just to see if there is any possible connection between them and the Whitmans or anybody else intimately involved in this thing. Can you set that up for us?”

“Yeah, I think so. They’re both teachers so they get off work by 3:30. Can the two of you hang around until then?”

He and Rena nodded. “We’ll take a drive by Rosemary Bracken’s house. And then spend the time reviewing the case file,” A.L. said. “Brent Smoke already offered it to us.”

“The new guy,” Doug Franklin said, his tone not complimentary. “Always wanted to shake things up. Like what we’d been doing for the last thirty years was all wrong.”

Doug Franklin had twenty years on A.L. He’d earned his “Old Guy” stripes. But still, it made A.L. uneasy. Was he on his way to being him? Pissed off about the inevitable change that barreled toward them every day, like a goddamn speeding train.

A few months ago he’d have spent no time thinking about it. But that was before Tess. Who had triumphed over tragedy and likely wouldn’t bother wasting too much time with somebody who couldn’t realize that the good old days might have been great but they were fucking gone.

“Thank you for your time,” A.L. said.

“You’ll let me know, right?” Doug Franklin said, standing up. “If there’s anything in your case that might mean something to me.”

“Will do,” A.L. promised.