“She’d had part of her arm bitten off by a shark. I think most people might have needed a moment.”

He saw the sign for McPherson Title and pulled into a parking spot. The door was unlocked and they walked in. There were two women working at desks and what appeared to be two offices and a restroom toward the back.

“May I help you?” one of the women asked. She did not get up from her desk.

A.L. approached and offered his card. “Can I speak with whoever is in charge?”

That got her up. “Of course.” She walked quickly to the back office. Knocked on a door. Then opened it and stuck her head inside. In less than a minute, she was back with a middle-aged white guy trailing behind.

“I’m Marcus Page,” the man said. “We can talk in my office.”

Marcus led them back the direction he’d come from. Once inside the midsize office, he motioned for them to have a seat at the small corner table with four chairs. Once he was seated, he said, “What can I assist you with?”

“Mr. Page, we’re working on an ongoing investigation and want to have a conversation with someone who we believe you might have some information on. McPherson Title was the title company that assisted with the sale of his property a couple years ago. We’re hoping that you’d have an address?”

“Who is the individual?”

“Coyote Frogg.”

Marcus Page’s facial expression didn’t change. But suddenly he was tapping the end of A.L.’s business card on the table in a staccato beat. “You’re from the Baywood Police Department.”

“Yes, sir,” A.L. answered, even though it hadn’t sounded like a question.

“The only thing that the police in Baywood are working on right now is the disappearance of Emma Whitman.”

Rena leaned forward. “Mr. Page, how is it that you know Emma Whitman’s name?”

“I imagine most people in this town know it. Or at least most people of a certain age. Because when we heard the news, it took us back ten years, just like that.” He stopped tapping and very carefully laid A.L.’s card on the table. “My daughter was Corrine Antler’s best friend. They went to the same day care. She was there the day Corrine disappeared.”

“That must have been a horrible time,” Rena said. “For your child. For you.”

“Coyote’s father worked at the day care. And now you want to talk to Coyote about another missing child.” He sounded very angry. “Did the police miss something here ten years ago? Did they?”

“Mr. Page, I would encourage you not to connect too many dots that are really just specks of dirt on the paper,” A.L. said. Christ, he had not expected this. It was as if they’d scratched a scab and ended up rupturing the femoral artery.