“What?” Trevor said.

“Craig Pierce,” the detective said.

“I know that name,” Carol said. “The guy who was attacked? About three months ago.”

Duckworth nodded slowly, and said, more to himself than to his son and Carol, “He was sedated too. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that until now.”

“Dad,” Trevor said.

Duckworth didn’t respond. He was recalling the earlier case.

“Earth to Dad, come in, please.”

“Sorry,” Duckworth said, as if being brought out of a trance. “There’s some things I have to check out. But anyway, this guy who had his back tattooed, he—”

“That’s totally sick,” Trevor said.

“Yeah, it sure is.” Duckworth went back to Gaffney’s head shot. “Are you sure he doesn’t look familiar?”

“Uh, why would you think we’d recognize him?” Trevor asked.

His father smiled sheepishly. “This is the awkward part. I went to Knight’s to have a look at their surveillance footage. I focused in on the time just before Mr. Gaffney arrived, and just after he left. I thought, you know, if he’d had a run-in with someone, a fight, that’d give me an idea who might have done this to him.”

Another exchange of looks between Trevor and Carol.

“What’d you see?” Trevor asked.

“Well, I didn’t see anything like that. But what I did notice was that the two of you were in the bar at the time.”

“Oh,” said Carol, her face flushing.

“Jesus, Dad,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be investigating your own kid.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s what it sounds like to me. Just ’cause I’ve moved back in doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose into my personal life.” He looked apologetically at Carol. “I’m really sorry about this.”

Carol placed a hand on Trevor’s arm. “I don’t think your father—”

Trevor shook her hand off. “No, this is really crossing the line.”

Keeping his voice very calm, Duckworth said, “I’m only here because I thought you might be able to help me. It’s not like the two of you are in any kind of trouble.”

“You actually looked at us sitting there, in the bar?”

“I did.”

Carol’s face flushed again. “You must . . . you must have a terrible impression of me.”

Duckworth smiled reassuringly. “Not at all. I was young myself once, or so I’m told. It’s hard to remember back that far.”

“So, basically, you watched us make out,” Trevor said accusingly.

“Trevor,” Duckworth said evenly, “you and Carol here are potential witnesses to a crime. You may have seen something without even realizing it. I observed the two of you in a booth, yes. Shortly after Mr. Gaffney left the bar, you left too. I’m hoping maybe one or both of you noticed something outside that might be helpful in the investigation. If you’re uncomfortable being interviewed by me, then I can turn this over to someone else and have them do it.”

Trevor was silent.