A dented footlocker served as a closet. Inside were two white T-shirts, two blue work shirts, a pair of blue jeans.

Cherish Daney said, “We never even got a chance to buy him clothes.”

We walked back to the front of the house. She peered through a window. “Here’s my husband. I’d better go help him.”

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

Drew Daney came through the gateway gripping two large bags of groceries in each arm. An even larger mesh sack filled with oranges dangled from his right thumb.

Cherish took the fruit and reached for one of the bags.

Daney held on. “I’m okay, Cher.” Dark eyes sighted us over the groceries. He stopped and placed the load on the ground.

“Dr. Delaware.”

“You remember.”

“It’s an unusual name,” he said, coming forward. His wrestler’s frame had taken on fifteen or so pounds, most of them soft, and his thick, wavy hair was graying at the temples. He wore a beard now, a stubbly silver thing, neatly trimmed around the edges. His white polo shirt was spotless and pressed. So were his blue jeans. Same color scheme as his wife.

“Also,” he said, “I read your report to the judge, so your name stuck in my mind.”

Cherish looked at him and went inside the house.

“How’d you come to read it?” I said.

“Sydney Weider wanted my opinion, as Troy’s counselor. I told her I thought it was a careful document. You didn’t want to go out on a limb and say something unscientific. But you clearly weren’t willing to give the boys a pass.”

“A pass on murder?” said Milo.

“At the time we were hoping for a miracle.”

“We?”

“The boys’ families, Sydney, my wife, myself. It just seemed that putting the boys away forever wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Forever turned out to be eight years, Reverend,” said Milo.

“Detective . . . what’s your name, please— ”

“Sturgis.”

“Detective Sturgis, in the life of a child, eight years is eternity.” Daney ran a hand through his hair. “In Troy’s case, a month was eternity. And now Rand . . . unbelievable.”

“Any idea who might’ve wanted to hurt Rand, sir?”

Daney’s lips puffed. His toe scuffed one of the grocery bags and he lowered his voice. “I don’t want my wife hearing this, but there probably is something you should know.”

“Probably?”

Daney eyed the front door of his house. “Could we find a place to talk later?”

“Sooner’s better than later, sir.”

“Okay, sure, I see your point. I’ve got a youth council meeting in Sylmar at two. I could leave a little early and meet you in, say, ten minutes?”

“Sounds good,” said Milo. “Where?”

“How about at the Dipsy Donut on Vanowen, a few blocks west.”

“We’ll be there, Reverend.”

“Both of you?” he said.

“Dr. Delaware’s consulting on the case.”

“Ah,” said Daney. “Makes sense.”

* * *