And of course, he still had to pay a visit to the doctor. He had not seen her since that night ten years ago. He admired her work, so unlike his own, yet also requiring calm and professionalism under extraordinary circumstances. He respected that and looked forward to seeing her again.

The waitress came back, and he ordered a Reuben just to be done with her. He was still waiting for his food when the little man got up and left the diner. Tinsley wasn’t worried about where he was going. It made no difference.

It was after two a.m. when the Cherokee pulled up in front of the motel. Hendricks had already been gone when they got back from the diner and had just returned. Gibson was sitting on his bed, trying to diagram a rudimentary solution to their library Wi-Fi problem. He listened as Hendricks went into his room and slammed the door. A few moments later it reopened, shutting more quietly this time.

Gibson put his work aside and went outside. Hendricks was sitting on the hood of the Cherokee smoking. He wore dark pants and a Windbreaker even though it was still in the mideighties. The back of the Cherokee was empty; Hendricks would be cramped with all those extra duffels stacked in his room.

“You weren’t lying about the library,” said Hendricks. “It’s going to be a bitch trying to cover all the exits and the nearby streets with just the three of us. Never mind not being seen. And that doesn’t account for shifts and sleep.”

“Can Abe send more troops?”

“He could, but we run into that other problem. We stake out that library with an army and we’ll stand out like Girl Scouts in Las Vegas. And local PD might not be good for a lot, but I guarantee if we set up camp at a public library that kids frequent, we are going to wind up with a Maglite shoved way, way up our ass.”

“So we’re screwed?”

“Not entirely. I set up perimeter cameras. They’re motion-activated, but I’ve got coverage on all three doors. It’s not ideal, but we’ll get faces going in and out. If he even goes in or out. Nothing to rely on.” He flicked ash into the gutter. “We sure could use some of that cyber-ninja voodoo of yours.”

“Cyber-ninja voodoo?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Hendricks, can I ask you a question? Did you work this kind of thing in the LAPD?”

“Did I work missing children? I had my share.”

“Did you find many of them?”

Hendricks looked at him. “I answer, you going to go scurrying for the bathroom again?”

“Forget it.”

“Generally, you got forty-eight hours. After that, if you do find a kid, they’re not breathing.”

“So do you think there’s any chance Suzanne’s alive?”

Hendricks lit another cigarette.