Brady took her coat and tossed it across a sofa. "Did you learn anything?"

She headed for the kitchen table. "A little." She set up her laptop. Rae set a notebook and pen on the table, and Nate slid his little notebook from his breast pocket. Brady probably stored everything he needed to know in his brain, and if he forgot anything, Nate figured his wife would gladly fill him in.

Marisa's hands were clenched together and white-knuckled.

Nate bumped her shoulder. "We're going to figure it out."

A glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes, but it faded fast. He couldn't blame her. Her daughter had been gone for six days. A long time. Too long.

Why had the kidnapper given them so much time? Nate thought the whole thing must have been planned on the fly. How much of it had been Leslie's idea, and how much Rick's? And what would Rick do, now that Leslie was gone?

There were too many unknowns.

Brady looked at Sam. "What'd you learn?"

"Richard Gray manages a copy shop in White Plains. He has an apartment not too far from there that he leased a couple of years ago."

"A copy shop?" Nate looked at Marisa. "Doesn't seem like the ideal place to 'find yourself.'"

Rae asked, "Which means?"

"That's what his mother told us, that Richard was finding himself." Nate turned back to Brady. "Maybe that was her way of saying that he wasn't doing anything worth mentioning. She seemed proud of her older boys, but Rick was definitely the sheep wearing the black suit in the family."

"Right, but..." Marisa's voice trailed off.

Sam was furiously typing on her computer. "Looks like his oldest brother, John, followed in their dad's footsteps. He's a banker, and a very successful one, according to this website." She typed some more. "Andrew's an attorney who specializes in"—she scrolled down, reading the screen—"business and finance law." She looked up. "Again, a lot like their dad."

"But Mrs. Gray told us Rick didn't work." Marisa looked at Nate. "Remember. She said something like, 'When he decided not to work, I decided not to support him.'"

Nate nodded, impressed. "She did say that." He turned to Sam. "But you're saying he does work?"

She typed, then maneuvered her mouse. "Yup. The copy shop's website lists him as the manager, and according to his bank account, he gets paid every two weeks."

"He didn't tell his mom he has a job," Rae said. "He probably figured she wouldn't be impressed."

"And maybe the fact that he was sniffing around Jessica wouldn't have made her happy either." Brady addressed Nate. "You suppose she knows where Jessica lives?"

Nate looked at Marisa, who shrugged. "No idea." He turned to Brady. "What about the car. Did you—?"

"You asked me to look for a silver sedan, right?"

Marisa turned to him, eyes wide. "Why? What didn't you tell me?"