“Good. Then I’ll get to the point. By July 17, when the news of Kirkendall’s crime appeared in the local paper, the family was gone. On Friday, the twenty-first, the house was empty and not a stick of furniture remained. Even if Michael hadn’t been at Disneyland, he couldn’t have been there.”

I was silent for a moment, calculating rapidly. “Maybe it was the week before. July fourteenth instead of the twenty-first.” I was talking off the top of my head, desperate to salvage the story Michael had told me with such conviction.

Diana wagged an index finger. “No, no, no,” she said, as though correcting an errant child. “Mary Claire was kidnapped on the nineteenth. If Michael had seen the men the week before—even if he was correct about what they were up to—the bundle couldn’t have been her. She was still alive and well.”

I closed my mouth and stared at them.

Diana Alvarez’s eyes were bright with triumph. I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. Offhand . . . except for an incident in first grade . . . I couldn’t think when I’d felt so humiliated. I’d believed Sutton. I’d persuaded others he was telling the truth. Now here I sat, feeling like an ass. I didn’t care that my ego had taken a hit. I cared because we were back to square one where Mary Claire was concerned. The link, as tenuous as it might have been, was gone.

Diana reached into her tote again, this time pulling out a file folder that she then pushed across the desk. “I made copies of the photographs from Disneyland. I also made copies of the clippings about Keith Kirkendall so you can read them at your leisure. I knew you wouldn’t be content to take our word for it.”

I pushed the folder back across the desk. “I appreciate the offer, but you’ll want those for your latest scrapbook.”

She left the folder where it was. “I made duplicates. That’s yours to keep. We’ve already dropped off a set for Lieutenant Phillips.”

Ryan fixed his big brown eyes on me with a phony look of pity and regret. Briefly I considered leaping across the desk and biting him until he bled.

“Sorry you had to go through this,” he said. “It’s typical of Michael, but that doesn’t make it any less infuriating.”

“Have you told him?”

Diana said, “No. As you know, we’re not on the best of terms. We thought the blow might be softer if it came from you.”

“In other words, you want me to stick it to him instead of you.”

Ryan said, “There’s nothing personal at stake. We’re setting the record straight. If you want us to put copies in the mail to him, we will.”

“I’ll take care of it.”