“I doubt it. Right after I read the article, I drove around the old neighborhood, and even the areas I knew well had changed. Trees were gone, shrubs were overgrown, new houses had gone up. Of course, I didn’t cover the whole of Horton Ravine, but I’m not sure it would have made any difference since I don’t have a clear image. I think I’d recognize the place in the woods. The house is a blur.”

“So twenty-one years later, you’re clueless and hoping I can figure out where you were.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You want me to find an unmarked grave, basically a hole.”

“Can you do it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried before.”

I studied him, chasing the idea around to see where it might go. “It’s an interesting proposition. I’ll give you that.”

I rocked in my swivel chair, listening to the squeak, while I sifted through the story, wondering what I’d missed. There was something more going on, but I couldn’t imagine what. Finally, I said, “What’s your stake in the situation? I know it bothers you, but why to this extent?”

“I don’t know. I mean, the article talked about how the kidnapping ruined Mrs. Fitzhugh’s life. She and her husband divorced and he ended up leaving town. She still has no idea what happened to her little girl. She doesn’t even know for sure she’s dead. If I can help, it seems like the right thing to do.”

“It’s going to cost you,” I said.

“I figured as much.”

“What sort of work do you do?”

“Nothing right now. I lost my job so I’m on unemployment.”

“What was the job?”

“I sold advertising for KSPL.”

KSPL was the local AM station I sometimes tuned in on my car radio when I was tooling around town. “How long were you there?”

“About a year, maybe a little less.”

“What’s it mean when you say you ‘lost’ your job? Were you laid off, downsized, fired, what?”

He hesitated. “The last one.”

“Fired.”

He nodded.

I waited and when it was clear he had no intention of continuing, I gave him a nudge. “Uh, Sutton, I’d consider it a courtesy if you’d be a bit more forthcoming. Would you care to fill me in?”

He rubbed his palms on his pants. “I said I had a BA from Stanford, but it wasn’t really true. I was enrolled and attended classes for a couple of years, but I didn’t graduate.”

“So you lied on the application?”

“Look, I know I made a mistake . . .”

“That would cover it,” I said.

“But I can’t do anything about it now. What’s done is done and I just have to move on.”

I’d heard a host of criminals make the same remark, like boosting cars, robbing banks, and killing folks could be brushed aside, a minor stumble on the path of life. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to pay me out of your unemployment benefits? We’re talking about five hundred bucks a day, plus expenses. Assuming I agree to help, which I haven’t.”