It’s too close. I have a spiking irrational fear that all my pain and regret might get louder at this distance. “Crazy,” I say thinly, focusing on the tidy storefronts and sidewalk, the savings bank with a giant smiley-face sticker in the window. Nothing seems out of place, not even a jaywalker. “A town like this feels so safe and apart from the outside world. You start to wonder if it’s dangerous.”

“The fairy tale of it, you mean?”

“Right. False security. You stop looking over your shoulder, because the picture feels real. Nothing bad can happen when there’s a moat around the whole town, right? Battlements. Guards at the gate. But the dragon shows up anyway.”

Will glances over. His look is loaded. “You know what this place reminds me of?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Mendocino.”

—

The Petaluma PD is just north of downtown. We park, sign in, and wait at the front desk until a junior officer appears to lead us back to a string of offices.

“This is Sergeant Barresi,” he says, stopping at an open door.

The sergeant is a big guy with a sallow face and slicked-back hair. As he stands up from behind his desk, I’m reminded of a lot of commanding officers I’ve worked with over the years, right down to his beige suit, so new it looks shiny. For the press conferences, I guess. Ready or not, he’s PR now. It’s already clear that this case will be high profile. Polly’s age and the way she was taken, so brutally and from her own home, have triggered widespread fear and concern. The entire nation will be watching this one unfold.

“I thought we were supposed to meet with Ed Van Leer,” Will says.

“He’ll be along shortly. We’re co-leading the case. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“We’ve got a missing girl up in Mendocino,” I jump in. “Cameron Curtis. I’m sure you’ve heard. Now there’s another missing report filed in Gualala. Shannan Russo, age seventeen, last seen early June. Just trying to see if any dots connect.”

“We’re not even sure what our own dots are,” Barresi says flatly. “Crime happened late Friday. We’re only at Tuesday morning, here. I’ve got FBI everywhere, from Washington and San Francisco, more agents than I’ve ever seen in one place. But that doesn’t mean I can find my ass.”

I know the pressure he’s under to get this case right. Everyone watching. The last thing he needs is something else to think about, but I have to try just the same. “Listen, we know your time is valuable,” I tell him. “If you could just take a minute to lay out the case for us.”

“Van Leer said there was a handprint at the scene?” Will presses.