Elliott came through with some information. Turns out that when her boyfriend got out of prison about two months ago, he contacted her. Told her he wanted her to go out West with him. Just her and their baby. He apparently became violent when he found out the same private investigator who’d gotten him sent to prison had adopted his child.”
“Violent? Against the girl?”
“Nah. Busted up some furniture, though.”
“Have you located him?”
“Not yet. We’re still working on it.”
“Okay, thanks. When you find him I want to talk to him.” Griff paused. “Carver, I need a twenty-four hour watch on Ms. Loveless’s house.”
“I’m already devoting twelve man-hours a day to her, in case the kidnapper tries to contact her personally.”
“The note on her windshield was a note from the kidnapper. It warned that someone she knows could be hurt.”
“Was there a ransom demand?” Carver’s voice rose in excitement.
“Nope. I believe the kidnapper is referring to Mabry’s death, but just in case, I’d like an unmarked car in the area at all times.”
“Can’t do it. I’ll make sure a black-and-white drives by every hour.”
“Remove your officer from the house and give us a car instead. I don’t think there’s going to be a ransom demand. This isn’t about money.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Griff disconnected.
He looked up to find Sunny staring intently at him.
“Who is Lieutenant Carver looking for?”
“Burt Means.”
“I testified at his trial for statutory rape. Brittany was just fifteen. He was twenty.”
Griff’s gaze pinned her. “Well he’s contacted her.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Has Lieutenant Carver found him?”
“No. They’re still looking. Carver’s contacting his parole officer.”
“We’ve received some odd phone calls. Usually at night. We’ll have to look in Lil’s logbook, but I think one caller said something about meddling in other people’s affairs. You think he could have done this?”
“It’s a lead. Like I said earlier, most child abductions are perpetrated by a family member.”
“But what about the Grosses?”
“They’ll be questioned, of course. I don’t believe Mabry’s fall was an accident, but there’s no evidence to link it to your case. I can’t afford to ignore any possible lead. And neither can you.”
“I understand that. I gave the list of odd phone calls to the police. We’ve always gotten crank calls, because of the ‘happy endings’ stuff. I’ve never worried much about them.”
“Maybe you should have.”
A flash of pain crossed her face. “It’s easy for you to walk in here with your twenty-twenty hindsight.”
She pulled the band out of her hair and combed her fingers through it. “Do you think I haven’t lain awake at night, thinking about everyone I’ve come in contact with? Every case I’ve handled? Don’t you think Lil and I have gone over every telephone call?”
Something in Griff’s gaze shifted. The odd glints of blue and violet intensified. “I know you have.” He reached out and stopped her nervous hand with his. “Tell me about them.”
He put her hand on the table and patted it, then withdrew, but Sunny felt his taut resolve and reassurance. She didn’t know why her case was so important to him. Maybe he approached every case with this single-minded intensity.
Even as the thought emerged, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. He tried to maintain a businesslike demeanor. She understood that. She did the same thing. Remaining calm and detached while being sympathetic worked very well with nervous or distraught clients.
He’d started out that way with her, but underneath his professional exterior was a fervor that called to her.
Griff Stone was on a personal mission. She didn’t know his reasons, but she understood that much. She’d been on one all her life. The sign on her door wasn’t just a catchy logo. It was her goal. To find a happy ending for everyone. Including herself.
“Sunny? The phone calls?”
“Lil records all of them in a log. She also transcribes all the voice messages.” Sunny smiled. “She was an IRS investigator. To her, everyone is suspicious.”
Griff’s mouth turned up. “Not a bad way to be. A little cynical, but healthy. So I take it you’re not quite as conscientious?”
Sunny shook her head. “I’ll get the book.”
Griff followed her into the foyer that served as a reception area. “How did the burglar miss the telephone log?”
“About once a month, Lil takes it home with her to log our time. She had it that night.”
Griff looked at the neat precise records. “These entries in purple are answering service messages?
“Right.” She turned a few pages. “Here it is. March twenty-fifth. Lil has it recorded at eight-thirty p.m.