call home. Doug reported that Jonah’s stomach had returned to normal. Once more, they seemed to have escaped a greater medical issue.
“By the way, Jonah’s camp package came in the mail today. It tells what he should bring for the summer,” Doug said. “Jonah’s been poring over it and making a list of all the new things he’ll need.”
Dani’s heart stopped. The mailman. The person who filled the mailbox standing next to their driveway with reams of catalogs, tons of bills, occasional greeting cards and once in a rare while a letter from a faraway friend who still cherished the written document. Their mailman’s name was Joe. Every Christmas they gave him a card with a cash gift thanking him for his dedicated service. If Dani were home when he delivered a package or a letter needing her signature, he’d greet her by name and ask how Jonah was doing. She suspected he knew more about their family than the neighbors next door just from sorting the mail sent to their house.
Was it possible? Trudy’s neighbor, Laura, said Sunshine had grown up in the house on Aspen Street. Could the same mailman who had known her as a child still be delivering mail to that block? Could he know where Sunshine was living? Dani quickly got off the phone with Doug and dialed Tommy.
“The mailman,” she practically shouted when he picked up. “We never tried the mailman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sunshine grew up on that street. If she sent her mother cards, you know, for her birthday or Christmas and put her return address on it, the mailman might know where she is.”
“Uh, Dani, you’re the lawyer, but aren’t there privacy laws about that? I mean, are mail deliverers allowed to look at the letters they deliver?”
“They’re people. And they have to look at what’s written on the envelope to deliver the mail. Isn’t it possible that he might have noticed where Sunshine’s mail came from? Or even her married name?”
“Do you realize how many homes are on each route? How many pieces of mail they deliver every day?”
Dani was too agitated to sit. The cord on the hotel phone wouldn’t let her walk far, but she paced as far as she could. “I know it’s a long shot. We have nothing else. Can you call the Bryon post office first thing in the morning?”
“Nobody’s going to talk to me on the phone. Even in person it’ll be a tough sell.”
Dani looked at her watch—9:20. There was no chance of Tommy’s getting a flight out tonight. Even if he could get on an early-morning flight, he’d arrive in Byron after the mailmen had left the post office. Waiting for the right one to return at the end of the day would make it impossible to follow up in time on any information they might get. “Try anyway, Tommy. Please.”
She heard a long sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t get your hopes up.”
“You’re wrong, Tommy. I have to get my hopes up. It’s the only way I’ll get through the night.”
As soon as he got off the phone, Tommy turned to his wife. “This is so goddamn frustrating. We believe she’s out there but have no idea where.”
“Tell me what you’ve tried.”
Tommy ran through the list of avenues he’d searched. When he finished, Patty turned away from him and went into the kitchen.
“Hey, where’re you going?
“Be right back.” A minute later, she returned to the living room with a small book in her hand. “I couldn’t get by without my address book,” she said, a big smile on her face. “Everybody I’ve ever known is written down, with their phone number and address. I even keep a record of birthdays in here. I know the young people now all have their Blackberrys and such, but our generation? We like the old paper-and-pencil record.”
“Shit! I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about that. I’m losing my goddamn touch.”
“You have to go out there and check the house.”
“It’s all locked up, you know.”
“Tommy Noorland, I’ve heard enough of your stories from the FBI days to know that a locked door never stopped you.”
Tommy chuckled. Patty was right. He could be on the first flight out in the morning. Breaking into someone’s house in broad daylight wasn’t ideal, but he still remembered his skill with a pick. And if some neighbor called the cops, he’d already be inside and have had a chance to look for an address book. Besides,