Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(46)

Max reached into a file folder and pulled out a black-and-white photo. Afton recognized it as one of the stills the techies downstairs had hastily pulled from the security camera DVD they’d gotten from the dry cleaner.

“Do you know this guy?” Max asked. He held up the photo for both of them to see.

Darden barely glanced at the photo. “No, I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“Take another look,” Max said. “Take a good look.”

“My client already gave you his answer,” Slocum said. “He said he doesn’t know the man.”

“Indulge me,” Max said. “Trust me when I say this is important.”

Darden glanced up and studied the photo for a few moments. “No, I . . .” Then his brows pinched together as he scanned the entire photo. “Wait a minute . . . what’s that man carrying in his arms?”

“This is quite enough,” Slocum said.

Max lifted a hand. “Just give your client a minute.”

Darden shook his head as if he were processing the information. “Is that Al? It can’t be Al!”

“You know him?” Max asked with some urgency.

“You know him?” Slocum said, surprised.

Darden shot Max a fearful glance. “Did Al take Elizabeth Ann? Is this bundle he’s carrying supposed to be her?” He tapped the photo hard with an index finger. “That son of a bitch. I can’t believe it.” Darden clenched his fists as his face flushed pink with rage.

“Who’s Al?” Slocum asked, clearly confused.

“He’s our handyman,” Darden said. “Well . . . really a gardener that Susan hired last fall. He raked and bundled leaves, that sort of thing.” He sat back in his chair, looking shaken. “Where did you get this photo? My God, is he the one who kidnapped Elizabeth Ann?”

“We don’t know that yet,” Max said. “We’re still pursuing a number of leads. Do you know this man’s last name? Or have his address?”

“No, I don’t have any of that information. But Susan probably does. Damn it! I told her never to hire scum like that. I told her. She was always so trusting and na?ve, never met a stray dog she didn’t want to drag home.” He pounded the table with his fist. “If this is the guy, you’ve got to get out there and find him!”

“We will,” Max said. “I promise.”

“This could be something,” Darden said, turning toward Slocum.

“Did this Al person work for you on a regular basis?” Max asked. “It would help if we had dates. If we could pinpoint exactly when he might have been at your home.”

“I don’t know,” Darden said. “It was just that one time, I think. A couple of months ago.”

“How was he referred to you?” Max asked.

Darden rubbed his eyes and said, “You can thank Susan for that. I think the guy was part of a charity that Susan was connected to. You know, like hiring ex-vets or something.”

“And you don’t know where he lives?” Max asked.

“I told you, no. If I did, I’d be on my way over there right now to wring his neck,” Darden cried. He paused. “But if you call Susan, I’m positive she’ll remember the name of the organization. It’s called Graceful Nation or something like that.”

“We’ll do that.” Max glanced at the one-way mirror.


*

AFTON got the message immediately. She pulled out her cell phone and called Susan Darden.

Susan Darden answered on the second ring. “Hello?” she gasped. Her breathless voice broadcast her obvious distress.

“Mrs. Darden?” Afton said. “Something’s come up.”

“You found her?” Susan said.

“No, I’m afraid not. But we do have a lead.”

“Oh, please let this be something.”

“You had a handyman, a gardener, working at your home a few months ago. A person named Al?”

“Oooh!” She let out a hoarse moan. “Al Sponger. Is he the one who took Elizabeth Ann?”

“We don’t know that. But we do want to locate this person for questioning. We were hoping you might provide an address for the organization Al worked for.”

“Of course!” Susan said. “Just a minute. Let me grab my . . . address book.”

Afton could hear a frantic pawing of pages. Then Susan came back on the line.

“Yes, I have it right here. It’s called Grateful Nation. Their address is twenty-eight fourteen Girard and . . .”

Afton carefully wrote down the name—Grateful Nation, not Graceful Nation—as well as their address and phone number. “Thank you, Mrs. Darden. We’ll contact them immediately.”

“And you’ll let me know?” She sniffled. “As soon as you can?”

“Absolutely.”

Afton thanked Susan Darden again and hung up. Then she walked out of the small room and handed the slip of paper to the uniformed officer who was stationed outside the door of the interview room. She would have loved to follow up on the lead right away, but knew Thacker would skin her alive if she did.

When Afton returned to her spot on the other side of the glass, Max was just pocketing the note and about to switch gears.