Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(72)

“Thanks,” Max said.

“He’ll be with you in a minute,” the receptionist said.

Afton sat on one side of the table, Max on the other.

“Thoughts?” he said.

“I don’t know,” Afton sighed. “I understand why we’re here, but I still think we should be focusing on the pizza guy. I think we’d do better if we were back in Hudson working the crime scene.”

“The FBI has that covered. We’re here to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”

“Bob Binger being one of the i’s?”

“You never know.”

“Hey,” a man said as he huffed his way through the doorway. He had a sallow, pudgy face and a paunch that was barely restrained by his belt. He looked tired, overworked, and scattered.

Afton and Max both rose to shake Binger’s hand and introduce themselves. His palm was damp and his face was florid. Maybe he was nervous, Afton thought. Or maybe he just had high blood pressure.

“I hope this won’t take long,” Binger said, plopping down into a chair.

“We’ll try to keep it brief,” Max said. “Like I explained on the phone, we’re trying to gather background information on Richard Darden.”

“This about his missing kid?”

“We’re focusing more on him right now.”

Binger snorted. “King Shit Darden, huh? Well, what do you want to know?”

“Richard Darden fired you, is that correct?”

A tiny vein in Binger’s forehead pulsed and his nostrils flared. “That arrogant puke cost me everything. Fourteen years I put in at Novamed. I led a team of eight developers. Never had a bad word in my personnel file. Never. Year after year, my team was one of the most productive in the company.”

“Then what?” Max asked.

“Darden, that’s what,” Binger said.

“Care to explain that?” Afton asked.

“Darden looked smart in a suit, played a good round of golf, and had enough smarm to spread around in the executive offices. He hopscotched his way up to head of R and D—that’s research and development—and became my boss. Every time we came up with a new idea, Darden took credit for it. When I finally called him out, he fired my ass. Security came in, threw all my personal gear in a cardboard box, and escorted me out the front door.” He mopped at his forehead. “Right in front of my team. God, it was embarrassing.”

“So you were angry,” Max said.

“I was livid. Plus, I was out of work for almost six months after that.”

“Ever have any revenge fantasies?” Afton asked.

Binger looked startled. “What? Me? No.” He stared at them. “I see where you’re going with this, but it wasn’t me who kidnapped that baby. Heck, I’ve got three kids of my own. I could never pull a stunt like that. No way.”

“Do you know anyone who would?” Max asked.

Binger was slow to answer. “No, I can’t say that I do. Oh, there were plenty of people who wanted to get back at Darden. But . . . I don’t think they’d go about it that way. No, I can’t think of anyone who’s that crazy.”


*

AN hour later, Afton and Max were back at the office.

“C’mon,” Max said. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee before we check in.”

“Sure,” Afton said.

“Got any change?”

She handed over her last three quarters.

Max popped them into the machine, gave it a hard kick, and got his cup of coffee. It spilled out oily and burned, just the way he liked it. They headed down the hallway just as two FBI agents, looking like on-the-job German shepherds, came jogging toward them and then passed by without saying a word.

“Keepin’ us in the loop,” Afton snorted.

They poked their heads into Thacker’s office and were waved in.

“How did it go with Binger?” Thacker asked. He looked dapper today in a charcoal gray pinstripe.

“Not much there,” Max said. “Guy’s pissed off, but he’s not that kind of pissed off. What’s happening here?”

“We saw more FBI agents,” Afton said, curious. “Out in the hallway.”

Thacker leaned back in his chair. “There’s still no word from the kidnappers. Darden is starting to lose it, so he’s been calling anyone and everyone who’s in a position of power.”

“Which means you’ve been getting trickle-down pressure?” Afton asked.

Thacker’s laugh was a sharp bark. “I’ve talked to more state senators, city council members, county sheriffs, and governor’s aids today than I normally do in an entire year of operations. Unless it’s an election year, and then they’re calling to panhandle or ask for an endorsement.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Afton said. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Thacker grunted. “There’s more.”

“What?” Max asked.

“Richard Darden is thinking about offering a reward. One million dollars.”

“Oh no,” Max said. “That’ll just bring out all the crazies. Tie up the phone lines. Exhaust our resources.” He blew out a glut of air. “As if they’re not exhausted enough.”