Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(20)

The National Crime Information Center was an FBI database, only available to law enforcement agencies, not private investigators.

“It seems to me that you covered Vic’s disappearance, Sharp.” Morgan scanned the board. “So we should focus on the new piece of information.”

“The dead woman.” Lance got up and went into his office. He returned a minute later with his laptop. “We can start with NamUs. If she was a local and a missing person report was filed, her information should have been entered into the system.”

The National Missing and Unidentified Persons System was a Department of Justice database accessible to law enforcement and the general public. It cross-referenced unidentified remains and outstanding missing persons across the country.

Lance tried not to think about the odds of actually finding his father. More than forty thousand sets of remains were unidentified in the United States, scattered in a patchwork of over two thousand coroner’s and medical examiner’s offices across the country. Even with his father’s DNA on file, it was possible his body had been found years ago. NamUs didn’t exist until 2009. Vic Kruger’s remains could be sitting in a vault anywhere in the country, or they could have been buried or cremated long ago without being identified.

Focus on the task.

Lance typed. “In NamUs, there are 236 females missing in the state of New York.”

Sharp leaned on the board and crossed his arms. “They’ll be listed in order of date last seen. Start with July through September 1994. Then we’ll whittle the list down by region.”

“Four women were reported missing at that time.” Lance scrolled. “Two were local girls. Laura Dennis, from Albany, was twenty-two years old when she disappeared. She was last seen August 1, 1994. Mary Fox went missing from Grey’s Hollow. Her description says she was sixty-four inches tall and weighed one hundred fifteen pounds.”

“Local girl, close enough in height to Frank’s estimate for the skeleton,” Sharp said.

Lance continued. “She was reported missing August 25, but the file notes say she was last seen a week or two before. Though she lived with her mother and stepfather, her mother wasn’t sure of the exact date she’d left. They’d had an argument, and it wasn’t unusual for Mary to stay with a friend for a few days.”

“No one reported her missing for two weeks.” Morgan made notes on her legal pad. “That’s horrible.”

“Who’s listed as the investigating agency?” Sharp asked.

“Randolph County Sheriff’s Department,” Lance said.

“King wasn’t the sheriff in 1994.” Morgan’s chair squeaked as she shifted back and crossed her legs.

“No.” Sharp shook his head. “Bob O’Reilly was the sheriff back then. He dropped dead of a massive heart attack on the job in 2001. King was the chief deputy. He ran for office, won, and has been sheriff ever since.”

“Let me pull up the case report,” Lance said. “I’ll print Mary’s photo.”

The printer hummed and spit out a sheet of paper. Sharp retrieved it and fastened it to the board. Mary had brown eyes and shoulder-length brown hair.

Sharp pointed to the picture. “Does she look familiar, Lance?”

Lance shook his head. “No.”

Sharp wrote Mary’s name above the picture. “Lance, why don’t you call Frank? If finding her was this easy for us, then he probably already has her name.”

Sharp went back to pacing, as if physical movement jogged his brain.

The ME didn’t answer. Lance left a message then set down his phone.

“While we wait, we should conduct a thorough review of the file and make a list of people to locate and interview.” Sharp returned to the board. “Morgan, I want your eyes on this whole file. You’re the one starting fresh with no preexisting opinions.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to copy the file for my grandfather as well,” Morgan said. “He has decades of experience and nothing but time on his hands.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Sharp started a new column entitled Interviews. Underneath, he listed Stan Adams and Brian Leed. “Vic worked for UpState Insurance. The company went bankrupt in 2012. His boss’s name was Phil Dryer. Phil was a real company man and stayed with the firm for his whole career. His last known address is in the file. There was also a secretary, Dorothy Finch. She was sixty years old in 1994 and retired when the firm closed. The last time I checked, she was living in a nursing home.”

Lance worked on his laptop. “Stan and Brian still live in town. Their addresses haven’t changed in the last five years. I found an obituary for Dorothy Finch. Phil Dryer no longer lives at that address.”

Under Find, Sharp wrote Phil Dryer.

As always, Morgan was making her own notes. “What else did Vic do? He must have had hobbies, other acquaintances. Were he and Jenny socially active back then?”

“Stan and Brian were the full extent of Vic’s social life,” Sharp said. “They played baseball and hung out at PJ’s.”

“Is that the same PJ’s that’s on Fletcher Avenue?” Morgan asked.

“That’s the one.” Sharp nodded. “It’s still in business. Still owned by the same family.”

Morgan turned to Lance. “What do you remember of your dad’s friends?”