“Talk with her? What’s wrong with you people? She’s told you who beat her up. I gave you his address! What else do we have to do, make the arrest?”

“We’ve been out to Randy Schoof’s place,” Lyle said. “He’s not home, but we have an officer staking out his drive. I’ve interviewed a friend he was with earlier. The friend alibis him, but he did give a list of places Schoof might be.”

“Fine. Get out there and find the little bastard.”

“We intend to, Ed. But we need to cover all the bases.” Lyle twisted so that he was facing Becky directly. He smiled at her as if she were still a pretty girl. “Becky, do you know a man named Shaun Reid?”

“Sure.” Her injured mouth slurred the word. “He owns Reid-Gruyn Pulp an’ Paper.”

“What’s your relationship with Shaun Reid?”

Despite her stitches, Becky frowned. “Wha’ d’ you mean?”

“Is it professional? Personal?”

“I don’ have a relationship with him. I know who he is, that’s all.”

Lyle glanced up at Ed and Suzanne, a protective wall of parenting. “Maybe we should talk about this without your mom and dad here.”

“The hell you say.” Ed bristled. “Anything you got to ask Becky, you can ask in front of us.”

Lyle’s cool gaze flickered toward Russ. Russ nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Becky,” Lyle said, “are you involved with Shaun Reid?”

“Wha’? No!”

“For chrissakes, Reid is married. And he’s practically my age! What does this have to do with Becky’s assault?”

Lyle ignored Ed. “Becky, we’ve heard there’s a rumor around town that you’ve been seeing Shaun Reid. We’d like to know if there’s any truth to it, and if there’s anything more you’d like to tell us about when you were attacked.”

“Randy Schoof attacked me.” Becky spoke slowly, enunciating the words carefully. “When I wouldn’ give him the camera. I don’ know Shaun Reid personally.”

“You heard her. Now get out and arrest this Schoof before I-”

Russ raised one hand. “Ed, you really, really don’t want to be making threats in front of two peace officers.”

Suzanne stepped forward for the first time, laying her hand lightly on her daughter’s shoulder. “Please. Find the man who did this.” She looked at Russ, then Lyle. “Please.”

Lyle glanced at Russ again and saw something there Clare wasn’t privy to. The deputy chief nodded. “We will, Suzanne. You all take care. I’ll let you know as soon as we have more information.” He slipped past Russ and vanished into the hall.

“Ed,” Russ said. The older man scowled at him. “I’m sorry.”

Ed waved him off. “Words are cheap. Show me by bringing in that punk Randy Schoof.”

She could hear Russ take a breath, as if he were going to say more. Instead, he nodded, as Lyle had done, and trudged out of the room. Clare stepped into the space he had vacated. “Hi.” She put on a cheery smile. “I thought I’d stop by and see how everybody was doing.”

What do you think?” Lyle was leaning against the wall opposite the elevator bank.

“I think she’s either telling the truth, and it was Schoof, or she’s afraid to say anything in front of her parents, and Reid is somehow involved.” Russ removed his glasses and polished them on the sleeve of his thermal shirt.

“You want me to clear the room? Question her again?”

“No. We’ve pissed off the family more than enough for now. Schoof is our main target. Shaun’s probably a dead end. Consider the source of the information. If we uncover anything to change that, then we’ll come in with the full court press.”

“We’ve got an APB out on Schoof, and Noble’s cruising the town, checking out places he’s been associated with. Relatives’ houses, places of employment, the works.” Lyle’s radio squawked for attention. He unhooked it from his belt and keyed the mike. “MacAuley here.”

“Lyle, it’s Noble.”

Lyle looked at Russ. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve found the Castle girl’s missing car.”

“Good work. Where is it?”

“In the office parking lot at the Reid-Gruyn mill.”

Russ rehooked his glasses over his ears and reached for the mike. “Noble? It’s Russ. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Hold down the fort.”

“Will do, Chief.”

Lyle turned off the radio and stowed it. “So. Maybe there is something to the Reid angle after all.”

“We’ll see. I want you to follow up with Schoof’s buddies. Lean on the guy he said he was hunting with. See if you can shake anything else loose.”

“Okay. Anything new on the van der Hoevens?”

“Eric and the state lab guys were on site when I left.” Russ glanced at his watch. “If Judge Ryswick has come through with a warrant, Eric should be searching the house right now. Mark’s running the black Mercedes angle with the DMV. Washington County first, then surrounding counties.”

“That’s going to be the proverbial needle in the haystack.”

“I know. I’d pay good money for a single other lead as to where Millie van der Hoeven has gone, but the Mercedes, right now, is our best bet. You wouldn’t believe how many Mercedes have been registered in the tri-county area in the past two years.”

“And you didn’t believe ’em when they said the economy was recovering.”

Russ snorted. “Wanna guess the most popular color for Mercedes sedans?”

Lyle rolled his eyes. “Black?”

“There you go. That’s why you get to be the deputy.”

Lyle shoved away from the wall and punched the elevator button. “Coming?”

Russ jerked his head toward the other end of the hall. “I want a word with Clare before I go.”

“We should have her pry the truth out of the Castle girl.”

“No lie.” The elevator dinged, and the doors whooshed open. Russ slapped his hand against the edge of the door. “You know, she told me something earlier. Thinking about Shaun Reid.”

“What?”

“Have you heard anything about this GWP buying the mill out from under him?”

Lyle shook his head. The door dinged impatiently.

“According to the new Mrs. Reid, it’s on the table-if the Haudenosaunee land sale goes through. The question is, does Reid want to sell the place? Or would he be willing to try to throw a spanner in the works?” He let go of the door and was rewarded by the sight of Lyle’s thoughtful expression as the doors slid closed.

Russ had always liked the Reid-Gruyn mill. When he had been a high school student, he had occasionally met up with Shaun at his father’s office, which even back in the late sixties had the ossified feel of a memorial to an industrial age long passed. He swung by regularly on patrol, but he hadn’t been past the twin stone pillars in decades. Driving through the remains of the gates-the actual iron grills had been taken down before Russ was born-he was pleased to see nothing had changed.

The old mill, moldering into the river, was a half-hidden shadow, tucked behind the new mill and far removed from the parking lot’s faded white lights. The new mill, which hadn’t been new since Calvin Coolidge was president, loomed beside the black, glittering rush of water. Even from the edge of the gate, Russ could see the phosphorescent white of the dam spill and, fronting the mill, long and low, the offices. Russ wondered how many of them were still occupied in an age of downsizing and outsourcing.

Noble was parked in the row of reserved spaces in front of the offices. His squad car was angled so its headlights bounced off an apple green Prius. Russ pulled in alongside him and got out.

Noble got out of his car. “Hey, Chief.”

“You got a flashlight?”

Noble handed over his Maglite. Russ shone it through the windows. The light picked out an overnight bag, a pair of sneakers, and the usual junk that collects in busy people’s cars: CD cases, crumpled fast food wrappers, an empty soda bottle.