Which still didn’t make the rest of this any better.

“And partly because Pierce...”

Griff realized he had missed the rest of what Diana was saying. “Partly because Pierce what?”

He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I think Pierce has always felt he was to blame.”

“For Brian being taken? Why? I don’t understand.”

She wiped at her eyes. “Because he wouldn’t let Brian stay with us that night. Brian was begging to watch TV with us, whining like little kids do, and Pierce was grumpy and he made him go back to bed. He walked him into his room and the whole way Brian was dragging his heels and pleading and kissing Pierce’s hand. He was such a little nut!” She gave a watery chuckle and wiped her eyes again. “But then afterwards...” She shook her head.

“Pierce felt guilty.”

“He was devastated. He believed if he’d let Brian stay with us, he’d have been safe. I think he still believes it.” She added somberly, “Because it’s probably true.”

Griff was silent. Maybe it was true. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for Pierce. That was a crushing load of guilt to have to carry around all your life. And for no greater crime than insisting Brian stayed in bed like his mom wanted.

Diana drew a deep breath. “We could hear him crying from the other room. We were afraid he was going to wake up Chloe. Finally he got quiet and I opened the door to see if he’d fallen asleep or if he’d snuck out again. He used to do that. Even when he was in a crib, he used to climb out. And he had. Fallen asleep, I mean. Mrs. Truscott was in there with him.”

Griff was still thinking about Pierce so it took a second for Diana’s words to register. “Wait. When did you say this was? What time?”

“By then it must have been around midnight.”

“Mrs. Truscott was in the nursery at midnight?”

“Well, she wasn’t Mrs. Truscott then. She was only Wilma the maid. But yes. She was in there. She probably heard the baby monitor. They’d put it in the kitchen so Mrs. Cameron could hear—”

“Slow down. You’re saying Mrs. Truscott was in the nursery at midnight.”

“Right.”

“Because according to her, she was in the nursery around ten o’clock.” Griff’s cell phone was ringing. He ignored it.

Diana was untroubled by the discrepancy. “I know. She said Pierce and I were confused about the time. But we weren’t. It’s more likely that she was confused because she was rushing up and down the stairs all evening. We were just hanging out and watching TV.”

“Are you telling me that this is something else the police never heard?”

“Of course not. We said we’d heard Brian crying and I said I saw Mrs. Truscott. And she said she had been in the nursery earlier. It didn’t matter because she never left the house. Everyone vouched for her. She was never out of anyone’s sight for more than a couple of minutes.”

“You’re not serious? Do you know how easy it is to lose track of people during a big event like that one, where everyone is busy and preoccupied with their own stuff?”

Diana shook her head. “Griff, you’ve met her. Do you think Mrs. Truscott is a kidnapper?”

Did he?

No. At least not the kind of kidnapper who snatched a kid for money. But people took children for different reasons. Griff tried to imagine any of those reasons in connection with Wilma Truscott.

Still no.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said. “You can’t tell by looking at someone if they’re capable of a crime.”

“I think that depends.”

Of course she did. She probably thought anyone not dressed in designer clothes was capable of anything.

No, that wasn’t fair. That wasn’t what she meant at all. Diana and Pierce seemed like credible witnesses. Even as teens, or preteens in Diana’s case, they sounded like smart and fairly responsible kids. So if they weren’t wrong, then Mrs. Truscott had to be mistaken.

That was hard to believe too. She did not seem like a woman prone to mistakes.

But someone was mistaken. And the mistake had happened in the critical juncture of the evening. The time most likely when Brian had been taken.

His phone was ringing again. Griff pulled it out, glanced in surprise at the number. Dusty Whalen was a good friend who worked as a private investigator in Janesville.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to take this,” he told Diana.

She nodded.

Griff pushed back his chair and went outside. Sure enough it was starting to sprinkle. The air smelled of wet pavement and diesel and Italian food. The nearby 7-Eleven sign glittered in the rain.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said.

“Hey,” Dusty said. “Do you know a lawyer by the name of Pierce Mather?”

“Yeah?” Griff said warily.

Dusty gave a funny laugh. “Yeah? Well, he just tried to hire me to dig up the dirt on you.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Is something wrong?” Diana asked when Griff got back to the table.

“Where’s your brother’s office located?”

Diana looked hopeful and then uncertain. “Has something happened?”

“Yes. And I’d like to speak to him face-to-face.” Griff couldn’t smile reassuringly, couldn’t pretend he felt anything but furious. And maybe hurt. But if he was feeling hurt, it just went to show how stupid he was. Last night had been about sex, pure and simple. It wasn’t the start of a beautiful friendship. It wasn’t the start of anything.

Diana, still watching him, said uneasily, “He might not be there. Thursdays he’s in and out. He does a lot of pro bono work for elderly or shut-in clients. People who can’t get to the office for whatever reasons.”

“I’m sure he’s a prince. I’ll wait for him.”

“You don’t think you could tell me?”

“No. I don’t. I need to talk to him. I’m going to talk to him, so either you—”

He didn’t have to complete the sentence. She recited the address, finishing with a tentative, “Griff, Pierce can be a bit insensitive, but he really does try to do the right things for the right reasons.”

“He’s your brother, I get that. But from what I’ve seen of Pierce, he believes the end justifies the means.” Griff punched the last number of the address into his phone’s MapQuest.

“That isn’t fair,” Diana was saying as Griff found his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills, laying them on the table. “Whatever you think Pierce has done—” She broke off as Griff met her eyes. “Oh, Griff,” she said helplessly.

* * *

It took about ten minutes to drive to Pierce’s office. Griff did not remember one second of the drive. He couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Pierce wanted someone to “dig up the dirt on him.” Hiring a PI was bad enough, that was already a betrayal. Hiring someone with an express directive to find “the dirt”? That was what Griff couldn’t get over.

It would have hurt coming from a complete stranger—that assumption there was dirt to find. Coming from someone he had started to—against his better judgment—like? It was too painful to examine. He focused only on what he would say to Pierce. And he planned to say plenty.

He assumed that Diana would have called to give her brother a head’s up, but when he barged through the elegant windowed door with its panes of frosted glass, the front office receptionist—a trim older woman in a brown tweed suit—greeted him with a pleasant smile.

“Is Pierce in?”

Her smile became guarded. “Did you have an appointment?” she asked in the knowing tone of the person in charge of appointments.

“I do now.” Griff passed her perfectly organized desk on his way to Pierce’s office.

She jumped up, protesting like the classic good TV secretary, “Sir! I’m sorry, sir, you can’t go in there!”

Griff ignored her and pushed open the door. The secretary, who was faster on her feet than she looked, crammed in ahead of him.

“Mr. Mather, this gentleman forced his way in!”