“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.
“Okay,” Max said. “Tell me about Jilly Hudson.”
“Detective,” Slocum sighed. “I hardly think this is relevant. Unless my client is a suspect, this line of questioning is completely inappropriate. Mr. Darden is a victim here and you’re attempting to compound his misery with a foolhardy line of questioning.”
“Not at all,” Max said. “But I’ve been sitting here, listening to you scrutinize every question I’ve asked. We have a missing child and time is running out. So unless you want to prolong this session, I suggest the two of you start answering my questions.”
“No,” Slocum said. “We simply can’t go there.”
Max shuffled a stack of papers. “It would be unfortunate if some of the local TV stations sniffed out this information on their own. This kind of shit happens, you know? They’ve got that relentless twenty-four-hour news monster to feed.”
“Don’t you threaten us!” Slocum said.
Max kept right on going. “The six o’clock news might even lead off with a picture of the lovely Jilly Hudson with a juicy story about how your poor, innocent client happened to be banging the nanny.”
“Stop it,” Darden said. He looked miserable.
“And how long do you think Synthotech will keep your client on staff when that shit storm starts to fly?” Max leaned back. “No, I think Richard better start explaining himself.” He stared stolidly at Slocum and then at Darden.
“He’s bluffing, Richard. I advise you not to answer,” Slocum said.
Max flipped a hand. “Up to you, Richard. Ball’s in your court.”
Darden broke. “It was just a thing, okay? It didn’t mean anything. It was just . . . convenient.”
“Richard,” Slocum said. “I have to insist—”
“Shut up!” Darden hollered. “I’ve lost my child, I’m losing my marriage, do you want me to lose my job, too?”
Slocum sighed and set his mouth in a grim line.
“What?” Darden said, staring at Max. He sensed there was more to come.
He was right.
“Did you ever hear of new baby syndrome?” Max asked. “The baby arrives and suddenly Daddy isn’t getting his REM sleep anymore. He gets tired and cranky, starts to resent all the bottle feedings and diaper duty. Then you’ve got people dropping in all the time to see the new baby, so it’s no longer all about you. Finally, the house smells like poop from all the diapers, wifey is chronically exhausted and doesn’t have time for her husband anymore, and the alpha male in the house has been permanently dethroned. Hell, it’s almost justifiable when you think about it . . .”