Free Little Girl Gone by Gerry Schmitt Page B

halfway. Afton peered inside and saw that Thacker was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday. It must have been a long, exhausting night for him again. Lots of explaining to higher-ups, damage control with the media, and dealing with the distraught Dardens as well as the ever-snarky FBI.
    Afton gave a tentative knock. She was half hoping he wouldn’t hear her.
    â€œCome in,” Thacker said. He was sitting at his desk, staring intently at his computer screen. When he looked up and saw it was Afton, he said, “Close the door behind you.”
    Definitely not a good sign.
    Afton took a seat across from Thacker in one of his two rump-sprung leather chairs. She instantly felt eight years old again, back in elementaryschool, sitting across from Mr. Murphy, the school principal, after she’d gone postal at recess and smacked Corey Miller in the face with an ice ball as retribution for sticking gum in her hair. Hopefully, the punishment meted out today would be the equivalent of one week without recess. A small price to pay.
    Thacker grunted, removed his reading glasses, and stretched back in his chair. He looked exhausted.
    â€œLast night wasn’t exactly our department’s shining hour,” Thacker said. “But I want to be clear on this. I don’t believe you did anything wrong. That said, I’m probably in the minority. Richard Darden has some fairly powerful friends, one of whom sits on the City Council. So if I appear a bit bedraggled, it’s because I’ve been up all night fielding calls.”
    â€œSir . . . I . . .” Afton stammered. Her heart was a pounding metronome.
    Thacker held up a hand. “I said I’ve been fielding calls; I didn’t say I was taking them to heart. Most of the knee-jerk bureaucrats who made any kind of stink were chin deep in their down comforters last night and got the story secondhand. Hell, Richard Darden isn’t really mad at you. He’s mad at himself, his wife, the situation, the FBI, and most of all the kidnapper.”
    Afton felt the wire that had been strung around her chest loosen a degree. “Where does that leave me, sir?”
    â€œFor one thing, you’re to have no more contact with the Dardens.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œAnd I’m putting you back on desk duty.”
    Afton’s knuckles flashed white as her hands crimped into tight fists. She’d been afraid this would happen. It
was
a kind of punishment.
    Thacker held up an index finger. “I want you to work backup for Max. We’re pathetically shorthanded so I need you to go through that list that you and Max—yes, I know you went to Hudson with him—got from that doll show organizer. What was her name?”
    â€œMuriel Pink,” Afton said in a humbled tone. Did nothing get past Thacker?
    â€œRight. Pink. We’ve got detectives and FBI agents out there interviewing a number of these so-called doll people, the ones who make the reborn dolls,as well as the Dardens’ friends, acquaintances, and coworkers. While they’re doing that, I want you to go through Pink’s list. Run it against DMV, arrest records, real estate, divorce, adoption, anything you can think of. See if you can find any sort of connection, no matter how tenuous. You got that?”
    â€œYes, sir,” Afton said. “That’s it?”
    â€œThat’s it for now,” Thacker said.
    Afton got up and started for the door. Then she paused and turned around. “Sir?”
    Thacker was back staring at his computer screen. “Yes?”
    â€œThank you for sticking up for me.”
    â€œYou don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing,” Thacker said. He lifted a hand to shoo her. “It’s my job.”
    *   *   *
    BACK at her desk, Afton found that someone had removed the dog and the note. Either they were destroying evidence or had grown tired of