Stepping around Jonathan, she approached him. “Sir, could you help me?”

Bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows like those of an old-time sea captain jerked together above murky gray eyes. “With what?”

After introducing herself and Jonathan, she explained their purpose. “Have you seen this man?” she asked once he understood.

He studied the photograph, but ultimately shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Is there any way we could view the security tapes to see if he’s been in?”

“I’m not the one who can give permission for that. I’m guessing you’d need to contact the police and have them get in touch with management.”

“There’s already a detective on the case. I could talk to him, see what he can do,” she said. But this was such a long shot. Would there be probable cause to get a court order, if one was necessary? And was it the best place to spend their time, anyway?

“Although…” Security considered the picture again. “I suppose I could check the tapes myself.”

Jane exchanged a glance with Jonathan. “Would you mind?”

“How far back do you want me to go?”

“Would six weeks be too long?” Jonathan asked.

“Nah.” He clicked his tongue. “But I’d have to do this on my own time, so it could take a while.”

More discouraging news. Maybe David could shorten that time frame by gaining access to the tapes, but he’d have to work it out with the tribal council. Jane assumed they had jurisdiction. “We’d appreciate whatever you can do.” At least it was a start.

“No problem.”

She handed him the picture, along with her business card. “You can reach me here if you find anything.”

“Will do.”

Jane’s cell phone rang as they walked out of the casino. “It’s Skye,” she told Jonathan in disbelief.

He seemed just as surprised as she was. “Calling from South America?”

“Must be.”

When she hesitated instead of answering, he stopped. “Aren’t you going to take it?”

Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to. So much had changed since her friend and boss had left. She was searching for two kidnap victims, had made love with someone she’d just met-and she might be pregnant. She didn’t want Skye to know about these things, did she? How much could she tell her?

“Jane?” Jonathan prompted.

“Of course.” She punched the talk button before the call could transfer to voice mail. “Hello?”

“How’s it going?” Skye asked.

Jane tried to put a smile in her voice. “Fine. What about you?”

“Could be better. We still haven’t found the child we’ve been looking for. It’s so difficult when you don’t speak much of the language.”

To escape the noise, Jane stepped away from the automatic doors but remained under the overhang to avoid the rain. The worst of the storm had passed, but it continued to drizzle. “How much longer do you think it will take?”

“Who knows. We’ve got some good leads, some extended family members who are sympathetic and asking around on our behalf, but there’s no way to tell for sure. I’m hoping it won’t be more than a week. I really miss David and the kids.”

“They miss you, too.”

“I hope I never have to take another job like this.”

“You didn’t have to take this one,” Jane reminded her.

“Yes, I did. We need the money. Besides, someone’s got to help out in situations like this. It’s more of a problem than people realize.”

Someone spoke in the background.

“Was that Ava?” Jane asked.

“Yes, she said these are tough cases.”

There were plenty of tough cases at home. Jane was working on one-not that Ava would be happy to hear it. “No kidding.”

“What’s been happening at the office?”

Biting her lip, she turned away from Jonathan. She didn’t want to see his reaction when she lied. “Nothing much, why?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were managing okay without us. It must be weird being the only one there.”

“Jonathan’s been in and out. And there are the volunteers to keep me company.”

“So you’re okay.”

The smell of someone’s cigarette wafted toward Jane, making her crave a smoke. “Of course. I’m fine.”

“Good. Thanks for looking after TLS while we’re gone.”

She glanced around to find the person who was smoking, spotted the security guard and smiled enviously. She knew she’d never light up again, but that didn’t always stem the desire. “Anytime. Be safe, and I hope to see you soon,” she told Skye.

Jonathan frowned when she hung up. “Don’t you think you should’ve told her?”

“Why? It’s over already. I’m not going to sleep with him again.”

A crooked smile curved his lips. “I was talking about the case.”

Sebastian was at the gym when his mother called. He fished his BlackBerry out of the pouch of his sweatshirt, which he’d tossed on the floor beside him, and relaxed on the seat of the bench press he’d been using.

“I’ve got Malcolm’s signature on stacks and stacks of checks. Will that work?” she said the moment he answered.

“No, a signature isn’t what we need. It doesn’t include enough letters. And signatures can be different from regular writing.” He mopped the sweat on his forehead with the towel draped around his neck. “We have to have a letter of some kind. The more writing, the better.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to find it. Most men don’t write letters anymore, Sebastian, at least not very often. If they do, it’s on a computer.”

“What about a greeting card?”

“You and I both know that Malcolm wasn’t the type to give Emily cards.”

“There could be more practical things.”

“Like to-do lists and grocery lists? They get thrown away. Why would anyone keep them? If I had to provide a sample of your handwriting, I’m not sure I’d have any more luck, unless I could use some of your old schoolwork.”

She had a point. He tended to call her or e-mail her. He didn’t write letters-or lists-unless it was on his computer or BlackBerry. But that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “You’ve gone through every box?”

“Not every box. There are a lot here. Some are stacked too high or they’re buried behind the furniture and are difficult to reach. But I’ve gone through the ones that I can get to without tearing the whole place apart.” A change in tone indicated tears. “I found Emily’s journal. Seeing that, reading parts of it…was heartbreaking. And I’m finding plenty of Colton ’s schoolwork. The poor kid…” she said on a sob.

Sebastian steeled himself against a similar onslaught of emotion. “Nothing from Malcolm?”

She sniffed. “Nothing from Malcolm.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Sebastian hung his head. This couldn’t be easy on his mother. He didn’t think he’d be able to go through that stuff himself. Even after all these months, the pain was too raw. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I want to help you,” she said. “I want to see Malcolm behind bars as much as you do. I’d like it if you could come home and live a normal life. But I doubt we’ll get the handwriting samples you need. Not from this collection of miscellaneous odds and ends.”

Sebastian closed his eyes. There had to be some of Malcolm’s writing somewhere. Maybe Colton ’s stepfather hadn’t kept a journal or written any letters that were with Emily’s stuff, but surely the Turner family would have something.

Question was…did he have the nerve to ask them to look? They weren’t too happy with his views on the suicide. They didn’t want to face the possibility that Malcolm might’ve turned his back on them.

Suddenly it occurred to him. He had a sample of Malcolm’s writing at his condo in New York. It was a sheet of spiteful complaints Malcolm had left on the windshield of the Porsche Sebastian had owned back then. One day, Sebastian, Constance and Colton had been out in the BMW; Colton had sustained a sports injury, and they’d taken him to the hospital, but Malcolm didn’t get the word. He’d gone to pick up Colton without taking his cell phone. Then he’d been furious that the misunderstanding might make him late for his weekly poker game.