Tony shot a sideways glance at Crane.

“On it,” Crane said. “Pet licenses.”

“A lot of people have pets without licenses,” Kaminsky pointed out.

“But if they do have a pet with a license, they’re out,” Crane retorted.

“Younger siblings,” Charlie prompted, just as Crane whooped in triumph.

“Two with pet licenses. See there, Lena, some people are law-abiding.”

“Seven.” Kaminsky’s tone was sour. “And stuff it, Crane.”

“Both of you stuff it,” Tony snapped, then looked at Crane again. “Younger siblings,” he said.

“Three with younger siblings.” Crane smacked a hand on the desk beside his computer with enthusiasm. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“Four left,” Kaminsky announced. “Always supposing Dr. Phil knows what she’s talking about.”

Charlie didn’t even bother to shoot her a look.

“Anything else?” Tony cast an inquiring glance at Charlie. Staring at the faces left on the screen, hoping for inspiration, she had a painful throbbing at her temples and a dry mouth and nothing else.

She shook her head. “That’s all I can come up with right this minute. Sorry.”

“Good enough.” Tony straightened. She could see his tension in the restless gleam of his eyes, in the tightness of his jaw and mouth. Shadows beneath his eyes made it clear he hadn’t slept properly in a while. Like the rest of them, he was jacked up on coffee and adrenaline. Unlike Crane’s, his shirt (white) and tie (blue) matched. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the five o’clock shadow already darkening his jaw, he would have looked as if today was nothing more than business as usual. “Names and addresses, Kaminsky, and if there’s any place besides home they’re likely to be at this time in the morning, I want to know it.”

“We going to go bring them in?” Crane sounded surprised. Charlie remembered what Tony had said about the need to find the girl before arresting even the most viable suspect.

“We’re going to go look at them. For a broken front tooth.” Tony glanced at Kaminsky as the printer started to hum, and she said, “Got it.”

“Then let’s go.” Tony was already on his way out the door.

Early as it was, Central Command was packed. The electricity in the air was palpable. Phones rang nonstop, every computer was occupied, and two orange-vested deputies were huddled with what looked like a civilian volunteer in front of a new search grid that had been hung on the wall. A cop talked earnestly with Sy Taylor, who perked up as he spotted the four of them coming toward him.

“Agent Bartoli, can you hang on a minute? I’ve got a question for you,” Taylor called.

Tony waved a hand at him. “Later.”

Then they were out the door.

Outside was a circus. The cops were doing a good job holding the perimeter, which was cordoned off with sawhorses strung with crime scene tape, but beyond that a sea of media stretched in all directions. White vans with satellite dishes attached were everywhere. Charlie saw from some of the logos on the vans that the coverage had gone national: CNN and MSNBC caught her eye in particular. Reporters with camera crews and microphones rushed the barrier as soon as the four of them came into view. So many questions were shouted their way that Charlie couldn’t understand any of them. Part of that, she was sure, was because the drone of the helicopters circling overhead drowned everything else out.

Tony opened the passenger-side door of the SUV for her, and she got in. The door slamming shut behind her cut off the worst of the din, and moments later they were on the move. Only instead of trying to go through the frenzy, Tony reversed, and to Charlie’s surprise they went bumping over the beach.

“Way to avoid the media, boss,” Crane said from the backseat with approval.

“I don’t want them following us.” Tony seemed oblivious to the surprised looks of a couple of joggers and a man wading in the shallows with a bucket, apparently digging for clams. The sky was a bright clear blue with scarcely a cloud in it, and the ocean was as smooth as glass. The sun was the pale yellow-white of a scoop of lemon sorbet. It was going to be another hot one, Charlie could tell already, but so far the heat was bearable and the humidity wasn’t too bad.

“Driving on the beach is illegal, and we’re probably going to get stuck in the sand,” Kaminsky pointed out. She sounded grumpy. It had been a hellacious day so far, and it was only just getting started, so Charlie was with her on that. Glancing back, Charlie saw that Kaminsky was riffling through the papers on her lap. They were the pages she’d just grabbed from the printer.

Tony shook his head. “Four-wheel drive.”

They didn’t get stuck, and when they drove up the public access boat ramp and out onto the road, no one was following them, prompting Charlie to give Tony a mental thumbs-up.

“Where are we going, Kaminsky?” Tony glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“I’ve tried to arrange them nearest to farthest,” Kaminsky replied. “But it’s hard, because I don’t have any way to be absolutely sure any of them will be where they’re supposed to be, and—”

“Kaminsky,” Tony said.

“Hampton Moore. He lives out in the county, but right now he should be opening the Blue Wave Coffee Shop on Seventeenth Street.” She gave the street address, which Tony punched in to the SUV’s GPS. “He’s twenty-six years old, six-one, hundred eighty-five pounds, a local. He works at the coffee shop mornings and for Frigate nights and weekends. He was at all three dances.”

“Um, did you say we’re going to go look at these guys to check for a broken tooth?” Crane asked. He did not add Why? but it was there in his voice.

“Beckett fought the unsub, who may have sustained a broken front tooth,” Tony said. “The only way to keep all four of these guys under constant surveillance is to get the locals involved, and once we do that, the potential for leaks goes up astronomically. We spook this guy, let him know we’re coming, he’s going to kill Hannah Beckett. If we find one of them has a broken tooth, we’re going to watch him ourselves, see where he goes.”

“What if none of them has a broken tooth?” Crane asked.

“Then we’re going to have to go to Haney, give him these names, and try to persuade him to keep them under surveillance for twenty-four hours. If we’ve got nothing by that time, there’s no way I’m going to be able to stop him from moving in on them. Hell, we’ll have to move in on them.”

“We might have a problem, leak-wise,” Kaminsky said. “Suspect number three, bartender Eric Duncan, is the first cousin of Kill Devil Hills Police Officer John Price.”

A moment of silence greeted that. Then Tony said, “Damn small towns, everybody’s related,” half under his breath, and with that they reached the Blue Wave Coffee Shop.

Crane went in, and minutes later came back out carrying a blue plastic bag.

“You buy something?” Kaminsky asked as Crane got back in the car.

“What, did you want me to just walk in there and say ‘Let me see your teeth’? I bought doughnuts. From Hampton Moore, who goes by Ham, by the way, who was working the counter. He smiled at me. His teeth are fine. No sign of facial or any other kind of injuries, either.” Crane paused. “That’s six dollars and two cents on the expense account, boss. Anybody want a doughnut?”

Charlie shuddered at the thought.

“Keep your receipt.” Tony pulled away from the curb, sticking his hand into the backseat with a silent waggle that Crane interpreted, dropping a glazed doughnut into it. “Who’s next, Kaminsky?”

“Terry Kingston. A used car salesman who also delivers pizzas at night. He, too, works part-time for Frigate Security. Unless you want to wait until after ten, we’re going to his home.”

“We’re going to his home, then.” Tony washed the doughnut down with a slug of his coffee, which they all had, in white Styrofoam cups nestled in the cupholders.