Page 277 of Property of Whiskey

“No.”

“Then why let her go?”

“I didn’t.”

That matters.

I sit straighter. “What happened?”

“State social worker called. Said the paperwork checked out and there was no cause to hold the girl.”

“Who was the social worker?”

“Name in the file was Martha Lane.”

“You verify her?”

“Afterward.”

Daddy gives a bitter laugh. “No Martha Lane worked for the state.”

“Fuck.”

Whiskey leans forward. “So somebody spoofed the call.”

“Looks that way.”

“And Peck took the girl.”

“Yes.”

I start putting the timeline together automatically, the way I would any other case if the victim weren’t tied to a secret my father buried twelve years ago.

“How long between you finding her and Peck taking her?”

“Less than twenty-four hours.”

I stare at him. “What about your report?”

“Filed it.”

“You said it depended on which paper you believed.”

Daddy looks toward the envelope again. “When I came in two days later, half the report was gone.”

“Gone how?”

“Supplement missing. Photos missing. Hospital notes changed. Girl listed as voluntary runaway returned to guardian.”

My stomach drops.

“You pushed it.”

It ain’t a question.

Daddy looks at me. “Yes.”

“How hard?”