32

 

A new day with not-so-new ideas.

With Ryan dead, they couldn’t be sure that Michael Zinkleman had left the area on his own.

Jamie wasn’t leaving without checking out the daycares as originally planned.

If she and Enrique didn’t have any new leads by the end of the day they both agreed that would be the end of it. They’d fly back to Ohio to see Zink.

Jamie owed her that much. To tell her face to face how she’d failed.

While she checked the daycares, Enrique would be checking all the businesses. Hopefully, his FBI badge and Michael’s photo would open a few mouths.

No one could live completely isolated. Jackson Hole wasn’t that large. Someone would know him.

No more undercover, just plain old-fashioned police work. But first, breakfast.

Jamie put her hand on the doorknob, and then stopped, remembering the last time she’d opened that same door. She gazed through the peek hole. Nobody. She moved to the window. Still nobody. Back to the door, but keeping the chain lock fastened, she opened it an inch and listened.

Normal traffic sounds.

Feeling the flutter of adrenaline, she took a deep breath before she stepped out into the brightness of the day. She walked to Enrique’s door.

It opened instantly when she knocked, which told her he’d been watching, too. She wasn’t sure how to react to his protectiveness. A part of her wanted to tell him she could take care of herself. The other part liked it. They needed to talk about last night, but it could wait until later.

He smiled. The man was too good-looking for his own good. “Good morning, partner. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“Good to hear, because we have a busy day ahead.”

After an old-fashioned, cowboy breakfast the two parted ways.

Daycare after daycare—nothing. Nobody knew anyone who looked like Michael or Andrew.

Jamie sighed as she put her car into park at the next daycare, thinking of Sabrina. She’d hoped to be home when her daughter came back from the church camp.

Protective fencing enclosed the playground. Both sides of the daycare’s sidewalk were filled with inviting, wooden playground equipment. The door was locked. She hit the buzzer.

A young lady rushed to the door.

Jamie smiled and held up her FBI consultant ID. “Hi, I’m looking for a man and his son.”

“What’s their names?”

“Well, I doubt if they’re using their real names, but they are Michael and Andrew Zinkleman. I’ve got some photos of them.”

Pink stained the girl’s cheeks. “I’d better get my boss. She’ll want to handle this.”

“Well, take a look at the photos before you go. You might know them from anywhere. Not necessarily here. The grocery store. Church.”

“I don’t go to church.”

Jamie held out her cell phone with the pictures.

The girl took a cursory glance, and then rushed down the hall. Nervous guilt?

Jamie was beginning to wonder if the girl had told her boss when another woman walked out. She wore sweats and a ponytail and looked exhausted. She held out her hand to Jamie. “I’m Samantha Waters. Mary said you were looking for someone.”

“A man and his son. The son’s almost four.” She held out the phone.

Samantha Waters looked at the pictures carefully. “The boy doesn’t attend here, but there’s something about the man. He looks familiar.”

“Do you know his name?”

“No, not his name, but I think he came to my church a few times. Maybe my minister will know his name. Do you want his name and number?”

“That would be terrific.”

“Come on back with me.”

As they walked through the large room, Mary looked up from texting on her phone.

“That’s the only thing kids do anymore,” Samantha murmured, shaking her head.

Jamie followed Samantha. A few minutes later, she had the name and phone number of the minister. Jamie went down the steps. A man walked towards her.

Michael Zinkleman.