Page 138 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all that might help?”

Nate shook his head. “Her first memories start when she moved to Oregon with her adoptive family.” He leaned against the desk, sensing that Sanchez was relaxing. “I met with the waitress today and got nothing more than I already have.”

“The cook and the guy who was snoring in his dinner are deceased,” Sanchez supplied.

“That’s what I understand. I’m at a dead end. I was hoping stopping by and introducing myself might help us get things moving forward.”

“Morino.” Sanchez looked at one of the men at the other desks. “Can you get me a copy of both of these files—everything in them?”

“For a beer after work,” Morino said.

Sanchez grinned. “Fine.”

Morino got up from his desk, grabbed the folder off Sanchez’s desk, and took the folder Nate held out to him. “Be back in a second.”

“Since you can confirm Little Girl…Callie was on the island, I’ll probably go up—take a look around.”

“Sure. Whenever you want. We’re heading into the city for the weekend, but I’ll be back at my desk Monday morning.”

Minutes later, Morino came back with the files. “One for each of you. Collated and stapled. That’s worth two beers.”

Nate pulled out his wallet and a twenty-dollar bill. “Sounds like the second should be on me.”

Morino grinned as he snatched it. “This guy’s all right.”

Sanchez held out his hand. “Plan on seeing me sometime next week. The case is long cold, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to close it.”

Nate gave him a firm shake. “Call into the office. Kay’s dispatch—handles most everything. I’ll let her know we should be hearing from you.”

“Sounds good.”

“Thanks again.” Nate took his file—thicker now with new information to look through—and hurried outside, where Callie still waited.

She set her phone on her lap and smiled at him. “How did it go?”

He gave the folder a quick wiggle. “I got what we were hoping for.” He got in and closed the door. “Damn, it’s getting colder.”

“It sort of smells like snow’s on the way.”

“It’s not out of the question. November’s just around the corner.” He shoved the file back where he’d gotten it and turned over the engine.

“Tell me about your meeting.”

“Hold on.” He fiddled with the GPS and accessed Callie’s Upper East Side address, then buckled up and backed out of their space. “It went pretty well. Sanchez didn’t have much to share—the case never really went anywhere—but I have what he does.”

“Did you share with him too?”

He nodded. “That’s how it works—tit for tat.”

“And you trust him?”

“It’ll stay in the office. No one wants to brag about a cold case.” He pushed through a yellow light and glanced at her. “He has no idea who you are—what you do for a living—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She looked down, nibbling her lip and tucking her hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture he knew well. “I just hate the idea of anyone making the connection. Ms. Battleman didn’t seem to know.”

“If anyone’s going to be able to help, it’s Sanchez. He’s coming to the island sometime next week to take a look around.” He picked up her hand. “We’re going to take every precaution we can to keep this under wraps.”

She nodded, but the worry still lingered in her eyes. “I know. I just… It would be a nightmare.”

He took his eyes off the road, glancing at Callie as she swiped at her hair again. “How about this? We’ve got two full nights and almost three days in the city. How do you feel about putting this away until Monday—make this weekend ours?”

Her shoulders relaxed as she grinned. “I like that idea a lot.”

“Sounds good.” He lifted her hand and kissed it as he merged onto 91 South. “Big Apple, here we come.”