Page 20 of The Dollmaker

“Because no one works the magic like I do.” She sighed as paper rustled in the background. “Let me have it.”

He read off the partial plate as well as the car’s make and model.

“What am I looking for?”

“I need the name of the car’s owner. He’s wanted for questioning in a homicide investigation.”

The tap of computer keys clicked in the background. “I have a car that matches your description and the partial plate. That car was stolen,” she said. “Six months ago.”

That wasn’t a surprise. He scribbled down the owner’s name and the entire license plate. “Thanks. I owe you.”

She laughed. “Yes, you do.”

After he hung up, he put out a BOLO on the stolen car and the boy’s father.

He checked his watch, knowing he had until three to catch Terrance’s friends in school before sports practice began. He put a call into the parole board and got hold of Jimmy Dillon’s parole officer.

“This is Jeff Taggart,” a gruff voice barked over the line.

“Agent Sharp, Virginia State Police. What can you tell me about Jimmy Dillon?”

“What’s he done?”

“He’s broken no laws that I know of yet. But his son was murdered sometime over the weekend.”

A heavy sigh huffed over the line. “Jimmy Dillon is a career criminal, and it’s a matter of time before he finds trouble.”

“Has he kept his meetings with you?”

Keys tapped in the background. “Yes. He’s made the first three. The fourth was supposed to be yesterday, but he missed it.”

“Does he have a job?”

“He said he interviewed for a janitorial job, but he hasn’t told me if it worked out.”

“Do you know where he was trying to get this job?”

“Dobbins Maintenance.”

The same place where Terrance worked.

The parole officer rattled off the information as Sharp noted the name and address of the local maintenance company.

“Have you tried to track Jimmy down?” Sharp asked.

“I’ve made a few calls. I’ll issue a warrant for his arrest now.”

“Did he give you a phone number or address?”

“Gave his mother’s home address and phone.”

“She’s not seen him since his release.”

“Great.” A pause. “If I get any fresh tips or he’s picked up, I’ll call you.”

“Thanks.”

Sharp put the car in gear and pulled up to Route 1, waited for the road to clear, and turned left toward the sign reading “Richmond.” He called the maintenance company’s service number where Jimmy Dillon was supposed to be interviewing for a job. He landed in voice mail and left his name and number.

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