Page 25 of The Missing Half

Wyler frowns. “Those must be recent. Seven years ago, he didn’t have all that.”

“That’s not true,” Jenna says. “The dates are online. In 2012, he had a charge of intimidation from his ex-wife and one of domestic violence.”

“You’re right. I didn’t mean he didn’t have any charges, but those were specific to his ex-wife. The two of them clearly weren’t capable of maintaining a healthy relationship.”

My eyes go wide. “Excuse me? Did you just blame McLean’s ex-wife for his violence?”

Wyler is quiet for a moment, then says, “It was bad phrasing. All I was trying to point out is that at the time we were looking at him, he hadn’t racked up the kind of charges you mentioned.”

“So,” I say. “He’s just gotten worse.”

“Look.” His voice is curt. He’s getting flustered. “I’m not defending McLean. I’m telling you he wasn’t our guy.”

“Because you had him fill out an online personality test? And you just don’t think a Gemini has that much foresight.”

Jenna shoots me a warning look. I know I’m not doing us any favors here, but my skin is hot with resentment. For all these years, this man has hidden the name of a potential suspect from me and my parents—for what?

“His family owns land in Kentucky,” I say.

Wyler narrows his eyes. “I’m not following…”

“You told us that the man who abducted Kasey would’ve had a property where he took her.”

“A lot of people own property, Nic. It’s circumstantial. McLean also had an alibi.”

“What was it?” Jenna says.

“He spent that night at a friend’s house. They hung out till the early hours of the morning and then McLean crashed on his couch. He was there all night. And before you ask, I honestly can’t remember the friend’s name, but take me at my word when I say we looked into it. It checked out.”

“But—”

“I’m not sure what else to tell you, girls. McLean doesn’t fit theprofile and his alibi is solid.” He makes a show of looking at his watch, then stands. “Now, I’m sorry, but I have a briefing to get to. It was good to see you again, Nic. Jenna. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

—

Jenna and I walk across the police station parking lot to her truck. She’s probably half a foot taller than I am, and I have to jog to keep up with her.

“You gotta get better at this, Nic,” she says. “You can’t snap every time someone pisses you off.”

“Jenna, he knew about McLean. This entire time.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a strawberry hard candy. Just before we left Wyler’s office, I grabbed a handful. The pettiest revenge.

“I know. But Wyler’s one of the few resources we have. We can’t burn that bridge, even if he is a dick.”

“Such a dick,” I say.

Jenna lets out an incredulous little laugh. “He really was. I think we should reach out to the detective who inherited your sister’s case when Wyler got promoted. They might not know as much, but maybe whoever it is won’t be as condescending.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll do that.”

She nods. “God, Wyler. And here I was always so jealous of yourfamily getting Grand Rapids PD. But, Jesus, victim blaming McLean’s ex-wife? Acting like an alibi from a friend and a personality profile are irrefutable proof of innocence?”

“Yeah.” The candy clicks against my teeth. “And it just backfired. I suspect McLean now more than ever.”

I’m expecting Jenna to respond with her usual level-headedness, to tell me we need to pause, do our research, get our ducks in a row,blah blah blah. But instead, she stops and turns to face me. “Oh, absolutely. Screw everything Wyler just said. We’re finding Steve McLean.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mesquite Barbecue is loud and crowded. Silverware scrapes against plates, ice clinks in glasses, voices ricochet off the walls. Jenna and I slide into the seats of a booth across from each other, and the red vinyl sticks to the backs of my thighs.

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