Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) by Julia Spencer-Fleming

how Children and Family Services are.” Getting info out of CFS was like prying one of Genny’s stuffed animals away from her. You could do it, but it was going to cost you no end of grief.
    “Oh, yeah.” There was still a cheery Christmas wreath hanging on the front door. Flynn knocked. “We’ll need to get a warrant going ASAP. I can—”
    The door swung open before he could say anything else. Kevin got an impression of dark eyes and a deeply creased face before the man holding the door open said, “Thank God. Come in, please. Come in.” He stepped back so they could enter the living room. “I’m Lewis Johnson.”
    Hadley and Flynn both wiped their feet on the large mat in front of the door. Mr. Johnson closed it behind them. Kevin took off his lid and stowed it beneath his arm. “Mr. Johnson. I’m Officer Flynn, and this is Officer Knox.”
    Kevin took in Johnson’s mahogany skin and the crucifix hanging in the foyer while Hadley shook the older man’s hand. Latino? Then he spotted the bead and quill work decorating the walls and revised his opinion to Iroquois. Probably Mohawk, in this part of the state.
    A sixty-something woman emerged from the kitchen, still wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “This is my wife, June,” Johnson said.
    “Have you found her? Do you know where she is?”
    Hadley glanced at Kevin. “No, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t know where your daughter or Mikayla are yet.”
    “The sergeant who was here last night said they might be together.”
    “Sit down, June.” Johnson gestured for them to take two chairs in the tiny living room. “Let’s let these officers ask their questions and see if we can help sort things out.”
    Kevin perched awkwardly on the chair, which was a little too short for his legs. “We went to your daughter’s apartment on Causeway Street last night. She fled when I tried to speak with her. She was alone at the time, but there were girl’s things in one of the bedrooms.”
    “Mikayla’s room,” Mrs. Johnson said. “She was hoping to get unsupervised overnight visits, but the court won’t allow it.”
    “When we searched the apartment, we also found a large amount of over-the-counter pseudoephedrine, which is used in making—”
    “Crystal meth,” Mr. Johnson said. His voice was deep and heavy. “We know much too much about what goes into making crystal meth.”
    “She used to steal it from us,” his wife said. “We had to put a combination lock on our medicine cabinet. Then she started stealing money to buy it with. When she started stealing our belongings to sell…” Her sigh was the sound of an unhappy nostalgia, looking back to the bad old days that had reared their head again.
    “Right now,” Kevin said, “we’re working on the theory that Annie was in some way involved with your granddaughter’s kidnapping.” He hoped to God this wasn’t going to be one of those cases where an addict mother exchanges her child for her next fix. “However, since your granddaughter wasn’t with Annie last night, we think there must be a person or persons helping her.”
    “Not necessarily,” Johnson said. “She’s quite capable of leaving Mikayla alone in a parked car all night. Or in a grocery store. Or at a rest stop.”
    “We’ve already put an AMBER Alert out on Mikayla,” Hadley said. “If she’s in a public place, chances are good someone will find her. In the meantime, we’ll be doing everything we can to get her back. Does Annie have any friends who might be involved? Maybe a boyfriend?”
    “We don’t know any of her friends anymore,” Mrs. Johnson said.
    “She doesn’t have friends,” Mr. Johnson said. “Just fellow users. Any one of them would sell another for the price of a fix.”
    Mrs. Johnson touched her husband’s arm. “She does have a boyfriend. Travis Roy. They’ve been together about a year, year and a half.”
    “What do you know about him?” Hadley said, writing in her notebook.
    “He’s bad