“Sheila.”
His sister.
Another photograph showed Jojo’s daughter leaving a piano recital.
Another showed Walsh’s wife carrying groceries.
Names had been written along the bottom edge.
Times.
Routes.
Patterns.
Some pages contained brief notes.
TUESDAY: HOME 18:10.
THURSDAY: CHILD WITH GRANDMOTHER.
FRIDAY: CLUB LATE.
Nobody joked anymore.
One deputy opened the laptop carefully.
Password protected.
The screen showed only a lock page.
The younger deputy looked toward the man.
“Want to make this easy?”
No response.
Jojo noticed a faded tattoo near the man’s wrist as his sleeve shifted.
His face hardened.
“Wait.”
Miller looked.
Jojo stepped closer but did not cross the deputy’s line.
“That mark.”
The tattoo was old.
Partially covered.
A stylized wing beside block lettering.