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four the boy has a swimming class. By five thirty they’re in for the night. Anyone on one of those walks through the park or at swimming class could have noticed Cooper and followed them home.
    “You were alone with Cooper yesterday. Where was Abigail?” I ask.
    “She’s off every Sunday and Monday. Stays with her daughter. They have a condo in The Arbor.”
    I glance at Zack. He isn’t writing this down so I assume he’s already cleared Abigail. “Anyone else with routine access to the house?”
    “Just Jose. He takes care of the yard and the pool. He’s here on Mondays and Fridays.”
    “And how long has Jose worked for you?”
    “Six or seven years. You don’t suspect Jose, do you?”
    Zack pulls a small notebook from his breast pocket. “We’re just being thorough. Can we get a last name and address?”
    Brett finds the information on his cell and shows it to Zack.
    While Zack notes the address, I say, “I’d like each of you to make a list of everyone you can think of who has been in the house in the last six months. Names, contact information. Business or personal—it doesn’t matter. Be thorough and work separately.”
    “Agent Armstrong asked us yesterday if there had been threats. There haven’t been. I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt us, hurt Cooper,” says Sophie. “It couldn’t possibly be anyone we know.”
    Approximately seventy-five percent of child kidnappings are committed by parents or acquaintances. Especially a child taken from their home. Brett has a solid alibi. He was live on air. The bottom line is that it’s very likely Cooper was taken by someone the Andersons know.
    I glance at the grandfather clock in the corner. It’s almost eleven. If we leave now we might catch the day care staff who normally take care of Cooper. But to Mrs. Anderson I say, “We can’t rule anyone out. It’s possibly someone who’s familiar with your routine. That’s why we need the lists.” I stand up. “As soon as you finish, give them to Taft and Biller.”
    “We’ll start on them right away,” she says.
    Brett rises. “I’ll see you out.”
    He follows us out the side entrance and closes the door.
    “I have to ask. Do you think this is related to the Nicolson case? I’m doing my best to keep Sophie away from the television. The media’s—”
    Zack gives the man a look of genuine sympathy. “You know better than most. News media today runs the gambit from responsible journalists to sensationalistic hacks and everything in between. I can’t answer your question, Brett. At this stage, we just don’t know. I will tell you this. We’ll follow every lead.”
    We turn to take our leave. Something is holding me back, the conversation we overheard between Brett and his station manager. “One more question, Mr. Anderson. Your wife said she couldn’t think of anyone who would want to hurt your family. What about you? Now that you’ve had a bit more time to think it through, anyone come to mind?”
    He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “No. No one.”
    I wait a beat, hoping he’ll find the courage to mention Beverly. He doesn’t.
    We leave him on the stoop and head for the car, dodging the press every step of the way. “Where are we heading?” asks Zack once we’re safely inside the car.
    I counter with a question of my own. “Has the update on Hamilton come through?”
    He checks his cell. “No. They would have called or sent a text.”
    “Let’s ask them to track down the gardener, too. Meanwhile, we can start with the day care workers at Modern Fitness,” I reply. “No one there’s been interviewed yet. Right?”
    “Right.” Zack nods and places the call. After a few moments, he clicks off. “Done. With luck, by the time we’re finished at the gym, they’ll be ready with the rest.”
    “And Abigail?”
    Zack reaches to start the car. “Checked her out first thing. As soon as she heard what happened, she came back to be with the Andersons. Before