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they saw him was on the weekend. Peering through their fence, as neighbours sometimes do, they spotted him changing the padlock on the garage door.
    Farther down the road, another couple was startled awake by police officers. They remembered seeing a red car, definitely something sporty like a Mazda, parked outside that same garage on October 14. It was the day of the federal election and they had walked right past it on their way to the polls.
    â€œB OY, IS THAT GUY lying!” Clark exhaled a long sigh as he staggered into the monitor room, rubbing his bald head and giving Murphy a look through his fatigue.
    â€œOh, yeah!” Murphy nodded.
    â€œIs there anything more, anything I can go over with this guy?” Anstey walked in and the three of them talked, realizing there was nothing else.
    Clark had heard enough. He was exhausted. He had been up for twenty hours. It was time to press the issue. “I’m going to confront him. If we don’t get a confession he’s walking out of here anyway, so let’s see what he says.”
    Anstey and Murphy agreed.
    Clark tried to find the energy. He didn’t drink coffee so it was proving difficult to stay sharp. At least he knew Twitchell’s reaction would tell him everything. When confronted, an innocent man always loses his composure and denies everything. Clark would know something terrible had happened to Johnny if Twitchell’s reaction was anything different.
    J OSS DIDN’T WANT TO spill the story on Twitchell. After all, he believed the man would make him millions and their film ideas were going to be hits. Already investors were handing over thousands to finance
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. Joss and his family had even put up $30,000 of their own money for the film. But the detective pressed on and Joss finally complied: he told the detective he had removed the Mazda’s licence plate and cleaned the car “a little,” but then he left it alone, parked in the driveway of his parents’ house. Twitchell had the key. Joss remembered the day Twitchell had called him to help move the Mazda quite clearly. He had been at work on the afternoon of Friday, October 17.
    Another detail then came back to Joss that he thought the police may want to know about. His grandfather was a retired cop so Joss respected the law. About a month ago, he said, Twitchell had asked him to be a reference on a new purchase that required a bit of paperwork. And Joss didn’t mind.
    Twitchell, for an unknown reason, had suddenly expressed interest in buying a gun.
    T HE METAL DOOR TO the soft room clinked open. Twitchell, appearing tired, turned to see Clark shuffle back inside the interview room, legal pad in hand.
    â€œMark, you remember what I mentioned to you earlier?” Clark pushed the door shut behind him, making sure the latch had closed. “About, uh, contacting a lawyer?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œThat still holds true, okay? Just so you’re aware. If at any time we’re talking and you wanna contact a lawyer, you can do so. I’ll take you to a phone.” Clark sneaked a quick downward glace at his notepad. “There’s something else I wanna tell you … Mark.”
    Twitchell was hunched over, holding his chin up with one hand.
    Clark dropped his papers on the table and turned to face him. He took a quick breath, then launched in. “There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that you’re involved in the disappearance of John Altinger.” He chopped each word with his hands like he was lecturing Twitchell, towering over top of him.
    Twitchell blinked rapidly, looking up at Clark in sudden shock. His eyes flared as he locked on to Clark’s gaze.
    Thirteen seconds passed in silence as they stared at each other.
    Twitchell slowly leaned back into the couch, his fleece jacket rustling against it. He dropped his hands between his knees and tried to regain his composure.
    Clark raised his voice again.