"Why don't you give me that?" As soon as Dean said it, he realized he had been a little too hasty with his request. Jake Weller gave him a cold stare.
"There a reason you don't want me to run these prints through the system?"
Dean wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't have to. Weller handed him the card without a word as Dean tried to hold his relief in check.
"Thanks," Dean said. Something unspoken passed between them as Fred returned, his arm around his jailer's shoulders.
The real celebration of Fred's release from jail didn't begin until the pair returned to Bird Song where Cynthia had baked a fresh apple pie, complete with vanilla ice cream, tagged on to the end of a healthy lunch. In spite of his continued concern over Fitzgerald, Dean indulged himself. Hang the diet. There had been little enough to celebrate recently. Besides, the bathroom scale had reported a two-pound drop that morning.
Fred was absolutely joyous when Dean presented him with the unprocessed fingerprint card and promptly tore it into pea-size pieces. He was back at Bird Song and all was right with the world. After the feast and at least headline updates to one another, the trio migrated to the porch rockers for a serious early afternoon têteà-tête. The time and chat, spent interspersed with interrupting chores, was long overdue. Now that Dawkins v. Dawkins was history there was no need to keep Fred in the closet, informationally speaking. He was yards behind and took copious notes. He filled one pad and then another as they brought him up to speed, while Mrs. Lincoln nudged his pencil for attention.
There was no further official word on Martha's whereabouts, but Fred continued to assure the Deans not to worry, saying the girl was in good hands, whatever that meant. He turned a deaf ear when they pressed for details. As the afternoon dwindled, the Deans were content to rock and ruminate. Fred, rejuvenated, popped up to check his e-mails as soon as he felt he'd drained the well of intelligence the Deans had been holding back during his jury and jail departures. He soon returned to announce that he was unable to confirm Josh Mulligan's death via the Internet social security death records.
"I'm sure Jennifer didn't lie to us," Cynthia said. "That must be a mistake."
Fred rubbed his chin. "There's lots of reasons those records don't pick up a death but it would be nice to see it listed there." Dean silently agreed. Even eliminating suspects was beginning to be a major chore.
Cynthia resurrected the question of "metalman29," the e-mail presumably from a gold or silver dealer who'd indicated an interest in the Lucky Pup mine.