“No,” Pete said.

“Rebecca checked every steel delivery invoice down to the last nut and bolt.

She wouldn’t steal a pair of work gloves.”

“When did you see her last?” I asked.

Pete reached into his flannel shirt pocket, took out a folded scrap of brown paper, and tapped it on the linoleum table.

“Eight months ago,” Pete said.

“I was hauling extra scaffolding frames to a site by the old railyard.

I saw her come out of an apartment building across from the laundromat on Peak Street.