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My stomach turns.

“Daniel sold him the information,” I say.

“That’s what the messages indicate.”

“And Greg used it to choose girls.”

“Yes.”

I grip the edge of the desk.

“How many?”

“We haven’t finished reviewing everything.”

“How many, Sheriff?”

“At least twenty-one.”

The same number of girls rescued from the mine.

That can’t be a coincidence.

“Were all of them there?” I ask.

“No. Some of the names go back too far. We’re comparing the records to missing-person reports.”

Girls who disappeared before Sage.

Girls whose names might have been forgotten.

Daniel kept files on them.

Photographs.

Addresses.

Foster placements.

He didn’t investigate missing girls.

He created lists for the men who made them disappear.

“Why did he photograph Sage before Mae died?” I ask.

“We’re still determining that.”

“He knew where she was.”

“Yes.”

The answer nearly takes my legs from beneath me.

I lower myself into the chair.

Daniel listened to me cry.

He accepted every payment I could scrape together.