It reminded him of something.

The girls were at the head of the aisle.

With no time to study the mask, he grabbed one and hid it under Sophie’s costume. He hurried to catch up with the children. At the checkout counter, he distracted them with lollipops, pretending not to hear Ava whisper to Mia, “Mommy never lets us get the candy.”

He purchased the adult mask without them noticing and quietly asked the clerk to put it in a separate bag that he tucked under his arm as they navigated the parking lot.

Back in the van, Lance hid the bag under the passenger seat. Then he buckled the girls into their car seats and drove home. Once inside the house, the girls stampeded to their rooms to put on their costumes. Lance returned to the van for the mask. He took it to the bedroom and shut the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled the mask from the bag and stretched the material between his fingers. It had plenty of give, but it could be ripped.

More important, the mask was the same texture, color, and thickness as the piece of rubber they’d found in Olivia’s bedroom.

Chapter Ten

Morgan drove Sharp’s Prius south on the interstate slowly enough to elicit three horn honks and two middle fingers from passing vehicles.

Sharp responded to the gestures in kind. “Those drivers are assholes. They can get around you.”

Morgan ignored them.

Sharp stared out the window, his gaze searching the roadside. Morgan slowed even more as they approached a bridge, and Sharp craned his neck to get a view of the sloping riverbank. But his tight-lipped expression told Morgan there were no breaks in the guardrail or tire tracks in the soft earth to indicate a car had driven off the road. Morgan glanced at the dark water as they crossed the river. Could her car have gone off a different road?

Leaving the bridge behind, Morgan brought the Prius back up to the minimum speed. “Does Olivia always take the same route to her parents’ house?”

“Unless there’s an accident or other major traffic delay,” Sharp answered without taking his eyes off the roadside. “I checked. There were no traffic issues this morning.”

“Is there anywhere else she would have stopped along the way? A reason she might have left the interstate?”

“I don’t know.” The sigh that eased from Sharp’s chest made her heart hurt. “But I also don’t know why she would have left her house at two in the morning. I don’t know why I’m even looking for her car. I doubt she was headed to her parents’ house at that hour. What was she doing?”

“It does seem strange. Maybe surveillance?”

“Maybe. But of whom?” Sharp’s voice was heavy with frustration. He motioned toward the windshield. “Take this exit.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the road in darkness. Morgan wished she had words of comfort, but Sharp’s head was no doubt full of every violent crime he’d investigated over the past thirty years. As was hers. In their professions, they had both seen the worst humanity had to offer. Neither one of them could be fooled into a blissfully ignorant but false sense of security.

Morgan turned Sharp’s car into a development. Olivia’s parents lived in a senior community of one-story cookie-cutter homes.

“That’s the house.” Sharp pointed to a tiny white house with red shutters. Light glowed from the windows. A blue minivan was parked at the curb.

Morgan parked the Prius behind the van, and they got out of the car.

Sharp stood on the sidewalk for a minute. “I don’t know what to say to them.”

A curtain moved in the window. Someone had been watching for them.

Morgan took his arm and steered him up the cracked concrete walk. “It’ll come to you.”

“I’ve talked to families before, but this is different,” Sharp said. “I know these people.”

The door opened before they reached the stoop. A short woman with a head of dyed-brown curls stood in the opening. Morgan assumed she was Olivia’s mother. Her eyes were dark and worried. Morgan and Sharp continued up the steps.

“You have not found Olivia,” Mrs. Cruz said in a flat voice.

Sharp shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m s—” He began to apologize, but his words were cut off by the woman’s embrace.

She held him tightly, as if she knew he needed as much comfort as she did. She released him and patted his arm. “You will find her. I know you will.”

When Sharp stepped back, his eyes were wet. “This is my partner’s fiancée, Morgan Dane. She and Lance have offered to help.”

Morgan and Sharp followed Mrs. Cruz into the foyer. Then it was Morgan’s turn to be hugged. For a small woman, Olivia’s mother had strong arms.

Releasing Morgan, Mrs. Cruz held her at arm’s length. “Thank you. Olivia has spoken of you often. She thinks you’re a brilliant lawyer.”

“We’ll do everything we can to find her,” Morgan said.

“I know.” Mrs. Cruz led them down a short hallway. The kitchen was small but modern. Two people sat at the table. Mrs. Cruz introduced her husband and Olivia’s sister, Valerie. The family’s anxiety was as palpable as the scent of coffee.

“Let me get you some coffee.” Without waiting for their responses, Valerie bustled around her mother’s kitchen, using the movement to expel some of her anxiety.

“A reporter called a few minutes ago. How did he find out about Olivia?” Valerie asked.

“I don’t know.” But Morgan should have expected the news to get out. Stella might keep her end of the investigation under wraps, but every department had leaks. “What did you tell him?”

“My mother answered the phone.” Valerie’s eyes softened as she looked at her mother.

“He was rude, and I hung up,” Mrs. Cruz added.

Morgan preferred she be the spokesperson for the family. The press could be a useful tool, but they had to be managed, especially this early in a case. Stories generated false leads that used up valuable investigation time.

“You will probably get more calls from reporters,” Morgan said. “Next time, if you don’t want to talk to the press, you can refer them to me. I can handle them for you. Or we can set up a formal press conference to make a public request for help.”

Mrs. Cruz looked from Morgan to Valerie and back. “What do you think we should do?”

“Let me think about it,” Morgan said. “Have you received any phone calls or messages about Olivia?”

“No.” Valerie shook her head. “I also checked my parents’ email as well as their physical mailbox.”

So no ransom demand.

Morgan glanced at Sharp, who stood silently, his eyes bleak, as if he had no words.

She continued, “What time did Olivia leave here last night?”

“About nine.” Valerie took cups out of a cabinet.

“She texted me around ten o’clock, when she arrived at home.” Mrs. Cruz sat next to her husband. “I know it’s silly. Olivia is a grown woman, but when she leaves my house, I can’t sleep until I know she’s home safe.” Her husband took her hand, and their fingers intertwined.

“It’s not silly at all.” Morgan couldn’t imagine one of her daughters vanishing, no matter how old they were. The mere thought was enough to generate a rush of anxiety. She sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Cruz. “Mothers are allowed to worry.”