“You’re back.” Morgan entered her office and beelined for the coffee maker on the credenza behind her desk. She was barefoot. Her skirt was rumpled and her blouse untucked. On the way past the men, she stopped and rested a hand on Sharp’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Honestly, no.” Sharp shook his head. “And I’m not going to be until we find Olivia. But I don’t know what else to do except keep looking for her.”

Morgan gave his shoulder a squeeze. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Realistically, they couldn’t maintain the pace at which they were working for much longer. Mental function declined drastically with sleep deprivation. Naps would hold them for only a couple of days. But when would Sharp agree to back off? It was Sunday. Olivia had been missing for two days.

Morgan checked her phone as she brewed a cup of coffee. “Olivia’s agent left me a return message while I was asleep. She’s available this morning.”

Sharp perched on the corner of Morgan’s desk. The exhaustion in his eyes went beyond lack of sleep. Worry for Olivia was wearing him down. “Would you make me a cup of that poison?”

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up. “Again? Are you serious?”

“Yes. Very.” Sharp rolled his neck. Something cracked.

Morgan pulled a clean mug from her shelf and inserted a pod into the machine. A minute later, she handed him the mug. She pulled a bag of cookies from her drawer and ate one.

Sharp took a cookie.

“Did you eat dinner last night?” Morgan asked.

Sharp shook his head.

“You need some real food.” She rounded her desk and left her office.

Lance felt helpless. What if they didn’t find Olivia? “You’re sure Mr. Olander was murdered?”

Sharp nodded. “The medical examiner confirmed the red rings around his wrists were ligature marks.”

Looking for energy in any form, Lance helped himself to a cookie.

“Since the guns were at the farm yesterday, and now they’re gone, I assume his murder was related to them.” Sharp bit into his cookie.

“Seems likely someone stole them.” Lance could hear the soft beeping of the microwave in the kitchen.

“It does.” Sharp washed the rest of his cookie down with coffee.

A few minutes later, Morgan returned with a bowl of soup, a spoon, and a steaming mug of tea. “Sit.” She gestured toward her desk.

After Sharp sat in her desk chair, she put the soup and tea in front of him. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. “Thank you. This is just what I needed.”

Morgan smiled. “It’s your soup from the freezer, but you’re welcome.”

“Who put the pipe bomb on our doorstep?” Sharp blew on a spoonful of soup.

“Are we agreed it was related to Olivia’s disappearance?” Morgan asked.

Lance nodded. “Yes.”

“Did they want to kill us or scare us?” Morgan stood next to Lance and studied the whiteboard.

“Good question.” Lance’s eyes were dry and his vision blurry. Not that it mattered. He had been staring at the board most of the night, trying to make connections or generate ideas about where Olivia might be or who might have taken her. Unfortunately, the investigation wasn’t narrowing. Instead, the leads were spiderwebbing.

They didn’t speak again until Sharp had finished his soup.

“I set up some additional motion detectors and cameras outside,” Lance said. “Turn on notifications in the app, and you’ll get an immediate message whenever anyone approaches the house, and you can see their approach in real time.”

“That’s great. At least no one will sneak up on us.” Sharp pushed away the bowl. “Stella let me walk Olander’s murder scene with her.”

She was smart enough to make use of Sharp’s experience.

“The way Olander was killed suggests more than theft of the guns. A pair of cut zip ties was found on the catwalk above him. His hands were bound; then he was forced onto the catwalk in the barn. They put a noose around his neck, cut the zip ties, and shoved him off. The drop was only about six feet. His neck didn’t break, and the way his fingertips and nails were torn and bloody, we know it took him a few minutes to die. He hung there, tearing at the rope around his neck, until it strangled him.”

Lance’s belly cramped at the visual running through his head. Next to him, Morgan shuddered. He put an arm around her shoulders.

“Sounds like an execution,” Morgan said.

“Yes,” Sharp agreed. “I got the sense of punishment or revenge.”

“Or they were making an example of him,” Lance pointed out.

“Maybe all of those things.” Morgan crossed her arms. “But why? Who are they? Did he betray them in some way?”

Lance wrote the possible motives under a new column headed with OLANDER’S MURDER. “Maybe he stole the guns from them?”

“It’s possible.” Sharp massaged his scalp with both hands as if his head hurt. “But how are the guns or Olander’s death related to Olivia’s disappearance?”

“We don’t know that they are,” Morgan said quietly. “There’s no mention of guns in Olivia’s notes.”

“Shit.” Sharp lowered his hands, shot to his feet, and paced the narrow space between the desk and credenza. “Are we any closer to finding her?”

Lance didn’t insult Sharp with meaningless encouragement. The chances of finding Olivia alive decreased with every moment that passed. They all knew it. There was no pretending.

“Let’s table the Olander case for now,” Lance said in a firm voice. “Let the forensics team and medical examiner do their jobs.”

“You’re right. Whoever killed Olander literally didn’t bother to cover their tracks. There’ll be evidence, but it will take time to process. Same with the materials from the bomb left on our porch. An arson investigation is not a fast process either.” Sharp walked two steps, pivoted, and took two more strides in the opposite direction. “Did we find any sign that a former subject of one of Olivia’s investigative journalism pieces could be behind her abduction?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” Lance tapped the note on the board. “The only real possibility is in Oregon.”

“Where are we?” Sharp’s voice echoed his frustration.

“My mother sent the rest of the background reports,” Lance said. “I’ve started skimming them. So far, nothing has jumped out at me.”

Sharp swept a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in tufts. “Have you made any headway with the Franklin case? What did you learn at the sheriff’s station?”

“Morgan and I read the murder book. The sheriff was convinced Franklin was tied to the disappearances of five other women who went missing over the past ten years. But his theory is mostly conjecture with a small amount of circumstantial evidence.” Morgan picked up her file on the Franklin case. “What if he’s innocent?”

A shadow passed over Sharp’s eyes. “Then the real killer certainly wouldn’t want Franklin freed and the Brandi Holmes murder case reopened.”

Lance picked up the marker and wrote REAL KILLER? in the FRANKLIN CASE column. “The attorney, Mark Hansen, also has motive. He royally screwed up Franklin’s case.”