We sit in the conference room, where we can spread out. I’ve drawn a red line through Dr. Bradley’s name on the Robb suspect list. Don’t know that everyone agrees with me, but I’m making a statement by eliminating him. We need to do a deeper dive on the four remaining suspects. We’re still hopeful that there’s DNA somewhere that will point the finger at one of them, but until then, all we have is old-fashioned police work.

My phone vibrates, dances across the table, drawing my concentration from the notes I was rereading. I don’t recognize the number but answer anyway. “Detective Myers.”

“Is this Detective Myers?” a weak voice asks. Didn’t I just say that?

“Speaking. How can I help you?”

“This is Gladys Murray, Detective.”

“Yes.” The old lady who lives next door to the Bradleys.

“I think something might be wrong here.” I put my phone on speaker, glance at Joe, whose dark eyes meet mine.

“What’s happened?”

“Well, Percy went to our front door and started scratching a while ago, and he never does that. When I opened the door, Sadie was standing there.”

“Who’s Sadie?”

“Mrs. Bradley’s dog. She had her leash on, and I thought she got away from Mrs. Bradley. She walks her by the house a couple times a day, but it was really early, not when she usually goes by. Anyway, Percy and I took Sadie over to the house. Mrs. Bradley’s car’s in the driveway. I rang the bell several times, knocked, but no one answered. She seems to take good care of her dog, Detective. I don’t think she’d let her loose like that on purpose. You suppose something’s not right?”

“We’re on the way, Mrs. Murray.” Joe and Agent Metz start to gather their things.

“I’ve got Sadie here with me.”

“That’s great. We’ll be there shortly.” I disconnect the call. Throw my phone in my satchel.

Joe drives, and I call Corrine Alworth on the way over.

“You don’t know where she is?” I ask.

“She should be home,” Mrs. Alworth says. “The neighbor found her dog wandering?”

“That’s what she said, and no one answered the door when she knocked.”

Mrs. Alworth blows out a ragged breath. “I talked to her yesterday. She was going to a party at her friend’s house, then she was staying home for the night. Where could she be?” Her frustration and fear burst through in her words.

“Whose party?”

“Kim Pearson’s.”

“Who else was there?”

“Her regular group, I think.”