Without looking away from the notes he was scribbling, Cord said, ‘We can head out and interview Rosalyn Benson today.’ Alyssa wasn’t sure if he was referring to the two of them, or if he was including Sandra in the ‘we.’

Hal waited to make sure Sandra was finished before jumping in with his own update. ‘First of all, Marnie Hanson was right as far as Gabriel’s online appointment calendar goes. The last entry I saw on there was for September seventh, and that was just a note for his annual Labor Day barbecue. So, I spent most of last night scouring the financial records on Gabriel Kensington’s laptop – good call including that in the search warrant – but so far, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, business-related anyhow. No deposits or massive withdrawals that would raise a red flag. I’ll keep digging, just in case. And as far as online footprints go, I’m not getting many hits outside of Mr. Kensington’s charities and his private investigation practice.’ He tilted his head Joe’s direction. ‘You’re up.’

Joe straightened a pile of papers in front of him. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much to add. You know Tony and I went back to recanvass the Kensington neighborhood yesterday evening while Lys and Sandra interviewed Elizabeth Monroe, but we basically got back the same information the officers got Thursday night.’

‘What about home security systems?’ Cord asked.

‘Same. And none of the residents who allowed us access to their footage have cameras directed at the Kensingtons’ house. So, that’s basically a bust, at least for now.’

‘Where are you on getting access to the phone records?’ Alyssa asked.

‘Still waiting,’ Joe growled. ‘It’s like the phone company doesn’t care that we have a double homicidal maniac who likes to kidnap teenage girls running around. I’ll contact them again, see if I can light a fire, but so far, they’re demanding a warrant for those records, which, as we all know, can take weeks. So, it’s a good thing we’ve at least got the one left on Kensington’s desk. Of course, that doesn’t really tell us anything about Lydia Kensington’s contacts. Regardless, I’ve already put a call in to Judge—’

Alyssa’s phone rang, and she peeked down to see who would be calling before seven in the morning. ‘It’s Dr. Sharp,’ she informed the team as she answered. ‘Good morning, Lynn, what have you got for us?’

Across the line, Lynn sighed, and Alyssa could picture the medical examiner’s trademark expression of pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. ‘I don’t know how much it’s going to help. And I want to caution you that these are still preliminary findings.’