“At this point, there’s nothing to indicate that,” Frank said. “She might be up for torching his car—because by all accounts he was a cheating asshole—but she already had him. And she had absolutely no motive for killing her lawyer. She met her real estate agent at the house that Saturday night, and she hasn’t been seen since. She was staying at an Airbnb and she just vanished. The owner contacted us when she saw the news. Molly Sullivan’s possessions were still in the apartment—her personal papers, clothes, a laptop, and her new car was parked outside with a box full of mementos. And at the house, the trash cans had been knocked around and there was a pile of bedding left outside. When you put it together, it looks like she was taken against her will.”

Josiah murmured, “The trash cans could have been raccoons, but the rest of it doesn’t look promising.” And the police’s continued efforts to find Molly was the price they had to pay for scrutiny on the case. “Thanks for the update.”

“You’re welcome.” The detective stood. “I’ll email you if there are any further developments.”

“You do that. When you’ve got a moment, I also want a list of the client files Sullivan had in his office.” Not that he expected to find anything in them. The same person who had planted the arson instructions would have had plenty of time to pull compromising files before the police searched them. But still, they might have let something useful slip through the cracks.

“Sure thing,” Frank said.

Josiah shook the other man’s hand and walked him out of his office.

That afternoon he met Russell Sherman for a steak lunch at one of the best restaurants in the city. For several minutes they engaged in neutral conversation while the waiter took their orders and brought them drinks.

Once they were alone again, Russell took a hefty swallow of his bourbon. “Now I know why you couldn’t comment earlier when I called.”

Josiah nodded. “Had to wait until the news broke or the police told you.”

“The whole office is in shock over the fact that Austin killed his wife’s attorney.” Russell shook his head. He had a blunt, powerful head like a bullet, situated on a thick neck.

Josiah’s truthsense pinged. Lie.

His whole fucking eighty-hour workweek had been worth this single moment. Russell did, in fact, know the truth of what had happened that night, and he was working hard to cover it up.

“It must be a lot to take in,” Josiah said.

“None of us saw it coming. Is Molly still missing?”

Their steaks arrived. Russell dug in, carving up his meat with the polished dexterity of a butcher.

“The police don’t know her whereabouts,” Josiah replied with complete truth.