But I’m getting way ahead of myself. He didn’t specifically ask me on a date. We’re not going to give up on Sophia. We will brainstorm leads. We can’t give up after forty-eight hours. Brainstorming theories and possibilities while eating is quite logical. My dad had colleagues over for pizza or shepherd’s pie more than once over the years while working a case.

Half the time, Ryan doesn’t seem to have a high opinion of me. But then he did take the odd cold shower. Maybe he is asking me out. Which is fine. But is it fine? On the off chance he is asking me out, I should set the ground rules.

“For clarity, while we are working on this case, it…we…”

He sucks on the side of his lower lip, looking borderline amused. “Are you stuttering?” The man smiles. Or smirks. Yes, he smirks. And it irks me. The man is attractive, but he’s not nice. Attractive-but-asshole is not my type. My type is academic sweetheart. A goof with a giant heart. I don’t want to go on a date with this man.

“Mr. Wolfgang, it’s hard enough to earn respect in this industry as a woman. Please don’t tease me. Treat me as a colleague.” My response would make Dad proud.

“Absolutely. I hope I didn’t step out of line. Forget I said anything.” His stoic expression returns. An awkward silence fills the space between us for the rest of the short car ride.

“How did it go?” Jack stands in the garage as we exit the vehicle.

Ryan grunts. The near growl tells Jack everything.

Jack’s phone rings. He checks the screen and answers. “I signed everything.” There’s a pause. “Wayne has it all.” He glances between Ryan and me. “Yes, I understand.” He lets out a sigh. “Can we not do this? I agree. Let me focus on my daughter.”

“What was that?” Ryan asks.

My gaze falls to the ground to lend a modicum of privacy.

“My uncle. I’m taking a temporary leave from the company. It’s standard procedure in cases like…” He vigorously scratches the back of his head as he steps to the side door of the house. “Let’s go talk about next steps.”

CHAPTER 9

48 Hours Missing

Ryan

Jack scribbles a phone number on a piece of paper. He has the look of a man on the brink of dissolution, hair unruly, face unshaven, clothes wrinkled, and red-rimmed eyes.

“When you’re ready to go, call this number for a car service. Wayne isn’t available today to drive you back. He’s stepping in.” He balls his hands into fists and presses down on them, supporting his weight as he leans over the desk. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” He raises his head, and his wretched gaze falls on me. “You too, Ryan. Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You came. And your team…” There’s a question and a plea in the way his eyes crinkle at the sides.