“Should we go back to the office?” I ask.

“Erik didn’t have any updates. Let’s go on that walk.” Trace trots to the far fence and sniffs the air.

“Good idea. Especially if I’m gone all day tomorrow. I wonder if my neighbor will be okay watching him. Do you think we’ll spend the night?”

“Doubtful. But you never know. One of the good things about the FBI taking up the case is that they have resources. Boots on the ground means we don’t have to do it all.” He looks beyond my tiny yard, into my neighbors’ yards. “I bet Stella would take care of him.”

“Stella? From your office?”

“She has a fenced-in back yard for her dog. Well, it’s Trevor’s dog, but basically hers. And she has a teenage son you can hire. Want me to call her? She’ll be understanding if our plans change.”

Given I barely know my neighbor Jenny, and I have already leaned on her, I say, “Sure.”

He dials Stella while I get the leash. When I return, his back is to me, arms stretched across the fence, surveying land that isn’t mine. His shorts curve over his rounded butt cheeks and end above his knee. Dark, curly hair covers his legs, except along the smooth inner curve of his muscular calves. I flush, remembering the flex of all those hard muscles as he pounded into me. Those thoughts are quite unnecessary, so I blink and shake them away.

“Ready?” Trace’s body vibrates with happiness at the sight of the leash in my hand.

“Yep.”

“How much time do you have?”

“Same as you.”

“What do you mean?”

I lead him left onto Hailey Street. Cars buzz by. Trace happily trots along, pausing to sniff each parking meter post.

“You’re my plans for the afternoon.”

“Until we get the background reports?” I hope one of the executives at Sullivan Arms stands out. The longer we go without leads, our chances of locating Sophia dim.

“Are you happy in this neighborhood?” Ryan asks.

“I like State Street.” There are plenty of bungalows throughout the area that I couldn’t afford. The only reason I’d been able to snag this one is because it is so tiny, and the minuscule lot size prevented a developer from coming in, knocking it down, and putting in something larger. “How’d you pick your area?”

“Real estate agent.” He scans the street as we walk. He is always scanning his surroundings. “Do you do this walk at night?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“It’s really a good neighborhood,” I assure him. “Mostly families. Young families. And a lot of dog walkers.”

“Have you met many people?”

“I’ve met a lot of dogs.” I smile up into my reflection in his shades.

He doesn’t return my smile. His hands are in his pockets, hinting at casual, but his upright posture and attentive stance says alert, borderline formal. Even in shorts and trainers, he carries a professional air.