By the time I’ve raced through the bitingly cold wind blasting off the nearby ocean, and I’m ringing Lucas’s doorbell, Kane is by my side. There’s no answer. I ring the bell again and still, there’s no answer. Grimacing, and biting back words I’d rather save for Lucas, I snap up my phone and punch the auto-dial for Lucas. It goes straight to voicemail. Earlier, it at least rang. I’m really not liking how this is reading.

Fortunately, Lucas has one of those fancy front door keycode entry points, and I just happen to have the code. I punch it in and glance up at Kane. “Before you bitch about me knowing the code, it’s been the same for years.”

“You having his code for years doesn’t sound good, Lilah.”

“Right. Well, maybe not, but for the record, it sounded good in my head. And we both know you know I’m haven’t, nor will I ever, sleep with Lucas.” I push open the door and flip on the light. “Lucas!” I call out.

He doesn’t answer. I pull my firearm and head down the hallway. “Lucas!”

Still no answer.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Kane says, pausing by my side, just on the edge of the living room.

“Look for his laptop,” I say. “Where it is, he is.”

He nods and he’s already moving up the stucco-framed staircase, but Kane doesn’t pull the firearm I know he has on his person.

I shove mine back in the holster, any sense of real danger simply not present. With my hands free now, I walk the lower level of the house, flip on the rear light to survey the pool area, all areas free of any signs of struggle or dead bodies. There’s also no laptop. My last stop is the kitchen, which looks clean and unused. I walk to the fridge and open the door, scanning the contents.

“Looking for a jar of blood?” Kane asks, from behind me.

I turn to find him leaning his shoulder on the archway. “More like the turkey pot pie he said he ordered for dinner,” I say, shutting the fridge again. “And the coconut cake he was supposed to bring for dessert. None of it exists.”

“Unless he took it to someone else’s house,” Kane suggested.

“Why would he lie about food? And why not just tell me he had plans?”

“Good question. Maybe he took the food with him, came to our house, saw the police cars and panicked. He is a hacker.”

“But why ignore my calls?” I walk to the trashcan and look inside. There’s no sign of takeout containers or even a paper plate that held a slice of cake. I glance at Kane. “Any sign of the laptop?”

“None, but I did find a Taylor Swift poster. How old is Lucas?”