It was well after eleven when Max parked in front of Marie Richards’s small, well-maintained home on a pleasant tree-lined street only ten minutes from her River Walk hotel. She’d reviewed the information Rogan had sent previously about Richards, and there was nothing in her background or current life that had made either of them suspicious. He’d only done a basic run on her, because she was exactly what she appeared to be—a single mom of two active boys.

There wasn’t much about her ex—court records showed he paid child support on time every month. The ex was an engineer for an oil company and spent most of his time in the middle of the Gulf. He visited his kids regularly when he wasn’t on the oil rig, but he could be out weeks at a time. Rogan had included his schedule. He was working and wouldn’t be back for another ten days. For the last year, he’d worked thirty days on, two weeks off, and he made very good money.

No apparent threat from the ex-husband—and no motions for restraining orders or anything like it against him or anyone else.

The lights were out, even the porch light, except for a small glow, which was likely a night-light in one of the interior rooms. Max didn’t want to sit out here all night watching the house. Though sleep often eluded her, she needed a few hours or she would miss something tomorrow. She needed a sharp mind for her interview with Stanley Grant.

Max didn’t want to scare Marie, but she couldn’t just walk away—this request was too odd. The sister could be sleeping. It was late by most people’s standards. Instead of knocking on the door, Max called the cell phone number Oliver Jones had given her.

The call went immediately to voice mail.

“You’ve reached Marie Richards. I’m unavailable, please leave a message and I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Max left a brief message: “This is Maxine Revere. I’m calling at the request of your brother. Please call me at this number any time day or night.”

She ended the call. Maybe Marie turned off her phone. Two small boys, needed her sleep. Had to work tomorrow.

Yet.

Jones had only given her Marie’s cell phone number. She may or may not have a landline. Max did a quick search and found a number at this address. She called.

It rang four times, then the answering machine kicked in. Max left the same message.

Was the phone silenced or was she not home?

She had two kids in school—where would she be so late on a school night?