Jordan settled, felt the cushion beside her dip as Avery sat. A chair to her left squeaked as Mrs. Andrews took her place. Jordan laid her cane on the floor over her feet.

“Can I get you two anything?” Mrs. Andrews asked.

“No, thank you,” Jordan said.

“I heard from the cops you saw Casey in that house.”

“I did see her.” Images of the young woman’s terrified eyes rushed her brain. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help her.”

“You did what you could. You tried. And I am grateful.”

“Have you heard from anyone about Casey?”

“No. No one has called. And I keep my cell phone with me all the time. It’s even on the bathroom counter when I shower.”

“Did you go through her room?” Jordan asked.

“The police did. They said they didn’t find anything.”

“What about you? Have you searched it?” Jordan asked.

“I haven’t had the heart.”

“Go through the room. Tear it apart if you have to. If there’s anything in there that might tell us who took her, we need to know.”

“But the police did,” Mrs. Andrews said.

“No one can go through a kid’s room like a mother. You’ll think of places to look the cops wouldn’t.”

Avery shifted. “My mother was good at finding anything. No secrets stayed secret long if she wanted to know what was going on.”

The springs in Mrs. Andrews’s chair squeaked. “Sure, if you think it’ll help, I’ll rip it apart. Casey won’t be happy.”

“I promise you she won’t have a problem with it,” Jordan said.

A back door opened and closed, and she was aware again her waistband felt light without her gun. “Who’s that?”

“It’s my youngest daughter, Cloe. She’s sixteen.”

“I’d like to talk to her,” Jordan said.

“Cloe? Come in here, honey,” Mrs. Andrews said.

Jordan reached down for her cane and rose. Sitting put her at a greater disadvantage. Avery stood as well.

“Whose car is that, Mom?” Cloe asked.

The footsteps were sharp, impatient, and stopped abruptly when they reached the carpeted living room.

“The police are here,” Mrs. Andrews said. “They’re still looking for Casey.”

“Really?” Sarcasm laced the word. “It’s been eight days since she was seen.”

“We haven’t given up,” Jordan said.

“Who are you?”

“Detective Jordan Poe.” Technically, they had not taken her badge away yet.

“You’re that cop,” Cloe said.

“If you mean the one who saw your sister, yes, that’s me.”

“The one that didn’t save my sister,” Cloe corrected.

“What can you tell me about Casey? Who knew her best? Was there anyone who ever said they wanted to hurt her? Anyone that watched or followed her?”

“No.”

The too-crisp response caught Jordan’s ear. “You’re only three years younger. You went to the same high school for at least a year.”