When Avery left, Jordan stood alone in the kitchen, listening to the gurgle of the coffee maker.

“What do you want?” She closed her eyes and listened, hoping information about this killer was buried somewhere deep in her brain and would wiggle its way to her consciousness.

Smoke. Athletic shoes. Intelligence. She repeated the details over and over.

But no replies whispered in her head. There was only the coffee maker, the tick of a clock, and the hum of the air-conditioning. Jordan’s phone rang. “Dot Andrews,” the mechanical voice said.

She answered the call. “Mrs. Andrews.”

“Detective Poe. I went through my daughter’s room like you told me. I didn’t find anything there.”

Jordan leaned forward. “But?”

“I found a crumpled-up piece of paper in Cloe’s car. She borrowed her sister’s car from time to time.”

“And?”

“It was a job application for Thompson’s Market.”

“Thompson’s on Sixth Street?”

“That’s what it says on the top of the form. Casey had started to fill out the form but stopped.”

“Did she date it?”

“Yes, it’s dated the day before she vanished.”

“Can you hold on to the copy? I’ll have an officer pick it up.”

“It’s a job application,” she said. “What does it mean?”

“It fills in another piece on the timeline before she was taken. All the pieces matter.”

“Okay.”

“How are you doing?” Jordan asked.

“Not well. I can’t sleep. I’m always worried about her.”

“I think about her all the time as well.”

“Do you think that she’s alive?”

“As a police officer I won’t speak in absolute terms. Not yet. I’m moving forward assuming she’s alive.”

Mrs. Andrews drew in a quick, sharp breath, as if trying to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

“I’ll find out what happened to her,” Jordan said.

When she hung up, she cradled the phone close to her chest. She had been within inches of Casey. She had nearly saved her. And then the blow to her head, and her world had gone dark.

Tears welled in Jordan’s eyes, and several spilled over her cheeks. She had faced frustration many times before, but without her sight, the problems felt insurmountable. How was she going to find Casey when she could barely get around in her own home?

Of course, if a solution was out there, it would not be discovered while she wallowed in self-pity. After Casey was found, she would curl up in a ball, pull the covers over her head, and embrace all the sorrow and defeatism. Until then, she did not have the luxury.

On her phone, she carefully maneuvered her way through her contacts until she found Spencer’s information. She dialed, anticipating the sound of his voice.

On the third ring he picked up. “Jordan.”