Maybe Alver’s years of service did teach him something because that’s actually helpful. Barnes must agree because he clicks around on his computer. “Yvette owns the house with Richard. So that’s all hers now. They’ve got two vehicles, her car and his pickup. Richard’s got a share in a duck blind, but that’s hours away and I’m betting Yvette’s never been there.”

A dead end, hopefully not one that leads to Zoey being just as dead too.

“What about make-out points? Everybody knows where those are,” Alver suggests.

“Where are those?” I ask.

Barnes talks to the radio at his shoulder instead of me. “I need someone to check out Mayfield’s pastures and someone to go up to Overlook Drive.”

The static clears and a voice says, “Unit One’s got Mayfield’s.”

Another voice comes through, “Three’ll take Overlook.”

Barnes nods. “Okay. Familiar places covered. Who is Yvette friendly with? Reckon she’d have help?”

“Sebastian, the dog trainer. That’s who she’s sleeping with.” I pull out my phone and open my TikTok app to show Sebastian’s account. “This is him with my dog, Chunky.”

“You see this dog trainer too?” Barnes asks.

“I did once . . . as part of our investigation,” I explain.

“Yours and Zoey’s, you mean?” Sheriff Barnes looks like the very idea gives him heartburn. I suppose considering where we’re at now, with Zoey missing, I can understand why. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting since I saw that mop bucket lying on its side.

“Yeah, he’s kinda social media famous. But weird . . .”

“Weird, how?” Barnes demands.

I think back to my training session with Sebastian. “He comes off as this charming, gym bro, dude type, but then he’d blink and be furious. A second later, it was like it never happened. He was just weird.”

“And he’s sleeping with Yvette,” Alver summarizes. “I don’t like it.”

Barnes does a bit more computer searching and then reads from the screen. “Sebastian Turner, last known address is in town. Let me call in a drive by for his place, but it’s an apartment. Not much on privacy, not where I’d take a prisoner.”

He picks up his phone and calls the police department in town while that word—prisoner—ricochets around in my head, leaving carnage in its wake. After a short conversation, he hangs up. “They’ll call back when they get an all-clear.”

I look from Barnes to Alver, lost and not sure what to do. I want to run right out the door, go find Zoey, and gather her in my arms, checking every inch of her to make sure she’s okay, then smack her ass as punishment for believing for one second that I might be lying to her or using her. And then kiss it all better, pour myself into her so she never doubts me again.