“They say they ran the blood, and nothing came of it. But it seems like the detective’s being intentionally vague about it. It would be easy for him to say there were no hits, for example. That would be crystal clear. But when I was pressing him for details, all he said was that it was a ‘dead end’? It doesn’t sound right to me.”

“I’ve got to be honest. I don’t hear any difference between those two.” Scott was an investment banker for institutional clients, although Lindsay still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“It’s him giving me his conclusion, versus sharing the raw information upon which he’s basing that conclusion.”

“That makes sense.”

She knew it was his way of validating her, but at the same time, she found the response annoying. Of course it made sense. She wasn’t in the habit of saying things that didn’t make sense. She realized she was also being overly defensive. She’d been trying her best not to talk so much about Hope since the move, but that seemed impossible now that she was missing.

“I don’t know how to articulate it. There was just something weird about his tone. He was being evasive. And totally condescending. He even made fun of my keychain.”

“Stabby Kitty? Little does he know its power.”

“Exactly.” A gift from Hope, who had one to match, the keychain known as Stabby Kitty was a ridiculous purple plastic cat head with pointy ears and two holes for eyes. It also doubled as a self-defense weapon. She had resisted the urge that morning to slip her index and middle fingers into place for a few quick jabs at Carter’s self-satisfied grin.

“Well, from what you told me, it sounds like his neighbor roped him into doing something he didn’t want to do. More of a lark than anything else, and then he happened to find some random DNA sample. You’re the one who told me why you always pull the comforter off the bed every time we check into a hotel.”

Everything everywhere, were her exact words. “Except it’s not exactly random if it’s in the house where Hope was last seen. She’s been missing for a week now. I just want him to tell me that they didn’t get a hit. He’s being loosey-goosey with his words.”

Scott studied the label on the wine bottle, avoiding her gaze.

“You want to say something,” she said.

“No, I want to know where Hope is, just as you do.”

“But you don’t seem surprised that the police are blowing me off.”