This conversation wasn’t about her weekend hotel junket or her complaints about her father.

Something had seriously upset Kayla.

Cate put her book down. “Hey. I’m your friend . . . remember?”

“I don’t know who my friends are anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

No answer.

Cate inspected her. “Did you go home yesterday, like you planned?”

“Yeah.”

“You have an argument with someone?”

“No.”

“Was somebody mean to you?”

Kayla barked out a laugh. “Girl, mean is the name of my neighborhood.”

As a suspicion began to niggle at her, Cate sat up. Gentled her voice. “Did someone hurt you, Kayla?”

“Do I look hurt?”

“Not all hurts show on the outside. And you act like you’re hurting.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“You want to talk about whatever happened?”

“No. I wanna think about it.”

She lay back on the bed and curled up facing the wall, the bear pressed against her chest.

Cate stared at her.

This was not Kayla. The girl was mature and controlled beyond her years.

What could have happened to knock her so far off-balance?

Judging by Kayla’s back-off body language, that wasn’t a question destined to be answered today.

Frowning, Cate sank back on her own pillow.

Solving Stephanie’s disappearance had to be her first priority, but Kayla needed a friend to help her deal with whatever had happened.

So while she’d continue to work the case hard, she’d also do her best to find out what was troubling her roommate . . . and to fix whatever problem was causing her such distress.

21

ZEKE CHECKED HIS WATCH, picked up his coffee from the desk in his Ivy Hill office, and stood.

It was time to have a chat with Will Fischer.

Everyone in his chain of command had agreed there was little downside to that strategy at this stage—but significant upside potential.

And if the man had to be coaxed to cooperate, they had bargaining power on their side, thanks to all they’d uncovered about him.

Maybe they couldn’t prove he was the one helping the St. Louis distribution ring, but they could make it clear they’d be watching him going forward—so future assistance would be quickly detected. As a result, it would be smarter to switch allegiance, tell them what he knew, and negotiate a deal.

That was the argument Zeke intended to offer on this Monday morning.

He took a swig of his java and headed down the hall toward the security desk near the entrance.

Perfect timing. Fischer was handing over the reins to his counterpart for the day shift.

The man looked up as Zeke paused at the desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes—but I’ll wait until you’re done there. No rush.” He sipped his coffee, as if the matter was of no great consequence.