According to Rosemary George, Sutton had come to her house, knocked on the door, then fled, leaving a bag of canine excrement—that’s how the order parsed it, canine excrement—aflame on the porch. She then proceeded to call the complainant at her place of business, demanding that she take down the offending review. When George hung up, Sutton had called George’s boss and claimed the woman was using the computers in the office for personal activities during business hours, which got George in all sorts of trouble. George consequently went online and told the world Sutton Montclair was insane and had threatened her livelihood, which started the brouhaha up all over again.

It was petty, stupid, tit for tat, and it got them both into trouble. The reviewer lost her job, and Montclair lost her publishing contract. According to the trades, Sutton delivered a day late and the publisher terminated the contract, which was atypical, but in this situation, Holly assumed it was an easy out.

Sutton hadn’t shown in court to defend herself against the stalking charge, the order of protection had been put into place, and life continued on.

The stories had petered out in the past couple of months. Ethan Montclair was truthful there. He’d said things were calmed down, back on track.

But now Sutton Montclair was gone.

Holly sat back in the chair. To her, this was looking more and more like an unsettled young woman who’d been pushed over the edge. It was a shame, but there wasn’t a crime here. She didn’t think Ethan Montclair had hurt his wife, either, even if there was something else at play.

The phone rang. Moreno’s name on the caller ID, no preamble when she greeted him.

“Missing Persons will be sending you a report shortly. They’ve found nothing. Sutton Montclair hasn’t used her credit cards or passport. I’m afraid things aren’t pointing in a good direction for her.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Right. Morning. Talk to the husband again. We may mount a search, but a lot will depend on what he says. Maybe he’ll crack.”

“Roger that. I’ll head there shortly, see if his story has changed at all. Has he done any media?”

“Not a lick. He’s been holed up in the house since we left him yesterday. There’s enough media to sink a ship out there, but he’s not having any of it.”

“Weird. You’d think he’d want to make a plea for her safe return, all that.”

“You’d think. People react strangely. Anything you have pointing to the husband?”

“Honestly? No. It looks like Sutton Montclair was relatively unstable. And I get it. First her kid dies, then her career implodes. She’s fighting with the husband. By all accounts, she’s a complete head case, falling apart, total self-destruction. People have offed themselves for much less.”