Nothing. It was like she’d gone to take a shower and disappeared through the water into another land.

He went into deep, irreversible denial. She is fine, he told himself. She’s taking a break. The self-talk worked. His morbid thoughts fled. He knew, deep in his heart, Sutton would never be that selfish.

He gave her three hours to come back, three long, quiet as the bone hours, and then, when the idea that she might actually be in some sort of trouble started to eat at him, began calling round. Of course he did. He wasn’t a total asshole, despite what most people thought. It was the success—people automatically assumed because he was a man and he didn’t like to give interviews and held people at arm’s length at signings and he kept himself off social media and focused on his work, he was a dick. Maybe he was.

He called her friends—there weren’t many, but the ones she had were close, bosom buddies, BFFs.

Rachel hadn’t seen her and was brusque, late for work. Out of character for her; a yoga teacher, she was generally the most calm and friendly of Sutton’s friends.

Ellen, the head of library sciences at Vanderbilt University, didn’t answer her mobile; he left an innocuous “Hey, call me,” message.

Filly—Phyllis, really, but she hated to be called by her given name—answered her landline on the first ring, no doubt assuming it was Sutton calling. Even at Ethan’s voice, her greeting was cheery and excited. When Ethan asked if she’d seen Sutton, she seemed genuinely concerned, but claimed they hadn’t talked for a few days because Sutton had been so busy. He couldn’t help it, Filly’s concern was so genuine and helpful he immediately suspected she knew something, but when pressed, she reassured him Sutton was probably just out for a run and told him to call her when Sutton showed up, then got off the phone with a lame excuse about her baby crying. Way to twist the knife, Filly.

Ivy was out of town on business, or he’d have called her first. Ivy was friends with them both. She was Sutton’s closest friend and confidante, a true part of their lives. Had been for three years now. He glanced at his watch, hesitated for a minute, then sent a text. A self-employed stockbroker, she was good about keeping her phone on her. She’d get back when she was able, she always did.

He sat at the table, head in his hands. Jumped a mile when the phone rang. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID, answered with a breathless, “Sutton?”

“It’s Siobhan. What’s wrong?”

Oh, bloody retching hell. Sutton’s mother was the last person he wanted to involve in this. To put it mildly, Siobhan and Sutton weren’t close, and Sutton would be furious with him if she knew he’d spoken to her at all.

Deflect, and get her off the phone.

“Good morning, Siobhan. How are you?”

“Has something happened to Sutton?”