“There are only four signatures on the sheet,” Charlie said. The slight to her father’s question didn’t go unnoticed. “Mrs. Sullivan, I need you to call the caterer and find out if they sent an extra waiter and get his name.”

“Now? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Sheriff?” Judge Sullivan’s tone was impatient.

“Judge Sullivan, we’d like to speak with Lane for a few minutes. Privately.”

Charlie addressed her father, his voice strong and assertive, positioning himself as the officer in charge. Under any other circumstance, she might’ve appreciated the boldness. But tonight there was an intensity in his tone that wasn’t sitting well with her or her father, judging by the deep furrow carved into his brow.

“Sir, I need you to verify the names of the staff the catering company sent.” Charlie remained poised and unfazed by her father’s challenging gaze. “When you return with those details and after I’ve had a chance to speak with Lane, Sheriff Huggins and I will discuss what we can with you.”

“Dad.” Meagan spoke up. “The caterers probably aren’t going to respond to a call this late at night unless it comes from you.”

The skin at her father’s jawline flexed a few times until her mom reached for his hand and urged him in the direction of the door. He looked like he was going to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he took the binder Charlie was offering and stalked out of the room, with the rest of Lane’s family following in his wake.

“What is it?” Lane fought against the tremor playing at her fingers. “Why are you here?”

“How’s Noah?”

“Good.” Lane didn’t like the way her pulse skipped at his question. Her gaze jerked to the family room, where Noah, Paige, and Owen would be watching a movie if they weren’t already asleep. The urge to go check on Noah pushed Lane to her feet.

“Lane.” Charlie’s tender grip at her elbow stopped her from rushing to Noah’s side. Her eyes flashed to his deep blue ones, which looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I only asked because I wanted to make sure we could talk with you for a few minutes.”

“What is it?”

Charlie shifted a little, putting a professional distance between them. “When was the last time you saw Miguel?”

“Miguel?” She blinked, surprised to hear his name. “This morning.”

“Before the incident on Old Ogeechee?”

“Yes.” Lane searched Charlie’s face for an explanation. “Why? Has something happened?”

“Honey”—Sheriff Huggins folded his hands, spotted with age, over his gun belt—“he’s missing.”

Lane dropped into a chair. “Missing?”

The sheriff gave a grim nod. “We just came from his house and he’s not there.”