“Perfect.” Meagan flashed her perfect smile. “And if you want . . . bring a date.”

Charlie ended the call with Trevor Donovan. Sydney’s father sounded like he no longer had any life left in him.

He didn’t know how the Donovans were going to make it through the benefit. The town wanted to show their support for the family, but maybe it was too soon. And with no strong leads in the case, Charlie felt the burden of finding Sydney’s killer grow with each passing day.

He was letting them down.

Deputy Wilson charged out of the interview room like a bull seeing red.

“How’s it going with Brady Matthews?” Charlie asked.

“It’s no wonder young athletes today think they’re superstars.” Wilson stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers until the joints cracked. “Believe nothing can touch them. Told the kid that colleges didn’t look too kindly on their athletes having police records.”

“Wasn’t too long ago you were that superstar.” Sheriff Huggins appeared from his office with an empty coffee cup in his hand.

“That was almost twenty years ago.” Wilson seemed to sink into a memory. “Playing ball meant getting an education, not signing a multi-million-dollar contract.”

“Was he dating Sydney?” Charlie was slowly learning about the people he worked with and it came as no surprise that Wilson’s hulking frame meant he once had a future on the football field. So, what happened?

“No. Matthews said they were just friends.”

Disappointment shouted in the silence. Another lead with no results.

“There has to be something we can press him on. Or Jolene? Why would she give up Brady’s name if he wasn’t anything more than a friend?”

Sheriff Huggins lifted his cup before heading to the coffeemaker. Charlie clenched his fists and let a frustrated sigh slip from his lips.

Deputy Frost plopped down in the chair next to Charlie’s desk.

“Any luck on Sydney’s phone?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing. It’s probably dead.” Frost’s face froze. His eyes darted back and forth behind his thick glasses. “Sorry. The phone can’t be tracked unless it’s on. The last time she used her phone was Thursday night at her house.”

“And there’s no record of her contacting the art gallery?”

“No.”

“So, we’re still stuck with how she was getting her art to the gallery.” Charlie ran both hands down his face. “Her parents only have one car and Sydney didn’t have a driver’s license yet.”

“Unless she’s a Trekkie and can beam herself around town, she’d need a car.”

“You’re a genius, Frost.”

Wilson snorted.

“What? What’d I say?” Frost pushed his glasses up.