“Saw the news,” the petite, dark-haired woman said, already looking worried. Bobby was trying to size her up. She appeared about five feet tall and ninety pounds, more gymnast than trainer. Then she twisted both her hands in an anxious gesture, and half a dozen tendons snaked to life in her forearms.

He revised his initial opinion of Jessica Ryan—tiny, but dangerous. Mini-hulk.

She’d been working out with some middle-aged man sporting a hundred dollar workout shirt and four hundred dollar haircut when Bobby had arrived. When Bobby first approached, Jessica had pointedly given him a cold shoulder, focusing on her obviously well-paying customer. Bobby had flashed his creds, however, and that quickly, Jessica with the tight pink T-shirt and sparkling purple nails was his.

Her disappointed client got to finish his workout with some kid whose neck was bigger than Bobby’s thigh. Bobby and Jessica retreated to the employee break room, where Jessica quickly shut the door.

“Is he really dead?” Jessica asked now, biting her lower lip.

“I’m here regarding Brian Darby’s death,” Bobby stated.

“And his little girl? They’ve been showing her picture all over the news. Sophie, right? Have you found her yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

Jessica’s big brown eyes welled up. For the second time in the past hour, Bobby was happy he’d left D.D. to work on his own. The first time, because it was either walk away from her or strangle her. Now because there was no way D.D. would’ve played well with a doe-eyed female trainer prone to glistening tears and hot pink micro-shorts.

Being a happily married man, Bobby was making it a point not to study the micro-shorts or the tight T-shirt. So far, that left him staring at the personal trainer’s extremely well-sculpted bicep.

“What do you bench-press?” he heard himself ask.

“One thirty-five,” Jessica replied easily, still dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“What’s that? Twice your weight?”

She blushed.

He realized he’d basically just flirted and shut up. Maybe he shouldn’t have left D.D. Maybe no man, happily married or not, should be sequestered alone with a woman like Jessica Ryan. Which made him wonder if Tessa Leoni had ever met Jessica Ryan. Which made him wonder how Brian Darby had ever lived past the first week of fitness training.

Bobby cleared his throat, took out his spiral notepad and a mini-recorder. He turned on the recorder and placed it on the counter next to the microwave.

“Have you met Sophie?” he asked his interview subject.

“Once. School was canceled so Brian brought her in with him for his workout. She seemed really sweet; she found a set of one pound hand weights and carried them around, mimicking all of Brian’s exercises.”

“Brian works out solely with you?”