They went back to the booth. Conor brought the dog a cooked hamburger patty from the kitchen. She ate a few bites and then curled up under the table.

Conor picked up her bowl and set it aside. “So your intern was here last night, and no one has seen her since. Now what?”

“Now I grab a cab and hope I’m not late getting back to work. Maybe this is a misunderstanding. Maybe Zoe’s boyfriend’s behavior upset her, and she went to see an old friend. I know her hometown isn’t far from here. If she wasn’t thinking clearly, she could have made a mistake with her schedule.” But a twinge of doubt lingered in the pit of Louisa’s belly.

“What’s your number?” Conor pulled his phone from his pocket.

Louisa gave it to him, and he punched the numbers on his keypad. Her purse vibrated.

“I sent you a text. Would you let me know what happens with your intern?”

“I will.”

Light spilled into the bar, its brightness reminding her it was only late afternoon. The darkness of the interior, all scuffed wooden floors and red leather, suggested nighttime.

Two figures walked into the entryway, stopped, and scanned the room with purpose. Louisa stiffened. Detectives Jackson and Ianelli. Several policemen in uniform followed them inside.

“Conor Sullivan?” the older man asked.

Conor stood. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m Detective Jackson.” The African American detective gestured to his associate. “This is Detective Ianelli. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Not entirely surprised to see the police, Conor turned to Louisa. “Bye, Louisa.”

“Dr. Hancock?” Jackson’s eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello.” Louisa shook the detectives’ hands. “I was asking Conor about Zoe. I’m glad you’re looking for her.”

“We’re just making a few inquiries.” The detective sighed. “I’ll probably have additional questions for you, Doctor.”

“I’m already late getting back to work,” Louisa said. “I’ll be at the museum all day, and you have my cell number.” She pivoted and strode from the bar.

Conor waved a hand toward the rear of the bar. “Please come back to my office, Detectives.”

“Everything OK, Conor?” From behind the bar, Pat flicked a curious gaze at the cops.