He shrugged. “I’ll land okay. You have more to lose than me. To be honest, though, you need a better witness. Someone with more juice.”

Bree had that juice, and she’d seen Spence harassing Gabrielle in the Orchid Center. That felt like it was a thousand years ago, and it was moot now. Spence would not be bothering Gabrielle, or any woman, ever again.

Marshall looked at Adam, the liar, who’d expected to recognize the woman in Marshall’s final picture. He could feel sorry for a guy whose child was missing and still think him an asshole. His years as a cop had taught him how. Awful things happened to shitty people all the time.

The thing he couldn’t figure here was Trey. When he added Spence and this guy with his too-young second wife up to everything the mother had said about her daughter, it felt like simple math. It would be, if Trey were not in the equation.

At least his mind was open now. He’d wasted so much time looking for a lawsuit.

Bree leaned over the sofa, all fury, her voice a hoarse whisper. “What did you do?”

Here was bad cop. That made him good cop. The “we’re all boys together” approach had felt like it was working, so he said, “Don’t overreact, Bree. He’s worried. I get it. He didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife, but he’s got no reason not to talk to us now. He wants to find his son.” He turned to Adam, commiserating and kind. “When I said I had a picture of a woman, you expected to see someone other than the old lady we showed you. Someone younger, yes? Probably this woman’s daughter. Who?”

Adam flinched, surprised. He wasn’t used to being read so easily. “I never said any of that.”

“Sure you did,” Marshall said, still chummy. Adam’s gaze slid sideways to his wife. She was motionless, her breathing light and shallow.

“Who did you hurt?” Bree demanded, ice.

“No one,” he said, fast enough for it to have the ring of truth. Conviction in his tone. Interesting. Bree looked unconvinced, and he came back even harder, and still, Marshall thought, truthful. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Then who has a grievance?” Marshall asked. “Fair or not. Just give us the name. It could lead us to your son. You remembered a face. You have a person in your head. Give her to us.”

That was the right question. Asked the right way. It was like steaming oysters. He could feel Adam popping open.

“Lexie Pine.” It was practically a whisper.