When Leah walked in alone three minutes later, he and Rena still stood in the middle of the living room. She did not greet them. Her light blue sweatpants dragged on the ground and her gray sweatshirt had a stain on the shoulder. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing no makeup with the exception of some smeared mascara under both eyes.

A.L. figured it had probably taken just about everything she had to be clothed and upright. If he had to guess, she’d probably not eaten, either.

“Is Troy home?” Rena asked once they were seated, him in the chair, Leah and Rena on opposite ends of the couch.

Leah shook her head. “Searching. I wanted to go, to switch places with him. But he wouldn’t do it.”

“Maybe he feels as if he needs to physically be doing something,” A.L. said.

“He said...” She stopped. “He said if they find something, he doesn’t want me to have to see...it.”

That had to have been a damn ugly conversation for them to have.

“Hard to know, of course, whether that was the truth or not,” Leah added.

And like before, A.L. was struck by the fact that the Whitmans did not seem to be drawing strength from one another. Hard time to be alone. “Have Troy’s parents arrived?”

Leah shook her head. “They’ve called. Several times. Said they would come but that they didn’t want to be a bother.”

If this had happened to him and Jacqui when Traci was five, nothing would have kept his dad or Jacqui’s parents from being there. But everybody coped differently. Neither he nor Rena said anything.

“If you need to talk to Troy, my guess is that he’ll be home soon,” Leah said. “They won’t search too long after dark.”

“Actually, we had a question for you. We were reviewing our notes from our initial conversation,” A.L. said. “You left the house early on Wednesday because you had a meeting in Madison. Who were you meeting?”

Leah stared at him. “Why does that matter?”

“Just making sure that we’ve got full information.” He was getting a bad feeling.

“It’s very difficult for me to think about anything but Emma,” she said. “My head is swimming.”

A.L. said nothing.

After an awkward pause, Leah said, “I met a prospective client.”

“What was his or her name?” Rena asked, pen in hand. “And contact number?”

“I... I don’t have it,” Leah said.

“But there would be someplace you could check,” Rena said, her tone still gentle. “An email setting up the meeting? With an assistant?”

Leah turned her head and stared out the living room window. A.L. followed her gaze. The outside lights were on, making it easy to see the mums in nice-looking concrete planters. Reds. Yellows.