Ronnie gave a mental high-five to Bill for being discreet, though she was still annoyed with him for the reaming-out he’d given her because she’d missed an appointment the day of the Piper mess. “They like to keep the list private, so . . .”

She heard a clink on the other side of the wall and froze. Lane was still here. Was he picturing a client list? She hated that this was out in the open. Yesterday, she’d called Bill, telling him she needed some time off. Maybe indefinitely. Lane hadn’t asked her to quit . . . but there was no way she could keep doing what she was doing, now that he knew.

“Anyway,” the cop went on, “the reason I ask about your clients is because—well, is it possible any of them were upset with you?”

“Upset?” Ronnie shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Okay, did you recognize any of them as parents at Silver Swans?” His eyes were bright and gossipy. “Dads? Granddads?”

“I’m careful not to take clients who live close by. But also, what does this have to do with Piper?”

The officer crossed his arms and gave her a level look. It scared her, too, that he was digging around Topless Maids, asking for client lists. This guy was too interested in her past. Next, he might dig into where she’d lived before, that she’d abruptly moved away.

She cursed herself for telling the police that she’d lived in Pennsylvania. It was like she’d drawn him a road map straight back to her nightmare—maybe they’d inquire into strip clubs there. Maybe they’d start connecting the dots. Even changing one’s name didn’t make the problems go away.

“Okay, moving on,” the cop said, slapping his hands to his thighs. “Can you tell me about the women who were also on the scene? Ms. Smith and Ms. Vaughan. Do you know them well?”

“Somewhat.”

“Have you spent time with them socially?”

“A few times, yes.”

“And what about their significant others?”

Ronnie shook her head. “I’ve never met Lauren’s husband. And Andrea is single, I believe.”

“You believe, or you know?”

“I know.” Was this guy trying to trap her into saying that Andrea had once been married—and to whom? Ronnie sure as hell wasn’t going to let Andrea’s past out of the bag.

But then her brain caught. Andrea had said her mom called her in a panic, saying a reporter had contacted her about the attack. If that was true, then wouldn’t this guy already know who Andrea was?

The Missing flyer popped in her mind again. It was so confounding. Why wouldn’t this person go to the police with what they knew? What was their angle?