Fifteen minutes later, he gave up. Back in the car, Mac found her case notes on the floor. He opened the file, appreciating her thoroughness and attention to detail. “How long has Dena Miller been married?”

“Five years, but you shouldn’t be reading that file,” she said but didn’t make a move to take it away from him.

Mac speed-read through her notes. He was of the ask-for-forgiveness-later mindset, and she seemed resigned to his intrusion. “What do you know about the husband?”

“We’re still investigating him.” Stella’s tone was curt.

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t know enough about him to form an opinion.”

Ten minutes later, they stopped at a day spa. Dena’s massage therapist, Laura, verified she’d finished Dena’s massage around one and stated that Dena had acted normally. She didn’t seem to know her client on a personal level and didn’t have anything interesting to say. On the way out of the building, the receptionist gave Stella a printout of Dena’s receipt showing a one-oh-five p.m. checkout.

Stella parked in front of Active Physical Therapy and Personal Training, and they went inside. A door on the right led to a gym room. Weights clanged as a short, ripped guy grunted his way through a set of bicep curls.

Stella showed her badge at the reception desk and asked for Lyle Jones. They were shown into a small patient room to wait. Mac paced. Small spaces didn’t agree with him.

The door opened and a short, jacked dude walked in. His skin bore the deep orange of a bottle tan over a scattering of acne.

“I’m Lyle.” He shook their hands. “You want to talk about Dena?”

“Yes.” Stella produced her badge.

Lyle barely glanced at it. “I can’t give out any medical information, even to the police. We’re under strict guidelines about that.”

“We know,” Stella assured him. “Dena is missing. We’re just trying to find her. I know you can’t tell me anything about her condition, but we know she was here yesterday.” Stella probed. “Did she seem upset or under any unusual stress?”

“Well . . . It’s just that . . .” Lyle scratched his shaved head. “Well, her husband calls all the time to check up on her. Yesterday, he called just after she left.”

Interest piqued in Stella’s eyes. “What did he say?”

“He asked if she was still here.” Lyle folded his arms over his chest, disapproval on his face. “Dena always got upset when he called. Once she asked me to please not say anything personal about her to him.”

Stella asked, “Did that strike you as strange?”

“Very,” Lyle agreed.

“Did you ever meet Adam Miller?” Mac asked.