“We have a suspect in jail. But it’s my job to explore all avenues that come up. I can’t have tunnel vision and zero in on one person too early in the investigation.”

“He tried to kill us,” I said. “He wanted to. He fired a gun at us. And Blake . . . he killed somebody with a car.”

“Your friend Blake has asked for a lawyer. And we’re looking into that accident. It’s been a number of years, which makes it tough.”

“He admitted it. In that basement, he admitted it.”

“He’s being less cooperative now. But the guilty will pay a price for their behavior no matter what.”

“What are you saying, then?” I asked.

“What I’m saying is that Amanda works in educational research and grant writing. But she also spends a lot of time online. Is she pretty adept with technology? Or are you?”

“I know how to hook up a printer. I know how to use apps. But I’m not an IT guy or anything. Neither is Amanda.”

Rountree sat back against the cushions. She scratched her neck and seemed to be considering what to say next. She pointed at the phone in my hand. “Anything there?”

I looked at the screen. Nothing. But I could tell by the “read” receipts that Amanda had read my texts. She had seen them. Or someone had. Someone who had access to her phone. I told Rountree, and she nodded.

“Detective, is Amanda in some kind of danger? You come over here asking about her, and asking strange questions about social media, but you’re not telling me what’s really going on. If my wife is in danger, then I want you and me out there looking for her, not just sitting here on the couch talking in circles about stuff only one of us appears to understand. So can you tell me what’s happening? Or else I’m going to get up and go find her.”

Rountree scratched her neck again, and then she appeared to have reached the conclusion she’d been searching for. She leaned forward, placing her hands together in her lap.

“Do you know anything about hacking someone’s Facebook account?” she asked.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Her question threw me off. If she’d asked me how to build a rocket and fly to the moon, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.

“I think I know what you mean,” I said. “Are you talking about someone getting your password and then doing something to the account?”

She nodded. “Basically. Someone sends you a message that looks like it’s really coming from Facebook, and it asks you to log in. When you do, the sender captures your ID and password. And then they’re free to do what they want with your account.”