Was it her imagination, or did Mrs. Otis curl her lip into a sneer before finally accepting the handshake? A visceral chord of dislike ran through Alyssa, but she shoved it aside. She didn’t have to like or admire people in order to do her job. If she did, she would’ve had to quit ages ago.

Unlike his wife, Mr. Otis accepted the detectives’ handshakes with a firm grip of his own. ‘Please come in,’ he said, turning and leading the way through a foyer and an open living area into an equally open kitchen that was home to not one, but two enormous granite-topped islands. Modern, dark-stained wood cabinets lined the walls. But what really made Alyssa’s mouth water were the three ovens situated around the room. She blinked, then counted them again. Yep. Three. How many guests did one invite to warrant that many ovens?

‘How exactly can we help you, Detectives?’ Though there was a definite chill in Mrs. Otis’s voice, there was still an appreciative glint in her eyes as she directed her question to Cord.

Alyssa mentally shook her head. Women had a tendency to gawk at her partner – who was rather handsome with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes tinged with ridiculously long lashes many women would pay a pretty penny for – though perhaps not as openly in front of their husbands.

The attention often made him uncomfortable, but he used it to his advantage when necessary. He smiled his million-watt smile. ‘Firstly, thank you for seeing us like this. We tried calling, but when no one answered, we decided to try our luck at catching you at home. We spoke to your daughter’s roommate this morning. Angela Kazminski?’

An angry frown turned down the corners of Mrs. Otis’s mouth, and Alyssa was certain the woman’s face was going to freeze into an icicle as any hint of warmth drained from her expression. ‘Yes, Angela called us a while ago. Is this going to take long, Detectives? I do have things on my agenda for today and can’t be held up.’

The woman’s attitude and behavior stunned Alyssa. How could she not be worried about her daughter possibly having gone missing? Through gritted teeth, she said, ‘Things that are more important than your missing daughter?’ Alyssa now understood Angela’s reaction when she’d asked if it was possible Rachel had just gone home to her parents’ house. Mrs. Otis’s coldness made it clear to her why Rachel had definitely not chosen to come home after attending the frat party, just as her roommate had insisted.

Rachel’s mother didn’t exactly roll her eyes, but it was close. ‘As I explained to Angela’ – the way she said the girl’s name made it sound like Rachel’s roommate was slightly above the status of a rodent – ‘I… we… don’t believe our daughter is missing. She’s simply run away for the time being. Isn’t that right, dear?’

Alyssa didn’t wait for Mr. Otis to respond, nor did she try to temper her disgust as she compared her own reaction when she had realized her son was missing, only to discover he’d been kidnapped by a serial killer. ‘First, let me be the first to point out that your daughter is nineteen years old, in college, and technically can’t be a runaway. And what makes you think she’s simply chosen to randomly disappear? Has she ever done something like that before?’