As we park and get out, the broad door opens and Troy Curtis appears, youthful and handsome in faded jeans and a sweater, blinking at the drizzle. We hurry toward him through the door he holds open, and that’s when I see he’s older than I thought at first, late forties, maybe, with small lines of tension around his eyes and mouth.

Will and I step into the entryway, where everything is spotless and almost surgically arranged. Recessed lighting and Danish-looking furniture all in white. Pale glossy flooring that we’re dripping on.

“Let me get you some towels,” Troy says, disappearing.

When he comes back, I rub myself self-consciously while Will introduces me, saying what we’ve agreed on, that I’m a criminal investigator consulting on Cameron’s case, nothing more and nothing less.

“Any news about this kidnapped girl in Petaluma?” Troy asks. “Does this have anything to do with Cameron?”

“We don’t know anything yet,” Will says. “We’re in close touch with the team there, though. As soon as we have news we’ll share it.”

Troy’s nod is weary as he leads us into the living room and motions toward sleek, armless chairs. I’m still holding my towel and fold it under me, feeling out of place here, off-center. But that won’t do. “Is your wife at home, Mr. Curtis?”

“Emily just went to lie down. The last few days have been tough on her.”

“Of course,” I say. “This has to be a terrifying time for you both, but I’m a little behind on this case.” I glance at Will to make sure I’m not overstepping myself, but he’s settled back in his chair. I have the lead, his body language tells me. I’m the one who needs catching up. “Can you walk me through the night of Cameron’s disappearance?”

Troy looks drained, but agrees. “I wish I’d been here, but I work in LA and stay at our Malibu house during the week.”

“What usually happens here on weeknights?”

“Dinner, homework. The usual stuff. I checked in with Emily a little before ten, Cameron was in her room. Everything seemed fine.”

“And the next morning? What happened then?”

“When Cameron didn’t come to breakfast, Emily checked her room, and that’s when she called me. I told her to contact the police, then I got on a plane.”

“Has your daughter seemed unhappy to you lately?” I ask.

Troy shakes his head. “Cameron’s always been quiet. She’s an introvert, more like Emily than me. But I wouldn’t say unhappy.”

“I understand she gets good grades and is sort of bookish. Not particularly athletic or popular. Did you ever think there might be more to her shyness or withdrawal?”

“What do you mean?”