Rowdy glanced over his shoulder. “I can do better than that.” He found the opener he’d left on the counter and opened both new bottles, then finished his first bottle and left the empty in the sink.

“I’ve set up in the dining room. That’s where I saw your computer and thought I’d clean it up; you know, you should get a better security system for it. Any hack could get into your files.”

“Just like any hack could get into my house?”

Rowdy barked out a laugh. “If the shoe fits . . .”

They settled at the table, where Rowdy’s open laptop sat next to his iPad and two cell phones. “Rudimentary, I know. But it’s what we have to deal with.”

James could only imagine what Rowdy had in his own home, a cabin in the woods that was supposedly “off the grid” but was actually equipped with the latest in technological equipment, everything from cameras to recording equipment, computers with layers of security, and the kind of spying equipment a CIA operative would drool over—or at least that’s what Rowdy claimed.

Taking a chair next to him, James drank from his bottle as Crocker settled in, working the keyboard, and Ralph curled at his feet under the table.

“Okay, as I said, I haven’t located Megan. Not yet. But I will tell you this, the police have just found her car.”

“They have? How do you—?”

“Remember my ‘don’t ask’ policy.”

Crocker demanded ultimate secrecy.

“Just trust me. They got it. I haven’t pinpointed the location, but in the mountains.”

James’s heart was pounding. “But what about Megan?”

“She’s not with it. From what I understand, they found her belongings—her phone, her laptop, and purse. They’re checking into it as we speak.” He slid a sideways glance at James. “But you might prepare yourself. They haven’t started looking for a body yet.”

James sucked in a swift breath. “You’re saying she’s dead.”

“I’m saying it’s a very distinct possibility.” No joking. Rowdy was serious. “The kicker is that the property is owned by Harold Sinclaire.”

“Sinclaire?” James repeated. “He bought a tiny home from me.”

“This cabin isn’t a tiny home; it’s been there for half a century, probably longer, but the connection is that Sinclaire is involved with Jennifer Korpi.”

“What?”

“Small world, I guess.”

“But Jennifer . . . I mean, she would never be involved in anything like this,” James said. “Doesn’t make any sense. You’re sure about this.”

Crocker gave him a long look. “You know who you’re talking to?”

“Okay. Right.”

“And didn’t you say that her brother, Gus Jardine, he’s going to sue you for an industrial accident?”

“Right.” James snorted. “The thing is, several people who worked near him think he did it on purpose. How crazy is that?”

“Maybe not so crazy.”