Lacey knew immediately. She slapped her papers on her desk, moved around Jack, and jogged toward the racket. The female voices grew louder, more frantic.

Lacey took a breath and pushed opened the door to reception, hitting Sharon in her back with the door. The woman was blocking the entrance and was one of the loud voices Lacey’d heard.

Sharon jumped to the side. Her eyes wide, sweat on her lip. The fifty-something receptionist was thoroughly rattled. “Ohh. Dr. Campbell! They want…I just was…” She wrung her hands.

“Dr. Campbell?” A tall, gray-haired man rested his hands on a crying woman’s shoulders. Her body shook with loud sobs. His eyes were dry, but red. And his face was pale, stress aggravating the lines around his mouth. He was working hard to keep some dignity. “You’re Dr. Campbell?”

Oh, Lord. Not right now.

“One of them. Dr. James Campbell is the medical examiner. Is there something I can help you with?” She kept her voice low. “You’re looking for someone.” It wasn’t a question. She crossed to the couple and took the woman by the hand, guiding her to sit down on the couch. Still holding the woman’s hand, she snatched the tissue box from the end table and thrust it at her, her eyes sympathetic.

Lacey understood.

The crying woman pressed a tissue against her nose. “They told us you have two unidentified female teenagers back there. Our daughter, Madison, has been missing for two months.”

A chill shot up her spine as Lacey’s gaze returned to the husband and she recognized him. The software executive. “You’re the Spencers.” Both nodded, eyes hopeful.

“Is one of them Madison? We sent in her dental chart a month ago when that female body found in the river was brought in.” Mr. Spencer shuddered. “It wasn’t her.”

Lacey slowly nodded, remembering the ghastly floater. “I’m doing the dental comparisons on the two girls. I’ve looked at them but haven’t compared my findings to the charts.” She paused. “I’ve got eleven different charts from missing teenage girls to evaluate.”

“Eleven?” Mrs. Spencer broke into fresh tears. “So many missing girls.”

“Madison had braces when she was younger. And she’s got porcelain veneers on all her front teeth.” Mr. Spencer’s hands were digging into his wife’s shoulders as his voice rose. “Did either of…the bodies show that?”

Lacey froze. The first body now had a name. Rules stopped her tongue; she’d nearly blurted it out. The chance of another missing Oregon female teenager with that type of expensive dental work was infinitesimal. But she had to double-check. She wouldn’t make a mistake.

“I’m not finished…”

“You said you’d already looked at the two girls. Did one have teeth like that or not?” Mr. Spencer’s gaze raked her face. Mrs. Spencer looked up at his ruthless tone, glancing from her husband to Lacey. The woman looked fragile, like the lightest touch would shatter her skin. What hell had this couple lived in for two months? Purgatory. Limbo. The pain of the unknown, the wondering.

“Did they suffer?” Mrs. Spencer whispered. “I can’t imagine being caught in a fire and…” Her hand clutched at Lacey’s as her face crumpled.

Lacey shuddered; she didn’t want to imagine. Five minutes ago she’d been angry with these unknown parents for not keeping better tabs on their child. How dare she judge them? Now they had faces…and no daughter.

Lacey swallowed hard. “I haven’t finished my work. You’ll be the first to know my findings.” She gave Mrs. Spencer’s hand a tight squeeze and headed blindly for the exit, trying not to run. She slapped her hands on the door, pushed it open, and plowed into a forgotten Jack Harper.

He grabbed her upper arms and she kept her gaze on the floor. It blurred. The door closed behind her with a firm whoosh, and Mrs. Spencer gave a high-pitched wail.

The mother knew.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head, pushed past him, and blindly dashed down the long, empty hall to the ladies’ room.

He was in her chair again.

Lacey had spent a good ten minutes with a cold, wet towel on her eyes in the bathroom, trying to get the sound of Mrs. Spencer’s pain out of her head. Now the red and swollen tissues around her eyes were gone. Along with most of her makeup.

She stopped in her doorway. This time Jack sat facing her with his forearms on his thighs, his hands rubbing together, and his concerned eyes studying her. She felt him take in her freshly washed face and coolly met his gaze. He looked tightly strung, and her gut tightened in reaction. Why was he here?

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

She blinked. Food? Now?

He rubbed at his cheek and she heard his short stubble scratch against a rough palm. “Stupid. I know. But…I think we should talk about what happened last Saturday morning. And ten years before. We’re both a part of what happened…”

Jack wanted to talk about Dave DeCosta? And that day?

His lips rubbed together and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Back then I was questioned in the disappearance of Hillary Roske. We’d dated. Now, somehow I’m being pulled in again this time. My property and my old partn—” He raised his gaze to hers. “Obviously my timing’s lousy today, but I don’t think it’s going to get any better. Is the deli across the street any good?”

She stared at him. He had a point. He’d been involved in the case back then and now.