Jack couldn’t see her, but he knew she was livid. He relaxed a little. If Lacey was that fired up and steamed then she was just fine. He silently repeated what she’d said, trying to make sense of the words. Who could…was she talking about that janitor? The mentally disabled kid? The one who’d nailed a home run on Stevenson’s head with a broom handle?

He’d broken into her house?

Lacey looked out at the dark street from the drab lobby of the police station and crossed her arms on her chest. Michael and Jack were sitting as far apart as possible in the row of chairs along the wall, both of them carefully watching her, taking their guard duty very seriously. The two men wouldn’t look at or speak to each other, and Lacey figured that was for the best. She started to pace the room again, worrying about Sean. The boy had been petrified when the flashing police cars pulled up at her house and armed cops emerged, shouting at everyone. Michael had no longer needed to hold Sean down. He’d plastered himself to the ground and stretched out his arms and legs, refusing to move. It’d taken a lot of muscle power to get Sean off the ground and into a police car.

Lacey hadn’t been able to get a word out of him. Neither could the cops. They’d checked her house, decided Sean hadn’t been inside, and announced they were taking him downtown. She’d protested vigorously, but the cops had claimed they only wanted to talk to him, and she finally relented. Sean wouldn’t tell them where he lived or give a name of someone to pick him up. The lack of ID bothered the officers. They wanted to know exactly who he was and where he lived. Lacey couldn’t help; she knew only his name.

At the station, Sean had started cowering again. Then a scuffle had started between him and two officers as they tried to move him down the hall. Lacey and Michael had arrived in time to see tempers flare. She managed to calm Sean down and had convinced him to go with the officers. They’d led him to an interview room and closed the door in her face.

Detective Callahan had been a familiar face she was thankful to see. At her request, Callahan was sitting in on the interview with Sean, giving her a small measure of relief. She’d informed Michael and Jack that she wasn’t leaving until the police finished with Sean. Jack had refused to leave until she did and planted himself in a chair. Michael had taken one look at Jack’s stubborn face and plopped in the farthest chair. Both their expressions warned her not to argue.

The men looked like they’d been brawling all night. Which was nearly true. Michael had ripped his pants wrestling with Sean. His jacket was sloppily tossed on a chair, and he’d torn two buttons off his shirt. He’d rolled up his filthy sleeves and managed to look menacing as he watched her pace.

Jack looked just as scruffy and intimidating. They both still stunk of the alcohol she’d dumped on their heads. The smell of tequila filled the room and several officers gave the men sharp looks as they passed through the lobby.

Lacey’s gown was still split. There was nothing she could do without a needle and thread. She’d washed the smeared mascara off her tired face in the restroom and realized her hair clip was lost, leaving her hair hopeless. She’d finger-combed it and tucked it behind her ears.

They looked like refugees from an earthquake at a state dinner.

She sighed. Six in the morning on a Sunday. She should be in bed. She should be anywhere but here.

The three of them jumped as her cell rang from her evening bag under Michael’s coat. He didn’t meet her eyes as he handed her the bag.

The call was from Chris, Kelly’s husband.

“Have you talked to Kelly?” He was out of breath.

“No. Not since the day before when I saw both of you at the gym.” Concern raced through her; Chris sounded stressed. “What’s wrong?” Chris was never stressed.

“Kelly didn’t come home last night.”

“What? Where is she?” Lacey stopped pacing, dread swarming over her.

“I don’t know! She left after dinner to do some paperwork at the gym. When it got late, I tried to call her cell but it went straight to voice mail. I drove to the gym and her car wasn’t there. I checked the office and she’d done the paperwork, but now I can’t find her. Do you know where she might have gone?” All his sentences ran together.

“I don’t know, Chris, honestly. Did you check with her folks and sister?” Lacey’s mind whirled as her stomach tightened. Oh, dear Lord. Please, not Kelly.

“I called them late last night. I didn’t ask if Kelly was there. I didn’t want to worry them. I made up some excuse for calling. None of them mentioned anything about Kelly.”

“Did you call the police?”

The sound of boot steps coming down the hall grabbed her attention. Detective Callahan had his gaze locked on her, and he didn’t look happy.

“Hang on, Chris. I’m in the police station right now. I’m gonna get someone moving on this immediately.” She covered the phone with her hand and spoke to the detective. “My friend is missing. Her husband is on the phone. He’s frantic. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday evening.”

“Who? What friend?”

“Kelly. Kelly Cates. She’s the one I told you about who had a ring like mine.” Her voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

“The gymnast? The other girl who testified at DeCosta’s trial? Why the fuck did he wait this long to notify us?” He grabbed Lacey’s cell and started grilling Chris.

He’s got her. He’s got Kelly.