Ava wouldn’t let Jayne’s current misery affect her life. She’d learned that lesson several times. Too bad it’d taken so long to stick. And as for the art showing? Ava would believe it when she saw it. Every other month, Jayne was excited about a lead on an art show or someone interested in her watercolors, and she always swore she was days away from making a fortune. Jayne had never stuck out a real job. She’d been chasing the art dream forever, convinced she’d make it big and never have to worry about money again.

Until then, she believed Ava should financially support her.

“Everything okay?”

Ava started in her chair, jerking her head up to meet curious brown eyes. She hadn’t heard Detective Callahan enter the kitchen. He had a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. She hadn’t seen him pour it or heard the clank of the coffee pot.

Feeling distracted?

“It looked like you were about to rub through the skin on your forehead.” The detective took a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving her.

Ava gave a weak smile. “Personal email. My sister knows how to get under my skin.” The detective nodded and didn’t probe further. She appreciated his manners. Anyone else would have launched into a hundred questions about her sister. He straddled a stool at the kitchen counter, hooking a boot on a rung, and eyed the bounty of baked goods. His salt-and-pepper hair was still damp from his shower. She’d clearly surprised him a half hour ago when he’d opened his bedroom door. He’d been groggy with sleep.

At least he’d slept. Ava figured she’d nabbed a total of two hours in fits and spurts.

He hadn’t acted embarrassed that she’d caught him half-dressed. He’d politely greeted her and disappeared into the bathroom where she’d showered earlier. His sleepwear, loose athletic shorts and a T-shirt, had shown a man who took care of himself physically. He might grab an occasional donut with bacon, but he burned off any excess calories. He had the leanness of a runner and the lined face of someone who’d spent time squinting in the sun.

Overall, Callahan was a well-put-together package. Excessively polite, fit, smart. She studied his face. She wouldn’t call the man attractive. Instead, he had a comforting weathered look. A trustworthiness to his features that tugged at her female side. Gorgeous men didn’t impress her; she was impressed with character. Callahan had it in excess.

He chose a chocolate-chip scone. She’d pegged him as a cinnamon roll type of guy. He took a bite and smiled, looking at her with happy eyes. “Somebody has been busy.”

“I’ll guess it was Robin.”

Callahan nodded and took another bite. “Any updates?”

Ava looked at her email screen, hitting the refresh button. Nothing new popped up. “They’re still reviewing video from the neighbors. Henley’s photo is on every news network and paper. They plan to interview the guy that Lilian dated. Duncan says he agreed to come in today.”

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that interview,” Callahan muttered.

“They want to talk to Jake today, too.” Ava watched the detective’s face carefully go blank.

“I’m surprised they haven’t dug deeper with him yet. He’s eighteen, but I plan to be there.”

“I started to talk to him yesterday,” Ava remembered. “He seems like the type of kid who keeps all his feelings bottled up. I’m worried he’s going to pop if he doesn’t express himself.”

“Yeah, he’s always been pretty quiet. Feels things deeply, though. He’s the kind of kid that brings home birds with broken wings and gets upset when someone is bullied at school.”

“Perhaps he should be talking to someone, then. Someone professional.”

The smallest touch of alarm went through Callahan’s eyes. It was plain that he loved his kid, but he was out of his element when it came to talking to Jake about his inner feelings.

“I can put in a request for a child psychologist,” Ava added.

“He’s not a child.”

“True. But he’s not an adult. I want him to talk to someone who has experience listening to teens. I can only do so much. I’m here to meet the needs of the family, but I’m a bit lost with teens. I only have my own teen trauma to refer to.”

“Trauma?” He cocked an eyebrow.

She waved a hand. “Typical teenage-girl stuff.”

Serious eyes studied her. “I doubt you were anything but typical as a teenager. Is your sister older or younger than you?”

Ava braced herself for the usual rash of questions her next statement would bring. “We’re twins.”

“Huh. I bet that was interesting. My brother’s a few years older than me.”

Ava waited. Callahan focused on another bite of his scone.

That’s it? She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed the detective didn’t want to know more.

“Morning.” Lucas Fairbanks entered the kitchen. He was dressed in wrinkled sweats, but his hair was perfect. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured a giant mug of coffee. “Any news on Henley?” He turned toward Callahan and Ava, spotting the mass of baked goods. He froze. “Holy shit. That’s what Robin was doing last night. I thought I smelled cinnamon in the middle of the night.” He grabbed a cinnamon roll and took a place at the table. He looked at Ava expectantly, his bloodshot eyes hopeful.

She shook her head. “They’re reviewing all the tape they got from your neighbors’ cameras. Nothing yet.”