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papers into the trash with Holly to preparing to dance.
    â€œAnd then Mrs. Lash walked into the bar with Holly’s cell phone—” Why hadn’t she thought of this before? “Maybe Mrs. Lash saw who took Holly!”
    Toll shook his head. “She didn’t.”
    Hailey’s shoulders fell. “Where do you think she is?”
    She wanted to know what he knew. She wanted him to tell her exactly when Holly would come home. She wanted him to say that they knew where she was, that she was safe and sound and just waiting for the police to come and pick her up and bring her home.
    He said none of that.
    â€œI don’t know, Hailey.” He frowned. “We’re working on it.”
    â€œWhat have you got so far?”
    â€œNot much. We’ve got a timeline and some physical evidence, as you know.”
    Maybe she already did know as much as he knew.
    â€œWe’re working on a suspect vehicle make and model . . .” Nope. She knew more. He obviously hadn’t read the papers in his precious folders.“ . . .which we should have soon . . .”
    Hailey couldn’t stand it.
    â€œYou’re looking for a white Ford Explorer with damage to the passenger side,” she blurted, and the detective’s mouth fell open.
    The clock on the wall ticked twice, before he closed it again.
    He grabbed up his notebook and pen. “Did you see the vehicle?”
    â€œNo,” she said, pointing to his precious files. “I read the acceleration mark analysis and compared it to the analysis of the paint scrapings. That narrows your pool to one possible vehicle—a white Ford Explorer.”
    â€œI left you alone for five minutes,” he said as he flipped through his stack of papers. “You read all that in here?”
    â€œDidn’t you?” she fired back. “And it was seven minutes.” This guy was never gonna find Holly.
    â€œNo,” he said, “I haven’t read all this, yet. Just got most of it this morning on my way to your house.”
    At least he’s honest.
    â€œWhat else did you read in these files that you weren’t supposed to even look at?” he asked, annoyed but interested.
    Just then a uniform knocked twice on his door and poked his head inside.
    â€œSir, we finished that analysis you asked for,” he said. “Looks like a white Ford Explorer.”
    â€œThanks,” he said sarcastically, and he turned back to Hailey. “Well? Anything else you’d like to share?”
    â€œWhy do you have a file from our house fire?”
    â€œI just . . .” He pulled the confidential folder from the pile and opened it. “This is every scrap of info we had that relates to Holly. This file is . . .what . . .thirteen years old?” He raised his eyebrows as he thumbed through it, and then he closed it again. “I’m looking at everything,” he said simply. “ . . .anything that could point us in the right direction.”
    â€œWhat’s DOPPLER?”
    â€œDoppler?” He started flipping through the papers again.
    â€œNever mind,” said Hailey. He didn’t know.
    Toll clicked his pen and put his notebook on top of the chaos that was his desk.
    â€œDoes your sister have any enemies?”
    â€œNo. Everybody loves Holly.”
    â€œBoyfriends?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnybody you can think of that wanted to hurt her?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid she recently reject someone?”
    â€œNo.” Hailey was feeling less and less helpful.
    â€œDid you notice anything or anyone out of the ordinary at the pub, maybe paying extra attention to her lately?”
    Hailey racked her brain, but no one stood out. She shook her head.
    Toll licked his lips. “Anything . . . strange been happening?”
    What the hell?
    â€œYou mean . . .stranger than finding Holly’s—”