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a snipe hunt, but I promised Colton Heyward I’d try my best to find her.”
    “Then do just that. Who knows? Maybe something new will pop.”
    “Maybe.”
    He gave me what I guessed was his best try at a stern look. His eyes grew large, his tone emphatic. “Goes without sayin’, you find anything , you call me first off.”
    I tried looking earnest and nodded. “Will you keep an ear to the ground for me in case Special Victims gets new information?”
    “Not a chance.”
    “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
    He gave me his signature tilted single-nod-with-a-grin, signifying I’d gotten all I was going to get from him that day. “The first person they’ll tell will be Colton Heyward. I feel sure he’ll share.”

      
    On the way back to Stella Maris, I called Nate to check in. Typically, when he was in Greenville, we talked on the phone at the end of the day over a glass of wine. But I was struggling to remain objective about the case, and shaken by my own brush with disaster. I needed to hear Nate’s voice. Thoughts of taunting him about having lunch with Sonny had flown clear out of my head.
    “Well, hey there, Slugger.” His voice was sweet and warm, like hot syrup.
    “Hey,” I said, reaching for casual.
    “I sure do miss you. Why don’t you leave now and head on up here? You could be home in time for dinner. It’s nice outside. We could get a table at The Lazy Goat.”
    It wasn’t lost on me that he still referred to Greenville as home. This was our ongoing tug-of-war—where were we going to live? I couldn’t leave Stella Maris, and I didn’t want to anyway. For Nate, Greenville was where we’d started our business—our base. It was also his hometown. “Nate…”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I just…had a rough morning. I took a new case. I can’t leave right now.”
    He was quiet for a moment. I knew he was disappointed. The last several times he’d asked me to come to Greenville I hadn’t been able to get away. “What’d we catch?”
    “Kent Heyward.”
    “Twenty-something woman missing from South of Broad?”
    “Her father hired us.” I filled him in on the basics.
    “Well, I just wrapped up the work for the Fayssoux divorce. It’s all over but the testimony, and that won’t come for months. I could head down, give you a hand if you like.”
    “That sounds real good.” I smiled, but felt tears in my eyes. I had frayed nerves and raw emotions on simmer. The complexities of our relationship got folded into the pot. How long could we maintain this not-so-long-distance relationship? Greenville was only three and a half hours away, but it may as well be a thousand miles if he was there and I was here most of the time.
    “All right then. I’ll see you for dinner. In or out?”
    “I’m fine either way.”
    “Is that a fact?” His voice dropped an octave. He’d read my pensive mood and taken it as a challenge. “Well now, I have to tell you Slugger, I have a preference myself. Why don’t I pick something up on the way? Something flexible.”
    “Flexible food?”
    “The kind we can eat whenever it suits us.”
    “I like the sound of that.” My pulse and my spirits picked up. This was part of the problem. I was always so happy to see him it was too easy to sweep the big things under the rug when he was standing in front of me.
    “I’ll see you around seven.” How in this world did that man make the most mundane sentences sound like foreplay?
    “I’m looking forward to it.” I pressed the end call button on the steering wheel.
    Ten minutes later, as I parked on the ferry from Isle of Palms to Stella Maris, I realized I’d forgotten to call Ansley to let her know what time I’d be back. I voice-dialed her. When she picked up, I asked her to meet me at The Cracked Pot at two. Hopefully she had some sliver of information that would give me a solid grip on optimism for finding Kent Heyward.

Three

      
    “Hey, sweetie.” Moon Unit Glendawn called out a