Morgan turned away from the shelves. “What is it?”

Lance looked up and met her gaze. “Olander.”

Morgan froze. “Olivia was interested in Erik Olander’s case?”

Sharp retrieved and then opened the second binder. “Yes. This book is labeled ‘Olander.’ Isn’t that the name of the woman who shot herself outside the office?”

“Yes.” Morgan looked troubled.

“That’s a hell of a coincidence.” Sharp moved behind the chair and read the computer screen over Lance’s shoulder. If Olivia was interested in the case, Morgan would be second-guessing her decision to turn down Mrs. Olander.

Morgan reached for the binders.

Sharp let her have them. He didn’t like the coincidence, and he knew Morgan wouldn’t either.

“I wonder if she found something to suggest Erik Olander was innocent.” Shaking her head, Morgan closed the binder and splayed her hand on its cover. “It’s too much material to read quickly. I’d like to take all of this back to our office and put it on the whiteboard.”

“I agree.” Lance closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm. “We need to get organized.”

The three of them could divide and conquer all this information. Plus, Lance and Morgan saw different patterns. Over the past year, they had learned to work as a team. Their different skill sets complemented each other, and Sharp needed their help.

The clock was already ticking.

Olivia had been gone for twenty-two hours. Sharp had already misinterpreted several clues. Now he had to hope Olivia didn’t die because of his mistakes.

Chapter Twelve

Back at Sharp Investigations, Lance tossed his jacket on his chair and then hustled into Morgan’s office. Sharp was right behind him.

“I’m going to try to hack into Olivia’s online accounts,” Lance affirmed.

Morgan gestured to the whiteboard that hung on her wall. When they worked complicated cases, her office became their war room. “Why don’t you stay here and use the board? I’ll take the binders into the kitchen and start reading.” She grabbed her laptop and withdrew.

Sharp sat in Morgan’s chair. Facing him across the desk, Lance opened his laptop. They spent the next few hours hacking into Olivia’s online cell service and credit card statements. Luckily, Olivia used the same password for most of her accounts.

“I’ll tackle these phone and financial records.” Sharp flexed his fingers over the keyboard of Olivia’s computer.

“And I’ll move on to social media.” Lance found several social media accounts in Olivia’s name. All were professional. Olivia did not post personal information. She scheduled her posts in advance. They automatically went live three times per week. He scrolled through her posts for the last several months and noted the topics: bail reform, local crimes, her upcoming book publication. A few of the articles she’d shared had long lists of comments. Lance expanded the comments and began making a list of hostile responses. He moved from post to post, looking for repeat commenters, aggressive trolling, and threats.

The printer hummed. Sharp got up and retrieved a piece of paper. He took it to the whiteboard and used a magnet to place it in the center. It was a picture of Olivia. He stared at it for a few seconds, then picked up a marker and wrote a time line of her disappearance on one side of the board. When he turned to face Lance, his eyes were bloodshot.

Lance rolled a kink out of his neck.

“We need to review and organize our evidence on the board.” After setting the marker on the ledge, Sharp went back to the desk. He took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses, tossed them on the blotter, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll get Morgan.” Lance stood and stretched.

“OK.” Sharp picked up his glasses, cleaned them with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on.

Lance headed for the kitchen. Morgan sat at the table, a cup of coffee and a box of powdered donuts at her elbow. Her own laptop and Olivia’s binders were open in front of her. White sugar dotted the table.

“How many of those have you eaten?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Morgan lifted the lid of the box to peer inside. “Almost all of them. There’s one left. Do you want it?”

“No.” Lance’s stomach turned at the thought. “A massive overload of sugar isn’t going to cut it.”

Morgan lifted one shoulder. “To each his own.”

“Sharp wants to review.”

“All right.” She closed her computer.

Lance whipped up two protein shakes and carried them back to the war room. Morgan followed, finishing her last donut as she walked through the doorway. She stood in front of the board and studied Sharp’s notes for a few seconds.

Still sitting behind Morgan’s desk, Sharp looked up from his computer screen as Lance set one of the drinks in front of him. “Thanks.”

Morgan picked up a marker. “What do we know?”

“I’ve found a few hostile social media trolls, but none felt particularly personal.” Lance perched on the corner of the desk.

Morgan wrote SOCIAL MEDIA TROLLS? at the bottom of the whiteboard. More promising leads would take up the center of the space.

Sharp drank his shake. “Olivia had several long calls with her literary agent over the past two weeks. She received messages from her editor but apparently didn’t return his calls.”

“I’ll call them both in the morning,” Morgan said.

Sharp set down his glass. “I’m still cross-checking her calls and contacts with her calendar. She calls and texts her mother almost every day. There were multiple marathon conversations with her sister. She had a lengthy call with Erik Olander’s attorney on Tuesday and one with Cliff Franklin’s lawyer the week before that.” Sharp shifted forward and propped on elbow on the desk. “She prefers email for professional correspondence and has multiple accounts, including an anonymous one.”

“Let’s look at her calendar.” Lance opened it on his computer. The lethargy that nagged at him almost made him wish he’d taken Morgan up on her donut offer. “I’ll send a list of names to my mother so she can start on background checks. We’ll start with the major players in the Franklin and Olander cases and anyone who had an appointment or phone call with her in the last two weeks.”

“Did you email a copy of her calendar to Stella?” Morgan asked.

“Yes.” Sharp leaned back in his chair.

Lance scanned the entries. “There is no costume party on her calendar.”

“No.” Sharp ran a hand over his short salt-and-pepper hair. “There isn’t.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. If Olivia was kidnapped the way they’d envisioned, she must have been terrified. Lance was trying not to think about her waking up and seeing a man in a rubber mask in her bedroom. And he was trying even harder not to imagine the same thing happening to Morgan. The mere thought made his heartbeat stutter.

Sharp seemed to have aged overnight. Usually he looked—and acted—like a man half his age. But today, exhaustion and stress lined his face, and his eyes were clouded with worry.

Lance locked his own feelings away. Sharp was already emotionally compromised. Lance needed a clear head. As much as he liked Olivia, he’d serve her better if he could compartmentalize his feelings and be objective.