Lance stretched his fingers over the keyboard. “I’m a little rusty, but . . .” He started into the opening notes of “Piano Man.” He hadn’t touched a piano in six months, not since his house and the piano in it had burned to the ground. But he’d played most of his life. Music calmed him. It helped him think. And during all the stressful years after his father’s disappearance, it had been his escape. Maybe someday he’d figure out a way to squeeze one into Morgan’s house. Sophie had showed interest—and talent.

Twenty seconds into the song, muscle memory took over, and his fingers sorted themselves out. He started singing without thinking, and for the next few minutes, he lost himself in the song.

Morgan returned as the final notes faded. The old man finished his whiskey and set the glass down on the bar with a solid thunk. “You wouldn’t want to come and do that Friday and Saturday nights, would you?”

Lance shook his head. “Sorry. Just a hobby for me.”

“Ah, it was worth a shot.” The old man shrugged.

His son scanned the line of patrons watching them and listening to their conversation. “Let me grab my jacket. We can talk outside.”

He took a jacket from behind the bar and led them to the door. They walked out into the sunlight. Lance, still sweating from the shotgun incident, removed his jacket.

“Thanks for that. I haven’t seen him that relaxed in a long time.” Jake leaned on the brick exterior wall and lit a cigarette. “You’d think watching my father die of lung cancer would encourage me to quit. Maybe when he’s gone, I’ll be able to.”

“I’m sorry your father is sick.” Morgan shoved her hands into the pockets of her wool jacket.

“He has two months, at best.” Jake sighed. “This place isn’t much, but it’s all he has left. It’s what got him through my mother’s death. It’s what’s getting him through his own. After he’s gone, the lenders can have the fucking bar. I don’t want it.” He took an angry drag of his cigarette, then sighed again.

“I saw the Nova out back. Sweet car. Is it yours?” Lance asked.

Jake shook his head. “Belongs to our bartender.”

Convenient, thought Lance. “We’re here to ask you about Olivia Cruz.”

Jake sucked in another lungful of smoke. “What now?”

“She’s missing.” Lance watched him for a reaction.

Jake flicked ashes off the end of his smoke. “How do you know?”

“She hasn’t been seen since Thursday evening,” Morgan explained. “She isn’t answering her cell phone or returning messages. We’re concerned.”

“I wouldn’t be too alarmed.” Jake sounded irritated. “Olivia isn’t exactly prompt with returning messages. Maybe she’s just avoiding you.”

“Has she been avoiding you?” Lance asked.

Jake didn’t answer the question, but Lance saw the flash of truth in his eyes.

Jake exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’m not going to give out personal information on her just because you say you’re looking for her.”

“I understand your hesitation.” Morgan moved her head to avoid the trail of smoke. “In fact, I applaud your commitment to client confidentiality, but her family and friends are worried about her.”

“I still can’t tell you anything.” Jake lifted a palm. “And Thursday evening was only a few days ago. Maybe she just went somewhere. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t have to report her every move to her family.”

“But this isn’t typical behavior for Olivia.” Morgan’s voice grew firm. “She missed her mother’s doctor’s appointment.”

“Look, I have family too.” Jake’s gaze shot to his father. Through the glass door, they could see him laughing with his buddies at the other end of the bar. “But I don’t share my daily calendar. Have you thought that Olivia could have forgotten the appointment? No one’s perfect. It’s also possible she simply left town to get away from her stress and all those people asking for things she isn’t delivering.”

Lance waved smoke out of his face. “Why would you say that?”

Jake dragged on his cigarette. The embers burned almost to the filter. “I can’t tell you.”

“We talked to her agent,” Lance said. “She told us Olivia was late with her proposal.”

Jake’s lip curled. “Her agent isn’t any help. Holgersen has always hustled for her clients. She’s pushy and demanding when she wants something for her authors but has no consideration for anyone else. Since her husband left her, she’s gone full bitch. She told me to leave Olivia alone, and then she had the nerve to ride me about contracts for two other authors she reps. The gossip mill says her divorce is getting nasty and she needs money. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t care less about me.”

Because her job is to further her clients’ interests, not yours.

“Did Olivia ever mention that she was concerned about her safety?” Morgan asked. “Or anything that had worried her about her current research?”

“Has she been reported as missing? Are the police involved?” Jake challenged.

“Yes.” Morgan nodded. “You can speak with Detective Stella Dane with the Scarlet Falls Police Department. Would you like the phone number?”

“Um. No.” He paused, as if he was searching for words. “That won’t be necessary.” He dropped his cigarette and ground the butt beneath his heel. “If the police want to talk to me, they can pay me a visit.” He shot them both dirty looks. “Not a lawyer and a PI.”

“You were seen knocking on Olivia’s door Thursday evening,” Morgan bluffed. Technically, the Nova had been seen. They couldn’t prove the blond man driving it had been Jake. Olivia’s neighbor hadn’t seen his face.

Jake froze. “I’m not admitting anything. But bonus time is coming up and having another big deal to take to the acquisitions committee would help.” He studied his shoes. “Money is tight. I’m running the bar and doing my own job. I don’t have time to discover the next great author.”

“So you went to her house?” Lance leaned closer. He wanted a damn confession.

“If she called me back, I wouldn’t have had to,” Jake snapped. He closed his mouth abruptly, as if realizing he had just admitted being at Olivia’s house. “Look, she didn’t answer her door, and I realized how stupid and inappropriate it was for me to be there. I turned around and drove home.”

“What time did you get back?” Morgan asked.

“Around midnight,” Jake said. “The bartender will vouch for me. I borrowed his car.”

Or he’ll lie for you.

“If you find her, tell her to return my calls. I have to go.” Jake turned and disappeared into the bar.

Morgan frowned at the closed door. “Do you think he’ll call Stella?”

“I doubt it.” Lance turned away from the bar. “He sounded surprised that the police were involved, but he didn’t think Olivia being out of touch for a couple of days was a big deal. He clearly thinks she skipped town to avoid her responsibilities.”