“How long do most residents stay?” Lance eased into the chair next to Morgan. His wide frame dwarfed the seat. He looked like a parent at a grammar school teacher conference.

“Sixty days is the average, although that can be extended if necessary. We work with parole officers to develop a reentry plan for each man, but all are required to submit to mandatory alcohol and drug testing, as well as abide by all the specific house rules.” Mr. Dougherty leaned on his desk. “Now, how can I help you? You didn’t come here to learn about transitional housing.”

“We’d like to talk to you about Kirk Meade,” Morgan said.

Dougherty stiffened. “Is he in trouble?”

Morgan answered, “No.”

“Are you investigating Paul Knox’s murder?” Dougherty asked before she could elaborate. “Because the sheriff was already here. He spoke to Kirk, and I answered all of the questions he asked me. The sheriff seemed satisfied.”

“We represent Mr. Meade’s ex-wife,” Morgan clarified. “We’re looking for their son, Evan.”

“I saw the news this morning.” Dougherty’s tone was harsh. “Evan is wanted for Knox’s murder.”

“We believe that Evan is innocent. I can’t imagine anything worse than an innocent sixteen-year-old being put in prison.”

“That would be a terrible thing,” Dougherty admitted in a reluctant voice.

“I knew you, above all people, would understand.” Morgan gave his ego a subtle stroke. “We would like to double-check that Kirk was here that night, and we want to talk to Kirk in case he might have any idea where his son would have gone.”

“You are not the police. I am not obligated to give you any information.” Dougherty folded his arms on the desk. “I understand you want to protect your client. I need to do the same.”

“Of course you do. But a teenager is missing,” Morgan said in a soft voice. “Anything you can share would be appreciated.”

But Dougherty wasn’t buying her altruistic argument. He jabbed a finger at her in the air. “You can call him anything you want. That teenager is the prime suspect. The sheriff said he was armed and dangerous. But you’re working for his mother. You want to pin the crime on Kirk. Well, you can get that idea out of your head. Kirk checked in at seven thirty that night. He didn’t swipe out again until six a.m., when he went to work. Our residents are required to provide us with their weekly schedules. We know where they are at all times.” He checked his watch. A frown creased his face. “In fact, he should be here any minute.”

Dougherty looked concerned about the time. Was Kirk late?

“Does everyone have uniquely coded card keys?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Dougherty said.

The door chime sounded in the hall. Dougherty went to the doorway and peered into the hallway.

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep voice said. “The alternator in my car went—”

“Kirk,” Dougherty interrupted, “there’s someone here to see you.”

Footsteps approached, and a man stepped into view. One glance at Kirk Meade, and Morgan knew where Evan had inherited his size and athletic body. In tan chino pants and a red polo shirt bearing the ABC Furniture logo, Kirk was a few inches over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and well muscled. He’d clearly lifted weights in prison. He carried a shopping bag from an auto parts store.

Reaching across Lance, Morgan handed him a business card and introduced them. He took the card and read it in a glance.

“You don’t have to talk to them,” Dougherty warned.

“Thanks, Stan, but it’s OK,” Kirk said from the doorway. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help find my boy. I’m worried to death about him.”

“If I were you, I’d have my attorney present.” Dougherty stepped into the hall to give Kirk room.

But Kirk didn’t enter the tiny office. “I appreciate you looking out for me. But they aren’t the police. They don’t have any authority. My ex-wife hired them.”

“Is there someplace where we can talk in private?” Morgan was surprised—and a little suspicious—that Kirk had agreed to speak with them so quickly. Did he have his own agenda?

“What about your room?” Lance asked, no doubt wanting a look at Kirk’s private space.

Dougherty’s phone rang. He excused himself and disappeared down the corridor.

“Not really,” Kirk said. “My roommate works nights. He’ll be upstairs sleeping now.” Kirk raised the bag from the auto parts store. “Let’s go outside. I’d like to get this alternator changed before it rains again.”

He led them back down the hall to the foyer. The door chimed when he opened it. Morgan and Lance followed him outside.

Kirk went down the two concrete steps that led to a brick walkway. “That chime is obnoxious.”

“Is the back door similarly equipped?” Morgan followed him down the steps.

“Yes,” Kirk answered. “The whole place is wired, but the back door has a different sound, more of a buzzer.”

“What’s behind the house?” Morgan spotted a gate that led to a fenced rear yard.

“There’s a back porch for guys who smoke, a barbecue, and a basketball hoop.” Kirk walked down the driveway. “We’re allowed to be outside until curfew, then they lock us in for the night.”

“That sounds restrictive,” Lance said.

“Better than prison,” Kirk retorted. He shot Lance the side-eye. “But yeah,” he admitted grudgingly. “No one gets in or out without everyone hearing the door open. They have my work and visitation schedules too. The supervisor on duty knows where I am at every minute. It’s annoying, but I have to say, when the sheriff came to question me about Paul’s death, I was fucking glad my whereabouts were accounted for. Everyone wants to pin a crime on the ex-con.”

Morgan noted that for a man claiming to be worried about his son, he hadn’t asked them a single question about their search for Evan.

The neighborhood was quiet. At one o’clock in the afternoon, children were in school, parents at work. A few cars were parked at the accounting firm next door.

Morgan did not like to interview people while walking. The side-by-side position did not allow her to read his eyes or body language. But the supervisor had been correct. Kirk was under no obligation to speak with them. She would have to accept whatever condition encouraged him to cooperate.

Kirk headed for the sidewalk. A dark-gray older-model Ford Crown Victoria sat at the curb. “I can’t stand small spaces. I’ll do anything to get outdoors.”

“Understandable.” Wanting to be a buffer between the two men, Morgan fell into step next to Kirk. Lance’s temper ran hot on a good day. This was not a good day.

“I wish I could help search for Evan”—Kirk unlocked the car and popped the hood—“but my car is a piece of shit, I’m under curfew, and I’ve only just reconnected with my son after several years of not seeing him. Tina never brought him to see me while I was away. Not once.” His voice grated on the last sentence.

“Did you ask her to bring him to visit you in prison?” Morgan asked.

“Many times,” he said bitterly. “She claimed he refused to come, but I know she did nothing but bad-mouth me to him the whole time I was gone.”

“Not seeing your son must have been very difficult for you.” Morgan soft-pedaled her next question. “How did Evan act during your first visitation?”

“How do you think he acted?” Kirk’s voice rose. “We hardly know each other. I hadn’t seen him in years. He was sullen and hostile. The first thing he said was that he didn’t want to be there.”

“How sad.” Morgan meant sad for Evan, but she didn’t specify. She wanted Kirk to talk to her. She wanted him to feel safe and think he was running the interview.

“It was. A boy needs a father.” Kirk opened the bag and removed what looked like a small ratchet.

Morgan pressed. “How was he when you saw him Sunday night?”

“The same. Still sullen. Still hostile.” Kirk turned to the car. “He wouldn’t put down his phone. He sat across from me in the booth and ignored me.”

“That must have been frustrating.” She wanted to see his face to gauge his honesty, but he kept his head bent over the engine.

“I couldn’t believe the rudeness. I took the phone, put it aside, and told him how disrespectful he was acting.” Kirk swapped tools for a shiny new wrench. “His mother obviously didn’t teach him any manners.”

“What did Evan do?” Morgan asked.

Kirk’s lips pressed flat as he met her gaze. “He crossed his arms and said it wasn’t his choice to come. That I could make him show up, but I couldn’t make him talk.”

“Teenagers can be emotional,” Morgan said.

“He should still be respectful.” A slight gleam of anger brightened Kirk’s eyes. The wrench hit the palm of his hand with a solid smack. He was furious that Evan had rejected him. “All I want to do is get to know my son better.”

Lance jumped in. “Sunday night was the last time you saw him?”

Kirk nodded. “And he hasn’t opened up enough for me to know anything about his life, so I wouldn’t even know where to look for him.”

“Well, we certainly appreciate your speaking with us,” Morgan said.

Kirk turned back to the engine. “Like I said, I’ll do anything to find Evan.”

“I’m sure you would,” Morgan lied.

“I wish I could have been more help.” Kirk applied force to the wrench. Morgan couldn’t help but think that the heavy tool would make an excellent weapon and could be legally carried in an automobile, even by an ex-convict. He went back to work.

A metallic scraping sound gave Morgan goose bumps. “Thank you for answering our questions.”