and squeezed it between her palms, closing her eyes.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said.
“I’m a good person, Officer Bjornson. I never wanted any of this to happen.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
This comment struck him as odd. Why had she said that? Ray still had Isla wrapped in his arms as Karl passed through the kitchen. The sight of them canoodling filled him with sadness, despite the trepidation in Isla’s eyes. Could marriage be a form of Stockholm syndrome? He thanked them and showed himself out. For some reason, he visualized gravy being poured over mashed potatoes. He got in his car and thought of that flirty waitress who’d been after him all these years. A nice woman, but totally not his type. Still, why shouldn’t he ask her out to dinner and a movie once this case wrapped up? She seemed like a nice person. And if it helped take his mind off of Isla, then all the better.
Of course, he knew he’d never do it.
ISLA
ANOTHER DAY GONE AND STILL NO SIGN OF WILLOW. ISLA DROVE TOWARD the affluent part of town, where Felicia lived, listening to the morning news instead of music. She hated to admit that Ray had been right last night about the poor odds of finding a missing person alive after forty-eight hours but voicing it in such casual manner had seemed in bad taste, especially with Katie recovering in the other room. She wished that Ray had stayed out in the garage while Karl questioned Katie, greasing whatever engine he’d been working on.
Karl’s reemergence in her life had been unsettling in more ways than one. She fought to deny the attraction she felt for him. It felt stupid, for sure, but their shared history deepened whatever feelings she still had, whether she cared to admit it or not. Back when they were dating, everything had seemed fresh and exciting, and they’d known nothing about one another, exploring as they went. Now it felt like she knew everything about Karl Bjornson’s life, his likes and dislikes, as well as his family history.
The magic had faded from her marriage to Ray. She figured it happened to most couples, even when their romance sporadically appeared, like it had for her last night, when Ray hugged her in the kitchen. It surprised her that she looked forward to seeing Karl whenever he came over. She relished that quiet conversation they’d had at her kitchen table. It reminded her of old times. He looked much the same as he had in high school, and he had the same laid-back temperament, a far cry from Ray and his snake-oil salesman personality.
She’d rearranged her schedule this morning to accommodate Felicia. Candace Brewer, one of her other socialite clients, had stated her displeasure at having to miss her appointment, and so Isla had managed to squeeze her in, in the afternoon. Home visits were not something she did on a regular basis, especially during the workday, but she did do them on occasion. Typically, she visited a client at night, and only if they were elderly or had a medical condition that prevented them from coming into her shop. Mostly, she did it as a favor. The time and effort were definitely not worth the money. Sometimes she wouldn’t even charge an elderly client if they were infirm or lived solely on Social Security.
She pulled up to Felicia’s home and parked along the circular driveway. How many times had she cruised around this neighborhood, dying to see how the other half lived—the 1 percent? Standing at the Briggses’ door, she grimaced upon seeing her broken-down minivan parked alongside this stately mansion.
She rang the bell and waited. Was Felicia even home? The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in her ears. The salty smell of ocean wafted up to her nose and brought back a childhood full of memories.
A voice came over the speaker and instructed her to come inside. The door handle clicked open, and she entered. The scent of lemons and hibiscus petals hit her first. She looked to her left and took in the massive window facing the ocean and filling the house with sunlight. The living room faced the water and flowed naturally into the open kitchen. She walked from the kitchen to the dining-room. The dining-room table consisted of a halved tree, polished and gleaming, and big enough to seat at least twenty people. Weird chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceiling. The interior was more spectacular than