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Harris whistled as she got out of the car. “Couldn’t afford that on my salary.”
“Think Robert can?”
“Probably, but let’s see what the inside looks like before we judge.”
Harris led the way along the lantern-lit sidewalk, then up the stairs, until she was knocking on the front door. Cassie hadn’t thought to ask her what the plan was. How would they get any information out of this guy? What if he truly didn’t know anything?
But before she could ask, the door was opening.
The woman standing before them looked like she was having a rough day. Her blonde bob, which had probably been sharp and smooth that morning, was a wild mess, like she’d been running her hands through it. With red-rimmed eyes and a tissue in one hand, it wasn’t hard to guess that she’d been crying. She looked at the two of them, like she couldn’t possibly imagine why they’d be there.
Harris found her voice first. “Mrs. Sherman?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Adelaide Harris. This is my associate, Cassie Quinn. We’re looking for your husband.
”
“Oh no.” The woman’s voice was quiet and shaky. “Is he in trouble? Is something wrong? Do you have any idea where he could be?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Harris said.
“He was supposed to go to our son’s play after work. I was texting him, and then he just stopped answering.” A sob escaped her throat. “He’s always on time. Always. And he never forgets. He would never forget—”
“Do you know if he’s been in recent contact with Randall or Rose?”
The woman froze. “Who are you?”
“We’re here to help.”
It was all Harris said before she shouldered her way inside.
23
The woman gasped and sputtered as Harris and Cassie walked straight into the house, uninvited.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Sherman pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
“Does your husband have a home office?” Harris didn’t want to wait for an answer. “I’ll find it.”
The woman gaped after her. Then, turning to Cassie, fear and anger and confusion in her eyes, asked. “What is she doing?”
“I’m so sorry about that.” Cassie had her hands up in surrender. Her voice was soft and gentle. “Adelaide is a detective. We want to help you find your husband.”
“A detective?” The woman paused, looking back over her shoulder as if she could verify it just by sight. “But I didn’t call anyone.”
“We’re from Savannah.”
“Georgia?”
Cassie nodded and saw the woman’s confusion deepen. “We’re here on another case. It led us to your husband.”
“What? Why? Is he in trouble? Bob wouldn’t—”
“No, no, he’s not in trouble.” Cassie didn’t know if that was true but wasn’t about to push her luck. “What’s your name, by the way?” She held out her hand. “I’m Cassie.”
“Melissa,” the woman said. They shook hands. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe I should call the police.”
