This time Louisa chose her words carefully. "I've learned the hard way to be careful."

"Noted. If it helps, so have I." His admission wiped away the reservation in his eyes and left them full of empathy. "A few years ago, I was involved with a woman who neglected to tell me she was married. We'd been together for three months when her husband showed up at the bar. Apparently, he traveled a lot, and she got bored easily. I was just her plaything when he was away."

Betrayal thickened his voice. He'd had feelings for that woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"So I know all about moving slowly. Whatever you have in your past, you can tell me."

She should. He'd shared something personal with her, but her story was long and complicated. Zoe's disappearance and Riki's death had left her spent. She didn't have the energy to put the words together, let alone deal with the emotional fallout talking about that pivotal night from her past would unleash. "Not now."

Doubt swirled in her lungs, shortening her breaths. Enough psychoanalysis. Riki was dead. Zoe was missing. "Tomorrow, I'm going to keep looking for Zoe. It seems as though the police are convinced she's already dead, and they don't see beyond you as a suspect."

"No kidding." Conor sighed. "Where are you going to start?"

Good question. "Her boyfriend, Heath, seems like the logical starting point. He was with her the night she disappeared. He claims to have gone home and passed out immediately after his encounter with you, but his alibi rests entirely on his friends' statements. Not the most reliable, in my opinion. How intoxicated was he that night?"

Conor considered. "Drunk enough to make him stupid, but unfortunately, not drunk enough to render him incapable of acting on it."

"Some people can't handle any alcohol." Discomfort welled inside her. She pushed the memory back into the dark corner of her mind where it belonged.

Conor snorted. "This wasn't Heath's first night out."

"When I spoke to him this morning, I suspected he might be lying, but I couldn't be sure over the phone."

"I don't like the thought of you alone with that arrogant jerk." Conor squeezed her hand.

"Would you like to come along?" Though their mission was somber, Louisa couldn't stem the rush of pleasure that accompanied the idea of spending time with him.

"That'd be a surprise to Heath." Conor laughed.

"It might be interesting to see Heath thrown off guard." In hindsight, Zoe's boyfriend had been entirely too composed when she'd spoken with him. He'd seemed barely concerned about his girlfriend's whereabouts. Was it because he was a self-centered, uncaring jerk or because he already knew what happened to Zoe? Or both?

"I like the way you think." Conor's eyes sparkled with shared mischief. "Count me in."

"I'd planned on talking with Zoe's roommate tomorrow as well. They lived together for a month. She must know some details about Zoe's personal life."

"Good idea. Now how about I walk the dog while you eat some dinner?"

"I'm not hungry yet." She went to the closet for a pair of athletic shoes and the dog's leash. "I'd rather we walk her together. I wish she'd eat more."

"The vet said to give her a week or so. She's had a rough time."

"I suppose you're right."

They took the elevator downstairs to the lobby.

Gerome, the Rittenhouse doorman, stooped to pet Kirra. "I want all the dogs in the building to like me. If you ever run late or need her walked during the day, just let me know."

Thinking about Conor's dog and the possibility of future dog-sitting, Louisa put Conor on her approved guest list. With a pat on Kirra's head, Gerome opened the door for them.

Conor took her hand as they crossed the street and followed the dog into the small park. A cool breeze swept through the neatly trimmed azaleas and wrought-iron fence that edged Rittenhouse Square. They strode along the circular walkway that ringed the park and turned onto one of the diagonal paths that ran from each corner and met at a rectangular reflecting pool in the center plaza. Old-fashioned lampposts flooded the paths and highlighted the Greek statues interspersed throughout the green space. It was nearly midnight, and the park was empty, except for a man walking a corgi on the other side of the square. Kirra led them down the walk, sniffing her way toward the center of the green space.

Louisa shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No." She glanced around. A cluster of people lingered on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. She didn't recognize anyone. No one was paying them undue attention, but Louisa couldn't shake the creepy feeling. Next to her, the dog abruptly stopped sniffing and pressed against Louisa's calves.

"What's wrong?" Conor moved a step closer, scanning the area. The dog hunkered between them.

"I don't know. Probably nothing."

"Come on. She's done." He took Louisa's elbow and steered her back toward the Rittenhouse.

She followed Conor back into the building, but she couldn't shake the cramping sensation deep in her belly, the feeling that someone was watching.

12.

In the shadow of a building on the west side of Rittenhouse Square, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. I leaned a shoulder against the worn brick, the rough texture catching on the cotton fibers of my shirt like Velcro. Taking in the cool fall night outdoors was no hardship. The small patch of green was mostly empty, except for a man walking his dog. At the end of a retractable leash, the corgi sniffed the curb with unabashed enthusiasm. Some straggling late diners spilled out of a closing restaurant, two couples that walked slowly, as if digesting too much food and alcohol was requiring all their concentration.

Winter and its long, frigid nights were coming. This week's mild weather was merely a temporary reprieve, a delay of the unpleasant and inevitable months of cold darkness breathing down Philadelphia's neck.

I wasn't the only one watching the square. From my corner location with its clear view of the Rittenhouse, I could also see the unmarked police car parked in front of Smith & Wollensky's.

I'd observed Conor Sullivan walk into the hotel earlier. My prediction had come true. He'd gone to see Louisa almost immediately after being released. What did the police think of that? Did they question the nature of their relationship? I certainly hoped so. I'd all but written it down for them.

Across the street, Conor Sullivan and Dr. Hancock came out of the hotel. He was holding a pink leash connected to that ugly dog he'd taken in. He took Dr. Hancock's hand.

As soon as the dog had done its business, they hurried back inside. Sullivan's protective stance didn't escape my notice. Echoing the old newspaper clipping from last spring, he kept his body between Dr. Hancock and the park, as if shielding her from danger. Were the cops watching? Yes, they were.

Perfect.

13.

Ugh. A heavy weight settled on Conor's chest. He opened his eyes. Kirra stared down at him, front paws planted on his solar plexus, tongue lolling.

"Good morning."

She wagged her tail stub.

He squinted at the brightness pouring in through the huge expanse of windows in Louisa's living room. He was on her sofa. After their walk and Louisa's sudden attack of anxiety, they'd returned to her apartment. Her building was as secure as possible, but he hadn't wanted to leave until she'd calmed down. He must have fallen asleep while she ate her dinner.

Nudging the dog aside, he sat up and stretched. A cotton blanket fell down to his waist. She'd tucked a pillow behind his head too.

He got to his feet and used the convenient half bath off the foyer. His socks were silent on the tile as he returned to the kitchen. The open floor plan flowed right into the living room, taking advantage of the expansive windows with their stunning views of Rittenhouse Square and the city beyond. Her apartment was twice the size of Pat's house, and it was fitted out like a magazine spread in granite, leather, and gleaming wood. He ran a hand across the smooth, black counter and spotted an empty wine cooler underneath.

The Rittenhouse was one of the most exclusive residences in the city, with condominiums that provided all the amenities of the attached luxury hotel. He couldn't even imagine what this three-bedroom unit cost. Just how wealthy was she? Conor brushed his unease aside. It wasn't like he could ask her for a bank statement, but the House Beautiful decor was one more example of the fundamental difference between them. Not that her income should affect their relationship, but putting the dollars aside, their lifestyles highlighted that they lived in different worlds.

A short hallway branched off the kitchen. The closed door at the end must be Louisa's room. Last night he'd seen her more relaxed than ever in snug yoga pants and a loose sweater instead of one of her suits. A blast of need zoomed through him. He wanted to see her wake up. All that blond hair would be down on her shoulders, her eyes sleepy, her body warm . . .

The dog whined at the door. Conor turned around. He'd walk the dog before he left, and maybe bring Louisa coffee.

He slipped into his shoes, grabbed her apartment key from the bowl in the hall, and opened the hall closet. Kirra's leash hung on the back of the door. He walked the dog through the square to Nineteenth Street and ducked into La Colombe for two large coffees and muffins. When he let himself back in, the condo was still quiet. Last night, Louisa had eaten the baked potato and salad for dinner. She'd chopped the remaining steak and green beans and left them in the fridge.

Conor put the bowl on the floor for the dog. "You wouldn't be getting this kind of service at my place. Hamburger is high-end on my budget."

A door opened, and a bleary-eyed Louisa shuffled into the kitchen. She was still wearing the snug yoga pants from the night before, but a heavy sweatshirt covered her to midthigh. Her tousled, just-out-of-bed hair tumbled onto her shoulders and made Conor want to take her right back to bed.

She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh, you're still here. I thought I heard you leave."

Had she purposefully waited to come out until she thought he was gone? Had he overstayed his welcome? Sleeping over, even innocently, was a huge step considering that before yesterday, they hadn't seen each other for six months. "Do you want me to go?"

"No."

"Good." Because no matter how many reasons his brain came up with to walk out the door, he didn't want to. He crossed the tiles and handed her a coffee. "I walked the dog. We went for coffee."

"Thank you." She stared at the cardboard cup in her hand. Her gaze fell to the fuzzy slippers on her feet. "I should change."

A worried hand touched her neck, but her throat was bare. No pearls to play with this morning. She wrapped the other hand around her middle, and the vulnerability in her posture cracked his resolve to keep his distance.

"Don't." He let a hint of desire heat his eyes. "I like the casual you."

Her hand fell. She stood in the middle of her kitchen, lost. Allowing Louisa a few minutes to compose herself, he filled Kirra's bowl with fresh water. The dog hadn't eaten much of her breakfast. The vet had said to give her appetite a week. But if she wasn't eating by Monday, she was going back.

"Sit down." His hand brushed her arm as he passed her in the narrow space between the counter and the island. "Where are your plates?"

She pointed toward an upper cabinet.

"Blueberry or cranberry?"

"I don't usually eat breakfast." She slid onto a stool.

"I'm not usually awake for breakfast." He put the muffins on plates and set them on the shiny, black granite. "I close the bar most nights. I don't usually get to bed before three."

She selected the cranberry nut muffin and picked at it. "Your siblings don't take turns?"

"Pat takes a couple nights, but Danny moved to Maine, and we don't let Jaynie close the place alone."

"So you assume the bulk of the responsibility."

"I live alone. It's easier for me." Conor shifted on his stool. "You've met most of my family. Tell me about yours."

Sadness filled her eyes. She abandoned the muffin. "There isn't much to say. I'm an only child."

"Are you close to your parents? Do you miss them?" he prodded. Her reluctance to talk about her family was a red flag. After Barbara, the fact that Louisa wasn't being totally up front with him should be a deal breaker.

"My mother died when I was ten."

"I'm sorry. I lost my parents when I was twenty. Jayne and Danny were younger. It was much harder on them."

"You and Pat raised them, right?" She neatly turned the conversation back to him. No surprise.

"Pat did most of the work. I was in college at the time. Pat had been running the bar with my dad, but he couldn't raise Danny and Jayne and take care of the business solo."

"You left school."

"That wasn't a big deal." He shrugged it off. At the time, he didn't have the time or the desire to return to college.

"What was your major?"

"I was doubling in education and history."

"You were going to be a teacher." Louisa set down her coffee.

"I was."

"Weren't you disappointed?" she asked.

"Not at all." That level of grief was all-consuming and didn't leave room for much else. "My parents' deaths changed my whole perception of the world. It was like someone took a Technicolor film and made it black-and-white. All that mattered was getting Danny and Jayne through it. They were just kids."

Like Louisa. So maybe he could cut her a break for holding back on him.

"That was a long time ago," he said. "It wasn't my original plan, and there were some lean years, but I'm a successful businessman. I like the way my life turned out. After being my own boss for all these years, working for someone else isn't that appealing." He got up, put his plate in the dishwasher, and tossed his cup in the trash. "What's the plan for today?"

"I'm due at work at nine. I'd like to stop by Zoe's apartment to speak with her roommate, then swing by the boyfriend's before they both head off to classes or work. If you're available . . ."

"Kind of early for visiting."

"Yes, it is." Determination flattened her close-lipped smile. "But there's no time to waste with social niceties." Her eyes strayed to the clock on the microwave. "Zoe has been missing for thirty-two hours."

"In that case, I'm available." Ugh. He hadn't meant for that to sound like a double entendre.