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through.”
    In luck? At one thousand dollars a day, plus expenses? “Um…just to clarify, your expenses would include what exactly? Airfare and hotel?”
    â€œAs well as a rental car, meals, any specialized tests we might need to run on the evidence I find, stuff like that.”
    â€œI see.” The list could get long. And with his salary, the incidental expenses would be the least of herproblems. But he sounded so confident when he mentioned evidence.
    â€œWill you be making my hotel reservations or shall I?” he asked.
    Transferring the phone from one hand to the other, Madeline wiped her palms, which had grown clammy, on her sweatpants. “I was thinking… I mean I was wondering…”
    â€œYes?”
    She scowled at the impatience in his voice. “Is there any way we could cut corners a bit?”
    â€œCut corners?” he repeated suspiciously.
    â€œI have a guesthouse. I thought maybe you could stay there. It’d be quiet,” she added. “I live alone.”
    â€œAnd what will I drive?”
    â€œMy car.”
    â€œAnd you’ll drive…”
    â€œMy stepbrother will let me borrow a truck from the farm. It might not look like much after hauling dirt and feed and who knows what else, but he’s always got an extra.”
    Hunter didn’t seem to mind staying in her guesthouse and driving her car, because he agreed right away. “That’s fine. Does that mean you’re picking me up at the airport?”
    If she played chauffeur, they’d be able to talk while she drove. Then he could start his investigation the moment he reached Stillwater. Saving whatever money she could seemed prudent, especially since she wasn’t sure hiring him would make any difference in the end. Would he find evidence everyone else had missed? Or would he be as ineffectual as the police?
    Maybe she was bankrupting herself for nothing, for a hunger that could never be satisfied….
    â€œMs. Barker?”
    She swallowed to ease a particularly dry mouth. “I’ll pick you up. Fly into Nashville, okay?”
    â€œIt’s closer than Jackson?”
    â€œBy two hours.”
    â€œOkay. I’ll make my travel arrangements over the Internet and call you in the morning.”
    â€œFine.” She pretended to be as businesslike as he was. But when she hung up, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the phone.
    â€œWhat have I done?” she breathed.

3
    â€œY ou’ve done what? ” Grace asked.
    Madeline held the phone to her shoulder as she rinsed her coffee cup and placed it in the dishwasher. Morning had come too soon. After a restless night, her eyes stung with fatigue. It didn’t help that the coffee she’d drunk to get her going churned sourly in her otherwise empty stomach. “I hired a private investigator.”
    There was a momentary silence. “You’re kidding.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œFrom where?”
    â€œCalifornia.”
    â€œBut…it’s been so many years since Dad went missing, Maddy.”
    â€œI know. That’s why I did it.” Sophie followed her as she hurried to the bathroom. She needed to finish her hair and makeup and head over to the office. She couldn’t avoid work this morning. She would sit down and write the article she should’ve written yesterday— and she’d finish it before the paper had to go to press. Maybe her resolve had come a little late, but she was Stillwater’s only official reporter. She’d reveal the unbiased details of the Cadillac’s discovery, regardless of her personal connection.
    â€œBut Allie used to be a cold case detective,” Grace said. “If she couldn’t find anything, aren’t you afraid hiring someone else will be a waste of time and money?”
    Madeline didn’t want to talk about Allie—not with Grace. Once Allie had begun to feel romantic interest in Clay, she’d no longer