“I know that,” I said. “I’m sorry. My approach is all wrong here. What I meant is that I might have information that could be helpful to whatever investigation you’re doing.”

She raised the eyebrow at me again, her crystal blue eyes full of skepticism. “Information?”

“Well, I guess it’s information,” I said, a little less sure of myself. “And I guess it depends on how you’re approaching her disappearance.”

She broke off another piece of the fritter and popped it into her mouth. “I’m listening.”

“Because I’ve been around the play a lot, I’ve heard a few things,” I began and then told her what I knew about the company’s possible financial issues and Madison’s rejection from drama school.

Hanborn picked at the fritter while she listened to me, glancing at me occasionally, but giving the pastry most of her attention. I couldn’t tell from her expression what she thought of what I was telling her, but at least she hadn’t gone to sleep or told me to leave.

The fritter was almost gone when I stopped talking. Hanborn looked up from the donut, almost surprised. “That’s it?”

“That’s what?”

“That’s your...information?”

I squirmed in the chair. “Well, yes. I know that none of those things are the proverbial smoking gun, but I thought they might shed a little light on the situation.”

“Shed a little light,” Hanborn repeated, then smiled at me the way she might smile at a dog who kept bringing her a slobber-covered tennis ball. “On the situation.”

I sat there, now wishing I’d gone for the run with Jake and Sophie. I glanced around the office, trying to find something to take my mind off the fact that I might have made a mistake in coming to her office. But there was nothing to look at. The beige walls were devoid of decorations and nothing but nondescript books and binders lined the bookshelf behind her desk. There were no photos, no trinkets, nothing that hinted at Hanborn’s likes or dislikes or personality.

Probably because she didn’t have one.

Hanborn made a great show of pushing herself up in her chair and moving the fritter to the side and folding her hands on top of her desk. She stared at me for a long moment, perhaps thinking I might wither under her gaze.

I managed to not wither.

“Ms. Savage,” she finally said. “I...appreciate...you bringing these things to my attention. But I think you might just be jumping the gun a little bit here. Police work is about connecting the dots, not about hoping the dots connect. Do you get what I’m getting at?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“What you are giving me is conjecture,” she said. “It’s not information.”

“I disagree.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“It’s information that informs the conjecture,” I argued. “It’s information that might provide motive.”

“Ah, yes. Motive,” she said, nodding, amused. “Probably saw that on Law & Order, right?”

“I don’t watch television.”

She frowned. “Right. Look, these are things that might provide...motive. If we were looking for one. But we’re not.”

“You’re not?”

“We’re not.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “Because there’s nothing to indicate she was, you know, kidnapped.”

“So you think she just ran away?”

She sighed again and reached for the last bit of the fritter. “I’m indulging you here, Ms. Savage, because you were kind enough to bring me donuts. If you’d come in empty-handed, this conversation would already be over.”

I made a mental note to never show up empty-handed.

“Yes, I believe she ran away,” she said, finishing off the last little bit. She wiped at the crumbs on her lips, then brushed off her uniform top. “And I hope I don’t have to remind you that I’m telling you this in confidence.”

“You don’t.”

Hanborn leaned back in her chair. “Amanda Pendleton has done this before.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Like everyone else in Moose River,” she said. “It’s not a secret, right? And I don’t think this time was any different.”

“You don’t?” I asked. “I think there might be—”

“See, that’s what you shouldn’t be doing,” she said, pointing at me. “Thinking.” She smiled at me. “I’m just kidding, of course.”

She wasn’t, and we both knew it, but I didn’t say anything.

“When Amanda ran away before – and to be clear, she did run away before – do you know what the circumstances were?”

“No. I don’t even know her family,” I admitted.

“Of course not,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to share a ton of details with you because that wouldn’t be appropriate. But let’s just say the circumstances were similar. She’d just broken up with a different boyfriend. And she was under some pressure at school.” She smiled. “That sound familiar?”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“So while I appreciate you bringing all of this to my attention, I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” she said. “Her family is checking with extended family. While they are concerned, I’m trusting that they know their daughter better than I do and right now, they aren’t projecting a sense of...urgency. I feel confident Miss Pendleton will show up any day now and we’ll find out she went hitchhiking to a friend’s in Iowa or something similar.” She smiled. “Okay now?”

I looked down at my lap for a moment. It took a lot to make me feel stupid. For years, I’d let my self-confidence wilt; I’d lost belief in myself. But when Jake came back into my life, it was like I found my self-confidence tucked in a shoebox at the back of the closet. And I opened it and felt strong and smart and beautiful again. It was just as much about me as it was about Jake – he might have helped me locate the box, but I was the one who opened it and tried everything back on for size. And wore it daily. Proudly. . So it took a lot to make me feel like I had no clue as to what I was doing or what I was talking about.

But Detective Hanborn pushed the right buttons. I felt very foolish sitting there in her office at that moment.

“Now,” she said, seemingly satisfied that I’d been properly chastised. “You mentioned something about having two reasons for being here. I assume Amanda Pendleton was the first. What’s the second?”

I shifted in the chair again, wondering if I should just walk out now and save myself from further embarrassment. The motivation I’d woken up with was now nowhere to be found, and I was afraid that anything that came out of my mouth at that point was going to sound ridiculous.

I took a deep breath. I’d come this far, though. I might have been wrong about Amanda Pendleton, at least in Detective Hanborn’s eyes. But that didn’t mean I was wrong about wanting to be an investigator.

I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if your office would ever, uh, consider an internship.”

“An internship?” Her brow furrowed. “You mean for one of your children?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean for me.”

Both eyebrows shot up. “For you?”

I tried to swallow away my nervousness. “Yes. I’m looking into becoming licensed. As a private investigator.”

Her eyebrows stayed up and her open mouth formed a small circle.

A knock on the door startled both of us and I turned around.

Belinda Hanborn, Priscilla’s sister, was standing there, all legs and blond hair. She couldn’t have been more opposite than Priscilla and, in fact, Jake and I had mistaken her for...someone else in Priscilla’s life...before Priscilla corrected us and told us that was her sister. She had the face and body of a swimsuit model.

Priscilla did not.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, flipping her hair away from her face.

“Not at all,” Priscilla said. “What do you need?”

“Well, I…” Belinda smiled politely at me, then walked around the detective’s desk and leaned down to whisper something in the detective’s ear. Her hand rested lightly on the detective’s arm and her lips were nearly touching Priscilla’s ear. If I wasn’t mistaken, Priscilla seemed to be leaning into her.