Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel by Irene Hannon

the least.”
    “All right. What about his office?”
    “It was very sterile. Other than the framed photos of his clinic in Guatemala, there was no personality to the space. Not even a picture of his wife.”
    “Interesting.” Cal took a swig of lemonade and jotted another note on his pad. “Let’s move on to today. Walk me through it and focus on anything that struck you as odd or curious.”
    “I didn’t have all that much personal interaction with him except at lunch. Professionally, I think he’s highly skilled and very respected by his peers and his patients.”
    “Then let’s concentrate on your experience during lunch.”
    She frowned and stared at the blank wall across from her, reconstructing the conversation in her mind. “He took me off guard by bringing up the bruise immediately. It’s faded a lot, so I was surprised he noticed it. We talked a bit about our families too. I got the feeling in the interview Tuesday that he and his father—also a doctor—were close. I could see a lingering sadness in his eyes when he mentioned today that his dad had been dead for many years, and that he died too young. There may have been some hero worship going on there.” She picked up a stray piece of mushroom and added it to the slice of pizza on her napkin. “Not much to go on, is it?”
    “I don’t know.” He wiped off his fingers, wadded up thepaper napkin, and tossed it onto the table as he ticked off the notes he’d taken. “Discomfort at your question about his interest in the elderly. No pictures of his wife in his office. Hero worship of a father who died young. Each of those could suggest interesting scenarios. But I’m most intrigued by the fact that not only did he invite you to shadow him, he made it a point during your limited conversation to volunteer an alibi for that Friday night.”
    Moira swallowed the last bite of her third piece of pizza. “You think he could be trying to deflect suspicion?”
    “That’s one theory. If he is your man, he might have wanted to head you off at the pass by impressing you with his professional standing and making certain you knew he could prove his whereabouts on that Friday night.”
    “But if he can prove where he was, he isn’t my man.”
    “‘If’ being the operative word. Maybe he hopes an alibi will discourage you from further investigation.”
    “Well, it’s working.” Moira picked up a napkin and swiped at the beads of condensation on her soda can. “The truth is, after listening to him speak all day, I can’t distinguish between his voice and my Good Samaritan’s anymore.”
    “That could also be part of his strategy.”
    “And I thought I was paranoid.”
    “There’s a difference between paranoia and healthy suspicion.”
    “Are we crossing the line here?”
    “You tell me.” He linked his fingers on the table and leaned closer, eyes steady and intent. As if he was looking into, rather than at, her. “Trust your instincts, like you do on a story. What are they telling you to do?”
    Keeping her gaze locked on his, she thought about how she’d felt the first time she’d heard Blaine’s voice, on the news program. About her stunned reaction when she saw his ring during the interview. About the highlights Cal had just distilled. About the terrified woman in her headlights.
    “They tell me to keep digging.”
    “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He continued to look at her for another couple of seconds with those intense brown eyes. Finally he leaned back and picked up the file he’d brought in with him.
    Moira released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and wove her fingers together on the table.
    “I had Nikki run some preliminary background for me. Nothing unusual turned up. Now that we’ve talked, though, I’m going to have her dig deeper on a few things while I check out his alibi.”
    Nikki, the punk rocker with the purple hair and seashell necklace, assisted with research?
    “Um, does she do a lot