Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) by Mary Burton

window and you will see I’m here with my partner, Detective Rick Morgan. We have questions about Elisa.”
    The curtains fluttered and a small opening appeared at the edge. Jake couldn’t see the occupant but sensed the scrutiny. Both detectives waited, badges held high. After a pause, the curtains fluttered closed and footsteps moved toward the door. Chains were pulled free of locks and the door opened.
    Standing in the doorway was a short, heavyset blond woman with a round face and large blue eyes. A sprinkle of freckles peppered her face. She wore a large Vanderbilt sweatshirt that rippled around her full frame, faded jeans, and flip-flops. Her gaze settled on the badges before she nodded. “I’m Cheryl Milton. Have you found Elisa?”
    “Can we speak?” Jake asked. He carefully tucked his badge back in his breast pocket.
    “Is she all right? Did she say where she’s been?” Her accent was Southern but not Middle Tennessee.
    If he had to guess, he’d bet the Carolinas. “We need your help with a few questions?”
    A wrinkle furrowed her brow. “This isn’t good news, is it?”
    “Ma’am, may we speak inside?”
    Nodding, she opened the door and stepped aside. The living room was small but neatly furnished with Scandinavian furniture. There was a low sleek red couch that didn’t look a bit comfortable, a couple of black chairs, and a black-striped rug under a glass coffee table complete with a stack of design magazines.
    “Please have a seat.” Cheryl pointed to the black chairs. She took the end of the couch. “Can I get you something to drink?”
    “No, thank you,” Jake said. On the walls were several large black-and-white photos that were too abstract for him to pinpoint the exact subject matter. “You were the one that reported Elisa Spence missing?”
    “I was.” She moved to tuck her legs under her and then, as if realizing that was too informal, settled her feet on the ground and laid her hands on her jeans. “The last time I saw her was four days ago. Friday.”
    Jake pulled a notebook from his breast pocket. The timeline fit with Georgia’s estimations. “Where did you see Elisa last?”
    “We were at the coffee shop Blue Note Java on Maple Avenue. We met there a lot to have coffee and just talk about school.” She leaned forward, her fingers gripping her knees so tightly that her knuckles whitened. “What happened to Elisa?”
    “That’s what we’re still trying to figure out,” Rick said.
    “Where is she?”
    No cop enjoyed making a death notice. Jake tugged at the edge of his jacket, suddenly feeling constrained. “We believe she was murdered.”
    For a moment, Cheryl blinked as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed on her head. She waited a beat as if wondering, as if expecting them to recant. When they didn’t, she leaned forward and threaded her hands together. “Are you sure? She’s the nicest person I know.”
    “We’re almost certain. You gave a very good description to missing persons which we were able to match against the woman we found.”
    Color drained from her face, leaving her white and drawn. “Why would anyone want to kill Elisa? Who would do this?”
    “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
    Tears glistened in her eyes. Two fat tears trickled down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away. “This is a bad dream. We were supposed to drive to Knoxville on Thursday. She had a job interview for a midwinter break internship. She was so excited and asked me to ride along for moral support. We were going to hit the outlets while we were there.”
    “You said you two were close?”
    “Like sisters,” she said, shaking her head. “We were matched as roommates our freshman year and really hit it off. We spend time together over the holidays and summers.” A sigh shuddered. “Her parents must be devastated.”
    “They are,” Rick said.
    “Did she date anyone?” Jake asked.
    “She had dates with a few guys last year, but nothing that went