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special during the holidays.”
    Lia held open the nondescript white door marked PRIVATE, and with a “see ya!” wave to Missy, I followed Lia down a long corridor. Lia’s office was, I knew, at the rear. The austere stark white walls and muted gray industrial carpeting contrasted sharply with the opulence of the client areas. Her office was equally plain, a place to work, not relax. I couldn’t help but notice that the paint was chipped and scratched and the carpet near the threshold was threadbare.
    â€œI hope I’m not disturbing you,” I said. “I’ll only keep you a minute.”
    â€œNot at all,” she said. “Have a seat. Tell me what I can do to help.”
    â€œIt’s Ian. I haven’t heard from him, so I thought I’d stop by and ask if you have.”
    Lia raised her chin. “No.”
    â€œI’m so worried,” I said. “I try not to be, but I am.”
    â€œI’d be worried, too, Josie. It’s worrying. I barely know him and I’m upset. Do you have thoughts about what might be going on?”
    â€œNo,” I said, stopping myself just in time from sharing Ty’s opinion that Ian might be off with another woman.
    As Lia walked me out, we agreed to let one another know the minute we heard anything. I waved good-bye, got in my car, and for the second time in two days drove straight to the Rocky Point police station.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    As I walked through the densely falling snow toward the weathered, cottage-looking building that housed the Rocky Point Police Department, a bitter wind tore off the water. I flipped my hood up, glad I’d parked close to the door. Inside, I approached the chest-high counter that divided the lobby from the working area and waited for someone to look up. Two uniformed police officers were huddled together in the back talking. Ellis was leaning over someone’s desk reading from the monitor. Cathy, the civilian admin who served as office manager, was pouring a cup of coffee from a Mr. Coffee machine that lived on a two-drawer file cabinet near her desk.
    Cathy saw me out of the corner of her eye and smiled. She was plus-sized, with blond hair teased high and ice blue eyes, and she knew more about the inner workings of the police station than anyone else.
    â€œHi, Josie,” she said.
    Ellis looked up.
    â€œHi, Cathy.” I met Ellis’s gaze, pumping mine full of gravitas. “We need to talk.”
    â€œSure,” he said.
    He unlatched the swinging partition, stepped through into the lobby, and headed to his private office. I trailed along. He swung the door closed, and it latched with a sharp snap.
    â€œIs this about Ian Bennington?” he asked once I was inside. “Nothing’s changed, Josie.”
    â€œSure it has. It’s now forty-eight hours, give or take, since anyone has seen him. He’s a foreigner, Ellis, a stranger to Rocky Point. Do you need me to raise hell with the British Embassy, or will you act as if I’m a rational person making a reasonable request?”
    His lips pressed together. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
    â€œSee if he’s in his hotel room. He may be sick. Maybe he slipped in the bathtub and hurt his head. Trace his car. What if he lost control on black ice and plummeted into a ravine? He told me he was struggling with driving on the opposite side of the road from what he was used to, and I doubt he’s ever driven in the kind of winter conditions we have around here. Find him.”
    Ellis sat behind his desk and pointed at one of the two guest chairs. I perched on the edge, impatient and annoyed. I didn’t understand his hesitation.
    â€œI have a photo,” I said. I handed over one copy of the photograph I’d printed earlier.
    Ellis stared at it. “I’d need a court order to enter his room, and at this point, I don’t have enough evidence to ask for one. While I know you