Damien wakes groggy from the rescue meds, but this time the worst has been averted by the Maxalt. He sits on a high kitchen stool, waking up properly over a cup of coffee and watching Brad make breakfast.

“Why did she do it?” he muses. “Viv, I mean. Sure, she’s angry that we weren’t on the same page, but she must know that any chance she ever thought she had of changing my mind is gone after that?”

“Was there ever a chance?” Brad asks without thinking. He regrets teasing Damien immediately when he sees his pained expression. “Sorry, too soon for bad jokes.” He flips over the pancakes. “Did you try calling her?”

“Rose tried yesterday,” Damien says. “Went straight to voicemail every time.”

Just then, Zoe comes clambering up the stairs. “I smell pancakes!” she exclaims.

After Brad has settled Zoe with her pancakes he makes sure Damien eats some, too. Then he gets ready for work. He has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t like leaving you alone today,” he says, cursing a Sunday shift for the first time ever. “Take extra care, all right?” he tells Damien as they say goodbye.

“Will do,” Damien replies. “Rose is coming to take Zoe to an open day at the new school. I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll go with them.” He rubs his temple. “If my head behaves, I will.” While Zoe is busy examining her new school bag, he gives Brad an extra-long kiss. Brad leaves the house with the taste of coffee and maple syrup still on his lips.

When he gets to the station he makes right for Eric’s desk. “What’ve you got?” he asks, without so much as a hello.

Eric doesn’t need to ask what Brad means. He leans back in his chair, his face serious in concentration. “Well, there’s a whole discourse about online harassment at the moment. We touched on it in the last seminar I did. It’s difficult to get the platform providers to take stuff down. But I still think contacting Instagram should be our first step.”

With a sigh Brad perches on Eric’s desk. “Not sure how much good that’ll do. The horse is already out of the barn with this one…”

Eric gives Brad a searching look. “I haven’t quite worked it out yet, but…this is about Vivienne Aubert, isn’t it?”

Brad raises an eyebrow. “What gave you that idea?” he asks. He had done nothing more than fire off a quick text last night, asking Eric to start digging up what he can around harassment on Instagram.

“The captain had a call from Victor Cahn last night,” Eric says. “Vivienne’s husband,” he adds. “The captain and Cahn’s father were close friends, apparently, and Victor and his wife stayed in touch. That’s why she called the captain, the time we went to that actor’s penthouse. Seemed odd he called again, so my brain came up with a hypothesis.” Eric crosses his arms. “Are you going to tell me how all of this connects?”

Brad says nothing, so Eric continues, “It’s the actor, right? Damien Thomas?”

“Maybe,” Brad says, not meeting Eric’s eyes. He wonders if Eric has heard something over the grapevine already from the Brooklyn cops, or whether he’s just using his intellectual superpowers to figure this puzzle out. “Look, I’ll tell you everything over a beer sometime soon. I’ll introduce you, too.” He looks around to see if anyone is in earshot. “For now, can we try and untangle this? What did Victor say to the captain?”

“His wife’s gone missing,” Eric says. Brad raises an eyebrow.

“She wasn’t missing yesterday,” he says through clenched teeth. “She hung around Damien’s house, setting a trap for him and his daughter.”

Now it’s Eric’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think he meant missing as in disappeared. In that case he wouldn’t have waited this long, and we’d have a case file about her already…and would be looking for a body, I suppose.” He gets up and beckons Brad to follow. “It seems he’s not heard from her in a while, so he’s come here to look for her.”

Brad falls into step beside Eric. “Victor Cahn’s here?”

“The captain told him to come straight here from the airport. Meeting room three,” Eric says.

“Why are you only telling me now?” Brad asks, annoyed.

“I wanted to hear what you had to say first,” Eric replies. Brad can’t fault him for that. It’s what he’d do himself. With a jolt, he realizes that he’s on the other side once again. He’s part of a case, not an investigation.

When they get to the meeting rooms on the opposite end of the open-plan office space, Eric draws ahead and opens the third door. He lets Brad enter first, and then closes the door behind them. The clamor of the incidence floor is cut off at once.

Cahn stands by the window and turns around as they enter. He isn’t what Brad expected. Tall and slim, Victor Cahn is going bald around the hairline and a little gray. He wears wire-rimmed glasses, and his white shirt and blue slacks make Brad think of an accountant rather than one of the most successful Hollywood directors of the last few years. A crumpled blue jacket, matching the slacks, hangs over the chair.

Cahn catches Brad’s appraising eye and shrugs. “I haven’t had time to shower or change,” he says in a tired voice. He holds out a hand. Brad shakes it.

“Detective Brad Moretti,” he says.

Eric waves toward the chairs around the small round table. This is a meeting is the message of the arrangement, not an interrogation. “Our apologies for the wait, Mr. Cahn,” he says. “I wanted Detective Moretti here, too. We both met your wife when she first arrived in New York.”

“Victor, please,” Cahn says.

“Sure,” Eric says. “Would you like another drink, Victor?” An empty mug sits on the table in front of the chair with the jacket, right next to a cell phone.

Victor shakes his head and sits. “I’m jetlagged and already wired enough to climb the walls,” he says with a humorless little laugh. He looks first at Brad, then at Eric. “Detectives, do you know where my wife is?”

Brad feels sorry for the man. He seems genuinely distressed, and clueless as to what Vivienne has been up to.

Eric takes the lead. “Not at present, no.” He sits down close to the director, and Brad takes the chair opposite. “Tell us what happened, Victor.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure where to begin,” Victor says, rubbing his eyes. He looks drawn. “Viv left for New York, and I haven’t spoken to her since. She must’ve blocked my number. I got one text from her, about a week after she left. She said she needed some time to think. After that, every time I tried her number I only got the message that the number has been disconnected.”

“Remind me, how long ago did she leave?” Eric asks.

Victor thinks for a moment. “About a month ago.”

“How do you know she’s in New York?”

“Sam—I mean, Captain Terrell—called me, after Viv called him,” Victor says. “He and my dad were in the Army together. He was like an uncle to me when I was growing up.” He stops there, but Eric wants more.

“Do you know where Vivienne was when we followed up that call she placed to Captain Terrell?” he asks, firmly but not unkindly.

“I can make an educated guess,” Victor says, and for a moment it seems that that’ll be it. But then he looks at Brad and Eric in turn, and Brad is surprised to see real anguish in his eyes.

“You think of Hollywood as this strange, promiscuous place,” he says, sounding resigned. “And you’re right. Some rules are different. But I don’t think it’s a worse place than elsewhere because of that. Am I happy that my wife is having an affair with another man? Of course not! Am I going to divorce her? Not if she doesn’t want me to.” His eyes grow hard. “If I play this right, it might even generate an extra level of buzz for our movie. And believe me, I won’t stop the gossip, not as long as it makes me money.”

After that pronouncement, there’s an uneasy silence. Brad can appreciate why Victor is so successful. He throws Eric a glance, and his partner raises an eyebrow. Brad wonders if Victor is so good at his job because he’s always been ruthless, or whether the industry he works in has made him so.

When he looks at Victor again, the cold expression has vanished from his face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m very tired. I worry about Viv, I really do.” Brad is inclined to believe him.

“Of course,” Eric says. “You must’ve been sure that she was still here, or you wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes,” Victor replies. “When I hadn’t heard from her for three weeks I called her mother. She lives in Florida now, and she and Viv don’t see each other much. But I thought, even now, Viv wouldn’t ignore a call from her mom.”

“And did Mrs. Aubert get hold of her?”

“She did, yesterday.” Victor’s voice is flat now. “Viv told Annushka that she didn’t want to see me, and that she’d be in touch when she was ready to tell me what should happen next. She said that she was trying to get her life sorted out. According to Annushka, Viv sounded strange. She kept saying that all the pieces would come together soon, and that she was very close to making it happen. Ann called me as soon as they hung up. After that, I booked the first flight I could get.”

“Did you go to your apartment first?” Eric asks. Brad looks at him sharply. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Of course, if Vivienne had been at their home, Victor wouldn’t be here now. Brad’s gut clenches. He leans forward, eyes on Victor intent.

“I did,” Victor says. Something in his face shifts; he looks genuinely troubled for the first time. “The place was a mess. Clothes and bits of food and…and wine bottles everywhere. Viv hasn’t ever been very tidy, but that was…unexpected. And…” He hesitates. Eric finally has to prompt him.

“Did you find something else out of the ordinary?” he asks.

Victor looks confused and uncomfortable. “There were baby clothes, and toys, all over the living room. And even a stroller.”

“Were you two trying for a baby, before Vivienne left?” Eric asks. “And she hadn’t told you yet that it had worked?”

Victor straightens up and looks directly into Eric’s eyes. Red blotches rise on his neck, starting around the collar. “I’m sterile,” he says, his voice not betraying any emotion. “Viv made me get a test when we got married.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric says.

Victor waves this away. “I don’t really care for children, so I wasn’t bothered. But Viv took it hard.”

Brad stares at Victor, the meaning of his words sinking in. If Damien got Vivienne pregnant… Why did he never even mention the possibility? A sense of betrayal rises unbidden, and Brad forces it down. Damien can’t know, he’s sure of that. But did she trick him into it? Or is it someone else’s baby?

Brad wants to ask more questions, but Victor seems uncomfortable with the direction the interview has taken. He continues before Brad can speak, “And I found this under the coffee table.” He puts his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket on the chair and pulls out a small notebook. Brad recognizes it immediately.

“Can I have a look?” he asks in a tense voice. He holds out his hand for the little notebook, and Victor gives it to him, looking alarmed.

Eric watches him, but for the moment Brad ignores his partner. He flicks through the book, which is the one he picked up from the hallway floor for Vivienne when they had last come face to face.

The first few pages are filled with dates and times, and letters Brad realizes quickly are street names and subway lines. Each page is headed by the same two letters—DT—and Brad has no doubt that they are Damien’s initials.

On the fourth page the heading changes. Now the top of the page reads ‘Detective,’ and next to the times are little notes in a cramped, childish writing. Brad squints to makes out the words, but only manages to decipher a few. He reads things like ‘gone to bodega’ and ‘work?’ and ‘gym’ and ‘DT arrives.’ One of the last lines bears the date on which the stone came through Brad’s glass door. The date, which is like all the others in pencil, is circled several times in red pen.

He drops the book onto the table, and Eric takes it, turning the pages with dawning comprehension.

“Why didn’t you come for your wife sooner?” Brad asks, trying not to betray his anger. “It’s been a month.”

Victor shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “She wanted space,” he says, his voice wary.

“And what has really changed this now?” Brad asks, the steel in his voice making it clear he won’t accept anything but the truth.

“Well,” Victor says, squirming, “we need to start the PR for Dark Core, and I need her for that.”

Brad stares at him for a moment. Then he gets up and leaves the room without another word.

He’s halfway across the incidence room when Eric catches up with him. Brad has pulled out his phone and only stops when Eric holds him back by the elbow.

“What’s going on?” Eric asks, his voice low and tense.

“I don’t know yet,” Brad says. “I have a feeling…it’s insane, but…listen, I have to check something out.” He knows he should tell Eric everything now and do this by the book. He’s too close to this case to do his job. But something holds him back. He doesn’t have time to examine his feelings or explain all of this to Eric.

“You finish off with Cahn,” he says to Eric. “Tell him we’ll look into his wife’s disappearance and that we’ll be in touch.”

Not waiting for a reply, Brad turns away. He doesn’t find it easy to snub his partner, but an explanation would take much too long. And anyway, this probably is nothing.

As he gets into the corridor he finally dials Damien’s number. The call goes straight to voicemail. Stopping at the elevators, Brad curses under his breath. When the beep announces that he should leave a message, he says, “Hey, just checking in. Give me a call when you get this?” He hangs up and taps his foot. Where’s the elevator?

“Wait up!” Brad turns and sees Eric running toward him.

“What—” he starts, but Eric interrupts him.

“I don’t care what this is and what you’re not telling me.” Eric straightens up, placing his hands either side on his hip, trying to make himself look intimidating. “But you’re not going on your own.”

“Look—” Brad tries again, but Eric cuts him off a second time.

“I’m either coming with you or I’m reporting you.” He glowers. “Take your pick.”

“Oh, all right,” Brad growls. Then he motions toward the staircase. “C’mon.” He has no patience to wait any longer for the elevator.

Hurrying down the stairs he tries to ignore the ever-growing bad feeling in his gut. It doesn’t help that he’s guilty of flaunting all department rules. Eric remains by his side, and Brad can’t hide from himself that he’s very glad about that.

He pushes through the front entrance, mumbling another curse under his breath. He has to fix this before it becomes another tragedy.