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they were fighting?”
    Risa wagged her finger at Fina. “You know better than to play lawyer with me. I was close enough to know that Melanie was upset. We were supposed to have dinner that night, but after Rand drove off, she told me she couldn’t. Then she took off like a bat out of hell.”
    “Did she say where she was going?”
    “Nope, but she was upset.”
    “And now you’ve contacted the police?”
    “Yes, when I couldn’t reach her, and when it became clear that Rand wasn’t going to. I told them about the fight and her disappearance. Something’s wrong, Fina.”
    “I know that now.”
    “And you can’t be objective about this.” Risa tugged on the waistband of her tracksuit jacket.
    “Maybe not.”
    “You’re not going to be able to investigate Melanie’s disappearance if your brother’s the main suspect.”
    “Who said anything about a suspect? I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”
    “And I think you’re kidding yourself. Think about it: His wife disappears, and he doesn’t want to call the police? It’s suspicious. If I disappeared, Marty would call the cops, pronto.”
    Fina watched two mothers walk by with babies strapped to their chests. “You’ve been watching too much
Dateline
, Risa.”
    It was true that Rand hadn’t called the police, but that said as much about his personality and history as it did his alleged involvement in Melanie’s disappearance. He hated the cops, not only because of a natural lawyerly distrust of them, but also because he’d skirted the law throughout his adolescence and adulthood. Carl had been kept busy cleaning up after Rand’s “boys will be boys” transgressions, which included wrecked cars, drug possession, and rumored assaults. Rand was convinced the cops were out to get him and rarely factored his responsibility into the equation. He’d stayed out of trouble since joining the family firm—the only firm that would have him—but Fina doubted his feelings about the police would ever change.
    “Will you let me know if you hear from her?” Fina asked. “If she wants to be left alone, that’s fine, but we need to know that she’s okay.”
    Risa studied her nails. They were buffed with clear polish. Unlike most of her chums, Risa was an avid cook and gardener and used her hands for more than just handing over her credit card. “Of course. I’ll call.”
    “Thanks, Risa.”
    Fina watched her walk away.

    “Josefina Ludlow. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Cristian Menendez asked as he climbed into her car. He’d agreed to meet her in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot, a safe distance from his desk at the Boston Police headquarters. Cristian was a detective in Major Crimes, and he and Fina had swapped tips and bodily fluids over the years.
    “I was in the neighborhood and couldn’t resist visiting my favorite law enforcement officer.”
    “I bet you say that to all the cops.”
    “Only the handsome ones.” Cristian was in his early thirties, with cinnamon skin and short, dark hair.
    He adjusted in the seat so his gun wasn’t digging into his side. “Broken any laws lately?”
    Fina brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “You already know the answer, Cristian.”
    He grinned. “Yes, I do.”
    “So, you’ve probably heard that Rand’s wife, Melanie, doesn’t seem to be answering her phone.”
    “Is that how you describe a missing person’s case?”
    Fina shrugged.
    “I’ve heard things. Which one is Melanie?”
    “She’s Haley’s mom.”
    “Ahh. The niece,” Cristian said. “The naughty niece.”
    “What have you heard?” Fina asked. Cristian looked at her blankly. “I’m not just asking for my brother. I’m trying to be a good citizen and help the police.”
    “This’ll be good.”
    “You guys have resources, but you don’t have much latitude when it comes to certain avenues of investigation. You can’t break in somewhere, for instance.”
    “Neither can you, technically.”
    Fina waved her hand