Madeline kicked off her heels at the door, the strap of her pink bag slipping from her shoulder as she caught the sound of Richard’s voice echoing from the den. She paused, listening.
“She left her phone, yes. No, I don’t know where she is—what do you mean did I check the lake? Why would she—no. Her car’s still here.” He sounded rattled, frantic, pacing like a caged dog.
Madeline rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Please let there not be a half-naked yoga instructor in the kitchen again.”
She padded toward the den, her footsteps light. Richard’s back was to her, one hand gesturing wildly as the other gripped his phone. “Look, if something happened—oh. Oh. Wait. Never mind. She’s home.”
He turned around mid-sentence and froze when he saw her standing there. Her hair was tou
