Page 8 of Someone Knows

J-O-C-E-L-Y-N B-U-R-T-O-N

More than seventeen thousand hits. I try addingFloridaat the end, since that’s where she went after leaving Louisiana, but it doesn’t narrow it down much. So I spend the better part of three hours scrolling page after page, looking for anything that seems like her. But I come up empty.

I slump back into the chair and sigh.Wheredo I go from here?I want to reach out to Ivy and Jocelyn, but we made a pact before I left—never to contact each other and never to talk about anything that happened with anyone. Jocelyn was adamant that we never cross paths again, and it looks as though she made sure we wouldn’t.

As if on cue, my phone vibrates. It’s Sam. I haven’t heard from him since I canceled getting together last week.

Sam:Any chance you’re free tonight?

My first instinct is to say no. But then I glance again at the screen in front of me. Seventeen thousand, one hundred and forty-eight hits for Jocelyn Burton. There must be a better way to find her, and to find Hannah Greer. Who better than a police detective to give me some guidance? I nibble on my lip, debating for a few minutes, before finally typing back.

Elizabeth:Sure. My place or yours?

I wind up meeting Sam at a restaurant, rather than one of our apartments like we usually do when we get together.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” He smiles as we eat. “I mean, what we usually do is pretty damn nice, too. But I like taking you out. We should do it more often.”

Shoot.This was a mistake. I knew it when he suggested meeting for dinner, but I didn’t push back. Sam seems like a great guy. Not once in the few months we’ve been getting together has he shown any red flags. He’s been a perfect gentleman, except in the bedroom, where he’s aggressive, which I rather like. But I learned years ago to be up front with the expectations I have of men. Most are thrilled to find a woman only looking for sex. Once you take the next step, it’s difficult to pull back without upsetting theother person.

After we’ve finished, I look him in the eyes. “I like you, Sam. You seem like a genuinely nice guy.”

He frowns. “I hear abutcoming . . .”

I smile sadly. “But I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“It was just dinner.”

“I know. But I want to be up front with you.”

He sighs. “Is it me?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s me.”

“We haven’t talked too much about our previous partners. Did something happen to sour you on relationships?”

You mean like a deadbeat dad, a string of “uncles” who used my mother, and a teacher who abused the trust of my best friend?Yet I shake my head. “No. I just like to keep things simple.”

Sam rakes a hand through his hair. “All right. If that’s the way you want it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, trying to make light of the moment, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The alternative isn’t a bad consolation prize.”

A few minutes later, the waitress brings the check. Sam takes out his credit card and sticks it in the leather padfolio.

I hold out my hand. “I’d like to pay half, if you don’t mind. I’ll give you cash.”

Sam frowns. “Really? You can’t let me pay for one meal? Do you want the receipt for the condoms, too? Maybe we can calculate how much one from the box costs and you can leave the cash on the nightstand before you slip out each time?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just prefer to pay my own way.”

Sam says something under his breath and tosses a few twenties into the check holder, taking his card back out. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

I open my wallet and count fifty dollars. But as I pull the cash from the compartment, something tuckedbetween the bills falls out—a slip of paper. It floats to the floor, closer to Sam’s feet, and he reaches down and picks it up, extending it to me across the table.

“Louisiana, right?” he says.

I freeze. “What?”

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