The apartment was a square. A small eat-in kitchen opened to a living room. A hallway presumably led to the single bedroom and bath. Through sliding glass doors, a tiny patio overlooked a strip of grass and the parking lot beyond. No fancy views.

The best word to describe Fiona was cute. Dressed in yoga pants and an oversize shirt, she was a little thing—maybe an inch over five feet tall—perky and fit, with big brown eyes and curly brown hair cut short.

After offering them coffee, which they declined, she sat on a futon-type sofa and curled her legs underneath her body in a way that made Lance’s knees hurt.

Morgan sat on the futon with Fiona while Lance eased carefully into a modern, metal-framed chair that looked as if it might snap shut at any moment.

“Where did you meet Chelsea?” Morgan started.

Fiona shifted her position and hugged her knees to her chest. “At the yoga studio. I teach there a few nights a week.”

Lance leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “How often did Chelsea come to class?”

“Before she had William, she came three times a week. She practiced right up until she gave birth,” Fiona said. “But afterward, she was a mess.”

“Babies are a handful,” Morgan commiserated. “And I hear William is particularly difficult.”

Fiona’s lips mashed flat. “Especially if your husband makes no attempt to help. I don’t understand why Chelsea put up with him. She did everything.”

Morgan tilted her head and nodded.

Tim might not have helped much with the baby, but he clearly went to work and paid the bills. But Lance was not going to argue. He kept his mouth firmly shut. Arguing with a witness wasn’t the best way to encourage the free flow of information.

Anger sharpened Fiona’s tone. “I stopped by to see her a couple of times a week. All she did was cry. I was worried she had postpartum depression.”

“Did you talk to her about it?” Morgan asked.

Fiona nodded, her eyes shining with moisture. She grabbed a tissue from a box on the coffee table and blotted her eyes. “I did. I tried to get her to see a psychiatrist. She said she just needed some sleep.” Fiona blew her nose. “In Tim’s defense, the baby wouldn’t drink from a bottle, and Chelsea refused to be firm. She gave in every time. She’s a pushover when it comes to her kids. I kept telling her if she was out of the house, the baby would figure it out.” Fiona lowered the tissue to her lap. “And Tim would have to do more.”

“You don’t think Tim had anything to do with her disappearance, do you?” Lance asked.

Fiona looked horrified. “No. God. No. I didn’t mean anything like that. Tim’s a perfectly nice guy. He’s just clueless and, frankly, a little whiny.”

Morgan leaned forward a little. “Fiona, I hate to even ask this, but I have to.”

Fiona’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

“Is there any chance that Chelsea was so desperate that she needed to get away for a little while?”

“Are you asking me if Chelsea left her family?” Fiona asked.

“Yes.” Morgan nodded. “Part of lending fresh eyes to the case means we have to consider every possibility.”

Fiona shook her head hard. “No. No way. Chelsea loves those kids to death. She’d never leave them.”

“What about Tim? Would she ever leave Tim?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think so.” But Fiona didn’t seem as adamant. “She excuses everything he does. ‘Tim goes to work all day. Tim’s tired. He’s great with Bella.’ That sort of thing. But even as she says it, you can tell she doesn’t think he helps out enough. But even if she was mad at Tim, she would never leave her kids.”

Morgan nodded. “She sounds like a wonderful mom and wife.”

“She is.” Fiona sniffed again.

“It’s a shame she and Tim were going through a rough patch,” Morgan empathized.

“It wasn’t just a rough patch.” Fiona shook her head. “They were having problems long before now.”

Morgan tilted her head. “What kind of problems?”

“Tim worked too much. Last year, Chelsea told me she felt like they were growing apart.” Fiona’s mouth twisted. “Then she did something really stupid. She got pregnant. I told her another baby would only make their problems worse, but she thought it would bring them together again.”

“But it didn’t,” Lance said.

“No.” Fiona sniffed.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Lance asked.

“I stopped by their house on Wednesday,” Fiona said.

“Was anything odd about her appearance or behavior?” he pressed.

“She was tired.” Fiona tossed her tissue in a wastebasket. “She’d just gotten back from a run. I watched the kids so she could take a quick shower.”

“How was William?”

“I tried to do a puzzle with Bella, but I ended up just walking in circles with the baby instead. He cried the whole time she was out of his sight.” Fiona picked at a fingernail. “But that’s normal for him.”

“The crying didn’t bother you?” Morgan asked. “My youngest was colicky. The screaming can get to you after hours and hours of it.”

Fiona shuddered. “It was nerve-racking, but I wanted to help. I don’t know how Chelsea stands listening to him bawl day and night.”

Lance added, “But other than the crying baby, nothing seemed abnormal?”

“No.” Fiona used her fingertips to swipe a tear from under one eye.

“Were you surprised when she didn’t show up on Friday night?” Morgan asked.

Fiona shook her head. “No. We were supposed to meet two weeks ago, but Chelsea was a no-show. I called her and she didn’t answer. I worried all night. The next morning, she sent me a text apologizing for blowing me off, saying William had had a bad night. God forbid Tim handle the baby for one evening.”

“So Friday night, you assumed the same thing had happened,” Morgan said. “When did you talk to Chelsea last?”

“Around seven. She was really excited to see me.” Fiona ignored a second tear. Her eyes were bright with tears as she lifted her gaze to Morgan and then Lance. “So where is she?”

“We’re going to do everything we can to find her.” Morgan asked a few more personal questions about Chelsea, but all of Fiona’s answers matched Tim’s.

“Please call me if you have any more questions,” Fiona said as she escorted them to the door. “I’ll do anything to help find Chelsea.”

Back in the Jeep, Lance started the engine. “What do you think? Is she being too hard on Tim or is he a self-absorbed jerk?”

“Hard to say.” Morgan set her bag on the floor. “Keep in mind, Fiona isn’t married and doesn’t have kids. From the outside, it may have appeared as if Chelsea was on her own. Who knew what it was really like? When Tim was in our office, he might not have seemed completely comfortable with the baby, but he was hardly incompetent. Clearly, he’s handled a baby in the past.”

“You’re probably right. Their little girl acted very comfortable with him this afternoon.” Lance drove toward the office. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

Morgan checked the time on her phone. “We don’t have much time before our meeting with Tim’s boss at Speed Net.”