a harried, female voice responded. “Mrs. Richards?” Chase leaned closer to the callbox. “Yes?” the woman shouted over the crying in the background. “We’re here to talk about your husband, Dr. Richards,” Chase announced, his voice radiating authority. “Oh, thank goodness!” The woman breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll be right down.” Exchanging a look of surprise, Angela and Chase waited at the front door, the picture of professionalism. Minutes later, a young blonde woman, with a toddler on her hip, and wearing a stained blouse, opened the door to the brownstone. “I’m Melody, Allen’s wife. Thank God the police finally sent someone over.” Unsure why Melody Richards needed to speak with the police, Chase simply waited for her to continue rambling. She ushered them into a messy family room and handed the sobbing toddler a bottle before setting him in a playpen. “I’ve called several times to report Allen missing, but no one would help me.” Richards is missing? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me? Chase sighed internally and prepared to direct the conversation where he needed it to go. “When did you last see your husband, Mrs.
