I was finally asleep when she grabbed my dick, wanting to go for round two. Instead of putting her off I played with her, not thinking for a second that she’d lose it like that. I should know better by now than to hold on to expectations when it comes to Cora. She constantly throws me. Before I knew it I’d gone too far, making her come that second time. I almost thrust all the way into her. If I hadn’t slipped up instead of in I would’ve climaxed inside her instead of on top of her. I was nothing but a thief, selfishly trying to steal what wasn’t mine.

“Isn’t it time for you to leave to go meet Zelda?” Cora asks.

I was so busy trying to look busy and avoid Cora that I almost forgot about the appointment. “Yeah.” I grab my notebook and stand to go.

“I’ll be here when you get back.” She hasn’t looked up from her computer once during this exchange. Her absolute if-you-don’t-give-a-fuck-I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude throws me. She’s not like other girls. I have to remind myself to stop treating her like she is.

“Okay. See you.” I scoot out with everything lingering between us.

I’m almost to the outside door when Savannah’s voice stops me. “So you fucked her, huh?”

I whip my head around. “Excuse me?”

“You’re escaping like you did something wrong and she’s pretty much ignored you all day. I know the signs. I’ve been on the other side of your love-’em-and-leave-’em antics.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I do and she’s too fucking right.

She lets out a sigh and leans back in her chair. “When are you going to grow some balls?”

I shake my head. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

She gets up from her desk and comes around it toward me. “Here’s the thing: I like Cora. She thinks I hate her, but I don’t. What I hate is you acting like women are just there to get you off and nothing more. You like the chase. The problem is you don’t know what to do when it’s over. Cora strikes me as someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with guys like you.

“Hell, I bet she doesn’t have a lot of experience with guys, period. And then you walk into her life all movie-star hair”—she flicks my hair—“and I-fuck-like-a-god stare. And she falls on her back because let’s face it, you back up that swagger with real skill. Then, after you get what you want, you’re all Peace out. Am I close to what happened since I saw you yesterday?”

I loathe her. I think I honestly hate her. I also hate myself because she’s fucking right.

Shaking her head, she takes my silence as confirmation. “When are you going to grow the fuck up?”

“I don’t have time for this.” I split because, hey, it’s apparently what I do best.

I’m halfway down the stairs before it hits me what an asshole I’ve been. Like truly a big giant fucking asshole. Instead of avoiding my issues with Cora I should’ve just spelled them out for her. I’m not boyfriend material. Savannah only confirmed what I already knew. I’m not the stick-around type. I’m in it only until I get what I want. Then I lose interest like some kind of ADHD sex addict. I’m surprised I stuck around with Cora long enough to wipe my cum off her stomach. That must be some kind of record for me, some new emotionally mature high I’ll never achieve again.

I tear out of the parking lot like my ass is on fire, when, in truth, all of me is burning. I can hardly stand to be in my own skin. It feels like it’s going to melt off me and reveal the true me to the world, the one beyond the movie-star hair and I-fuck-like-a-god stare. And who would want me then? What am I if I’m not exactly what people expect?

I’m so in my head that I miss the turn to Zelda’s house and have to go back. That’s when I notice the car following me. It makes the same illegal U-turn in the middle of the road that I do. I pass Zelda’s street on the right and turn left instead. The car follows. We wind our way through the neighborhood. I know these streets. My friend John lived here. Now he’s living in New York working as a stockbroker. If I make a left, then a right…Aha, there it is.

I circle around the cul-de-sac and stop. The car does the same, only it doesn’t stop. It keeps going past me. The windows are tinted too dark to see who’s driving. I pull out after it and now the chasee becomes the chaser. There are no plates to run. If I don’t keep this guy in sight I’ll never find out who he is and what he wants. Although I have a feeling I know—the same guy who broke into Cora’s place and called her parents.

I can’t let him out of my eyesight.

He goes back the way we came and then out onto the main road. He makes a risky left, cutting off another car, and hits the gas. I have to wait for traffic. By the time it’s clear I’ve lost him. He’s nowhere in sight. I circle back, thinking he might have too, but he’s gone. I pull into a fast-food restaurant parking lot and pull out my cell to call my dad. What am I going to tell him? A black Mustang with no plates followed me? There’s nothing for him to go on. If only I’d gotten a look at the guy. I might have recognized him.

He wanted me to spot him. He was bold enough to out himself making that U-turn. Why? Is it more of the same scare tactics and intimidation? And I almost led him straight to Zelda’s house.

Zelda wasn’t easy to find. She got married and changed her name. The house is in her husband’s mother’s maiden name. It’s almost like she didn’t want to be found. So why did she agree to meet with me?

I retrace my route, watching carefully for another tail. There isn’t one, as far as I can tell. I feel safe enough to go to Zelda’s house. She’s a piece of the puzzle we desperately need. I pull up in front of the house and stare. It’s empty. I can tell by the For Sale sign out front, the lockbox on the door handle, and the lack of window coverings. Zelda struck me as someone who would insist on fussy curtains. I don’t know why. We had only one brief phone conversation. It’s just an impression I got.

I climb out of the car and go up the walk. The porch is littered with business cards and flyers. A peek in the window confirms my suspicions. Gone. Zelda is gone. I pull out my cell, hit redial on her number, and immediately get a message that the phone’s been disconnected. Son of a bitch! How am I going to tell Cora that our one good lead on Mrs. Wheeler skipped town?

I start to go back to my car, but the twitch of the curtains on the house across the street catches my eye. Nosey neighbors are a PI’s best friend, I can hear my dad say. I hope to hell he’s right about that.

I cross the street and knock on the door. Inside I can hear the thunk thunk of a cane on a wood floor. Pasting on my most sincere smile, I stand still for what I’m sure is an inspection through the peephole. After a few moments, the lock turns, then the knob, and I come face-to-face with a little old lady who reminds me of my own gran.

“Hello,” I say. “I’m looking for your neighbor.” I point across the street. “Zelda Marks Ramirez. Do you happen to know where she’s moved to?”

“No one’s lived in that house for a couple weeks.”

Damn. “You wouldn’t have a phone number or address for her, would you?”

She squints up at me. “What do you want with it?”

“I’m a law student studying a trial she was a witness in—the Cassandra Williams murder. Do you remember it?”

“Oh, my, yes. My nephew’s son went to school with that poor young woman. Zelda never said anything about being a witness though.”

“She was Cassandra’s across-the-hall neighbor. She found her body.”

“Oh, dear.” She shakes her head sadly. “Poor thing.”

“I was supposed to have an appointment today with Zelda, but I guess we got our wires crossed.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Zelda’s had, shall we say, a lot on her plate lately with the passing of her husband and being evicted from her mother-in-law’s house.” She gestures across the street. “And there it sits, empty. It would’ve cost that woman nothing to let her daughter-in-law stay there while she gets things sorted. But Gert isn’t the type of person to do a kindness for another. A Sunday Christian if I ever met one.”