“Who are you tailin’?”

A face appears at my window, and I drop my phone. I press the button to roll the barricade down.

“That’s confidential. What are you doing here?”

Drake leans his forearm across the bottom of the window so I can’t roll it back up. “I stopped by your place to give you your keys. We went through your building earlier and it’s clear there’s nothin’ there and that Jane Doe was planted in the Dumpster.”

I take the keys he hands me, my eyes narrowed. “Why would she be planted there? In broad daylight, too. It makes no sense.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Along with her identity. Tim is waiting for dental records before he identifies her.”

“Do you know the cause of death yet?”

“Confidential,” Drake replies, straightening. “I couldn’t tell you even if I liked you a tiny bit.”

I smile tightly. “Well, thanks for my keys. I have to get back to work now.”

He looks between me and the restaurant. Then his eyes fall on the cupcakes. “Oh yeah. You’re workin’ real hard over here, Noelle.”

Staring at him, unimpressed, I press the window button. He moves his arm as soon as the glass rises, but he curls his fingers over the top.

“Oh, and don’t leave town. Your building was clear, but you and your staff aren’t.”

“I have an alibi, and so does Bekah,” I remind him. “We were together.”

“Convenient,” he drawls.

“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating.” I jab my finger on the window button and it jerks up another centimeter.

“I’m not insinuating anything, Ms. Bond. Merely stating the obvious.”

“Merely pissing me off, more like,” I say under my breath.

“I heard that,” Drake mutters. Straightening, he asks, “What about the others?”

I hover my finger over the window button again. “Maybe you should do your job properly and ask them, Detective.”

I rub my temples, leaning forward on my desk. The cops didn’t do much in the way of tidying after they’d finished ransacking everyone’s offices, and Detective Drake Nash took my fucking coffee. The man gets a strange kind of pleasure out of messing with me, I swear.

Because of the lack of fucks given by HWPD’s homicide rookies who searched my workplace, we’ve all spent the whole morning cleaning up and reorganizing all of our files. Neither of which is one of my favorite things, especially since one of my files is missing.

I never throw my files out. Most of them are kept on a flash drive, but I like to print the basic information. It’s easier than transferring the documents between my laptop, phone, and tablet, depending on what I’m using. And, uh, what happens to have battery. Call me old school, but it’s how I know that one of them is gone.

I dial Trent’s number.

“Detective Bond.”

“It’s me,” I say. “I have a question.”

“Shoot. I’m busy.”

“Did y’all take anything from here yesterday?”

“No,” he says instantly. “You know I’d have told you if we needed to take something.”

“Shit.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Whoa, Noelle. Wait. What’s up?”

“I’m just a file missing is all. I guess it got lost when y’all tore this place apart. Probably ended up in the trash or something.”

“Sorry,” Trent says. “Damn rookies don’t know how to clean up after themselves.”

“And Drake Nash didn’t give a shit,” I finish for him. “Never mind. I’ll keep looking. Thanks.” I drop the phone back onto the hook and sit back. Before I have time to think over my newest predicament, though, there are three knocks at my door. “Come in.”

“Noelle? Are you busy?” Bekah pokes her head through.

“No, no. What’s up?”

“Ryan Perkins is here to see you.” She pulls a face. “Grecia called me since your line was busy.”

“I was talking to Trent. Why is Ryan Perkins here?”

Six months ago, I busted Ryan Perkins for cheating on his fiancée. Needless to say, my excitement for this meeting is at level zero right now.

“He didn’t say. Just that it’s real important.” She shrugs. “I suggested to Grecia we call the guy who deals with strays, but she told me to stop being a bitch.”

I cough to hide my laugh. “Okay. Tell her to send him up. It’s not like I have anything else to do.” Except look for my missing file. Although I have to admit that my interest is piqued. What could he possibly want me for?

Bekah leaves, and seconds later, there’s another knock at the door. “Mr. Perkins,” I say, opening it. “Please come in.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bond. And please, call me Ryan.” He shakes my hand.

“Then call me Noelle.” I smile politely and walk around my desk. “Take a seat. What can I do for you?”

He swallows heavily, and his eyes dampen. “Lena’s dead,” he whispers.

A chill cascades down my spine.

“Detective Nash came to see me this morning. She’s the body your guy found.”

Oh. Shit.

“Ryan, I’m so sorry. She was a good friend of mine.”

Her boutique stocks the best clothes, and she was always impeccably dressed. She was also one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. This isn’t fair.

“I can’t believe she’s gone. My beautiful Lena.” He covers his mouth with his hand and looks away.

I wait patiently for him to gather himself again, and when he does, the sadness in his eyes is highlighted by a steely determination that makes his jaw set hard.

“I want to hire you. You have to find who did this to her.”

I blink quickly as his words hit me. “I’m not sure I can, Ryan. I’m close to this case, not to mention a suspect in the eyes of HWPD.”

“Which is why you have to do it.” He leans forward and grabs my hand, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. “Please, Noelle. Please. I’ll pay you anything.”

I want to say no. I thought I’d left chasing murderers behind when I left Dallas. That was the plan, anyway. I was going to come back to Holly Woods and following cheating spouses and all other kinds of menial little jobs. I was never supposed to do this again—big jobs where it’s too easy to screw it all up.

But as I look into the eyes of a man who’s just had his heart ripped out brutally, doubt creeps in. One case won’t kill me, if you’ll pardon the pun. All I have to do is discover the identity of the killer then hand my brother all the information I’ve gathered.

Shit though. I don’t want to be running around after crazy shits again. If I wanted to do that, I’d have stayed in Dallas or trained to be a pre-K teacher.

Ryan Perkins looks at me with tears shining in his eyes, and despite my reservations, I know there’s no way I can turn this down.

“All right. I’ll do it. You have to understand that I may not solve it and the police are in a much better position than I am to find who killed her,” I explain softly. “They have access to forensics and reports I can only get by breaking and entering, and I’m no good to you at all if I’m in jail.”

Ryan nods slowly. “I understand. How much is your retainer?”

I tell him a figure two-thirds of my normal price.

“That’s not what Julie paid you.” He looks at me contemplatively, referring to his ex-fiancée.

“I have a personal interest in this case,” is my reply. I want to find Lena’s killer almost as much as I want Detective Nash’s nose out of my backside.

“Thank you,” Ryan says, ripping a check out of his book.

I take the slip of paper and nod. “Thank you.” After tucking it into a drawer, I pull a notepad and pen out and pass them to him. “I’m going to need to know everything she’s done over the last few days. Who she’s been in contact with, if you’ve seemed suspicious about anything, her schedule—that type of thing. Can I get you a coffee?”

“That would be great,” he says weakly, staring at the pad. “I’ll write down everything I know.”

I pick up the phone and dial Grecia, hoping she already went out to get coffee. “Perfect.”