My teeth nibble at my thumbnail. Dammit. My gut is screaming at me that it isn’t a coincidence that I have a missing file, and my gut is rarely wrong. It’s why I’m damn good at my job. I swear my gut knows things before they happen.

Shame it couldn’t predict a murder, but there we go. I’m not freakin’ Superwoman.

Time to figure out exactly which file is missing—and I have a hunch I know which one it is.

I grab my cell phone and lock my office door behind me. Stopping down the hall, I poke my head through the open door. “Hey, Marsh?”

“Yep?” Marshall looks up from his laptop. Actually, laptops. He’s surrounded by three of them and somehow using them all at the same time.

“You busy?”

“Not for you, boss.”

I smile at my twenty-two-year-old resident geek. “I need you to go through every file on record and see if any are missing. I know it’s a big job, but—”

“One is,” he says, his eyes on the middle laptop. “There’s one less file in the total documents.”

Shit. “Can you find which one? I have a paper file missing from my office, and I’m heading down to the basement now to check there.”

“Sure. I’ll come find you when I have.”

“Awesome. Thanks, doll.”

I leave him to do his freaky computer thing he does. I don’t know if I could run this business without Marsh, and I certainly couldn’t figure this out without him. I hired him a year ago for part-time work while he finished his degree in Austin, but instead of staying in the city or going back home to Houston, he came back to Holly Woods and now works for me full time. I’m not exactly sure everything he does to get me the information I ask for is legal, but if I don’t ask, I won’t feel any guilt.

So I just don’t ask.

I unlock the door to the basement I use as a records room. Every case Bond P.I. has ever taken is documented down here, and this room is part of the reason why I use paper copies for my own cases. It means I don’t have a whole bunch of printing to do at the end of a case, and if anything ever happened to the electronic things I fight against every single day, I know I have this room.

I skim through the files one by one. An agonizingly long amount of time seems to pass as I go through every single file from the last six months. My organizational skills leave plenty to be desired, so it’s not until I get to the last drawer that I know whose file is missing.

My phone rings in my pocket, buzzing against my thigh. “What?” I pull it out and balance it between my ear and shoulder.

“We have a name for our victim,” Drake says. “Thought you should hear before the gossip mill churns it out.”

“Lena Perkins,” I whisper.

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one, Ryan Perkins just came in to hire me.”

“What?” Drake explodes.

“Secondly, Julia Owens had me check out Ryan before they got married,” I explain, ignoring the random burst of anger. “He was sleeping with Lena. They’re married now. Or they were. And that’s the missing file I just told Trent about.”

“That’s no coincidence, Noelle.”

“Funnier things have happened,” I laugh dryly.

“Hold on.”

I go upstairs to Marsh’s office and swing my head inside the door, the phone line still quiet. “Did you find it?”

Marshall nods, his shaggy, brown hair flopping into his eyes. He pushes it to the side. “The Perkins file. I’m trying to recover it as we speak.”

“If you do, print it and drop it on my desk. I’m going to check the flash drive.”

“Huh?” Drake says.

“I was taking to Marshall. He’s trying to recover the digital file. It might be on my flash drive but I’m not holding out much hope.”

“Noelle, I need that file. Yesterday.”

I sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Nonna, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I have-a you a date!”

I muffle my groan by biting my hand. “I don’t have time to go on a date. I just took on a huge case.”

“That-a murder one?”

“Yes,” I answer hesitantly.

A long stream of angry Italian escapes her. “This is-a why you need a man-a! So you don’t have to work-a silly jobs!”

Oh, here we go. “Nonna, my job isn’t silly.”

“You carry a gun!”

“I’m trained to use it. I could fire a real gun before you tried switching it out for a Nerf gun and a water pistol!” I clap my hand over my eyes. “Anyway. I’m sorry, but cancel the date. My caseload is too heavy to spend evenings frolicking with your Italian blind dates.”

Another stream of Italian. With some curse words for added effect. Lovely. “Noella!”

“No, Nonna. I’m putting my foot down.” I stomp it for good measure. “No more dates. I don’t care if I’m a zitella.”

She humphs. “I invite-a him for family dinner instead-a.”

“Wait, no!” I shout, but she’s already hung up. Interfering old bat!

I groan and bury my face in my arms on my desk. Great. I have three cheating husbands to stalk—I mean, observe—a murder case to solve, my innocence to prove, and, now, Friday night dinner dates.

Just fucking shoot me.

It’d be nicer.

“Busy!” Grecia shrieks outside my door. “She is busy!”

Oh my crap. What now?

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t care.” Detective Drake Nash’s voice is strong and firm. “She has something I need.”

I groan again. Isn’t Sunday supposed to be a day of rest?

I knew I should have gone to church this morning. God is so punishing me right now.

“Quick,” I hiss as there’s a knock at my door. “Find me a rogue love rat to chase before my pain in the ass comes in.”

Bekah laughs down the phone. “Yours are all at home with their families and accounted for.”

“Fuck it.”

“Noelle?” Drake knocks again. “I know you’re in there.”

“Gotta go,” I grumble, hanging up on Bekah. “Come in.”

“This man! He has no manners!” Grecia fumes.

I look at her sympathetically. “Honey, I know. Why don’t you take your break now?”

“I will!” She shoots the imposing detective an angry look before sweeping out of the room and slamming my door so loudly that it rattles on its hinges.

I wince as it bounces open an inch before clicking back shut again. For a five-foot-nothin’ chick, she’s damn strong.

“Thanks for pissing off my assistant. Angry Grecia is so fun to deal with.” I roll my eyes and stand up. “You may as well turn around and leave, Detective. I don’t have the file yet. It’s been wiped from everything, including the flash drive it should have been on. I’ll call you if and when Marsh has it.”

Drake pins me with his gaze. “It isn’t a coincidence that your file on a murdered woman has disappeared entirely from your systems. For all I know, there’s something important in there that could crack this case open, so unless you can recite it word for word for me right the fuck now, I’m going to talk to Marshall and hurry his ass up.”

My jaw drops. Drake merely stares at me as I gape back at him.

“No?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, he adjusts his gun at his hip and yanks my door open. I stand frozen for a second before I storm after him.

“Detective Nash!” I yell at his back, making Mike look up from his desk on the other side of the hall. “You cannot come in here and harass my staff as they work!”

“Actually, sweetheart, I can. The badge says so. Mr. Wright!” He bangs on Marshall’s door.

“No, you can’t—especially when they’re working for somethin’ you want!”

Drake cuts his cold eyes to me and knocks again. “Mr. Wright!”

“Detective Nash.” Marshall opens the door. “I’m afraid I don’t have what you need, sir, and even if I did, I couldn’t give it until Noelle has checked it to make sure it’s complete.”

I shoot Drake a triumphant yet angry smirk.