DIME A DOZEN

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

DIME A DOZEN

First edition. July 28, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Gina LaManna.

Written by Gina LaManna.

This one is dedicated to Stacia, for driving over 5000 miles to collect a stack of books! 

Special Thanks:

To Alex and Leo and Max and Beau—You boys have my heart! я тебя люблю!

To my family—I love you!

To Stacia—Not only my editor but a best friend as well.

Blurb

Detective Kate Rosetti is at the top of her career. She’s catching bad guys, thwarting crooks, and putting murderers behind bars. Not to mention, she’s finally in a committed relationship with her billionaire boyfriend. Kate’s next case is sure to be edgy and dangerous, filled with media attention... and located at a nursing home?

When a family friend is found dead in his bed, an autopsy is ordered, and lo and behold—the cause of his death wasn’t so natural after all. At the same time, Jack Russo is knee-deep in a huge federal case that’s bled into the Twin Cities. When he asks Kate for help, she’s reluctant because it will not only put her in danger, but Alastair Gem as well.

As the two cases wind their way to dangerous conclusions, Kate needs to put handcuffs on the men, or women, responsible before it’s too late. Otherwise, she won’t be the only one getting hurt: she could lose the people she loves the most.

Chapter 1

“Isee that side-eye.” Jimmy looked at me. “You can’t side-eye a nursing home, even if you are Kate Rosetti. It’s downright immoral.”

“I’m not side-eyeing anything!” I glanced at Jimmy, then back at the nursing home, which rose before us, all manicured lawn and bland brick. There had been a little side-eye happening, if I was being truthful. Not that I’d ever admit that to Jimmy. “It wasn’t a side-eye. It was a healthy dose of skepticism.”

“Do you really think your bald-faced lies work on me? I can read you like a picture book.” Jimmy smirked. “Is this case beneath Kate the Great? Isn’t that what they called you in the Tribune?”

“What’re you getting at, Jones?”

My partner, Jimmy Jones, and I stood outside of a nursing home. Though, if he kept up this sort of talk, he’d be my ex-partner pretty quick. Not really, but I liked to think a big game.

“The fame getting to your head?” Jimmy grinned broadly. “I knew it was only a matter of time. What with your explosive career and your new boy toy, I can see how this case might be beneath you.”

“The only explosive thing in this relationship is your stomach after your wife makes chili,” I shot back. “And Gem is not my new boy toy. Where do you even learn terms like that?”

Jimmy practically giggled. Downright tittered. The man didn’t often get under my skin, and he was giddy at how flustered he’d gotten me. I actually had to fan myself because I could feel my face getting all warmish under his early-morning barrage.

It was barely eight o’clock in the morning, and I felt like the sun was beating down on me in a desert. Really, it was the start of what was sure to be a beautiful fall day in Minnesota. The first week of September could be hit or miss when it came to the weather, but when it was a hit, it was a hit.

Temperatures in the seventies, sunny, crisp mornings that lent themselves to visions of apple picking and bonfires and hot cider. Evenings brimming with life as families returned from vacations, prepared for school, and packed in the last few days of summer vacation, spending every spare moment of time outside until the streetlights were on and dusk had well and truly slipped into night.

“I’m not side-eyeing anything,” I insisted again. “I’m just feeling a little awkward about being here. I’m only doing it as a favor to Jane.”

“So we poke our heads in, ask a few questions, call it a day.” Jimmy shrugged. “We’ll be out of here in time to grab McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches on the way back to the office. You got someplace else you need to be?”

“Ha-ha.” I nodded at the doors. “Let’s get this over with.”

I’d been woken this morning by a phone call from my sister. I’d immediately panicked when I’d seen her name on my phone at 6:00 a.m., considering she’d been so fatigued with pregnancy these last few weeks, she spent the better part of her free time sleeping. I’d been worried something had gone wrong with the baby.

The baby was fine, thankfully, but unfortunately, Wes’s uncle was not. Wes Remmington, Jane’s husband and my boyfriend’s best friend, had gotten a call that his uncle had passed away in a nursing home. The nursing home had shared that Declan Remmington had died peacefully in his sleep.

Apparently, Wes didn’t believe them. That was why Jimmy and I were standing outside of a nursing home at eight o’clock in the morning... with a healthy dose of side-eye.

“I’m sure it’s just one of them stages of grief,” Jimmy said, as if sensing my hesitation. “Wes is probably under a lot of stress. He works a big-time job for Gem. His wife is pregnant. He’s probably not sleeping well. Then he gets news that his uncle dies, and it’s the straw that breaks the proverbial camel’s back. He can’t deal, can’t believe it’s true. So Wes convinces himself it was murder.”

“Because murder is easier to deal with than a peaceful, natural death due to old age?” More skepticism from me. “I don’t know. Wes is pretty levelheaded. He’s the logical one to balance out Jane.”

“Sure, normally. But when a person is stressed and gets emotional news, they don’t always react with logic. I figure that’s something you probably know already, seeing as you’re a homicide detective, and you see people reacting all sorts of ways to untimely deaths.”

I conceded his point with a shrug of one shoulder.

Jimmy pulled open the door to the nursing home and let me in first. The nursing home was obviously supposed to look like a sprawling, welcoming manor. The grounds were well kept, and green lawns rolled away from the building in every direction like fluffy green rugs. The building itself was all beiges and bricks, very inoffensive and unexciting.

I couldn’t help but think it felt more like a penitentiary. There wasn’t a lot of personality. People weren’t out wandering the grounds. Sure, it was 8:00 a.m., but it was quiet, eerie almost, despite the pretty sunshine, and I couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding rolling down my spine.

“Can we make a pact?” I asked Jimmy as we entered an almost sterile-white environment.

Jimmy lowered his voice, leaned in close. “If either of us end up in a place like this, we shoot each other?”

“I wasn’t going to go that far,” I said. “I was thinking, maybe you get Jane’s kid to take me in or something, but okay.”

Jimmy cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, Rosetti. I don’t plan on living that long. All that chicken and doughnuts gotta catch up to me sometime.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll consider shooting you,” I said. “Lovingly, of course. You’re going to live to a hundred and twenty years old—nonnegotiable.”

“I don’t know; retirement is looking pretty good right about now.” Jimmy sniffed, and I wondered if he was noting the scent of lemony cleaning products. “I might as well live my life before I get put in a home.”

“You’d be bored out of your mind if you retired,” I said. “Plus, the paper chain around your office is longer than ever. I had to practically swim through rings to get to my desk this morning.”

Jimmy muttered something that sounded like, “Trucking Russo.”

I snorted a laugh.

“You won’t be laughing when I burn those chains on my last day in the office,” Jimmy informed me. “Mark my words, Rosetti. You’re going to be crying at my paper chain Viking funeral when all of Russo’s work goes up in literal flames.”

“That sounds like a threat, Jimmy.”

“Damn right.”

We reached the front desk of Sunset Acres. The lobby was welcoming, but in a way that was trying a little too hard. Too much white, too little faux greenery. I got doctor’s office vibes, and that was being generous. I just didn’t feel right thinking the word “asylum”—and yet there I was, thinking that word “asylum” again.

A twentysomething Asian woman waited behind a sleek white desk. She patiently watched us approach, looking so pretty, so perfectly still, it was almost Stepford in nature.

Her black hair was cropped in a fresh bob, and she wore an all-black business suit. She smiled with rose-red lips, her nails long and clicking on the keyboard; she didn’t stop typing until we were leaning against the counter.

The only personal element in the whole place was a picture on her desk. It was a picture of the woman typing and someone I’d guess was her mother. It was the single burst of humanity in this place.

I scanned for a name tag and found her name to be Amy Lee.

“Hi, Amy,” I said. “I think you got a call that we’d be here this morning. It’s related to Declan Remmington.”

Immediately, Amy’s smile faltered. “Oh, right. I’m so sorry for your loss. You’re here on behalf of Wes and Jane Remmington?”

It was still new, hearing my sister’s new last name. I was already rattled from my conversation with Jimmy, and it took me a beat longer than normal to reply as my brain filtered in the appropriate information.

Jimmy jumped in, pulling out his badge and nudging me to do the same. For the amount of time Jimmy and I spent ribbing one another and low-key offering to shoot each other, I could finally admit that I loved the man. Outright loved him, in a very, very exceptionally platonic sort of way.

We’d been partners for many years now. We’d been through cases that had just about killed one or both of us, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could trust him with my life.

It was something I was learning not to take for granted. Partners like Jimmy didn’t come around every day, and even though we teased him about retirement, the thing was—he was getting close to it becoming a reality.

Technically, he was already there. I just didn’t want to believe it. I probably wouldn’t believe it until his desk sat empty, and that was a thought I simply couldn’t allow myself to have, or else I’d find it incapacitating.

“Thank you,” Amy said, studying our badges. She gave us a perfunctory smile. “Though, to be honest, I can’t understand what I can do for you. I’ve been informed that Mr. Remmington died peacefully in his sleep.”

“His next of kin are requesting an autopsy,” I said. “I thought we might ask a few questions, just to get a feel for Mr. Remmington’s life around here.”

I already had my “cooperation will look good on the part of Sunset Acres in the event of foul play” speech prepared, but to my pleasant surprise, it was unnecessary.

“Of course.” Amy’s smile turned up a notch. “At Sunset Acres, we pride ourselves on excellent care for all our residents. That care extends to their families, and if it will make Mr. Remmington’s family feel more comfortable, then we’d be happy to oblige.”

I nodded, glanced at Jimmy, wondering if he was getting those reverberating Stepford vibes too. One glance at the thin set of his lips, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

Amy’s answer felt canned. She’d known we were coming. I wondered if she’d been coached on what to say and how to cooperate. It most certainly didn’t point to guilt. But it was an observation I’d pocket for later.

“Let’s start with you,” I said. “Is there some place we can talk in private?”

TEN MINUTES LATER, Amy settled into a seat in a small office offset from the lobby. She sat across the desk from me and Jimmy. On it, she set a tray of three coffee cups, along with sugar and creamer.

Normally, Jimmy and I didn’t take people up on their offers of coffee. Usually, it was proffered as a formality. Most people didn’t actually want to sit around and chitchat with two homicide detectives. It usually meant something untoward had happened, and a coffee date wasn’t exactly on their radar.

But Amy had gone through the effort of preparing a perfectly set tray, and since it was early, and the coffee smelled delicious and was steaming hot, we both accepted.

“Sorry I don’t have some munchies available,” Amy said with a frown. “I’d offer to run down to the cafeteria and grab something, but I imagine you both would like to get started.”

Jimmy was looking a little too tempted by the idea of a pastry and “some munchies” to accompany his coffee, so I shook my head and responded for the both of us. “Thanks, but we’d prefer to keep things moving. Can you tell me a little bit about Sunset Acres in general? Who lives here; what does a typical day look like?”

“Of course. I’ve been working at Sunset Acres for four years. I love it,” Amy said, taking a dainty sip of her coffee. “As for who lives here, our residents vary in age between mid-sixties and up. Right now, our oldest is ninety-eight.”

“Is it hard to get in here?”

“We do have a waiting list,” Amy said. “It can get quite lengthy at times, depending on resident... turnover.”

I cleared my throat. She obviously meant people dying. People like Declan Remmington.

“I’m not surprised this is a popular facility,” I said finally. “It seems like a nice place.”

“It’s really wonderful,” Amy gushed, seeming to crack her stoic façade for the first time. Her eyes lit up like she believed in what she was saying. “We have excellent staff, and residents here have the opportunity to engage in all sorts of interesting classes and activities.”

“Like?” I asked.

“We have cooking lessons, art demonstrations, and a swimming pool. We’re raising funding to get a pickleball court for some of our more active residents. All sorts of yoga and movement classes. Sometimes we take residents out for brief day trips or excursions if and when it’s appropriate.”

“It sounds lovely,” I said. “It’s no wonder there’s a waiting list. I wonder if people on the list might get competitive?”

Amy’s perfect skin wrinkled as she furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand what you mean?” Then she gasped. “You think someone killed Declan Remmington so there’d be an opening here? No.” Amy shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. The waiting list is confidential, anyway.”

“Sure, but the residents aren’t,” I said. “If someone has had a parent on the waiting list for a while, I’m just saying, it could be tempting to give someone else a nudge.”

“A nudge, like murder?”

“Trust me,” Jimmy said, “we’ve seen people killed for less. It’s definitely possible.”

“Then it is highly unlikely.” Amy seemed to have forgotten about her coffee cup. Her fingers tapped the tabletop incessantly. “Not to mention, we have security here. We have cameras on the exterior and even a few in the interior. There’s one that monitors the lobby and the main hall. There are not cameras everywhere, obviously. Not in patient rooms, in some hallways or movement rooms, restrooms, offices, etcetera.”

“If needed, would we be able to review the footage from those cameras?” I asked.

“I suppose so,” Amy said, biting her lip. “Though I suppose you’d need to go through the proper legal channels to do so. Like, a warrant or something.”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ll know more after the autopsy.”

“Autopsy,” Amy repeated. “I just don’t understand how could someone could have killed him.”

“Lucky thing that’s our job,” I said. “What’s security like around here besides a couple of cameras?”

“We have one main entrance, the one you came in this morning.”

“Are you full time?” I asked.

“I work eight to five, Monday through Friday. There are three other girls who work the front desk too. Danica has been out on vacation for a week, and Melissa is on maternity leave. So it’s mostly been me and Lucy covering the desk. She comes in for the evening shift and on weekends. Occasionally, we’ll trade off. You know, I’ll take a Saturday, or stay late, or vice versa.” Amy shrugged. “It’s only temporary that we’re so short-staffed, and who can’t use a little overtime?”

“Detective Rosetti is the queen of overtime.” Jimmy inclined his head toward me. “Sometimes I can’t tear this one away from the job.”

“Really?” Amy wrinkled her nose in a way that made her look almost adolescent. “Dead bodies?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good homicide.” I looked down at the notebook I’d pulled out and set on my lap. “Is it possible someone could’ve slipped in unnoticed while you were on a bathroom break?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but usually I ask someone to cover the desk for me. One of the nurses on staff usually gives me an hour lunch break, along with a few fifteen-minute breaks throughout the day. So, while unlikely, it’s possible. The cameras would have picked up on that, though.”

“What about individual rooms?” I asked. “Are they locked down pretty tightly?”

“This isn’t a prison.” Amy sounded a little offended. “We don’t lock anyone down, unless there’s some sort of medical reason why we might need to do so for a resident’s safety. However, visitors are not allowed after six p.m., most days. Occasionally, we make exceptions or have extended visiting hours for special occasions.”

“Would you be able to let me see the visitors’ log from yesterday?” I asked.

“Is this an official request?” Amy asked. “I would have to check with my boss. I want to make sure I don’t do anything to get me in trouble.”

I blew out a breath. “We’re just chatting. You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

My answer seemed to relax Amy some. “I was working yesterday, and I can say we had several visitors, but none of them were new. I’ve seen all of them before and have no reason to suspect they’d have wanted Mr. Remmington dead.”

“Were any of the visitors here to see Mr. Remmington?”

Amy shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

“No?” I pressed gently, tugging at a thread she’d handed right to me like a baton.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “Mr. Remmington doesn’t have many visitors. Wes used to stop by, but a few weeks ago Wes and his uncle had an argument, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Do you know what the argument was about?”

“No. I only heard about the argument secondhand,” she said. “Wes hadn’t been around in a while. I mentioned it one day, and a nurse said she’d heard Wes and Declan had had an argument.”

“Last questions,” I said. “To your knowledge, was Mr. Remmington acting any differently yesterday or in the last few weeks that you heard about?”

“No. He seemed healthy.” She pursed her lips. “He’d go for a two-mile walk every morning, just after he had his coffee and bagel in the cafeteria. We have wonderful walking paths.”

“What are the grounds like?” I asked.

“It is fenced in,” she said, correctly anticipating my line of questioning. “While it’s possible someone could have entered the grounds, the areas where our residents spend their time are closed off to the general public.”

“How was he socially?” I asked. “Was Mr. Remmington acting differently lately?”

“It’s hard to say. I don’t have much interaction with the residents.” Amy licked her lower lip in thought. “Overall, Mr. Remmington was a quiet man. He had a few friends he hung around. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you their names, so I can do that later. But other than that, he kept to himself. Some nurses had even commented that he was a little paranoid.”

“Paranoid, how?”

“Paranoid, like, he kept his room very neat. Didn’t keep many personal belongings. He liked to write, and often carried a notebook around, but he’d never tell anybody what he was writing down.”

“Have any notebooks been recovered in his belongings?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Amy said. “Of course, his family will receive any personal belongings of Mr. Remmington’s.”

“It would be great if you could leave his room untouched, at least for now,” I said. “Just in case.”

Amy spread her hands. “That’s out of my control. Especially if you don’t have a warrant, or any real reason to think his death wasn’t from natural causes.”

I blew out a breath. “Can I get the names of his friends? It would be great to speak to them while we’re here.”

“I would hate to upset our residents unnecessarily,” Amy said apologetically. “I’m not sure they all know of Mr. Remmington’s death. It would be best if you came back another time.”

That was Amy’s polite way of shutting us down. We’d heard it a million times before, the tone that said “I’m uncomfortable, please leave.” It didn’t often pay to push more, especially in instances like this when we weren’t even sure a crime had been committed.

I nodded to Jimmy. He polished off his coffee, then stood.

“We should be going anyway,” Jimmy said. “Thanks for your time. We’ll be in touch.”

As we left the facility, a low whistle sounded. We both glanced back. There was a woman with purplish permed hair sipping a mug of coffee, sitting at one of the tables out front.

“Looking good, big fella,” she shouted. “I hear there’s an opening here. We’d love to see you around.”

“Why, Jimmy Jones,” I muttered to my partner, “I think she’s hitting on you.”

“Name’s Darla,” the woman called after us, winking at Jimmy. I hoped she was winking at Jimmy. “Look me up if you get in. Room 9.”

“This place don’t seem so bad,” Jimmy said, chest puffed out.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I grumbled. “You’re just tickled pink to be the youngest guy within a few miles of this place.”

“Hey, it’s not about the ladies. I’m happily married. But them brand-new pickleball courts?” Jimmy gave me a little elbow poke. “A fine cup of coffee and meals fed to me three times a day? You heard the woman at the front desk, Rosetti—there are beautiful walking trails here.”

“Like you walk,” I scoffed, “for fun. Please.”

“I’m just saying, it’s possible. If I had all the time in the world and wasn’t stuck on babysitting duty all day, maybe I would walk for pleasure.”

“Babysitting duty?”

“Babysitting you.” Jimmy winked at me. “Making sure nobody shoots your ass. Or runs you over. Or blows you up. Also making sure you don’t sabotage the best relationship that’s ever come your way. It’s a full-time job, taking care of you.”

I hid a smirk. “Feel free to retire anytime. There’s an opening here.”

“I wonder if they rent beds by the week,” Jimmy said. “Sort of a staycation.”

I burst into laughter. “What would your wife think?”

“She’d be ecstatic,” Jimmy said. “She’d get all the quiet time she wanted to do her puzzles by herself.”

“Puzzles?” I asked.

“She says I hover,” Jimmy said. “I hover over her shoulder and distract her from properly puzzlin’.”

“She’s right. You do hover.”

“I hover? I don’t hover.”

“You’re hovering right now, Jimmy.”

Jimmy took a step away, glanced back over his shoulder at Sunset Acres.

“I’m just saying, if they Airbnb’d this place out, they might see some good returns.”

Chapter 2

After grabbing a couple of breakfast sandwiches and a tray of lattes, Jimmy and I headed to my sister’s house. I’d promised Jane I’d stop over once we’d wrapped up our visit to Sunset Acres.

I parked the car out front. Jimmy possessively thumbed through the McDonald’s bag, like he secretly wanted to leave a stash of them behind in the car so that nobody else would take them.

“You are a toddler,” I told him.

“Your sister’s pregnant,” Jimmy said. “Who knows what her hormones are like? I hear some women get ravenous when they’re growing a baby. Not that I blame them, but still.”

“Jane’s, like, ninety pounds, soaking wet.” I grabbed the tray of lattes. “She couldn’t eat that much if her life depended on it.”

Reluctantly, Jimmy shut the car door behind him, and we headed up to the house my sister shared with Wes. They lived in a cute little home that Wes had owned prior to them getting married. They’d debated buying a new place together, but after Wes had let my sister loose with a sizeable redecorating budget, they’d agreed that this place served their needs just fine.

It’d better serve their needs just fine for a while longer because I’d spent an entire weekend with Gem helping to paint their baby’s nursery. I wasn’t about to get my painting gear back out anytime soon.

Jane opened the door looking a bit tired, a bit somber, but still glowing. Like somehow, despite everything she was going through, she was still in a little bubble of baby bliss. Like nothing could quite take away her happiness at having discovered she’d soon be a mom.

“Come on in,” she said. “Wes is in the living room.”

Jimmy and I followed Jane through their small home, now filled with touches of Jane. Little feminine pops of pink, a plush shag rug, candles on the shelves. Books had been organized by their spine colors, and art had been hung on the wall. It really felt like Wes and Jane had made this place their home, a united space that served the both of them.

An unexpected wave of gratitude rushed through me to see my sister so happy, so content. So well-loved and settled. It was something I’d wanted for her for most of her life, and at times throughout her chaotic past, I’d wondered if she’d ever find this sort of peace and happiness. She’d found it, and even more.

Wes, on the other hand, looked a little empty. I knew he was happy with my sister. I’d had a front row seat to his face at his and Jane’s wedding. The loss of his uncle must be hitting him harder than he’d initially let on.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I told Wes. “Were you close with your uncle?”

Wes looked up, gave us a small smile. “Hey, thanks, Kate. Thanks for coming by, too, Jimmy.”

I noted that Wes didn’t answer the question. Amy Lee’s words filtered through my head that Wes had been rumored to have had a fight with his uncle in the weeks before his impending death.

While by no stretch of the imagination did I think Wes had murdered his uncle, I did wonder if there wasn’t a wisp of regret that I was sensing. Regret, maybe, that his uncle had passed away before they’d made up?

“We brought some coffee and food. Decaf,” I said, handing my sister a latte. I put the other three lattes on the table, reserving one for myself. “And some breakfast sandwiches.”

I shot glaring, googly eyes at Jimmy, who was clenching that bag tighter than a toddler holding a lollipop they weren’t supposed to have.

“If they don’t smell good, I can take them in the kitchen,” Jimmy offered. “I’ve heard how the smell of meat can make some pregnant women nauseous.”

“Meat?” Jane looked like she was salivating. On second thought, she looked a little hollowed out, like maybe she’d lost weight. “I’m finally starting to get over my nausea . I’ve lived on nothing but saltines and Sprite for the last, I don’t know how many weeks, but it feels like years.”

Jane reached out and snatched the bag from Jimmy’s hands. Jimmy held on a beat longer than necessary, leading to a somewhat awkward exchange in which Jimmy and Jane were very nearly playing tug of war over some very salty sandwiches.

I cleared my throat. Jimmy dropped the bag, looking like a sad puppy who’d been left outside in the rain. This man was really invested in his breakfast sandwiches.

Jane sat down on the couch and peeled back a wrapper. She moaned with an intensity that had Jimmy looking like he wanted to step outside or risk bursting into tears.

“I’m freaking starved.” Jane inhaled a sandwich in an ungodly three seconds. She was on to the second before Jimmy could blink. I vaguely wondered if I should take away his gun.

“I really appreciate you guys going to the nursing home this morning,” Wes said. “Did you discover anything?”

Jimmy and I sat in two armchairs across from where Wes and Jane sat on the couch. Watching Jane eat was a little bit like having the Discovery Channel on, tuned in to an episode featuring the feeding habits of lions.

“We talked to the front desk receptionist who was very helpful,” I said. “We got some basic information from her, but without an autopsy and proper warrants, there’s not much else we can do.”

“Amy?” Wes asked.

“Yes. You know her?” I asked. “What do you think of her?”

Wes shrugged. “She’s always seemed fine to me. Friendly, but not in an actually friendly way, if that makes sense. Like, she’s always polite and kind, but something about it feels a little off. Like it’s just business.”

“Wes, I know this isn’t the best time to discuss this, but can I ask you a few questions about your uncle?”

“Like why I think he was killed when he was an old guy living in a nursing home?” Wes gave me a wry smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, of course. Ask anything you want.”

“Why do you want an autopsy?” I asked. “I assume you suspect foul play. Did Declan imply something that might make you suspicious?”

“My Uncle Declan was a bit of a character,” Wes said. “He’s my dad’s brother. He’s way older than my dad, by, like, twenty years. The two did not get along.”

“Your dad and your uncle didn’t get along?” I repeated. “Does this have anything to do with—”

“No, no.” Wes’s head jerked toward me like he had figured out how that sounded, a second too late. “My dad wouldn’t have killed his brother; it’s nothing like that. Not to mention, my parents are spending a month in Italy, so they’re not even here.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

“I was just trying to say that Uncle Declan had some odd quirks. He lived on a hundred acres of land in northern Minnesota until a few years ago when we finally had to put him into a nursing home.”

“Who had to put him into one?”

“His memory started to go. Nothing clinically diagnosed, but that’s probably because the last time Uncle Declan saw an actual medical doctor was when he was sixteen years old. The man preferred to live off the grid. For him, sickness was the sort of thing where he figured if it didn’t kill him, it made him stronger.”

“Ah.”

“Well, he left a bonfire burning all night a few years ago. He claims he put it out, but I don’t know.” Wes shook his head. “The fire got out of control, made its way to his house. House, however, is an overstatement. Uncle Declan basically lived in a cabin. That thing lit up like a match.”

“Yikes.”

“He barely got out with his life. Spent a month in the hospital recovering from some of the burns he sustained. He didn’t have the money to rebuild his house, so we offered to sell the land and put him up in a nursing home. He didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t have many options.”

“Seriously, Wes?” Jane looked at her husband through a bite of sausage. “You didn’t ask him to stay with you? If my mom’s house ever burns down, you’d better believe she’s moving in here with us.”

“Of course I did, babe.” Wes shook his head and squeezed Jane’s knee reassuringly. “I’d been asking him to move in here with me for years. I offered him the basement, a spare room—hell, I offered to put a down payment on a condo down the street for him so he could have his own place. He wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t exactly force him to live with me.”

“Okay, baby.” Jane patted Wes’s arm. “That’s good. Just checking.”

“Uncle Declan doesn’t have much besides me in the way of family. His parents are both dead. He doesn’t speak to my dad, his only sibling. He’s pretty much only got me. He rejected me a zillion times.”

“Why’d he finally agree to live at Sunset Acres?” I asked.

“What other choice did he have?” Wes said. “The man didn’t have insurance or savings. He hasn’t worked for thirty years. He was well past retirement age, and the man didn’t believe in plumbing or running water or Wi-Fi. He had to accept something.”

“That’s so sad,” Jane said. “Poor Uncle Declan.”

“Did you ever meet him?” I asked Jane.

“We always invited him to our holidays,” Jane said, “but he never came. I got the chance to meet him a couple of times in the nursing home. He was always nice enough, but very quiet. I don’t think he ever spoke more than a couple of words to me. I didn’t know him well. I didn’t know any of this about him, really.”

“Can you tell me why you think his death might not have been natural?” I asked gently. “He was getting up there in age. As you said, his memory was starting to go.”

“He was healthy,” Wes said. “Sure, he had some memory issues, but I don’t know that it was actually Alzheimer’s or dementia or something. It could’ve just been forgetfulness. I forget my car keys, and I’m in my thirties.”

“True,” I said. “Amy pointed out he went for long walks every morning.”

“He’s spent his whole life living off the land. He ate well, never smoked, always kept in good shape. If I had to haul my own water, I’d be in good shape too.”

“Things do happen,” I said. “I’m not trying to convince you one way or another, just giving you another side.”

“Look. I don’t want to come off as a paranoid nutjob.” Wes held up his hands. “If your friend does the autopsy, she’ll be able to tell me if it was natural causes, right?”

“Dr. Brooks is amazing at what she does,” I said. “I’d trust Melinda over anyone else in the world. If she can’t catch foul play, then no one can.”

“I trust you, which means I trust her.” Wes was still holding up his hands in surrender. “If she tells me that Uncle Declan was unlucky enough to pass away due to a heart attack or an aneurysm or whatever, I will absolutely let this go. I’m not trying to make something out of nothing.”

“Of course,” I said. “I know that.”

“But Uncle Declan didn’t have a lot of people looking out for him in his life, and certainly not in his death. I doubt he’ll have anyone at his funeral, to be honest, which is sad.” Wes rubbed a hand across his forehead, looking frustrated and sad and overwhelmed. “I wish my dad and him had made up. It’s stupid.”

“Do you know what they fought over?” I asked.

“Mostly money,” Wes said. “When Uncle Declan was born, his parents didn’t have any money. They had to scrimp and save. They were dirt poor. Declan was practically out of the house by the time his parents started making money. Then my dad came along. He was born into new money and grew up with a wealth that Declan had only ever dreamed of before. It was a real point of contention between them. They were both sore about it.”

“Money is hard,” I said. “Especially in families. And in death.”

Wes sighed. “It didn’t have to be hard. But Declan thought my dad was a spoiled prick, and my dad thought Declan was a foolish, stubborn old man. They were probably both right to some degree.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.

“It’s fine. I’m getting myself so worked up that I never answered your initial question,” Wes said. “I guess maybe a part of me just doesn’t want to believe my uncle is gone, that it wasn’t his time, and so that’s why I’m asking for an autopsy.”

I waited, sensing there was more. Knowing not to push.

“But I just can’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t acting like himself the last few times I saw him.” Wes looked down, rewarding my patience, as I’d hoped he would. “He was secretive and quiet, even more withdrawn than usual. Extra snappy, almost like there was a streak of anger he was hiding. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I think you’ve described it well,” I said. “Gut feelings definitely count for something.”

“Something was just off.” Wes shook his head. “I should’ve pressed harder. I’m not saying for sure it got him killed, but I’d kick myself forever if I didn’t do the due diligence and follow up on it.”

“You’re looking out for your uncle,” I said. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Wes.”

“Only wish it felt better,” Wes muttered. “Feels crappy, like I missed something, and maybe that’s why he’s dead.”

“We don’t know anything yet. Let’s just wait to hear back from Melinda before we start jumping to conclusions,” I said. “But I do want to ask you one more question.”

“Anything.”

“If this does come back involving foul play, then I need you to know things could get uncomfortable.” When Wes looked confused, I continued. “In a murder investigation, we dig into deep, often uncomfortable topics. Family secrets come unearthed. Lies become unburied. Investigations can have lasting effects on the family left behind.”

“You’re making sure I want you to do this,” Wes said, looking me in the eyes. “Yes, I do. Uncle Declan deserves it, and nobody else is going to watch out for him. Do what you have to do, Kate.”

“Is there anything else you can share with me?” I begged him silently to mention the exchange he’d shared with Declan prior to his death. The one Amy Lee had called an argument.

Wes caught my eye, then looked away quickly. Stared at his hands. “No,” he said finally. “There’s nothing else.”

I nodded reluctantly, thinking that was the wrong answer. Jimmy stiffened beside me, too, waiting for my lead. Seeing if I’d call him out on Amy’s accusations.

But I stared at Wes who was obviously grieving and wrestling with his own demons, and I stared at my sister—pregnant and fatigued, and obviously worried about her husband. I kept my mouth shut.

There was a good chance Declan had died of old age. Or a perfectly normal heart attack. Or a perfectly tragic aneurysm. There was no sense digging into my family and starting mini fires everywhere before I’d even confirmed a crime had been committed.

“Then I think it’s best if we all wait to see what Dr. Brooks says,” I told the group. “Jimmy and I will head down to the station now and check in with her. I’ll be in touch.”

We were outside in the car when Jimmy glanced over at me.

“He’s lying about something,” Jimmy said. “I know you’re thinking it.”

“I know,” I muttered. “This sucks.”

“Maybe, but you know what really sucks?” Jimmy glanced at his watch. “Your sister ate all the breakfast sandwiches, and it’s too late to get any more.”

Chapter 3

“I’m sorry, guys.” Melinda didn’t even look up from what she was doing. “I can’t.”

She was focused, in the middle of an autopsy, and I am not going to describe exactly what she was doing because it sort of made my stomach roil.

I saw a lot of dead bodies, but sitting around and cutting into them wasn’t the way I liked to spend my time. Ironic, seeing as Melinda’s way of spending her time was probably a lot safer than mine, but still. Y incision? No, thank you.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean—”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Melinda sounded more snappish than usual. “Apparently it was happy hour for crimes last night. I’ve got four autopsies lined up, not to mention the backlog I still have from last week. So, no, I’m sorry. Mr. Remmington is just going to have to wait.”

“Do you know when you might get to him?” I asked. “Just curious.”

“I will let you know when I have a minute to sit down and take a breath.” Melinda seemed really, really stressed. I started to wonder if it was just the dead bodies piled up before her, or if it was something else. Not that a pile of dead bodies wouldn’t stress out the average person, but Melinda usually took it in stride.

Finally, she paused, looked up at me. “Is there a serial killer running around, guns blazing, in that nursing home?”

I glanced at Jimmy who just shrugged as if to say he was staying out of this one.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “We’re not even sure if Declan was killed. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“Well, the bullet hole on this body tells me he was definitely killed, so I’m sorry, but I need to finish up here first. I will get to Mr. Remmington as soon as I can. Probably not until sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

Jimmy and I retreated, leaving Melinda alone with her “definitely murdered” guy. When we got in the elevator to go up to our floor, Jimmy glanced at me.

“You know what’s eating her?” he asked.

“If I say maggots, does that make me a terrible person?”

“That just makes you a dad,” Jimmy said with a grin. “Dad jokes, you know?”

I rolled my eyes. “We need new material.”

“You’re telling me. I’m embarrassed for you.”

I snorted a laugh as we stepped out of the elevator. Through the windows of the conference room, I could see Jack Russo—my ex-boyfriend and current sort-of partner—sitting at the head of the table with a bunch of suits surrounding him.

“What’re the feds doing here?” I asked Jimmy.

“You know everything before I do,” Jimmy said. “I’m just here to check out the doughnut platter and make sure you don’t get yourself shot.”

Jimmy took a long look through the conference windows, hands shoved in his pockets, completely oblivious to the fact that almost every federal agent in the room turned to face him.

“Freaking muffins. Poppy seed.” Jimmy shrugged his shoulders, grumbling. “I should’ve known the suits would’ve gone for something healthy.”

“You need to revisit the definition of the word healthy.”

“Nah,” he argued. “I’ve adapted it to be my own sort of colloquial word.”

“That is not what the word colloquial means.”

“It’s the way I use it.”

“Good thing I’m fluent in Jimmy,” I said, as we headed into our bullpen.

Jimmy veered off to take a seat at his desk, still mostly disgruntled about the lack of good breakfast food on the menu for today. Granted, he’d had a sausage sandwich within his grasp and had literally lost it in a tug of war with a pregnant woman, so I supposed that might’ve stung.

I kept on walking and sidled up next to Asha.

“What?” she asked, looking up, swishing her long braids over her shoulder. “You’ve got that look like you need something.”

“Occasionally I visit you just to say hello.”

“When?” Asha blinked. “Tell me the last time you stopped over just to visit me.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I thought.”

“Do you know what’s eating the doc?” I asked. “Melinda seemed extra on edge today.”

“The pile of bodies down there isn’t enough of a reason for her to feel overwhelmed?”

“I mean, some people might say so. Not me.”

“Fair,” Asha said. “I’ve got no clue. I’ve barely seen her in the last week. Which reminds me, we’re overdue for some margs at Bellini’s. I’m practically sober now it’s been so long since we’ve gotten drinks together.”

I thought back. “You’re right. It’s been almost a month.”

“You get one boyfriend and suddenly you’re too good for us?” Asha ribbed me with a coy little smile. “No time left for your friends?”

“That’s not what’s happening,” I retorted too forcefully before realizing that Asha was grinning.

Even though she wasn’t completely right, there was a pinch of guilt in my gut that made me wonder. Was I abandoning my friends for Gem? It’d been a month since we’d gone out for casual drinks together, and now I didn’t even know what was happening with my best friend, or why she seemed so upset.

“This week,” I promised. “We’ll find a time. By the way, do you know what’s up with Jack? Why’s he locked in a room with his Washington pals?”

“Some white-collar case they’ve been building for years. There’s some local activity on it, so Russo’s looped in. They just got here half an hour ago. The chief stopped in, so it’s something big.”

I mulled on this for a moment, then turned to stride back into the room.

“How are you, Asha?” Asha piped up in a falsetto. “Did you have a great weekend? Oh, thanks for asking, Kate, I had a wonderful weekend.”

Sheepishly, I turned back to face her. “So, Asha, how was—”

“Get out of here,” Asha said amicably. “Try being friendly on your own time.”

I slunk away back to my desk. I stopped in front of Jimmy’s desk.

“So, Jimmy,” I ventured. “How was your weekend?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” My pal didn’t even look up. “Do you need a kidney or something?”

“Why would you think that?”

Jimmy blinked his long lashes at me in a very, very exaggerated motion. “In all the years we’ve worked together, I don’t think you’ve ever asked me about my weekend.”

“I’m trying on friendliness for size.”

Jimmy snorted. “Doesn’t fit. Try something else.”

I kept on slinking back to my desk. My phone rang as I sat down.

“Jane?” I asked. “Everything okay?”

“You don’t have to assume I’m in labor every time I call,” Jane said. “Even I’ve calmed down about it, and that’s saying something.”

It was saying something, seeing as Jane had been filled with an almost frenetic sort of energy after the surprise of finding out she was pregnant. Her hormones and emotions had been ping-ponging all over the place, especially in those first few weeks. She’d had me and Gem painting the nursery before she’d exited the first trimester.

But in the last few weeks, Jane had settled into the role of motherhood with grace and comfort, like she’d processed the fact that she was going to have a baby. A new, glowing sort of excitement had taken hold, and instead of panicking every other second, she was really starting to embrace the journey in a more relaxed way.

Either that, or she was finally feeling less nauseated and tired, and back to her “normal” self. Couldn’t totally be sure.

“I’ll work on it,” I said dryly. “What’s up?”

“Did you hear anything about Wes’s uncle?”

“Unfortunately, Melinda’s got a bit of a backlog—”

“A backlog of what—dead bodies?”

“Believe it or not, yes.”

I could almost hear Jane shudder through the phone line.

“As soon as I hear anything, you and Wes will be the first to know,” I told her. “Melinda’s estimating she won’t even get started on the autopsy until tomorrow.”

“That’s what I was calling about. Tomorrow,” Jane clarified. “Not the autopsy.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I need you and Gem to do me a favor. It’s for Wes.”

“Sure,” I said. “Anything. Well, almost anything. I can’t bribe Melinda to go faster.”

“Wes wants to have a celebration of life for his uncle tomorrow.”

“Like a funeral?” I asked. “You know the body won’t be released yet.”

“That’s why we’re not calling it a funeral,” Jane said. “There doesn’t need to be a body. Declan’s wishes were to be cremated and have his ashes scattered up north near his old property. He didn’t want a service of any sort.”

“Okay.”

“But Wes thinks that the only reason Declan didn’t want to have a service was because he was afraid that nobody would show up. Wes wants to commemorate his uncle’s life.”

“Sure. What’s the favor?”

“Can you show up?” Jane sounded hesitant. “I’m pretty sure, sadly enough, that Declan might have been right. I don’t think anyone’s going to come. His parents have passed, and his brother—Wes’s dad—is in Italy.”

“Declan’s own brother won’t come back for the funeral?”

“It’s not a funeral,” Jane insisted. “It’s just a little something for the people who cared about Declan.”

“You know that I didn’t know him, right?”

“Just show up to support your boyfriend’s best friend,” Jane said. “It’s a complicated situation. Wes is really upset with his father right now because he didn’t bury the hatchet in time, and now it’s too late.”

“Of course we’ll be there,” I said. “What time and where?”

“We’ll do a little ceremony at Minnehaha Falls because it’s all nature-y and stuff. Declan liked the wilderness. Then we’ll go out to eat at Donatelli’s.”

“That little hole-in-the-wall Italian place in St. Paul?” I asked. “I haven’t been there in years. I thought it closed.”

“Apparently Declan liked the mostaccioli.”

After getting the time from Jane, we chatted a few more minutes, then I hung up. Jimmy was at my desk like a bloodhound.

“Did I hear you say mostaccioli?” he asked.

“Seriously—that’s what you gathered from that call?” I asked. “Pasta?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Any chance you want to bring me your leftovers?”

“No way,” I said. “You’ve got to earn your mostaccioli. You’re welcome at the funeral-celebration thing.”

With a dejected slump of his shoulders, Jimmy returned to his desk, muttering to himself.

“Hey, Kate.” Jack put his head into the room. “Any chance you want to get me Alastair Gem on the phone?”

I looked up at Jack. “Nope.”

Chapter 4

The next day, Gem and I arrived a few minutes early at Minnehaha Falls for Declan Remmington’s celebration of life.

“Do you know how many people will be here?” Gem wondered, looking down at his phone.

He’d been inordinately tied to that thing this morning. I wondered if there was a fire happening at the office he was having to put out without telling me. While I’d dragged him to celebrate a man’s life he’d never known.

It would be just like him to do that sort of thing, to ignore a hugely pressing issue at his billion-dollar company because I’d asked him to be my date to a completely random event.

I blinked up at him. “You’re looking at ’em.”

Gem nodded, still distracted, not looking up from his screen. “I see. So do we have clarity on whether Declan was murdered?”

I shook my head, glanced at my phone—checking both the time and to see if Melinda had sent me a message. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and I had no messages. I doubted Melinda had even started yet.

I’d popped my head in her office this morning and dropped a coffee on her desk. She hadn’t even moved as I’d stood there, waiting for some acknowledgment—a smile, a nod, a simple hello. But Melinda had been a gargoyle, sitting behind her desk, studying paperwork.

After watching her for a few minutes, I realized that Melinda was just not going to say anything at all, so I backed right out and wondered if caffeine was enough to do the trick. Maybe she needed a coffee IV. Or, you know, a therapist.

“No,” I said. “We won’t know much until Melinda gets back to us. Hopefully by tonight, so we can get cracking on this thing in the morning.”

“If he was murdered,” Gem clarified, still typing furiously. “It’s still a possibility he died naturally, yes?”

“Yes. Hey, is everything okay?” I rested a hand on Gem’s wrist. “I appreciate you being here, but if there’s something you need to take care of at work, it’s fine for you to go.”

“No, sorry.” Gem gruffly shoved his phone in his pocket. Then he pulled it out, shot me an apologetic look. “Overexcited new assistant is all.”

“Ah.” Then I sat around while Gem frowned and typed into his phone some more.

I leaned against a rock wall, watching the waterfall crash into the pool below. It’d been hard not to start digging into Declan Remmington while I’d had time yesterday.

I’d had an open schedule between his death and his celebration of life, with a whole lot of nothing to do but paperwork on my plate. I wasn’t a paperwork sort of gal, and I was an expert at procrastinating when it came time for red tape.

Yesterday, I’d procrastinated by digging into any and all information on Sunset Acres that was readily available online. I’d searched Declan Remmington’s name on Google, but he was nonexistent, according to the interwebs. It was hard to dredge up so much as a birth certificate on him. I wasn’t sure he’d ever owned a landline, let alone a cell phone.

But I hadn’t felt right dragging Asha or other valuable resources into a case that might not even be a case. So I felt like I was mostly twiddling my thumbs, waiting around to be a warm body at a funeral for someone who was maybe murdered and maybe died peacefully in his sleep. I’d never attended a funeral like that before.

“Thanks for coming.” Wes shook hands with Gem, then gave me a quick hug. “I think it’s going to be just us today.”

“Sometimes small is nice,” I said stupidly, as if everyone here didn’t know that the only reason there were four of us present in the first place was because we’d been guilted into it.

Wes just nodded. “Can I have a word real quick, Kate? Before we start?”

Wes and I made our way over to the overlook near the waterfall. Giant sheets of water crashed over the rocks and tumbled to a small pond below, an incredible feat of nature packed neatly into the center of a bustling metropolis.

“The more I think about the whole situation, the more I’m sure Uncle Declan was murdered.” Wes looked at me, his eyes a little bloodshot, like he hadn’t been sleeping at night. “I just can’t shake the fact that my intuition is telling me something is wrong.”

“As much as I believe you—and I do—you have to understand that I need to process this case like a detective.” I reached out, squeezed his hand. “I’d do anything for you and Jane, but I need to follow the rulebook on this, especially since you guys are family. That means relying on things like real concrete clues.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Wes trembled a little, like maybe he’d had too much caffeine to compensate for too little sleep. “I think I found a clue.”

“What do you mean?”

“My uncle was sort of paranoid. He was also old-school. He didn’t have a computer or a cell phone. The man thought running water was a luxury. Plumbing was optional. But he always had a little notebook with him. I’m not sure if he journaled in it or what, but he had it in his room several times when I visited him. It was almost like he didn’t like to go anywhere without it.”

“Did you ever ask him what he wrote in there?” I asked.

“I made a comment a few times, but I never pressed.” A look of regret crossed his face. “As much as I tried to get close to him, it was hard. The man didn’t let people in. He was a loner who kept things close to the vest.”

“Is there a reason you think this notebook might be important?”

“I’m not sure Declan had a friend in the world. I think the only thing he might have felt safe confiding in was the ink and paper he carried in his pocket.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Do you have the notebook?”

“No. That’s the thing.” Wes ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I went to Sunset Acres yesterday afternoon. They called me to come pick up his things.”

“Seriously?” I said. “I asked them to hold off touching anything in his room. They could have given us the courtesy of waiting.”

“Do you think they did it on purpose?” Wes asked. “Disturbed the crime scene?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It could be standard procedure, and Amy was right that we don’t have a warrant, let alone confirmation of a homicide, but still. It’s frustrating. You’re sure you couldn’t have missed it?”

“Not unless they got rid of it.” Wes looked away. “I went through everything. The man didn’t even have enough possessions to fill a backpack. But, like I said, someone could’ve taken it before I got there.”

“Did you consider that maybe Declan destroyed it himself?” I watched Wes’s face and saw surprise there. He hadn’t considered it. “Is it possible that your uncle, especially if he was paranoid, burned his notebooks or tossed them in the trash when he was done with them? That would ensure nobody ever knew his innermost thoughts.”

Wes rubbed his chin in thought. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Then why write stuff down at all?”

“To get it off his chest?” I ventured. “You said he didn’t have a friend. But most people I know need some sort of outlet.”

My thoughts went to Melinda. A pinch of guilt returned as I thought about Asha’s teasing words, that I had dumped my friends for my boyfriend. Abandoned them for greener pastures. I really needed to make a drinks date ASAP. Maybe Melinda needed an outlet too.

“Maybe.” Wes’s shoulders deflated. “I wish he’d talked to me more.”

My mind wandered back to Amy Lee’s words, that Wes had had an argument the last time he’d been at Sunset Acres. Why hadn’t Wes shared the information about the argument if he was trying to be up front?

Then again, if he had killed his uncle, why would he be so hell-bent on me investigating it? If anything, he’d have let it fade quietly into the background. The last thought gave me a breath of temporary relief, even though I knew it wouldn’t last long. If murder was on the table here, then I would need to question Wes, and that definitely would be uncomfortable.

“Can’t you get a warrant or something?” Wes asked. “Check out the facility, see if anyone went into his room or something?”

“I’m sorry, Wes,” I said, “but I can’t do anything at all without knowing if a crime was even committed. And even if we get confirmation that Declan was, indeed, murdered, it takes more than a hunch to get a warrant.”

“I know.” Wes kicked at some rocks on the path. “It just sucks to be in this waiting zone. Just wondering what really happened to him.”

The crashing sound of water blocked the sounds of other conversations filtering around us. The sun was warm, and lots of tourists were taking photos around us. The day was a perfectly lovely summer one, except for this. Us. Wes, and his uncle, and the reason we were here in the first place.

“I understand. And Wes, I’m so sorry for the loss of your uncle.” I lowered my voice. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get to the bottom of it. But I’ll need your help.”

Wes nodded, looking the tiniest bit invigorated, like he needed an assignment to keep his mind from spiraling. “Anything.”

“Back off the ‘case,’” I said, using air quotes around the word case. “The closer you are to it, the less likely I’m going to be allowed to work it because you’re family. I’m already walking a fine line as it is. Be honest with me, as brutally up front as possible. Beyond that, go about your life. Let it go.”

“I can’t let it go.”

“Then pretend to let it go,” I said. “I know this sucks. I know it’s hard. But for you, for your uncle, for the case... You can’t be playing armchair detective. It won’t help anyone.”

He took a shuddering breath. “Yeah, thanks, Kate. I guess we should do this, then, huh?”

I gave him a gentle nudge with my elbow as we turned to face the waterfall. “He’d appreciate this, you know,” I whispered. “He really would, Wes.”

“REMIND ME WHY WE’RE in this... place again?” Gem whispered to me. “I offered to take Wes anywhere he wanted, and he chose here?”

“Apparently Declan liked the mostaccioli.”

Wes and Jane, me and Gem, stood outside a literal hole in the wall. It was built into a brick building in the strip of St. Paul that wasn’t close enough to the Xcel Energy Center to be desirable as a downtown location, but not so far away that it was desirable as a suburb either. It was in real estate purgatory.

An antique store sat across the street with boarded-up windows but a sign that still flickered Open. A dumpster sat too close to the front door of the restaurant. I wasn’t sure any signage existed in any way, shape, or form to alert people that this was a functioning place of business.

“Normally, I don’t like to think my bank account goes to my head,” Gem muttered, “but I think the money has gone to my head. I’m a little skeptical to eat here.”

“It’s not the money,” I assured Gem. “That’s just common sense.”

Gem grinned, put his arm around me, and pulled me to him. “I guess if we both end up with food poisoning, we can be sick together.”

“You are the sweetest.”

The four of us approached the front door like we might a haunted house. Wes was the brave soul who touched the door handle first, but he wimped out and held the door open, gesturing for me and Gem to go through first.

I rolled my eyes at Wes, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel like one centimeter more secure knowing that I’d brought my gun and badge with me.

The inside, however, was surprisingly quaint. Red gingham tablecloths sat on all the tables—granted, there were only about four of them. It felt almost like a small deli with a kitchen in the back. The floor was grungy but clean. The art on the wall was old but tasteful. Maybe Uncle Declan was onto something of a hidden gem.

My not-so-hidden Gem squeezed my hand as if thinking the same thing. Something like, maybe we won’t have to worry about a bullet hole served alongside our meatballs. I squeezed back, agreeing in our new, couple-y silent language.

On one hand, the exchange made me feel warm and snuggly as fleece on the inside. It was nice to feel understood, cared for, protected. Like I had a real companion in what could be a lonesome world. At the same time, it did give me pause, leaving me to wonder if I had been leaving my friends behind in my newfound happy bubble.

We were just sitting down when a small, very hairy man with a Soprano-style accent approached our table.

“Whatcha want?” he asked, without offering a menu.

“Um—” Jane glanced wide-eyed around the table.

“Mostaccioli?” Wes ventured.

The man nodded, then left without a word. No drink orders, no introduction, nada. We all looked up as the door cracked open with a loud squeak.

In walked Jimmy Jones. Nobody was more surprised than me.

“Heard ya’ll were coming here,” Jimmy said, nodding at Wes. “I came to pay my respects.”

Wes nodded. Then, “Did you know my uncle?”

“Did Kate?” Jimmy gave my sister a hug and shook Wes’s hand.

“Contrary to what you think,” Jimmy whispered as he came around and sat next to me, “I am not only here for the mostaccioli.”

“Oh?” My face said that I didn’t believe him.

“Melinda got done with the autopsy early.”

I blinked at him. “You came to tell me in person? You couldn’t have called?”

“Figure I might as well carbo-load,” Jimmy said, his voice still hushed as he tossed a napkin over his lap, “seeing as we’ve got an investigation on our hands.”

“He was murdered?” I hissed. “For sure?”

Jimmy clucked his tongue. “You think I’d lie about something like that to get my hands on some delicious pasta? C’mon, Kate. I’m not that desperate. I might lie for the right doughnut, but noodles? I’ve got more morals than that.”

I clucked right back at him in jest, but already my mind was racing. Wes’s intuition had been right.

“Talk more later,” Jimmy said. “Let me catch you up before we tell the family.”

Then Jimmy fluffed his napkin. He waited, giving me some side-eye to see if I was going to argue.

But he was right, and he knew it. Without hearing it from Melinda firsthand, I didn’t want to break the news to Wes. We needed to focus on this celebration first in Declan’s honor, and then I needed to figure out what in the world had happened. Wes would most certainly have questions, and I wanted to be poised to answer as many as I could.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

I didn’t recognize the man standing there, but it looked like he recognized us. He had stooped shoulders and a scowl on his face, along with a significant amount of hair curling out of his ears and his nose. A coarse mop of gray hair on his head completed the look. This man was probably close to eighty years old, but really, it could go a decade in either direction.

“This the funeral for Declan?” the man grumbled. “If so, I’m here for it.”

Without waiting for a reply, the man made his way to our table. He took a chair and scratched it very noisily across the floor until he was wedged up next to Wes and Jane and across from me, Gem, and Jimmy. The table wasn’t really large enough for an extra person, but apparently we were going to make this work.

We all sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then the server from the back appeared with two extra place settings—one for Jimmy and one for our mystery guest.

“Howdy, Andrew,” the server said to the new guy, plunking down place settings. “Good to see you.”

“So you’re Andrew?” I eventually managed. “How did you know Declan?”

“Neighbors,” Andrew grunted. “I lived with him at that prison.”

“Sunset Acres?” Wes asked. “I thought you looked familiar.”

Andrew grunted. “You’re that nephew of his that locked him up.”

“I didn’t lock him up!” Wes said. “I begged Uncle Declan to live with us, but he wouldn’t have it. He didn’t have a house. What was I supposed to do, leave him on the streets?”

“How’d you hear about this celebration of life?” I asked.

“How does anyone hear about anything?” Andrew asked. “Blabbermouths. Anyway, I knew Declan’s final wishes. We came here together sometimes.”

“You were friends?” I asked.

“Friends might be an overstatement,” Andrew said, sipping out of a glass of ice water that definitely was not his. “We talked occasionally. The man liked pasta. Hated coffee. Was a hell of a gin rummy player.”

“Would you like to say a few words in memory of your friend?” I asked. “Since this is a memorial?”

“I just did,” Andrew said. “That’s all I’ve got.”

I glanced at Jimmy who just nodded back at me. He mouthed, “Later.”

A few minutes later, plates of baked pasta arrived and were set in front of us. We dug in, eating in silence until the door opened again. I was really beginning to think if that door kept opening, we’d have to start letting some people leave or risk a fire hazard. The restaurant really wasn’t that big.

I groaned at the figure standing inside the door. Jack Russo, flanked by two of his buddies. All three dressed in their signature suits.

“Did you follow us?” I asked.

“No,” Jack said. “This place has incredible mostaccioli.”

“Hear! Hear!” Andrew agreed heartily.

I made eyes at Russo, and he looked away a little too quickly. I was pretty sure that this accidental meeting wasn’t quite as accidental as he was letting on. I wondered if he’d had a little peek at my calendar.

My theories were all but confirmed as Jack squeezed behind me and Gem, a little too close, and rested a hand on Gem’s shoulder.

“Hey, there, Gem,” Jack said. “If you’ve got a minute, since we’re all here, maybe we can catch up.”

“No,” I said loudly. “We cannot.”

Gem glanced at me.

I swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “What? Don’t I get a say?”

“Kate gets a little nervous when her current boyfriend talks to her ex,” Jimmy said, loving this. “Swapping war stories and all that.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not it at all. This is a funeral, and it’s not an appropriate time to have a chat.”

“Oh.” Jack paled. “This is a funeral? Ah, crap. I’m sorry. On your calendar it just said lunch—”

“I knew it.” I held a fork pointed at Jack. “Stalker.”

“I just thought—”

“I’d love to chat with you, Agent Russo,” Gem said quietly. “Later.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jack had the gall to look sheepish. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Pull up a chair,” Wes said. “The more the merrier. Uncle Declan never would’ve expected a turnout like this.”

I felt the tiniest pinch of satisfaction at the discomfort on Jack’s face. Even more satisfaction as he and his buddies wedged themselves into an already cramped seating arrangement. Finally, we gave up and everyone stood up and officially screeched and scraped metal chairs, rejiggering the whole thing until we all fit. Mostly.

“Sorry for your loss,” Jack said across the table to Wes and Jane. “Terrible.”

Jimmy looked as amused as I felt at Jack trying to salvage such an awkward situation.

“So he was murdered, right?” Andrew asked. “That’s why there are so many cops here?”

Jack went full-on slack-jawed. He lowered his voice and hissed to me, “This is a funeral for a murdered man? For Pete’s sake, Kate. You could’ve said something and spared me an inch of humiliation.”

“Sorry,” I said through a mouthful of ricotta. “I don’t usually keep my stalkers apprised of my movements.”

“We don’t know he was murdered,” Wes said, but even as he said it, he looked at me and Jimmy.

Neither me nor Jimmy made eye contact. In fact, we were busy making loving eyes at our baked mostaccioli. I missed my mouth at one point and dropped a glob of red sauce on my shirt, and then I eagerly busied myself trying to scrub out an impossible stain.

“Unless you heard something?” Wes narrowed his eyes at us. “Kate, did you hear something?”

“You guys,” I said. “I’m just trying to eat some noodles and commemorate Mr. Remmington’s life.”

“Well, I think this lunch has already been tanked,” Jane said. “Might as well be honest now, Kate.”

With everyone’s eyes on me, I swallowed over a particularly big lump of cheese, wondering how I’d gotten myself into this situation in the first place. This was quite possibly one of my top five most awkward meals ever. Which said a whole lot about the other four meals that made that list.

“Maybe we can discuss this later,” I said quietly. “We have a bit of an audience, Wes.”

“Go ahead,” Wes said. “He was murdered, wasn’t he? That’s what the autopsy showed?”

I expelled a breath. “Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t have any details. Jimmy told me when he arrived, so it’s as new to me as it is to you.”

Wes turned to Jimmy. “Do you know how he died?”

“Dr. Brooks ruled his death to be a homicide. I came here to tell Kate. We would’ve told you once we had a chance to get our heads on straight about the whole thing.”

“How did he die?” Wes pressed.

“Morphine overdose. For all intents and purposes, it otherwise would’ve appeared he slipped away peacefully in his sleep if you hadn’t requested an autopsy.” Jimmy paused. “He didn’t suffer. But it wasn’t natural either.”

Wes cursed under his breath.

“I thought we all already knew that,” Andrew said, looking confused. “Isn’t that why the cops are here?”

“It’s complicated,” I said. “We’re also related. But since you mentioned it, I’m wondering why you aren’t more surprised by the fact that your friend was killed?”

“Because he told me someone was after him,” Andrew said. “I wrote it off as the ramblings of a paranoid old man, but Declan was really determined to believe it was true. So when he died, I figured maybe he was right.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, a little in shock at how easily Andrew was able to continue tucking into his pasta, even as he spoke about his friend’s murder. “I guess so. What other things did Mr. Remmington say?”

“Is this a formal interview?” Andrew asked. “Does that mean you’re gonna comp my meal since I’m on the clock?”

“Everyone’s meal is on me,” Gem said quickly.

Andrew nodded. “In that case, I’d like two slices of red velvet, Antonio. Send one boxed up for the road. A nice cappuccino too.” Andrew settled into his seat. “What else did Declan say? Not much. He just said he was onto something. He’d been saying it for a while, though.”

“How long?” I asked.

“Months. But before it was a little looser, like in a general sense. That’s why it was so hard for me to know if he was serious or not.” Andrew pushed his plate away. “Ever since the guy’s been in the clink, he thinks people have been watching him.”

“What sort of people?” I asked.

“That’s the thing. It started as just a general watching. Declan wasn’t used to things like television and plumbing and internet. He thought the government was listening to him. The man practically wore a tin hat for a week the first time he heard an Alexa talk to him.”

“That’s what you mean about the general paranoia,” I said. “When did it change?”

“A few months ago, he started getting much more secretive about everything. He actually toned down some of his rants about the tinfoil-hat-type stuff, like he was actually believing it, and not wanting anyone else to know. He thought someone was ‘onto him.’ I think he fashioned himself a bit of an investigative journalist.”

“Did he tell you what he was investigating?” I asked.

“He never told anyone. He just wrote stuff down.”

“Did you ever see him write in a notebook?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “He always had a notebook on him. Did you find one in his belongings?”

Wes shook his head. “No. There should be one, right? That’s what I was saying. It’s glaringly missing. He wouldn’t have destroyed it, would he?”

“I doubt it.” Andrew waved the server over. “The man loved the thing too much. Whipped cream, Antonio?”

“Did Declan behave differently in these last few weeks, aside from the paranoia that you already mentioned?” I asked. “Did anyone come to visit him? Any staff treat him differently?”

“Not that I know of,” Andrew said. “I told you everything I know. How come you stopped visiting him?”

Andrew abruptly changed the subject and looked toward Wes.

“You used to come around,” Andrew said. “But you stopped.”

Conversation around the table screeched to a standstill. I hated to admit it, but a pinch of me was grateful that Andrew had asked the question so I didn’t have to. Now that we had a confirmed murder on our hands, these sorts of questions could no longer be avoided.

“We had a bit of a falling out.” Wes recovered quickly. “I’d be happy to talk about it later. I think maybe we should just finish our lunch now and pick up again later.”

“I think so too,” Jane said. “Here’s to Uncle Declan.”

Jane raised her drink and we all clinked glasses. I wasn’t sure what we were cheers-ing to, but it was something. Declan’s memory, maybe.

Or maybe to finding his killer.

Chapter 5

Despite people offering to chip in, Gem insisted on covering the bill for the meal. Once the tab was settled, everyone filtered outside—single file, since the doorway was too small for anything else.

We all stood awkwardly on the street for a moment, watching the traffic rush toward the St. Paul skyline.

“How’d you get here, anyway?” I asked Andrew. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Does moneybags over here have a driver?” Andrew nodded toward Gem. “My son gave me a ride. I’ve got a three p.m. cribbage game set with Darla that I can’t miss, or I owe her a week’s worth of pudding.”

“My driver can give you a ride,” Gem said. “It’s not a problem. I’ll let my assistant arrange it. She needs something to do, anyway.”

Gem furiously texted, presumably to his overzealous new assistant. A few minutes later, Gem’s car pulled around. Andrew hoisted up his extra red velvet slice and sauntered toward the vehicle like he was the president of the United States. The man looked downright thrilled, as though he were royalty.

Gem mentioned something to the driver, then sent them on their way to Sunset Acres.

“That was nice of you,” I said to Gem. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Gem said. “What’s a problem is coming up with enough things for my new assistant to do. She’s impossibly efficient. Anyway, I thought our pals might want to give us a ride back.” Gem nodded at Jack. “You wanted to speak?”

Jack looked chagrined. “I’m not sure I have enough seats.”

“You can ride with us.” I grinned. “Jimmy will give us a lift.”

Jimmy grunted at our game of musical car seats. I’d ridden with Gem in his vehicle, the one currently driving Andrew back to Sunset Acres, so now we were both technically stranded.

Jimmy reluctantly led us to his car. I climbed into the front seat with Jimmy. In a hilarious twist, Jack and Gem sat in the back together, looking like two children who’d been caught fighting on the playground and were now forced to have a playdate together to learn how to get along.

I felt bad for Gem because he hadn’t asked for any of this. Not so much for Jack. He had asked for all of it.

Jack’s buddies waved at us from the rental car as they headed back toward the precinct.

“So?” I gestured for Jack to speak. “The floor is yours.”

“You might have noticed a couple of my colleagues are in town,” Jack said. “They’re investigating a case that’s been a few years in the making. They’re from the white-collar crime division.”

“Ah,” Gem said, a world of understanding in that one statement.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “You are not dragging my boyfriend into your case, Jack Russo.”

“You haven’t heard me out,” Jack said. “I just need him to take a meeting. Maybe wear a wire.”

“Why Gem?” I asked. “Why can’t you have an agent go undercover?”

“Everybody knows everybody in the upper echelons of my world,” Gem said. “I’m an established name and face. People know who I am. They won’t be suspicious of me turning up to a high-value meeting.”

“Bingo,” Jack said. “We have guys undercover, but not at the level we need. The team’s closing in on the Big Kahuna—a guy named Jesse Block. Top of the game, head honcho. He won’t take a meeting with just anyone.”

“I don’t like the idea of Gem wearing a wire,” I said.

“We’re not talking about drug dealing thugs,” Jack said. “Nobody’s going to be armed. This is white-collar crime, Kate. He’s not going to be in danger.”

“His reputation might be,” I said. “Gem’s worked a lifetime to get where he is. I’m not going to let you ruin his reputation just to maybe help with a conviction.”

“The case is a big deal,” Jack insisted. “And let me remind you, this would hardly be the first time Gem has lent his assistance on a case.”

I sat back in my seat, my jaw working overtime. While Jack had a point, it was different. Wasn’t it? Or was it only different because I was dating Gem?

I took some time to formulate a response. If I was going to form an argument, I didn’t want it to be a hotheaded one. I was romantically involved with Gem, which meant I needed to be extra logical in my reasoning. I wanted my arguments to be so well-thought out they were beyond reproach.

“I’m just asking that you think about it,” Jack said. “Jesse Block has been running schemes for decades. All different sorts. He’s dabbled in MLMs, stolen art, identity theft. He’s swindled elderly persons out of their lifetime savings. If he can make money off something illegally, he’s done it.”

“What can Gem do that your team can’t?” I asked.

“Word on the street is that Jesse’s looking for someone to help him launder some of his money, but on a huge scale. If we plant the right seeds in Jesse’s chain of command, word will get back to him that Gem can fix his problems. It could be enough.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “That sort of charge hardly seems worth the risk.”

“We need something to stick. Nothing sticks to this guy. It’s like getting Al Capone on tax evasion all over again. Once we get the first charge, the dominoes will topple. We need leverage.”

“Why now?” I asked.

“Because this is our window of opportunity. We just shut down a ton of Jesse’s established money-laundering businesses in one fell swoop. He’s got a ton of counterfeit cash on hand that he’s scrambling to get rid of. He will get rid of it, one way or another. We just need him to do it through us.”

“It’s a bad idea,” I said. “There has to be another way.”

“Anybody care what I think?” Gem asked.

“No,” I said, at the same time Jack said, “Sure.”

Gem reached forward, gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Kate, but I’ll do it.”

“I know you’ll do it,” I said. “Because you’re nice. It’s a good thing I’m not so nice. We make a good pair.”

“If it really is just a meeting where I wear a wire, it’s not a huge commitment.” Gem shrugged. “I’ve already assisted the department on occasion. If I can help stop a guy like Jesse from hurting innocent people, it might be worth it.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at me. “One meeting, Kate.”

I blew out a breath. “You don’t need my permission. Gem’s a grown adult. My grievances have been noted, and that’s all I can do.”

“I’ll do it,” Gem said. “One meeting. With the caveat that you keep Kate in the loop with everything. I work with you guys; that means I’m working with her. And her grudging blessing.”

Jack extended a hand. The two children in the back seat shook hands.

“How awkward is this for you?” Jimmy muttered to me.

“On a scale of one to ten, it’s like a six,” I said.

Jimmy raised his brows. “That’s not very high.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an awkward person,” I said. “And considering we just had a funeral for a murdered man in a mostaccioli joint while getting stalked by the feds, it’s not so bad.”

“We weren’t stalking you,” Jack said. “We were just getting lunch in a convenient place.”

“I see your point,” Jimmy said. “I see your point, indeed, Rosetti.”

“I’M SORRY IF I GAVE you the runaround.” Melinda’s apology was really more like half an apology. It sounded very awkward, which just added to my awkward totals for the day. “Wes’s uncle was, indeed, murdered.”

“So I hear,” I said. “Jimmy mentioned as much. In the middle of lunch. Long story.”

Melinda sat behind her desk. She looked exceptionally tired, like she’d forgotten to wear mascara or something. This wasn’t a woman who was often seen without an appropriate shade of lipstick to match her shoes. The effect was slightly unnerving.

“Cause of death was a morphine overdose,” Melinda said. “I found the injection site, not to mention his labs came back and confirmed what I’d already suspected. I had my team run a panel of blood work yesterday to get a jump on things, in case.”

“Interesting,” I said. “He wasn’t taking any medication as far as Wes knew.”

“Well, this wasn’t exactly a prescription,” Melinda said. “Someone injected him with a dose high enough to slow his heart to the point where it killed him.”

“Is this medication something that might be readily available at Sunset Acres?”

“It’s impossible to know without checking their medical supply room,” Melinda said with a tired yawn. “But it’s possible that it was kept on hand as medication for one of the patients and was used inappropriately. However, there are plenty of ways to retrieve morphine outside of the nursing home and carry it in too.”

“Was there any sign of a struggle?”

“No. I’d guess it was injected between ten p.m. and midnight. He’d have died not long after. From the report I received, his body wasn’t discovered until the next morning when Declan didn’t come down for breakfast at his usual time.”

“I guess we do really have a murder on our hands.”

“It appears that way,” Melinda said. “He didn’t inject himself.”

“I’ve got to talk to the chief. I’ll need his thoughts, and maybe his blessing, on this whole thing seeing as I’ve got family involved.” Before I could leave, I paused. “Melinda, is everything okay with you? Like, really okay?”

She blinked and looked up. “Yes, why? I apologized for snapping at you.”

“I know. I know things have been crazy here. I just wanted to check it wasn’t more than regular workplace stress.”

“It’s been incredibly busy.” Melinda looked down at her paperwork. “Thanks for understanding.”

She didn’t really answer my question, so I made a note to follow up on Asha’s suggestion and set up a time for a girls’ night at Bellini’s. Maybe Melinda would be a little more chatty after she’d sucked down a margarita pitcher with a straw.

I found the chief at his desk. He looked up and waved for me to enter his office, but he didn’t look happy about it. Then again, he rarely looked happy to see me. Sturgeon was a good cop and a great boss, but we didn’t share tea together. If I was hunting him down, there was usually a problem.

“Did you hear about the nursing home case?” I asked without preamble. “Melinda just ruled it a homicide. Morphine overdose.”

“I heard rumblings,” Sturgeon said. “I was going to pass it on to local cops.”

“I’d like to request the case,” I said. “It’s a little personal for me. I’ve already started investigating, technically, so it would probably be faster for me to just wrap it up.”

I took a seat as Sturgeon studied me.

“Melinda’s report came through about eight minutes ago.” Sturgeon frowned. “Short of time travel, help me understand how you might have already gotten started.”

“Like I said, there is a personal element to this case.”

“There always is,” Sturgeon muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, “At a nursing home?”

“My brother-in-law’s uncle,” I said. “My brother-in-law suspected that the death might not be from natural causes. I didn’t do anything to get in trouble,” I added quickly, “but I might have asked a few questions.”

Sturgeon gave a hefty sigh. “I hear you’ve got your sticky fingers in Russo’s federal case too.”

“Okay, those are not my sticky fingers,” I said. “My fingers were very unsticky. They were buttered fingers. I wanted that case to slide right off my fingers.”

“What the hell are you saying, Rosetti? What’s a buttery finger?”

“I just mean that I didn’t want anything to do with that case,” I said. “I’m reluctantly sort of adjacently interested in the case.”

Sturgeon stared at me.

“They want Gem to wear a wire,” I said. “I’m against it, but nobody cares what I think.”

“Ah.”

“Please give me a few days on this case. I don’t have a lot on my plate at the moment, and it would mean a lot to my family. Plus, it might be a quick thing.”

“Is anything ever quick and easy with you?” Sturgeon asked.

“No, sir,” I said honestly.

“Right, well, can’t argue with that.” Sturgeon nodded. “You’ve got a week before I kick this case to the local cops. If something more pressing comes along in the meantime, that will take priority.”

“Understood.”

“And Rosetti?” Sturgeon studied me. “You’re right to want to keep Gem clear of that case. It’s big and gnarly.”

“I can’t stop him from helping.”

“No,” Sturgeon said. “But I think you probably have more sway than you think over that man.”

I backed out of the office before I was faced with any more of a discussion with my boss about my romantic life.

I found Jimmy at his desk, looking to be on the verge of a food coma.

“Let’s go,” I told him. “We’re heading back to Sunset Acres.”

“Isn’t it getting a little late?” Jimmy looked at his watch.

“I know I’m interrupting your siesta, but we’ve got to let them know it was a murder,” I told him. “I want to get started asking some questions.”

Jimmy groaned and hauled himself up from behind his desk.

“Lots of running around today,” Jimmy said. “Rush, rush, rush.”

“You took a two-hour lunch that was paid for by my boyfriend,” I told him. “Jeesh.”

“Can’t rush digestion.”

“Not rushing it, but you’ve got twenty minutes.”

Jimmy and I made it to Sunset Acres about a half an hour later. Gem had gone back to his offices, and Jack was holed up in the conference room with the feds. I’d deal with both of them later. For now, I had a new murder case on my hands, and if I didn’t want to get it sucked out from under me by the end of the week, I needed to keep making progress.

We were getting spoiled with nice weather this week. The sun blinked down at us as we buzzed in through the security gate out front. A fence encircled the green front lawn, and once the gate unlocked, we strolled through the enclosed courtyard toward the front doors.

More residents were out and about this afternoon, milling around the grounds and enjoying the sunshine. A couple of men were seated around a table, sharing an afternoon espresso. Two women in matching jogger sets were doing laps around a blooming rose garden. A staff member sipped an iced coffee and leaned against one of the pillars out front, and a woman I recognized from last time—Darla—stood next to said staff person, chatting his ear off.

“Hey, look who it is,” Darla called as we approached the front door. “Hot Cakes. Are you looking into this place for your dad?”

I blinked, then realized Darla was speaking to me. And she thought Jimmy was my father.

I snorted a laugh, and Jimmy looked like he was contemplating doing target practice with his Taser. But Darla gave a hoarse cackle, then winked at Jimmy.

“We’d love to have you here, sugar. Someone like you might really spice up this place.”

“Someone like me?” Jimmy ventured.

“Someone all young and spry with a physique like the one you’ve got...” Darla waggled her eyebrows. “Let’s just say I’d like to see you at water aerobics tomorrow at seven a.m.”

That semi-lethal look on Jimmy’s face melted away at the first sign of flattery.

“Yes,” I said. “We were so interested last time that we came back for another tour.”

“That’s great,” Darla said in a throaty voice that had me wondering if she’d spent most of her life smoking. “Sometimes we have people come and test the place out for a day. You know, like how kids tour college campuses. You should come back tomorrow. It’s chili day.”

“I do like chili,” Jimmy said.

“C’mon, Pops,” I said, dragging Jimmy inside. “We’ve got to get started on our paperwork.”

We found Amy Lee alone in the lobby once again. She looked up with a quick smile on her face, a smile that faltered ever so slightly when she saw it was me and Jimmy. She quickly recovered with a newer, slightly less-shiny smile.

“Detectives,” she said. “You’re back.”

“Can we talk somewhere privately?” I asked.

Amy set out a sign that said she’d return in fifteen minutes.

“I can see the front desk from my office, so I don’t need someone to cover for this,” she explained, leading us into the same office where we’d sat last time. “Plus, we have cameras. Can I get you coffee?”

Jimmy and I declined, then quickly took seats across from Amy. I decided to cut right to the chase.

“We’re back on official business this time,” I said. “The autopsy of Declan Remmington was completed today, and the ME ruled it to be a homicide.”

Amy blinked, like the words didn’t register. “A homicide.”

“He was killed,” I said. “He was injected with a drug to a lethal degree. Probably while asleep.”

“You’re kidding me.” Amy fanned herself, the smallest crack in her polished façade. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s impossible. Sure, people die here, but they’re not murdered. Only because they’re old.”

“I’m afraid that’s not entirely true. At least, not anymore,” I told her. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted Declan dead?”

Amy looked genuinely shocked. “No. I mean, why would anyone want him dead? He was quiet and a little quirky, but he was harmless.”

“By any chance, has a notebook of his turned up?” I asked. “We’ve heard from several people that he liked to write in notebooks, but we haven’t found anything of the sort in his belongings.”

“No. I wouldn’t know details like that. You could ask his friends about a notebook. I gave you that list of names last time.”

“It was hardly a list,” I said. “There was one name on it, and we already met Andrew. He didn’t have any ideas either.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you with that. I have no clue. Is it possible he trashed them because he didn’t want nosy people reading his thoughts?” she asked pointedly.

“It’s possible,” I agreed.

The more I thought about it, however, the more it seemed unlikely that Declan would suddenly destroy his beloved notebook just days before he was killed—unless he thought it would get him in trouble. But then why write things down at all?

My gut was telling me that his notebook was his confidant, a place he stashed his secrets and musings and theories—secrets that might have gotten him killed. So did he stash his notebook somewhere safe, or had the killer taken it?

A lazy-sounding knock on the door interrupted our conversation, and Darla appeared. She lounged against the doorframe languidly, like an elderly cat who believed they had every right to be absolutely anywhere they wanted.

“Can you set this guy up in Declan’s old room?” Darla grinned, then winked at Jimmy. “It’s across the hall from me. I’d be happy to show this fine young man around.”

“Set him up...?” Amy looked between us and Darla.

“Yeah, I know there’s a waiting list.” Darla rolled her eyes, then made a money symbol by rubbing her fingers together. “But this lady looks like she’s not opposed to greasing palms.”

“We met Darla outside,” I said, jumping into the conversation. “We chatted about how I’m looking for a nice place for my father since he can’t live on his own anymore.”

Amy’s gaze whizzed between the three of us, clearly trying to keep up. She obviously knew I was lying, and she was smart enough to just stay quiet and let things play out.

“Right,” Amy said finally. “Well, there’s a protocol in terms of accepting our next resident, and I’m afraid—”

“Oh, untwist your undies for once, Amy,” Darla moaned. “We all know you greased Mirabelle’s palms to get your mom in here. So don’t play that judgy card with me.”

I felt my eyebrows creeping toward my hairline. I swiveled to face Amy. “You didn’t mention your mother lived here.”

“I don’t make it a habit to discuss my personal family business at work.” Amy’s jaw tensed, her Stepford smile finally faltering. “I prefer to keep those areas of my life separate.”

“All I’m saying, is that I already invited this fine young man to chili day tomorrow.” Darla winked again at Jimmy. Her very heavily mascara’d eyelashes stuck together for a second. “He says he likes chili. Let them do a day tour. It’s not like it’s gonna kill anybody.”

A long silence passed.

“What?” Darla said when nobody spoke in way, way too long. “We can spare an extra bowl of chili.”

“Actually,” I said, scrambling to pick up the lead Darla was unknowingly throwing down, “that might not be a terrible idea.”

“Really?” Jimmy squeaked, sounding like a prepubescent boy. “A good idea, Kate?”

“A great idea,” I said. “You could spend the day here; get to know the residents; take a spin around the walking paths like you were talking about. You could get a feel for what it’d be like to live here.”

“I don’t know.” Jimmy patted a napkin to his forehead. He was actually perspiring.

“I’m not sure we can get you in so quickly,” Amy said. “I’ll have to check with Mirabelle.”

“You do that,” Darla said. “I already texted her.”

Amy’s face was turning a slightly reddish shade. It seemed our perfectly coiffed host had someone who could really get under her skin. I had a new appreciation for Darla.

“You’re not supposed to reach out directly to Mirabelle,” Amy said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Did someone say my name?” A tall, pretty woman with dark hair and warm brown skin swept into the office. She wore an apple-red dress that swished around her knees. “Hi, I’m Mirabelle. Thanks for your note, Darla.”

I chanced a glance at Amy while everything else was shaking out. I could practically see her scrambling to rearrange her face into an appropriate blasé expression.

“Oh, and Darla”—Mirabelle leaned closer, dropping her voice—“I put that thing you asked for under your pillow. Extra batteries are in the drawer.”

Darla brightened. “Thanks, hon. You’re a doll. Well, toodles. See you tomorrow, big guy.”

Mirabelle waited until Darla left, then she closed the door behind her. Once we were locked in alone, Mirabelle sized us up. She pursed her candy-red lips.

“He’s not your father.” Mirabelle pointed matching candy-red nails in our direction, dispelling our cover in an instant. “This is about Declan’s death, I’m assuming?”

“We’re homicide detectives,” I said, then introduced ourselves and gave Mirabelle the story of how we’d landed here, and why we were pretending that Jimmy was my dad. “However, Darla’s case of mistaken identity gave me an idea,” I continued. “What if we did have Jimmy spend the day here tomorrow?”

“Cripes, Kate.” Jimmy mopped his forehead again. “You’re really pushing hard to get me locked away.”

“This place is not a locked-down facility. Our residents are free to come and go as they please,” Amy said, almost on autopilot, like she wanted to contribute something really helpful to the conversation in an effort to impress her boss. “It is not a prison.”

“He’s on the younger side,” Mirabelle said. “Our guests might ask questions.”

“Detective Jones could say that he’s aware of the long waiting list,” I said, “and he wants to look early. And that’s if he’s asked. It’ll only be a couple of hours. One day, max.”

“You guys act like I’m on death’s door,” Jimmy said. “I’m not even retired.”

“It could probably work for the day,” Mirabelle said. “If I squint, I could see it. Many of our residents have issues with glaucoma, so it’s possible nobody would really notice—or care.”

“This is so not helpful,” Jimmy muttered. “You are terrible for my ego, Rosetti.”

“Someone needed to knock you down a few pegs.” I faced my partner. “What do you say, Jimmy? If Gem can go undercover, then so can you.”

“Can we step outside a minute?” Jimmy stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor.

I followed him outside into the still-abandoned lobby. Darla had gone to investigate whatever Mirabelle had left under her pillow that required batteries. I really didn’t want to know.

“What the hell?” Jimmy asked once we were alone.

“I’m just going off of what Darla started,” I said. “It’s not a terrible idea. We are going to need to question many of the residents anyway. Once we start doing our formal investigation, your cover is blown. This is your only chance to get in and hear some gossip before people know you’re a cop.”

“My cover is already blown. Amy and Mirabelle know I’m a detective. And might I remind you that Andrew was also at a lunch where it was public knowledge I work in homicide?”

“I’m sure if we have a word with Andrew, he’ll keep quiet,” I said. “He could even help out—introduce you to some of the guys Declan hung around with. We need to find that notebook, and you know it. It didn’t come out of here with Declan’s things, so where is it?”

“The trash?” Jimmy asked hopefully.

“It’s possible,” I said. “But I don’t think so. My gut tells me that if Declan was as paranoid as everyone is painting him to be, he would’ve hidden it somewhere safe, especially with him knowing he might be in danger.”

“This sucks,” Jimmy said. “I don’t like being old.”

“C’mon,” I cajoled. “You get to eat chili.”

“Chili gives me heartburn.”

“Hey, you’re in good company this week,” I said. “Gem’s going undercover too.”

“Gem’s undercover is with a bunch of billionaires. He gets to eat caviar and lounge around beautiful women. No offense.”

“You get to eat pudding and lounge around... Darla.”

Jimmy paled further, if that were even possible.

“You could take a walk, swim some laps,” I wheedled. “They feed you three square meals.”

“They feed you three square meals in prison.”

“Take one for the team,” I said. “It’s just one day. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up after dinner. You can call it early if things aren’t going well.”

Jimmy let out a huge sigh. “I’ll do it, but I’m not thrilled about it.”

“Not yet.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Something tells me you’ll come around.”

Chapter 6

Once I’d made my pitch to Jimmy, we reentered the office and found Amy and Mirabelle waiting for us. Mirabelle stood and gestured right back toward the door.

“Let’s walk,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll have some questions for me, and we can discuss on the move.”

We headed out onto the grounds. Maybe it was the sunshine, but it seemed like this place had gone through a transformation. It seemed happier, more upbeat today. The sound of soft laughter floated over to us from a table where a couple of women were crocheting. A few card games were happening at picnic tables beneath oversized umbrellas. A few folks snacked on fresh fruit from a tray someone had pushed outside.

Mirabelle inclined her head, gesturing for us to head away from the rest of the residents. We strolled down a gravel trail along the exterior fence. It was a pretty walk, with miles of blue sky stretching on either side of us as far as the eye could see. Butterflies flittered over the gardens, and the scent of roses lingered on a breeze.

“Can we expect you tomorrow?” Mirabelle asked Jimmy. “Undercover, I mean?”

“It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice,” Jimmy said. “So, yes.”

“Of course, you and Amy know the real situation,” I said, “and I’ll speak with Andrew to let him know what’s happening. We’ll request his cooperation on keeping Jimmy’s real identity quiet.”

“What are your intentions in placing Detective Jones undercover?” Mirabelle studied us closely. “What do you hope to achieve?”

Something about the way she asked the question felt a little bit invasive, like she was just a bit too curious. Was Mirabelle genuinely invested in her residents’ well-being? Or was she prying because she had something to hide?

“This is a limited time opportunity,” I said. “It will help Detective Jones get a feel for Sunset Acres and the things people are saying about Declan, without filters. When people know they’re talking to a detective, they automatically censor what they say, even if they’re not trying to. From what we’ve gathered in our investigation so far, Declan Remmington was quite a private person, so it might be that people are hesitant to discuss him with us.”

“I see,” Mirabelle said. “How can I help?”

“Do you know of anyone Declan spent time with regularly? Anyone he might have been friends with?”

“Amy handles a lot of the day-to-day operations, but it would be the nursing staff who would be better suited to answer those types of questions.”

I decided to push a little bit. Mirabelle seemed too confident, too collected. I wanted to see if I could rattle her cage a bit. “You seemed pretty close with Darla, is all, so I figured you might be closely involved with the residents.”

“Darla is a unique character. She decides who she’s friends with, and I’m not sure she gives the recipient of that friendship much of an option.”

“I can actually believe that,” Jimmy said. “I think I’ve made her list for reasons, unbeknownst to me.”

Mirabelle gave Jimmy an amused smile. “Darla has a penchant for handsome young men.”

Jimmy looked like his head might just inflate like a balloon and pop right off, floating away over the rose garden.

“Since we’re on the subject of asking questions, and this is a homicide investigation, I do need to ask where you were the night that Declan was killed.” When she didn’t seem inclined to answer, I added, “Declan was killed on the premises, and you have access to the building after hours, I assume.”

Mirabelle’s eyelashes fluttered just a hair too quickly, but she recovered her composure almost at once. “I was at home from seven p.m. the night before his death to six a.m. the next morning when I went to the gym. My husband was with me. We ordered a pizza for dinner, watched a show together, then fell asleep.”

I nodded. A pretty verifiable alibi, assuming Mirabelle’s spouse wouldn’t lie to us on her behalf. Which was a big assumption indeed.

“Have you noticed anyone acting off, lately?” I asked her. “Any surprising guests or visitors, things like that?”

“I am more hands off in the facility than the rest of the staff as an administrator. I help with the hiring of staff, some of the HR tasks, as well as things like resident intake, paperwork, budgeting, etcetera.”

“That’s a big job.”

“We are a relatively small team, management wise. Yes, we all wear a lot of hats. There are three women who man the front desk. Then there’s me and my boss, Molly Lorena, who handles anything really high level. We have a small but dedicated team of nurses tending to our residents. Of course, we also have a cleaning crew and our specialists.”

“What do you mean by specialists?”

“People who come in for one purpose; usually they are independent contractors. We have a water-aerobics instructor, for example. A yoga instructor. The occasional artist to teach a one-off class. To answer your larger question, no—I haven’t noticed anyone acting strangely lately. Things have been running quite smoothly, in fact.”

“Amy mentioned you have a long waiting list?”

“Yes.” Mirabelle gestured to the grounds with her hands, offering the view before us as her explanation. “We have a wonderful reputation in the industry, both on a local and regional level. We have several residents who’ve come to stay with us all the way from Wisconsin, Ohio, Iowa, and more.”

“Speaking of your residents, how long has Amy’s mother lived here?”

“Around four years.” Mirabelle pursed her lips as she looked at us. “Is that relevant to the investigation?”

“It’s hard to say what’s relevant. We’re just getting started,” I said. “Is it common for staff to have family members living on the premises?”

“No, in fact it’s quite rare.”

“Does Amy’s mother get any perks?”

“Perks?”

I shrugged. “Discounted prices, a better room...other preferential treatment.”

“There is a reduction in her costs, yes. I don’t know that I’d call it preferential treatment so much as an employee discount.”

“How is it decided who gets an open bed?” I asked. “Does it go in a chronological order down the waiting list, or are there more factors at play?”

“Usually it’s chronological order, but there are exceptions.”

“Such as?”

“Such as whether or not a resident will be a good fit with our community.”

“Who decides that?” I ask.

“It’s a team effort,” Mirabelle said.

“Do you get a say?”

“Sometimes,” Mirabelle said. “I often do the interviews with the families on the waiting list, so I’m in the position to offer an educated opinion.”

“Are there any other factors that might guarantee or deny a person entry to Sunset Acres?”

Mirabelle ran her tongue over her teeth. Her red lips parted as she sized me up. “We do check into a potential resident’s history. If they have some sort of record of bad behavior, that can count against them.”

“Like a prison record?”

“Like a prison record,” she said. “Occasionally, finances play a role too.”

“You mean like taking bribes?” I quipped. Ever since Darla had made the “greased palms” comment, I hadn’t been able to shake the fact that bribery might play a role in placement.

“Of course not.” Mirabelle took the fastball like it was an easy question. “We do have a wide variety of programs to help assist with the cost. But sometimes it’s just not a good fit, and a family can’t afford to be here. It’s a sad, hard truth, but it is the truth.”

“Have you had any disgruntled want-to-be patients?” I asked. “Anyone who might be upset their application was rejected?”

“I don’t see how that equates to killing Declan Remmington. It certainly wasn’t his decision to deny anyone a spot here.”

“That wasn’t the question,” I said.

“We have one family who has been...” Mirabelle paused, considered. “Persistent.”

“I’ll need their information,” I said.

“I’ll need to see some warrants.” Mirabelle stopped walking. “I’m trying to be accommodating, but this is a two-way street. I’m happy to help Detective Jones spend the day here tomorrow. In return, I’m going to need everything to be official business.”

“Of course,” I said. “Though I’d think it would be beneficial to Sunset Acres as a whole to get this case solved as quickly and quietly as possible. I can’t imagine anyone wanting the press involved. Not a good look in the public eye for a resident to be murdered in his bed.”

Mirabelle studied me like she was trying to determine if that was a threat or not. It wasn’t a threat; it was the truth. Mirabelle obviously came to the same conclusion. Her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded, looking truly uneasy for the first time.

“Yes, of course. This is unfamiliar territory for me, obviously. We’ve never had a resident in danger before, let alone murdered. I’m trying to handle everything the best I can. I do think having all the paperwork in place would be helpful.”

“More than happy to do that,” I said. “In return, your cooperation is greatly appreciated and will only help get us out of your hair. If there is a murderer inside of Sunset Acres’s walls, the faster we put them behind bars, the safer everyone will be. This is not us against you; we are working together for the same cause.”

“I can’t agree more.”

“Do you know anything about Andrew Myers?” I asked. “He came to Declan’s celebration of life. His son brought him.”

Mirabelle paused, glanced at me. “That’s fascinating. Because Andrew Myers doesn’t have a son.”

AFTER WE WALKED MIRABELLE back to the Sunset Acres’ building, we briefly looked around for Andrew but didn’t see him anywhere. Mirabelle and Amy both seemed to be done volunteering information for the day, so Jimmy and I took our cue to leave.

“See you tomorrow, sugar,” Darla called out. “Bring some sour cream with you if you can’t handle spice.”

“Sour cream?” Jimmy asked, looking sick to his stomach.

“For the chili,” Darla chided. “We like to keep things hot around here. Very spicy, if you know what I mean.”

We climbed into the car, and Jimmy glanced over at me, looking a combination of bewildered and queasy.

“I have no clue what she means,” he said. “What the hell does she mean, Rosetti?”

“I think she was implying she wants you,” I said. “You know, sexually.”

“That’s disgusting, Kate.”

“You asked!”

“I’m married!” Jimmy said. “I’m not in the dating pool. Haven’t been in it for decades.”

“Well, you can tell her that over spicy chili tomorrow,” I said. “Pack the Pepto.”

“You’re filthy, Rosetti.”

I grinned as we made it back to the precinct. We parted ways, Jimmy heading home to his wife to deliver the news that he’d be out of pocket tomorrow, getting fawned over by women two decades his senior while eating a bean dish that was sure to cause heartburn.

Meanwhile, I was headed to my billionaire boyfriend’s apartment in the city. There was a clear winner in this situation, and honestly, I was pretty glad it was me.

I made it up the private elevator to Gem’s penthouse. He did have a house—several, as a matter of fact—but for convenience’s sake, he often spent a lot of time at his downtown place. It was on the top level of his office space, so it made for a seamless commute. Plus, it was an easy drive for me from the precinct. The view wasn’t too shabby either.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out, feeling strangely relieved. This sort of relief was new to me. Never in my life had I felt so excited to be done with the workday. So excited to be home.

Normally, I loved my job—reveled in the busyness and nonstop action. Some days were difficult. Some days were tragic. Some days were downright deadly. But mostly, I loved feeling like I was helping people. I loved the thrill of catching bad guys. I loved working with my team. My life had always felt full.

But lately, something had shifted. I still enjoyed my job, but that joy now existed alongside something more. I had a personal life that felt rich and exciting too. My father was comfortably back in my life, remarried to my mother, their home life wonderfully normal. My sister was having a baby. I had great friends.

And, of course, there was Gem.

I could finally and wholeheartedly admit that I was in love with the man. I had been for some time now, but I had been resistant to voice those sentiments aloud. So Gem had been patient, and he’d given me the time and space I needed to figure things out. Now, here I was, all figured out, happily in love with him.

“I’m home!” I called out, stalling for a brief second as the words rang funny in my head.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever said those words aloud before, especially not when I was standing in someone else’s home. Gem’s home, specifically.

My house had always been my oasis, my private sanctuary. These days, however, my house felt more like an option. I found that I didn’t miss my personal space or my bed or my shower, even when I’d stay at Gem’s place for days on end.

“Welcome home.” Gem came out of the kitchen, a smile on his face.

Whether he was just happy to see me, or whether he’d caught my inadvertent slip, I wasn’t sure. Gem pulled me against him, pressed a hard kiss to my lips, squeezed me so tight I struggled to take a breath.

I looped an arm through Gem’s and followed him around the corner.

“I know we had pasta for lunch,” I said, “but I was thinking pizza—” I came to a hard stop as we rounded the corner. “Jack?”

My ex-boyfriend stood at my current boyfriend’s kitchen island. On the counter in front of him were two glasses of wine and a hugely oversized pizza.

“What is going on here?” I looked between the two of them. “Am I interrupting a dinner date?”

“We have company,” Gem said to me, a little weakly, maybe the first time he’d ever not sounded confident. “I was going to tell you, but...”

But I’d been too busy shouting, “I’m home!” and locking lips with Gem.

“Uh-huh.” I gestured between the two of them, then at the glasses of wine. “Gotta be honest, guys, I’m not loving this.”

“Relax,” Jack said. “It’s just business.”

“Uh-huh,” I repeated. “That’s how it starts.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, okay. Well, I take full responsibility for this situation. Don’t blame Gem.”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “I know you’re to blame. What are you doing, Russo?”

“As you well know, Gem is offering his help on my case—” Jack started.

“You mean, you’re strong-arming my boyfriend into going undercover,” I interrupted, “by taking advantage of his generosity.”

Gem squeezed me to his side, a little nudge that he appreciated me sticking up for him, even if it wasn’t necessary. Gem was a big boy and could handle things himself. Still, it was nice of him to acknowledge my efforts.

“Consider me like his lawyer,” I said to Jack. “This discussion should not be happening without me present.”

“Gem is an adult,” Jack shot back. “He can handle himself.”

“He sure can,” I said. “But he’s nice. I’m not. I can put my foot down.”

“He’s only nice to you,” Jack said. Then he raised a hand. “Let me rephrase before I get chewed out. You’re a nice guy, Gem.”

“Thanks.” Gem sounded wildly amused by this whole conversation.

The man was taking it all in stride, to his great credit. Another reason I loved him. He understood me—and my job, and now, also my ex-boyfriend—in a way that not many men would be able to handle with such grace.

Also, Gem was hot. So that also helped, but it wasn’t the point, just something I noticed as I glanced up at Gem’s curly hair, the way it flopped lightly over his forehead. The way he smelled so minty and fresh and masculine. There I was, getting distracted by Gem’s incredible qualities in the middle of an otherwise terse conversation.

“What I’m saying,” Jack continued, “is that Gem runs billion-dollar businesses. He had to be able to act ruthlessly at times to get there. Am I right?”

“You’re not wrong,” Gem admitted.

“I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Jack paused, then glanced at Gem. “Have you?”

“I’m not that much of an idiot,” Gem said. “I wouldn’t tell you if I had.”

“Touché,” Jack said amiably. “All that to say, Kate, with all due respect, you see a different side of Gem than anyone else in the world. It’s his decision to speak to me without you present. Respectfully.”

“Respectfully, my ass,” I said. “This is not a normal situation. If I wasn’t dating Gem in the first place, you wouldn’t have come to him with this request at all. So, respectfully, I’m involved whether you want to admit it or not.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Well, shit.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“I hate it when she makes a good point,” Jack said, but he was speaking over my head to Gem. Jack looked annoyed but also defeated.

“Trust me,” Gem said, “I totally get it.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m here. And yes, I’m always right.”

“Well...” Jack said. “I don’t know about that.”

Gem shoved his hands in his pockets, but he didn’t exactly disagree with Jack. He did suddenly look interested in his wineglass.

“Pour me one too,” I said to Jack. “Let’s finish this conversation so you can leave.”

Jack leapt to attention, obviously happy to have something to do. Once we’d all gotten our wine and grabbed a slice of pizza, we took a more relaxed seat at the little café table near the floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed for a magnificent view of the city below.

I caught Jack staring out at the streetlights dotting the horizon, like glow-in-the-dark, twinkling little ants, spanning miles in every direction. I didn’t blame him for being mesmerized. It was a lot to take in, especially the first time. Even now, after practically living here for the whole summer, it never got old.

“What’s the rush?” I asked Jack, once I’d gotten some pepperoni and gluten and cheese down my hatch. “You just came to Gem about going undercover this afternoon. Couldn’t this discussion wait until tomorrow at a more appropriate time and place?”

“We got some word this afternoon that Jesse Block accepted the meeting with Gem and set it for tomorrow.” Jack cleared his throat. “To be fair, I called him before showing up at his door. But this was a conversation that needed to happen in person.”

“Tomorrow?” I gaped. “Get out. That’s too fast.”

“It’s already set. We can’t change it.” Jack’s face was stony. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t run this by me!” I said. “Have you forgotten that Gem is a civilian? The situation needs to be completely controlled. We need to scope it out, get safety precautions in place. I haven’t even had time to set Asha looking into Jesse Block! It can’t happen tomorrow.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Gem extended a hand, rested it on my wrist. It settled all three of us.

“I love you, Kate, and I value your opinion more than anything in the world.” Gem leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, his gentle touch at odds with the gravelly tone to his voice. “But I have already committed to helping with this case. I follow through on my promises.”

“I know,” I whispered. “It’s so stupid.”

Gem gave a soft laugh. “Let’s hear Agent Russo out. I’d like you to be a part of this—your thoughts are important to me. Not to mention, the sooner we get through it all, the sooner we can have the rest of the night to ourselves. I’m sure Jack has places he’d rather be than here and is anxious to leave.”

I was pretty sure Jack had no other place he needed to be. In fact, the way he was sipping his wine and looking out the window, he looked pretty relaxed here. I was willing to bet if Gem suggested a movie night and a sleepover, Jack would be one heartbeat away from throwing on some jammies and popping popcorn.

“Right,” I said. “Let’s hear it, then, Jack.”

It was one thing for my ex and my boyfriend to get along. That part was great, actually. I worked so closely with Jack that I wanted Gem to feel comfortable with the situation.

However, when Gem’s safety was at stake, there was no room for comfort. The moment we dropped our professionalism and objective outlooks was the moment someone ended up hurt—or worse.

“The meet is tomorrow at eleven thirty,” Jack said. “It’s set in a conference room at the Hotel Luxx in downtown St. Paul. A neutral location for both parties.”

I nodded. Neutral was good. I didn’t want Jesse coming onto Gem’s private property.

“We won’t put Gem in danger.” Jack looked at me. “The situation will be closely monitored. We have people working through the night to put safety measures into place. It’s a pretty low-risk meeting.”

“A man like Jesse is never low risk,” I said. “To assume so is foolish.”

“The meeting spot is public, and we are going to have men throughout the hotel and on the grounds. We’ll have some surveillance set up in the conference room, but it will be minimal and very discreet. Jesse’s guys will come in first and do a sweep, obviously, so we have to be extremely cautious.”

“Which is why you’re sending my boyfriend in wearing a wire,” I said pointedly.

“The wire will not be detectable, even by Jesse’s people,” Jack said. We’ve got it under control, Kate.”

“Famous last words,” I snapped.

It was like I couldn’t stop my mouth from chirping like a broken smoke alarm, adding commentary at every turn of the road. I felt extremely uncomfortable with this whole situation. I couldn’t put my finger on what felt wrong outside of the obvious. However, years of experience had taught me to listen to my gut, and my gut was telling me this was a bad idea.

“Gem.” Jack turned to face my boyfriend. “I’ve given you a folder full of information. Scripts as to how the conversation could go, things we’d like you to work into the dialogue, if possible. Read it over; let me know if you have any questions.”

Obviously Jack was bypassing me, going over my head, straight to Gem.

“The basic idea is that we’d like you to float the fact that some of your businesses are collapsing, you’re under heavy IRS scrutiny, and you’re looking to make some quick cash,” Jack said. “Not unlike Jesse.”

“Oh, great, the two can bond over illegal business practices,” I snarked.

Jack ignored me again. “Mention that you’re in the process of buying a couple of cash-heavy businesses, and you’d love to loop him into your investment. For a fee, of course.”

“Of course,” Gem echoed. “The details are in the folder?”

“Everything,” Jack promised. “We’ve set up a whole fake profile for you, complete with permits and documentation. No one will suspect a thing.”

“I’ll review the files.” Gem suddenly seemed tired, like he was ready to be done with this conversation. “Thank you, Agent Russo.”

“Thank you,” I scoffed. “He should be thanking you.”

“I am thanking him,” Jack said, extending a hand to Gem. “Thank you, Alastair. We appreciate this more than you know. I’ll give you a call later to go over the files, and I’ll arrive here at seven a.m. tomorrow to get you prepped.”

“See you in the morning,” I said. “I’ll be here too.”

Jack was just standing to leave when the elevator doors opened. I looked over, shocked. As far as I knew, Gem had to buzz everyone up, and he hadn’t looked at his phone once. I felt my hand sliding toward my weapon on instinct at the intrusion.

“Good evening,” a chirpy female voice called. “Is this a good time?”

Gem groaned, then hung his head in his hand.

“Who is that?” I asked as a woman came around the corner looking adorable and cute and very happy to be standing in Gem’s penthouse.

“On that note,” Jack said, giving a wry salute, “I’ll be taking off.”

Chapter 7

“You are even prettier in person.”

This mystery woman strode right up to me and studied me through big, bold lashes. She had extremely voluminous bottle-blonde hair. Her short and curvy body was encased in a fire-engine-red one-piece that looked like leather but might also be Spanx. She’d painted her lips a shade of red to match.

“Thanks for letting me stop by tonight, Mr. Gem.” The woman smiled briskly. “I won’t be long. I’m sure the two of you have plans. By the way, my name’s Bonnie, and I’m Mr. Gem’s new assistant.”

A light bulb clicked on in my head. “Oh,” I said. “That assistant.”

“The one and only,” Bonnie said through those red lips. “And you must be the ex-boyfriend.” She pointed a red-taloned fingernail at Jack. “The fed?”

Jack looked disappointed, like he’d gotten caught mid-heist and was now in trouble. I took a small amount of satisfaction in the fact that Jack hadn’t managed his slick little escape without getting noticed.

“That would be me.” Jack cleared his throat. “I was just leaving.”

“You’re a cutie-pie for a fed,” Bonnie said.

“Thanks?” Then Jack turned and walked straight into the elevator and stared at his shoes until it sucked him away.

I cleared my throat. “And I’m Kate—”

“Detective Kate Rosetti, daughter of Angelo Rosetti. Yeah, I know,” Bonnie said. “I’ve done my research on your amazing career. Congratulations on being a complete badass. I totally have a girl-crush on you.”

“Thanks?” I said.

“You do know you have pasta sauce on your shirt, right?” Bonnie approached me like a concerned grandmother. She frowned, gestured toward the stain. “I know a trick to get that out. Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” I said. “I don’t keep clothes here.”

“I had someone send up some things for you this morning,” Bonnie said. “Just in case. I like to be prepared.”

“How did you know my size?”

“I have my ways,” she said vaguely. “Follow me.”

I followed Bonnie into the spare room. She flung open the closet doors and thumbed through hangers and hangers full of clothing that hadn’t been there last week.

“By the way, you have a wonderful bone structure; it was very fun to shop for you.” She grinned my way. “Especially once Mr. Gem told me there was no budget when it came to you.”

“He said what?”

Instead of answering, Bonnie pulled a set of very comfy-looking pajamas out of the closet. The fabric looked soft. So soft.

“I bet your job keeps you in great shape.” She held up the pajamas in front of me, narrowing her gaze to size-up the fit. “Do you have a six-pack? I bet you have a six-pack. You always hide under such boxy shirts. I can help with your style, if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

“Anyway, why don’t you change so I can take care of your stain.”

Before I slid into the proffered pajama set, curiosity got the best of me. Once Bonnie left the room, I thumbed through the drawers and hangers myself. I had to admit, she’d done a good job of replicating clothes I would actually wear. A variety of tank tops, all in my size. A couple of pairs of jeans and slacks—all more fashionable than the ones I currently owned. A few pairs of shoes—sneakers, slippers, low-heeled boots.

Then I pulled open a drawer and sucked in a breath. She’d even bought me unmentionables. In all sorts of colors. In all sorts of styles. Wild and crazy and fun styles—which was so not my style. Though, I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. The woman knew how to shop.

For now, I opted for the set of pajamas Bonnie had given me: a button-up shirt with matching shorts in the softest of fabrics. I quickly closed the unmentionables drawer, slammed it shut before I could get any wild and crazy ideas.

I shuffled back into the living room and found Bonnie and Gem standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “That was a nice gesture, but too much. Also, you do not have to do my laundry. I can get the stain out just fine,” I lied. Domestic skills were not in my résumé, but she didn’t need to know that. She already knew too much about me.

“I was just informing Mr. Gem that I had your car moved.” Bonnie ignored my thanks. “There was an unfortunate incident with a tow truck happening when I arrived.”

“Oh?” I mumbled mildly, thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have parked out front in the valet zone. But it had been late, and normally, everybody left my car alone.

“It was a new guy,” Bonnie said. “He didn’t recognize your car. From what I’ve heard, most of the guys know to leave your vehicle alone.”

I side-eyed Gem. His cheeks tinged a slight shade of red.

I turned back to Bonnie. “I’m sorry, but I thought you were his assistant.” I inclined my head toward my boyfriend. “So why are you paying so much attention to me?”

“You’re the most important person in his life,” Bonnie said. “That old saying, happy wife, happy life, and all. I know you’re not married, but the idea is the same. I figure if you’re happy, Detective Rosetti, it will go a long way in keeping my boss happy too.”

I turned to Gem. “I think I might like this one.”

Gem looked like he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

“Well, I just came to drop off the files you requested and introduce myself.” Bonnie dropped a stack of thick papers on the table. “They’re all signed, notarized, and annotated as you requested. I’ll leave you two to your evening.”

Then Bonnie was gone, leaving Gem and me alone with the stack of papers.

“I gave her busy work that should have taken her a week,” Gem said, staring at the documents. “She did it in a day.”

“I feel like my personal space was sort of violated,” I said. “But maybe I liked it?”

“She’s got that effect,” Gem said. “She came highly recommended from a trusted agency I use often.”

“Well, let’s keep her around for now,” I said, thinking of the closet full of clothes. “Maybe she’s not the problem. Maybe it’s us.”

“Maybe?” Gem wondered. Then he turned to me. “That’s one of the outfits she bought for you?”

I looked down, nodded. As comfortable as it was, Gem was looking at it like he might eat it for dinner. Five stars to Bonnie.

“Maybe we’ll keep her around for now,” he said, crooking his finger through the top button until it popped open. “But we can discuss that later. Right now, I’ve got plans for you.”

HOURS LATER, I COULD hear the sound of Gem breathing deeply in sleep next to me. I stared at the ceiling, unable to doze off. Tomorrow’s meeting weighed heavy on my mind. No amount of fun acrobatics with Gem had been able to wear me out. A case of the worries had well and truly set in.

“You awake?” I asked, nudging Gem.

He grunted. Disappointed, I rolled over and tried to sleep.

A few minutes later, his warm body curled against mine.

“What’s wrong, Kate?” Gem nuzzled against my neck, his breath minty and familiar, sending a shiver down my spine. “I thought you’d be exhausted after today. Not to mention tonight.”

“I’m worried about tomorrow.”

“The meeting with Jesse?”

“Yes,” I said, “but it’s not only that. It’s bigger than that.”

“How so?”

“You know I work by the book,” I said, speaking slowly, searching ardently for the correct words. “I like rules and regulations and facts and evidence.”

“I am well aware.”

“But there’s another part of me that I’ve learned to trust over these last few years—call it gut instinct, intuition, whatever.”

“I’d argue that’s more important than rules.” Gem’s fingers danced up and down my arm in a gentle, soothing motion, repetitively tracing circles on my skin. “It’s probably what has kept you alive.”

I licked my lips. “I have a bad feeling about tomorrow.”

“I’ll cancel,” Gem said without hesitation. “I’ll pull out. I want to help Agent Russo and his team, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll say no.”

“But—”

Gem rolled me over, then silenced me with a kiss. “I only agreed to help because I thought you were somewhat neutral on the subject. I thought your annoyance was just that—annoyance because it was Jack dragging me into federal business. If you are telling me that you seriously do not want me to participate, I won’t. You don’t need to explain yourself.”

“That’s the problem,” I said. “I don’t know if this is a scenario where I should listen to my gut. I’m struggling with that more than anything. This is new territory for me, and it sucks.”

“How do you mean?”

“You complicate things.” I added a quick kiss to punctuate my point. “In the best way possible. I used to be so good at keeping my personal life and my professional life separate, and I feel like I’m losing that skill.”

“Oh, so you are a human?”

I toyed with the sheets. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“What can I do to help?”

I knew he would do anything. I looked into those beautiful eyes, flecked with all sorts of browns and grays and greens, and felt my stomach lurch. Even considering we’d been dating awhile, even after we’d graduated to free use of the phrase “I love you,” he gave me butterflies.

I knew I was in love with him, no question about it. And yet, at times, I still felt these giant leaps of affection and caring and hope. It was like love just kept growing and growing the more I got to know him, the more he stayed by my side through both the monotony of daily life and the surges of more challenging times.

“There’s nothing you need to do. I just need to come to terms with it. It’s uncomfortable, and you know me...” I trailed off, rested a hand on Gem’s bare chest. “I don’t always do well with change.”

Gem’s lips curved into a soft smile. He leaned his forehead against mine and just waited, suspended there, giving me the time and space to dig up the right words and shovel them into the space between us.

“But I’m realizing that I’m not afraid of change anymore.” I looked into his eyes, felt his breath on my lips. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

“Trust me,” he murmured. “I understand wholeheartedly.”

“I need to figure out how to do this job while also having...” I paused in thought.

“Emotions?” Gem supplied. “Feelings?”

“Exactly,” I said.

Gem gave a soft laugh.

“You just got shot because of your association with me,” I said. “I can’t bear the thought that you might get hurt again. Because of me.”

“Listen, Kate. This isn’t on you. I made my own choice in this matter.” He paused. “I’ll leave it at this: if you tell me to back out, I will. End of story. Trust your gut.”

“I don’t know how to trust my gut anymore,” I argued. “Not yet. You muck up my instincts. Normally, I wouldn’t blanch at sending in an agent undercover to this meeting. It will be heavily controlled and moderated, and relatively safe. But you’re not an agent, you’re a civilian. And you’re not any civilian—you’re my civilian.”

“Just so long as you’ll let me be your civilian forever and ever, my life will be complete.” Gem kissed my forehead. “Sleep on it, Kate. Whatever you decide in the morning, that’s what I’ll do.”

Chapter 8

“Ican’t believe you talked me into doing this.” Jimmy groaned as he climbed out of my car the next morning. “Is this my rock bottom? I think it’s my rock bottom.”

“Talked you into doing what?” I asked cheekily, hauling myself out next to him. “Your job?”

Jimmy snorted. “Think of this as a test run, Rosetti. You jest, but when I retire and move in here for real, you’re gonna be sad.”

“I’ll come visit,” I said. “I might skip chili day because I know more about how your digestive tract operates than anyone should, but hey. We can have standing pizza dates. I might have to put yours in a blender if your teeth don’t chew that good, but it’s better than oatmeal, right?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. He grabbed a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder like he was going camping for a week.

“You know you’re not staying overnight, right?” I blinked at him. “You didn’t have to pack all your belongings.”

Jimmy looked sheepish. “It’s not clothes.”

I took his look as an invitation to crook my finger onto his bag and peer inside.

“You are unbelievable,” I said, stepping back as we headed up the front walk. “You actually packed Pepto and sour cream?”

“It’s chili day,” Jimmy insisted as an explanation.

We made our way into Sunset Acres, past the buzzer at the front gate and up the quiet courtyard. I glanced over at Jimmy, at the uncertain look on his face, and found myself surprised to feel a pinch of something uncomfortable.

Obviously, this was part of the job, and not real in the slightest. It was all fake, an undercover assignment. But Jimmy’s talk of retirement was hitting harder and harder with each passing day. I didn’t like it one bit.

“There you are.” Amy smiled, already playing her role. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Kramer.”

We’d decided to keep Jimmy’s first name the same but use a different last name, just in case. We certainly didn’t expect anyone to be asking questions, and we really didn’t expect anyone to be Googling the name Jimmy Jones while he was here for such a brief stint, but it was always good to err on the side of caution.

Someone had been murdered in the facility within the last week. While we were in no way sure it was an inside job, it was a real possibility. Which meant that a murderer might still be here, and that murderer might be on high alert for anything unusual—like a new guy moving in so quickly after Declan’s death.

“Mirabelle will show you to your room.” Amy smiled again. “I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Kramer.”

Mirabelle whisked in as if summoned by the mention of her name. She lowered her voice, and in greeting, said, “I trust you have the proper paperwork?”

I nodded, handed over a stack of documents. I’d talked with the chief last night, and we’d gotten a warrant to search Declan’s room, as well as one to inspect the location where residents’ medications were kept.

We didn’t expect to find much, especially in Declan’s room, seeing as it had already been cleaned out before this had been ruled a homicide. It was a necessary formality at this point.

Mirabelle scanned the red tape, nodded briskly. “I’ll show you to the room where you can drop your things.”

Jimmy looked down. “Is there a fridge in the room?”

If Mirabelle was confused by the question at Jimmy’s top of mind, she didn’t mention it. “There is a small one, yes.”

When we reached the room, Mirabelle let us in and closed the door behind us. I scanned the place. It was small, neat, completely impersonal.

“This was Declan’s room?” I asked.

“Yes. Though I must warn you, we had packed his belongings and invited his nephew here to clean out his things before we’d gotten word that it was a crime scene. We even had the cleaning crew come through here. We hadn’t been instructed otherwise.”

“I’m aware,” I said. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Can I get anything else to make your stay more comfortable?” Mirabelle asked, looking mildly irritated as Jimmy shoved a family-sized pack of sour cream into the fridge.

“Nah,” Jimmy said, straightening. “I’m good. Though you mentioned providing me with a schedule of activities. Could we go over that?”

“I made notes on it, suggestions for activities you might like to participate in and people you might like to speak with.” Mirabelle produced a piece of paper as she spoke and handed it over. “Please keep this out of sight. I don’t want anyone to find it, for obvious reasons.”

I looked over Jimmy’s shoulder at the schedule. It looked like a spa. There were mealtimes listed, along with several activities, including an afternoon sound bath, an evening aquatics session, and a leisurely lunchtime stroll through the rose gardens.

A knock on the door sounded. Jimmy tucked the paper into his bag.

“As promised, here is Andrew Myers.” Mirabelle opened the door behind her. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, so he hasn’t heard the news.”

Andrew stood there, looking confused to see us. “What news?”

“Please, come inside,” Mirabelle said, moving away to let him enter the room. “Our friends have something to discuss with you.”

Mirabelle closed the door behind him.

“You guys here to find out who killed Declan?” Andrew asked. “About time someone paid attention. We’ve got a killer on the loose.”

“You’re on the right track,” Jimmy said. He quickly explained the situation. “We’re going to need your help.”

“Let me guess—I can’t tell anyone you’re a cop.” Andrew bobbed his shoulders. “Fine. Done. I’m not interested in getting involved, and I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Before I head out,” I said quickly, “we do need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Myers.”

“I think we’re past formalities at this point,” he said. “Call me Andrew.”

I looked up at Mirabelle, and she got the picture. She backed out of the door, murmuring that we could find her in the lobby as needed.

Once we were alone with Andrew, I took over the questioning.

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Andrew. A couple of things aren’t adding up,” I said. “We’ll start with lunch the other day. You said your son dropped you off?”

Andrew shifted his weight from one foot to the next, as if he knew he was walking into a trap. “What about it?”

“We know you don’t have a son.” I waited a beat. Reading the look on his face, I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to deny anything. “Why did you lie about that?”

“I always lie about that,” Andrew said. “It’s second nature.”

“Why?” I pressed again.

Andrew gave a deep cough, looked at his feet. “I don’t have any family. I don’t get visitors. Nobody comes around to see me.”

“But somebody drove you; why did you say it was your son?”

“I hire a guy,” Andrew said. “Years ago, I put out an ad on Craigslist for a guy who’d pretend to be my son a couple of times a quarter. He stops by Sunset Acres, shows his face, and then gives me a ride where I want to go that day. It’s all for show.”

Something in my gut twisted. I felt an overwhelming sadness for this man who felt like he had to pretend he had a child, just so someone would visit him in this place.

“I can see the look on your face.” Andrew narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t pity me. That’s what got me into this situation in the first place. Look, I don’t mind being a loner. But everybody else looks at me like it’s so sad, me being here all by myself. That’s why I hired this guy in the first place—so people would stop feeling sorry for me. You’re doing it right now, and I really hate it.”

“I’m not...” I hesitated. “Okay, you’re right. I was feeling bad for you.”

Andrew shrugged, like it was expected, like this admission didn’t bother him. “Not to mention, the front desk gets a little funny about letting us out to catch an Uber.”

“I thought this wasn’t a locked-down facility.”

“It’s not,” he said, “but they still monitor things. Nobody’s ever been denied a request to have their kid pick them up for lunch. It was just easier. Plus, then I didn’t get all them puppy-dog eyes staring at me on holidays or whatever. This hired gun would pop by the week before, take me out, and nobody looked at me like I was all lonely and sad.”

“Okay,” I said. “So you hired this guy to bring you to lunch occasionally. Did Declan know?”

“Yes, he knew, though that situation had nothing to do with Declan,” Andrew said. “I swear. Declan was the closest thing I had to a friend. Neither of us were chatty, and that’s why it worked.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Six years,” he said. “Ever since my wife died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “What was this guy’s real name? The one who you hired. Was it always the same person?”

“Yeah. His name’s Frank Taggert. I loaned him out to Declan a few times, actually,” Andrew said. “A couple of times lately, Declan wanted to go somewhere and needed a ride. I told him I knew a guy.”

“Why wouldn’t he have called Wes?” I asked. “From what I gather, Declan was on good terms with his nephew up until a couple of weeks ago.”

“I don’t think he wanted Wes to know where he was going.” Andrew shrugged. “Also, it was pretty recent.”

“How recent?” I asked.

“A week ago?” Andrew shrugged again. “I have no clue where Frank took Declan. Never asked. I didn’t really care, to be honest.”

“Do you know how I can get in touch with Frank?”

Andrew groaned. “You’re gonna ruin this for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out how your friend died and who killed him. If Frank was involved somehow, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Frank wasn’t involved,” Andrew grumbled. “But fine, I’ll give you his number. I’m sure you could get it anyway.”

“That’s the right attitude,” I said, leaning over as Andrew pulled out his phone and showed me a number.

“You owe me if he spooks and refuses to give me rides anymore,” Andrew said. “I’m gonna need alternative transportation.”

“We’ll get you where you need to go,” I promised. “What else can you tell us?”

“Not a whole lot.” Andrew looked to Jimmy. “I’m happy to show you around if you want.”

“That’d be great,” Jimmy said. “I appreciate it.”

I made my way to the door, pulled it open. “I guess this is where I leave you, Pops,” I said over my shoulder, as a nurse made her way down the hall with a resident. “Enjoy your day.”

“Love you, Boo,” Jimmy called back. “Thanks for locking your old man up in here.”

I rolled my eyes and then headed in search of Mirabelle. When I found her waiting in the lobby, I met her gaze evenly. “We need to talk.”

MIRABELLE AGREED TO show me the medicine storage area willingly. A good move on her part, seeing as I had a warrant anyway.

Once we were in the small room, she showed me the area where the residents’ medications were kept. It was locked with a code.

“What about the MAR?” I asked.

“You can have a look at Declan’s medication administration record, but there’s nothing alarming on there. He didn’t have any regular medication he was taking except for a very small dose of blood pressure pills.”

Mirabelle pulled out a file and handed it to me. I took a look, not expecting to find anything in Declan’s official paperwork. It wasn’t like a murderer would stop to correctly fill out the red tape for injecting a lethal amount of morphine into a resident.

Sure enough, Declan’s file was thin. Aside from the blood pressure medication, there was nothing noteworthy.

“I looked through the medication supplies as well, and there’s nothing missing,” Mirabelle said. “Everything is accounted for.”

“We’ll have a team over here later today to confirm,” I said. “They’ll also be taking a look into Declan’s room. Mostly as a formality,” I added quickly, “since you already made it clear the room has been cleaned and emptied of personal belongings. We still have to follow protocol.”

“I understand.”

“I wanted to ask one more question about Andrew Myers. You knew he didn’t have a son,” I said. “Did you know he leaves and often claims his son is picking him up?”

“Andrew’s been here for six years, ever since his wife of sixty years passed away. He ended up here, I think, as much for the socialization aspect as anything else. Andrew sold his house because he couldn’t pay the property taxes on it anymore—big place out on Lake Minnetonka. He sold it for a few million and checked himself in here. He had no one left.”

“Why would he lie about having a son?” I asked.

“He never was one for sympathy,” Mirabelle said. “I can only imagine he didn’t want anyone looking at him like, well... like we’re doing now—discussing about how tragic it is he’s alone.”

That lined up with what Andrew had told me.

“What about the checkout process?” I asked. “Can residents leave whenever they want to get lunch or run errands or whatever?”

“Mostly, unless there is some medical condition or cognitive impairment that would make it unsafe for them to do so. Other than that, I’d say it’s almost like a hotel with a little extra supervision. Residents can check out at the front desk, letting us know where they’re going or with whom, so we can keep tabs on them should there be any issue.”

“Did Declan ever check himself out?”

“I don’t sit at the front desk on a daily basis. You’d have to review the logs.” Mirabelle watched me, continuing on before I could ask the question. “I will have Amy pull them for you later. So long as they’re within the scope of the warrants.”

“They are,” I assured her. “Thanks for letting Jimmy camp out here today. A team will be over later this afternoon to check out Declan’s room and the medication cabinet. They can collect the sign-out logs then.”

“We’ll be waiting.” Mirabelle pursed her lips. “Please keep me updated on what you find.”

I nodded, then said my goodbyes. Jimmy was on the ground to handle things inside Sunset Acres for the rest of the day, and I had somewhere else to be. My nerves were already rattled thinking of the agenda that lay ahead.

As Mirabelle walked me out of the facility, I caught a glimpse of Jimmy through the cafeteria windows. Jimmy and his short stack of pancakes were already swarmed by a group of residents. Apparently there wasn’t much happening today because he was the talk of the town.

I climbed in the car, feeling jittery for what came next on the day’s agenda. Gem’s meeting with Jesse Block wasn’t set until 11:00 a.m., but Jack was already getting Gem all trussed up  and prepped. I imagined they were running through the script and working out all the contingency plans—just in case.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t needed yet. Pretty sure I wasn’t welcome yet.

I dialed, waited for Asha to pick up.

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked without preamble.

“Name it,” she said, ever in favor of skipping formalities.

“I’m trying to find a guy named Frank Taggert,” I said. “He gave a couple of guys rides from Sunset Acres. Supposedly they hired him off Craigslist, and—”

“Short guy, blond hair?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just heard the name a few minutes ago.”

“According to Frank’s credit card records, he gets breakfast every morning at a little diner not far from your location.”

“You are really scary, you know that?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “I wish more people realized that.”

I barked a laugh. “Send me the details?”

“They’re already on your phone,” she said, as my device simultaneously beeped against my ear. “Oh, and Kate? Good luck today. You know, with the Gem thing.”

“Thanks. Are they roping you into this case?”

“No, they’re keeping it locked down as a federal thing.” Asha paused, like she was debating if she should continue. “Let’s just say it might not stop me from listening in, anyway.”

“Terrifying,” I said. “You are truly terrifying.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

Chapter 9

Ifound Frank Taggert at the diner, exactly as Asha had promised. As she’d also promised, he was short with blond hair.

I sidled up next to Frank’s table and scooted into the bench across from him without an invitation. Frank barely looked surprised as he glanced up and studied me. Then he returned to cutting his French toast in nice, even lines, before dousing the whole thing with an ungodly amount of syrup.

“Are you gonna order something, or just watch me eat?” Frank asked finally.

“Can you even taste the French toast under all that sugar?” I asked.

Frank looked contemplative before forking a mouthful between his lips. “The toast is just the vehicle to get the rest of this stuff down my hatch. Coffee?”

“Actually—”

“Annie, another cup, please,” Frank called out. “I’ve got a guest this morning.”

Moments later, a woman dropped off a white diner mug in front of me. Apparently I was having coffee.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I said. “But before we go any further, I should let you know that I’m a detective.”

Frank nodded and chewed. “So that’s your schtick.”

“It’s not really a schtick. It’s sort of my job.”

“I didn’t think you were here to ask me out on a date.”

“I’m in a relationship. And also, no. I’m here on business.”

“You’re not wearing a ring.”

“Didn’t say I was married.”

The man was peculiar, all right. Frank Taggert hadn’t missed a beat when a stranger joined him for breakfast. He was also observant. Just a few things I was noting for later, should I need them.

“What’s this about?” Frank asked. “Aside from putting too much syrup on my French toast, I’m unaware that I’ve been breaking any laws.”

“You’re not. That I know of,” I added. “I’m just here to talk to you about a man you might know. Have you been to Sunset Acres, the assisted-living facility not far from here?”

I left the details suspiciously vague, leaving plenty of room for Frank to fill in the gaps.

“Oh, yeah. I know a guy who lives there: Andrew Myers. What’d he do?”

“Nothing that we’re aware of. But one of his friends was murdered at Sunset Acres, and I’m leading the investigation to find out who killed him.”

“No kidding?” Frank peeled back the foil wrapper on a butter packet and lobbed that on top of the French toast as well. The thing was like three stories high by now. “Who died?”

“Do you know anyone else at the place?”

“Not closely,” Frank said. “But I know Andrew pretty well. I guess I would’ve heard about this drama sooner or later from him.”

“Andrew keeps you updated on the drama at Sunset Acres?”

“We chat.” Frank shrugged. “I’d say it’s nothing all that exciting, but it’s sort of like those housewives shows. Like you know it’s not good for your brain, but you just keep coming back for more.”

“What’s the latest drama at Sunset Acres?” I asked.

“Well, Darla—you know Darla?”

“Apparently everyone knows Darla,” I said. “Yeah, I’ve met her.”

“Rumors are going around that she killed someone with a cup of pudding a while back.”

I blinked at Frank. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m just relaying the rumors. I don’t know anything about Darla except what I’ve heard from Andrew. She seems like a feisty nut.”

Feisty nut. That was one way to describe Darla.

“Do you know who she supposedly murdered with pudding?” I managed.

“Some guy named Kent Ringwald. Apparently he turned down her advances.” Frank shifted his weight to lean over his plate. “Romantic advances.”

“I gathered that much,” I said. “How long ago was this?”

“A year? Nine months maybe?” Frank frowned. “Let’s see, it was around the time I was picking Andrew up for our fake Thanksgiving meal. So it would’ve been a few weeks before that.”

I slipped out my phone, sent a quick text to Asha asking if she could do some digging on the name Kent Ringwald. Then I turned my attention back to Frank.

“You said your fake Thanksgiving meal. Can you expand on that, on what your relationship was exactly with Andrew?”

“I was like his sugar daddy, but totally not.” Frank scrubbed at a drip of maple syrup on his shirt, completely oblivious to what must be an appalled look on my face.

“Huh?” I finally managed. I was rarely stumped in interviews. I’d heard it all, over the years, but this was new. “What can you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, normally sugar daddies are lonely old men looking for companionship from young, beautiful women, right?”

“I’m with you.”

“It’s like that but in the reverse,” Frank continued. “Obviously I’m not an attractive young woman providing sexual favors, but I am a very average adult male who is a great listener. I’ve actually turned this thing into a booming business. I’m something of an entrepreneur.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’ve cornered the market on assisted-living facilities in the metro area.” Frank bobbed his head convincingly. “Word of mouth is powerful. A lot of these ladies and gents are just looking for companionship. Take Andrew for example—real tragic backstory, you know?”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Well, he was married to his wife for decades. High school sweethearts. I think she really took care of everything for him. Bought his clothes, did his laundry, cooked his dinner. He went to work, brought home the paycheck. But Evangeline was the real rock of that family.”

“I see.”

“They never had kids,” Frank continued, “and he was an only child. Evangeline’s family never liked him, so they were out of touch. Fast-forward to six years ago—Evangeline passed away and left Andrew completely alone. The guy couldn’t find the washing machine in his own home. On top of that, he was nursing a broken heart. That’s how he ended up at Sunset Acres.”

“That is very sad,” I said, thinking it aligned with the information I’d gotten from Maribelle.

“I met him about a year after Evangeline died and he moved into Sunset Acres.” Frank sipped his coffee. “I was looking for a side hustle and cruising the ads on Craigslist. Saw this ad looking for a part-time driver. I answered the ad, we clicked, then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was Andrew’s fake son.”

“So it is true you play the role of his son.”

“Not in some weird or perverted way.” Frank wrinkled his nose. “He just says that to the staff so I can spring him out of that joint without getting questioned.”

“What would the two of you do when you picked him up?”

“We’d go out to eat, mostly. Shoot the breeze. It was a little awkward for a while, but you know what? Pretty soon it wasn’t awkward at all, and I think we both kinda liked it. We’ve been getting together for five years now. We’re almost friends.”

“When did you turn it into a business?”

“It took me a few years to realize there was a market for it,” Frank said, furrowing his eyebrows as if it made him look studious. “Once I figured it out, I started pimping myself out to assisted-living facilities in the area.”

“Did you drive other people from Sunset Acres?”

“No.” Frank shook his head vehemently. “I don’t mix and match. There’s a strict limit of one customer per nursing home. I broke my rule one time. Then all of a sudden, Wanda and Bernice both wanted Christmas, and I never heard the end of it. I don’t double-dip anymore—no, sir-ee.”

“So you didn’t know a man named Declan Remmington from Sunset Acres?”

“Oh, sure, I do know him.” Frank refilled his coffee, then poured more in my cup while he was at it. “I didn’t work as a gigolo for him, though. That man actually needed a ride a couple of times, and he paid good money. I didn’t have to talk to him, though. It wasn’t a friendly thing; it was a real taxi service type thing. Is he the guy that died?”

“He is.” I paused. “Did Declan talk about anything specific when he was with you?”

“Not really. He was a quiet guy. Carried this ratty little notebook with him. I remember because he was scribbling in it the whole way. He wanted to sit in the back, even though I offered him the front seat a couple of times. I got to thinking he wanted to keep doodling away while I drove without me seeing.”

“He didn’t say what he was writing about?”

Frank shook his head. “I asked, but he got kinda grouchy about it. I turned on some tunes and let it go. Made my job easier, actually.”

“Where did you give him a ride to? And how often?”

“I gave him three rides in total, all to the same place,” Frank said. “A park in St. Paul.”

“Which park?”

“I don’t know the name of it, but I can show you on a map.” Frank pulled out his phone, pulled up Google maps, and showed me a little playground, along with some walking paths tucked neatly into a suburban neighborhood. “Right there. He told me to drop him off and pick him up in an hour.”

“Did you?” I jotted down the location of the park.

“I did,” he said. “I got the vibe that Declan was sort of a no-nonsense type of guy. He obviously didn’t want me hanging around, and it wasn’t my business anyway. All three times I went to the grocery store down the street and did my shopping for the week. Put it in the trunk, and then picked him up an hour later on the dot.”

“Did you see him with anyone?”

Frank shook his head. “Not when I dropped him off, not when I picked him up. It was the same routine every time. If he met with someone, I wasn’t privy to that information.”

I nodded, frowned. It would be hard to find who Declan had been meeting, considering the rendezvous point was a public park.

“Can you jot down the details about when you picked him up and dropped him off? Dates, times, everything you can remember?”

“Give me a few minutes.” Frank gestured for the waitress again. “We’ll take the check, Annie. This lovely lady here has offered to pay my bill.”

Frank winked at me. I poured myself more coffee. If I was paying for this guy’s syrup-soaked French toast, I was going to drink my money’s worth of caffeine.

I handed over my credit card with a smile as Frank scrolled through the calendar app on his phone and scribbled down the details of his meetings with Declan.

This was the first bit of news that raised real curiosity around what Declan was doing in the weeks leading up to his death. Paying someone for a ride, getting dropped off at a random park—and very possibly meeting someone there—were details worth pursuing. Real, concrete suggestions that he might have been up to something that landed him in hot water.

Frank handed over the napkin filled with chicken-scratch handwriting I could barely decipher. The waitress dropped off the check along with a to-go cup into which she poured the rest of the coffee from the carafe. I added a generous tip and signed it, giving her a nod of gratitude.

Before I stood, I looked over at Frank. “Thanks for your help. Can I follow up with you if I have additional questions?”

“Sure thing.” Frank shook my hand. “And if you know of anyone in need of my services, send them my way. I make for a great fake son. Very low maintenance.”

“How many people do you do this for?” I asked.

“Let’s just say holidays get booked up almost a year in advance.” Frank gave me a proud smile. “I get around. I think I’m up to nineteen regulars and a few one-offs.”

“Holy smokes.”

Frank lowered his voice, as if divulging a secret. “I’m even working with a developer on an app. It’s like a dating service, but for senior citizens in need of companionship. Not the romantic kind, just the “get around town” kind. You can sign up to help elders go grocery shopping, have holiday dinners, or just spend the afternoon together. I think there’ll be a lot of demand.”

I cleared my throat. “Best wishes on your business ventures.”

It was all I could say. Frank had been a lot. Helpful, but a lot.

I took my mega cup of black coffee that would have my teeth rattling for the better portion of the day and headed out to my car. There was no more putting it off. Next up: sending my boyfriend into the lion’s den.

Chapter 10

“How do you feel?” I sat in my car, parked in downtown St. Paul, several blocks away from the new hotel where the meeting would take place. I held my phone up, on a video call with Gem. “Because I feel like shooting Russo. Maybe not in the head, but like, the foot?”

“That’s so sweet of you.” Gem glanced away, obviously distracted, listening to someone over his shoulder. “I’ve got to say, this is a lot of work. We’ve been at it all morning.”

“It’s a big deal. This is a big case,” I said. “Which is why I didn’t want you involved in the first place.”

“Everybody’s reassured me I’ll be fine,” Gem said. “Don’t worry, Kate. It’ll be over soon. But if you’ve changed your mind, just say the word.”

“I can’t trust my gut right now.” I held up my cup of coffee. “I don’t know what they put in this diner black coffee, but my body is so jittery I can barely sit still in the seat of my car.”

“Take a walk,” Gem said. “It might help calm the nerves. I wish I could pace, but I’m not allowed because they’re still working on the wire.”

“I don’t want to miss anything.” I glanced at the clock. “Everything’s set now, except for you. I don’t want to risk missing a moment.”

I’d already spoken with Jack this morning, a couple of times now. More times than he wanted to speak to me, that was for sure.

I had to give Jack and his team credit. It seemed like they’d prepared for every outcome possible at this meeting. It should go fine. It should be seamless. It should be effective.

But should didn’t mean a lot when the risk was to the man I loved.

I stared at the hotel, wishing I had binoculars. The meeting would happen on the penthouse level of the flashy new building, complete with a helipad and a rooftop infinity pool. The sort of fancy place a man like Alistair Gem belonged, a place where a man like him hosted important business meetings.

“Do you want to do this?” I asked Gem, turning back to my phone screen. “How do you feel?”

“A little late to back out, Rosetti.” Jack’s face appeared behind Gem’s. “Jesse’s on his way over. We’ve got everything buttoned up. Plenty of guys stationed in the hotel, more in cars on the streets. Gem’s got his code word if he wants to get out for any reason.”

“What’s the word?”

“View.”

“View?” I asked. “Why is the code word view?”

“They’re in the penthouse,” Jack said. “Gem starts talking about the view, and we’ll know something doesn’t feel right. Now say your goodbyes and hang up. Don’t worry so much, Rosetti. You guys’ll be sitting down to lunch in an hour.”

“You’d better be right,” I growled at Jack. Then I waited until it was just Gem. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you,” he said. “Same goes for you. Always.”

Then a barrage of voices sounded behind Gem.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “They’re pulling the car around. Instead of my driver, they’ll be using one of their agents. I’ll see you soon, Kate. Promise. I love you.”

Before I could respond, the call ended. I wasn’t all that sure Jack hadn’t reached around Gem and shut down the call himself.

I waited for the next twenty minutes in my car feeling antsy. I had a view of the hotel, but I was too far away, as per my instructions, to do anything if this meeting went south. By the time I could book it there on foot, I’d be too late. I was putting a lot of trust into my old boyfriend to protect my new boyfriend.

I watched Gem’s car pull around, one of his many vehicles. I’d driven in this very one before, a shiny SUV. The windows in back were tinted, so I couldn’t tell if he’d seen me, but I doubted it. I had tucked my car into the thick of the downtown parking mess, and unless someone was really, really looking and really, really lucky, I wouldn’t be easily spotted.

I watched as Gem got out of the car. He headed into the building, looking incredible and intimidating and handsome and perfectly fitted for this role. He wore a sharp black suit, his tall figure looming over the civilians he passed. His hair was styled, his accessories clearly expensive.

This was not the Alastair Gem that I knew and loved—this was the billionaire-boss version, the kind I rarely saw. It made my stomach flip and flop in all sorts of ways. It was easy to forget the kind, gentle man who held me beneath the sheets late into the night could transform into this cunning, intelligent, ruthless businessperson.

“No movement on Jesse yet,” a voice buzzed in my ear. “Gem’s in the building, heading up to the penthouse. In the elevator. Gem, you there?”

“Here,” his voice came, a sound that warmed my heart and temporarily set my nerves at ease. “All good.”

“All right,” Jack said. “Everyone in place. Holler when you’ve got eyes on Jesse. According to text messages sent to Gem, Block should be here in twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. I shifted again in my seat. All that coffee was really getting to me, and the fact that my nerves were on overdrive wasn’t helping the situation. I had drunk way, way too many ounces of liquid, and I was seriously in need of a bathroom break.

I’d parked in front of a small Indian restaurant. It was about eight feet from my car to the front door. Surely they had a bathroom. I could be in and out in four minutes—tops. Plenty of time to be back in my seat before the action.

I knew better than to leave this sort of thing till the last minute, but I’d been busy talking to Gem, busy worrying about the outcome, busy thinking about the other case I was working. I’d gotten so caught up in everything that the idea of basic bodily functions had taken a back burner, in my brain.

I slid out of the car, headed for the front door of the restaurant. It was open, but there were no customers yet.

“Hello, can I use your restroom?” I asked. “I just—”

“You need to buy something,” a woman said with a smile. “Then you may use the restroom.”

“Just real quick,” I said. “I’m a police officer, and—”

“And we have a wonderful lunch menu. Take a peek.” The woman handed me a menu.

I considered pulling my badge out, but at this point, it was probably just easier to fork over the money.

“Um, I’ll take this.” I jabbed a finger at the first item. “Now can I use your—”

“Come to the counter to pay.” The woman gestured for me to step up to the counter. “Do you have cash?”

“No, I don’t carry cash,” I said, forking over my credit card. “Here.”

I stepped back as a voice buzzed in my ear. “Russo, you called in air support for this?”

“No,” Jack responded.

“So whose helicopter is that?” the voice said. “Coincidence?”

The line was suspiciously silent. Nobody believed in coincidences in a high-pressure situation like this one.

“Might be Jesse,” Jack said finally. “He could’ve lied to Gem about pulling up out front with the intention of landing on the helipad. Just in case, trying to throw off any potential tail.”

My gut started to churn. I debated running back out to my car, but I’d made it this far, and I still really needed to use the bathroom.

“Oh, our system’s down,” the woman chirped. “It’ll just be a minute.”

I bit back my groan of frustration. “I’m just gonna...”

I pointed over my shoulder and took off before she could say anything else. She had my credit card; it wasn’t like I was going to stiff her on the bill.

I was in the stall when I heard Gem’s voice. He sounded surprised.

“Jesse?”

“What the hell?” Jack muttered. “Jesse hasn’t arrived yet.”

“It’s good to see you,” Gem said easily through my headphones. “You’re early.”

I had never used the restroom so quickly. I hurried out, went straight to the front door. I could see the hotel from here. Maybe I should just hunker down here instead of going back to my car. This way I could pace anxiously back and forth and burn off some of the jitters. Plus, I had a chicken tikka masala coming right up.

“Would you like to tip?” the woman called over to me.

“Yeah, whatever you want,” I hollered back, listening carefully.

I wanted to ask what was going on with the helicopter, but I had only been given an earpiece, not a way to communicate back. In retrospect, Jack had done this on purpose, so I wasn’t spouting off into my mouthpiece the entire operation. Probably a smart move on his part because I already had words for him. Not very nice ones.

Thankfully, Jack read my mind. “I guess that’s not his helicopter? Rudolph, get someone to find out what’s going on with that damn helicopter. Christianson, how the hell did Jesse get inside the building without us seeing him?”

“I don’t know,” the agent I presumed was Christianson replied. “We’ve been watching this place for the last eighteen hours. No sign of him whatsoever.”

“Well, he got in somehow.” Jack sounded frustrated.

I didn’t like the optics of that. Jack being frustrated meant Jack wasn’t in control. Up until now, Jack had been in control every step of the way. An out-of-control operation meant Gem was in danger.

“Glad we could meet,” Jesse was saying to Gem. The two had done the small talk formalities and were quickly getting down to business. “I know you don’t make a personal appearance for just anyone.”

“I hear the same goes for you.” I could hear the smile in Gem’s voice, even if I knew it was fake, a show for Jesse’s benefit. “You’re a hard man to get ahold of.”

“I like to keep things that way. I’m sure you understand. Men of our caliber...” Jesse paused, as if he was making a gesture. “Men of our caliber always have people coming after us. People who don’t understand what it’s like to be so... elite.”

“Of course,” Gem said. “I keep my inner circle small.”

“I’m well aware. I’ve done my research.” Something in Jesse’s voice changed. “A very small, very beautiful circle.”

The helicopter swerved closer to the building. Jack muttered something that I couldn’t make out. I was too focused on the situation that was unfolding in the penthouse that I couldn’t reach.

I was on the verge of jumping into my car and racing to the front entrance, climbing the stairs one by one so I could be near if Gem needed anything. If Jack had given me a mouthpiece, by now I’d be screaming “Abort!” at the top of my lungs.

Apparently, Gem had the same idea.

“Why don’t we take a seat, so we can get down to business,” Gem said coolly. “If we can focus on business with a view like this. Nice, isn’t it?”

“Shit,” Jack cursed. “Something’s wrong. Get in there, Nolon, Kendricks. Now.”

I was already halfway out the door.

“Ma’am!” a voice yelled from behind me, alarmed.

I turned in a panic, trying to listen to my earpiece at the same time.

“Your chicken tikka masala.” The woman smiled and held up a bag. “And your credit card. Very generous tip, thank you.”

It was basic impulse that had me reaching for the bag and the credit card while my mind was whirring as Jesse spoke.

“I think our business here is finished. Almost finished,” he corrected. “One more thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Gem’s voice was hard. He wasn’t pretending anymore.

I’d give everything I owned to be in that room right now, armed and able to protect him.

“You really think I wouldn’t find out that you’re dating a cop? Pretty one, Kate.” Jesse’s voice contained not a single ounce of friendliness. Or malice, for that matter. Just cold indifference which was somehow worse. “And that her ex-boyfriend is working closely with the team, trying to put me away. So many coincidences.”

A string of curses from Jack. The operation was unraveling faster than anyone could handle. I couldn’t see what was happening; I needed to get there.

I booked it for the entrance.

“Leave her out of this,” Gem said, his voice deathly quiet. “Do what you need to do, but leave Kate alone.”

“I’m sorry.” Jesse paused. “It doesn’t work like that.”

I lunged out the door, debating for a split second if it would be faster for me to drive to the entrance or run. I opted for driving since I was still blocks away. I could see several SUVs wheeling to the front of the building. I was already behind.

I couldn’t hear what happened next, just a muffled yell from Gem.

“No!” he shrieked, and my heart stopped. I fumbled for my keys, dropping the bag of food and credit card on the sidewalk.

But as I hit the unlock button on my car, an incredible surprise awaited me in the form of an explosion that rattled the earth around me. It blew out windows and sent me into the throes of deafness. My body sailed backward into the brick wall behind me.

It all happened at once; it took seconds and years all together, and then my head cracked against something solid, and the world went black.

Chapter 11

Iwoke on the pavement, staring up at leaves winking at me. I groaned, tried to roll over, but everything on my body hurt. My head especially.

I had a moment of panic when I remembered that Gem was in a room with that psychopath. I felt for my earpiece by instinct, needing to know what had happened, if he was safe. But my earpiece was gone, nowhere to be found—probably from when my head had smacked the wall.

The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. A woman was beside me. The woman from the Indian restaurant. I couldn’t hear anything.

“I’ll get you new chicken tikka marsala,” she mouthed, patting my head, the volume of her voice hugely diminished. “Complimentary.”

I wasn’t sure why, but this hit me in a weird way. I started giggling, almost hysterically, and I couldn’t stop myself until I felt familiar arms on me. Jack.

“Where is he?” I rasped, my ears still ringing as I gripped Russo’s shoulders so hard it’d leave a mark. “Where is Gem?”

“Kate—”

That moment of hesitation in Jack’s eyes, and my heart sank to my stomach. “Jack Russo!” I struggled to sit up. “If you killed him, I swear to God I will—”

“Kate!” Gem was there then, throwing his arms around me. “You’re all right. I thought for sure—I could see the explosion from the window. He wanted me to see it. I thought you were...”

“Gem,” Jack said. “You made it. I was going to—”

Gem rose to his feet to face Jack. He turned, pulled back his arm, and punched Jack so hard in the nose I heard bones crack. Then Gem was back by my side, knelt next to me, and cradled me in his arms.

“Sorry,” Gem muttered. “I didn’t want to take my hands off you, but there was something I needed to do.”

That something apparently being a quick hiatus to break Jack’s nose.

Jack leaned over near the trunk of the tree on the boulevard, blood pouring from his nose.

An ambulance screeched to a stop beside my car which, now that I got a good look at it, was still on fire. A fire truck wasn’t far behind. Flames poured from my vehicle. If I had to look at the silver lining, I’d say that so much of my car was already obliterated, there wasn’t much left to burn.

“What happened in there?” I asked. “What went wrong?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” Gem nodded over toward Jack, looking completely unbothered that Jack was still cursing, blood streaming down his chin. “I don’t know what the hell happened, but I know it all went wrong. They knew about you. He wanted to punish me for my involvement, which was why he wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Kate. Your gut instincts were right this whole time. I should have listened to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s nobody’s fault.”

“It’s a little bit his fault.” Gem nodded toward Jack, still refusing to say his name. “I took Agent Russo at his word that this was safe, that it wouldn’t put anyone in danger. I assumed that meant me. If I had thought even for a second that you were the one who could be put in danger... My God, Kate, if something had happened to you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Oh, I don’t know, break Jack’s nose?”

“I would have murdered him,” Gem said. “If you hadn’t made it, I would’ve—”

“I can hear you, dammit,” Jack said in a nasally voice. “I’m a federal agent, let me remind you.”

Gem ignored him completely. He pulled me to him, the two of us still on the ground. My head ached, but I felt calm. Mysteriously calm, considering the fire truck was currently hosing down my vehicle, and EMS workers were surrounding me, trying to get some vitals. One or two had approached Jack first, but he’d cursed at them and waved them off, looking perhaps a little bit embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“What happened to Jesse?” I asked. “Is he in custody?”

Gem shook his head. “He got away. Unless somebody nabbed him, he got away.”

“He’s gone,” a man, the one I was pretty sure was Christianson, said as he approached on foot from the direction of the hotel. “The copter was his. It landed at the same time the bomb went off. By the time Nolon got into the penthouse, Jesse was already gone. We didn’t have air support. We sent out for help, but it’s too late.”

“The whole thing was orchestrated,” Gem said, sounding more than a little annoyed. “A Cirque du Soleil act. Making us all look like idiots, and worse, almost getting the woman I love killed.”

I could feel Gem’s simmering anger. The man was cool as a cucumber as a general rule. He was the calm to my irrational, the voice of reason to my not. It took a lot to get a rise out of Gem. Apparently this was his breaking point.

I put a hand on his wrist. “It’s fine,” I said. “We’ll figure all this out. Get off me.” I waved off an EMS person. “I’m fine.”

“We’re leaving,” Gem said, pulling me to my feet. “We’re taking a ride on that ambulance, and you’re getting checked out at the hospital, and then we’re going home.”

He said it bluntly, as if daring anyone to contradict him. I debated arguing, but his tone sounded final even to me. Not to mention, I didn’t have a car anymore, so I didn’t have a way out of here. I was not above slinking away in an ambulance with Gem just so I didn’t have to face the fallout with Jack.

Gem helped me into the ambulance. We were about to set off when a face popped up in the back.

“Don’t forget your meal!” The woman from the restaurant grinned, a broad smile, like her restaurant hadn’t just about been turned into rubble. “I threw in some kheer. Rice pudding,” she added. “Thought you might need a sweet treat after the day you’ve had.”

Gem blinked at me, taking the plastic bag from the stranger. “Are you telling me that you got hungry for Indian takeout, and that’s what saved your life?”

I winced. “Technically, coffee saved my life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I drank way too much coffee this morning, and I needed to find a restroom,” I said. “So I popped into the restaurant and got held up there, and...” I raised my hands as if to say, Ta-da!

“For Pete’s sake.” Gem raked a hand over his face. “An extra cup of coffee saved your life. If you weren’t addicted to caffeine, you might...”

“Don’t think about the what-if’s.” I patted Gem’s arm again. “Just thank your lucky Starbucks.”

Chapter 12

Ispent a lot more time than I needed to at the hospital, at least in my mind. I had some light burns on my arms from when I’d thrown them up to shield my face, and those had needed to be dressed. They’d checked me for a concussion and had ruled I might be slightly concussed, but nothing that should have any real lingering effects.

“Watch her closely,” the doctor explained to Gem before discharging me. “If anything changes, bring her in immediately. Nausea, disorientation, vomiting—anything at all.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted for the zillionth time, but Gem was taking in the doctor’s instructions like they were the launch codes to nuclear weapons.

“Of course,” Gem said. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“Oh, yes you will,” I muttered under my breath. Gem heard me, so I added, “Tomorrow. I have work to do.”

Gem leveled me with a gaze as if saying, Try me.

I shivered.

“Right,” I said. “We’ll talk about that later.”

While I’d been in the hospital, I’d gotten the rundown from Jack’s buddy Christianson about the details of the horribly botched operation—not that they knew much yet. Christianson also informed me that Jack was in a room down the hall getting his nose checked out.

Once we were alone again, Gem turned a somewhat amused, somewhat mystified expression toward me.

“So, is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of my life?” he asked nonchalantly.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You, almost getting murdered. Me, worried about said murdering.”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” I quipped, but it came out flat. “At least you won’t have to worry about getting bored.”

Gem leaned in, kissed me on the forehead. “What if I want boring?”

“I’m not sure I can commit to something like that.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Lucky thing I’m too addicted to you to care.”

I smiled and leaned into him. “You should probably seek help for that.”

Gem gave a soft laugh, his lips still pressed to mine. His hand gently circled around the back of my neck, so gently, as if one wrong move would concuss me all over again. “I’m too far gone for saving.”

“I’m sorry—”

Gem’s kiss swallowed any argument in the making. As he pulled me up from the hospital bed and against his body, my mind wandered—flailed, really, realizing the extent of what he’d said. The rest of our lives.

I loved Gem with all my heart, and while the thought of forever with him had crossed my mind, this time it set a little differently. More concrete, like it was something we were really batting around, and not some distant concept in some alternate reality.

My heart raced. My stomach twisted. I’d made it here before. Not here, exactly, but somewhere close. I’d been in a loving, committed relationship with Jack, and then he’d started asking what came next, and that was when it all fell apart.

My love for Gem was so different than my love for Jack. It was a new level of love, like I hadn’t even realized there were more levels to the video game I’d been playing my whole life. Like Gem had been the sole man who’d held the key, and he’d unlocked something in me that could never be put away. But if we weren’t able to defeat this level together... it would ruin me.

I didn’t even realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks.

“Are you in pain?” Gem whispered, ever so softly, as if he already knew the answer. He pressed kisses to my salt-stained cheeks.

“Forever?” It was all I could manage. “What comes next, Gem?”

“Whatever you want. That’s always been my answer, and it always will be.”

I nodded, swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I love you so much, it aches.”

Gem stooped so he met my gaze, his eyes pools of wonder and love and truth and promise. “My love for you knows no bounds. The future doesn’t frighten me. Marriage or not. Living together or not. Having kids or not. Whatever’s going through that beautiful, slightly concussed mind of yours, trust that we will get through it.”

I couldn’t help but burst into a sort of whimsical laughter: half tears, half giggles, half hysteria. I had three halves there, and honestly, the math was making sense right now, even though it wasn’t.

That was Gem in a nutshell. He shouldn’t make sense; he was the imaginary number to my rational ones. But it made sense the only place that did matter, in the depths of my heart.

“The only thing that scares me”—Gem plunked a kiss on the top of my head—“is not being in your life.”

I squeezed his hands, the only response I could give. It never felt like I gave enough to this man. He gave me everything and more, and I never quite felt like it was equal. But my maths weren’t math-ing, because somehow, equal wasn’t equal in this case.

I was giving as much as I could, and I was working to give more, and that was the best I could do. My best was enough for Gem, and for that, I would be eternally grateful.

The doctor came in then, and we separated, and I leaned back against the bed. My heart felt buoyant, calmed, settled. In the midst of this chaos, that was quite a miracle. I held Gem’s hand.

“I think it’d benefit you to stick around a little longer for observation,” the doctor said, “but—”

“But that’s not happening.” I popped up again. “I’m good, and you can’t handcuff me to the bed. He’ll make sure I don’t fall asleep in the next couple of hours.” I nodded my head toward Gem.

“As I was saying,” the doctor said, scribbling something on his notepad, “your reputation precedes you. I’m writing up your discharge papers, just know it’s reluctant on my part. If you didn’t have such a strong network around you, I might argue more.”

“That would be an exercise in futility,” Gem said mildly.

The doctor cracked a smile at Gem. “I gathered that. You must have an abundance of patience.” The doctor gave me a very fleeting wink, then shook hands with me and Gem. “I’ll have the nurse get you all set to go. It’ll be just a couple more minutes. Please, if Detective Rosetti exhibits any of the symptoms we went over, bring her back in.”

“Of course,” Gem said. “I’ve got medical staff on my payroll. I can have them give her a once-over tomorrow morning as well.”

“You have...” I hesitated. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll be right back,” Gem said. “I’ve got to make a quick call before we head out.”

I told Gem I’d meet him in the lobby. Once I made it there, I found exactly who I was looking for—Jack Russo.

My eyes narrowed at my ex-boyfriend. Christianson was next to Jack, and he was clearly scouring the room for an escape route. But I was over making things easy for these feds who had endangered the life of my boyfriend.

I stomped right up to Jack. If I was able to scrounge up any sympathy, I might’ve noticed that he was bruising under both his eyes. Gem had really given him some shiners.

“Are you nuts?” I asked Jack. “What were you thinking, dragging Gem into this? How did you not know Jesse was such a threat?”

My hands were balled into fists. The other people sitting in the waiting room looked our way. I didn’t care.

“How could you have been so irresponsible?” I was torn between anger and confusion and frustration and sadness. My eyes stung from the tears I’d cried in private with Gem, and the tears that threatened to reappear due to sheer emotional overload. “He’s a civilian, Agent Russo.”

Jack looked like I’d slapped him. “Kate, I didn’t know. You know as well as I do that we can’t predict the outcome of everything. If I’d thought anyone would get hurt, I would never have done any of it.”

“That’s a load of bull. You knew it was a possibility,” I told him. “And people did get hurt.”

Jack touched his nose gingerly. “I’ll say so.”

“A broken nose is the least of your worries,” I said. “You’re lucky that Jesse came after me and not Gem. If you had gotten my boyfriend blown up, Jack...”

I shook my head warningly. I knew the words tumbling out of my mouth were barely sensical, but I couldn’t seem to stop. This was a train fueled by adrenaline and relief and terror, and there was nobody in this universe that could stop it.

“If you’d gotten him killed,” I blurted, “you would have owed me one superhot billionaire boyfriend who loves me more than anything else on this earth. Do you know how hard that is to find?!”

My voice was all screechy by the time I finished. I sort of wanted to pop Russo on the nose and break it all over again. My rational brain hadn’t clicked in just yet, and I knew it, and yet here we were.

“I’m sorry, Kate,” Jack whispered. “I am truly sorry.”

Something about the genuine look of remorse in Jack’s eyes deflated my sails a little bit. “I really wish Gem hadn’t broken your nose so I could do it instead. It’s so much less satisfying when someone else does it.”

I felt a presence behind me, then a hand on my shoulder. Gem.

I turned to face him. He was grinning as he looked down at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You think I’m superhot?” Gem said.

“Oh, cripes.” I spun away from both men. “Let’s get out of here. We have to pick up Jimmy from the old folks’ home.”

Chapter 13

My car was toast. My head still ached, and I did not feel like doing paperwork or explaining myself to people at the office. I figured this next mission, picking Jimmy up from Sunset Acres, was as low risk as my job came, so I asked Gem if he could drive me.

Gem took the same SUV that’d been outside of the hotel earlier. Except this time, it was piloted by Gem’s driver, not a fed. I figured it would be a long, long time before Gem willingly offered himself up for a collab with the FBI. Good riddance.

“I think we can let it go,” Gem said, sitting next to me in the back seat. “I think we’ve punished Agent Russo enough. As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not think he was trying to get either of us killed.”

“Yeah, I know. It still pissed me off, though.”

“I’m not saying I’m going to forget it anytime soon, but I think we can probably both refrain from breaking his nose again. What do you say?”

“I grudgingly agree.” I gave Gem a small smile. “But only because you did such a good job of it the first time.”

Gem glanced out the window, his hand still in mine. In general, he was usually more touchy-feely than me, but ever since he’d wrapped me in his arms after the bomb had gone off, he hadn’t let me out of his grasp. Except to punch Jack in the face. And to let the doctors do a CT scan.

Turning to glance at me, Gem wondered aloud, “Do you feel like telling me why you’ve locked Jimmy away in an assisted-living facility?”

“I didn’t lock him away,” I said. “I encouraged him to go undercover. I mean, I told him if you can go undercover, and you aren’t even a cop, he could take one for the team.”

“I’m not sure he’s exactly taking one for the team.” Gem perused the scene casually as we pulled up in front of Sunset Acres. “Dare I say it looks like he’s enjoying himself?”

I peeked over Gem to see out the window. What I saw partially shocked me. And partially didn’t.

To me, it looked like Jimmy was having the time of his life. He was sitting outside on another gorgeous fall day. The afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders as he slapped down a couple of cards onto the table before him. He was surrounded by three other guys, and they were clearly in the middle of an enthralling game.

As Gem’s driver parked, I watched as Darla walked over to the group, carrying a tray. On the tray was a pot of coffee and pastries. Jimmy eagerly helped himself once Darla set the tray down.

Gem and I got out of the car, made our way leisurely up the front walk, and buzzed in through the gate. We took our time strolling over to Jimmy. He was so engrossed in his pastries and his card game that he didn’t hear us coming up the path behind him.

“Hey, Jim, your daughter is here.” Andrew nodded up. “And her friend.”

Jimmy started. “I don’t have a, oh—Kate.” Jimmy looked abashed as he cranked his neck around so hard, I had a feeling he’d need to see a chiropractor. “Kate, honey—wow—look at you here already. That flew by.”

“I can see I’m interrupting your afternoon tea,” I said, thinly able to mask my amusement. “So, Sunset Acres is a big yes? We can put you on the waiting list?”

“Put him on the waiting list?” Darla called from the next table over, where she was surrounded by three women playing their own card game. “We’ve got a vacancy. Them cops came today and checked out Declan’s room. I figure now it’s fit to be moved into. Just leave your bags there, Jim. We’d love to have you.”

“Yeah... Jim,” I said. “You seem like you’ve made a lot of friends.”

“Good people here,” Jimmy muttered, looking reluctant to stand up and leave the table. He reached for a chocolate croissant as he backed away from the table. He downed his cup of coffee, acting sort of like a toddler who didn’t want to go to bed and was being coaxed up to his room against every one of his instincts.

“Don’t worry,” I said glibly, clapping my partner on the shoulder. “You’ll be back here before you know it.”

“Thanks for a great day, kids,” Jimmy said to his new friends. “Keep in touch.”

“Come back to visit, sweets,” Darla said. “We’ll miss you.”

“Come on, Pops,” I drawled. “Easy does it, now. Watch that hip.”

Gem watched us with barely contained glee, like this whole thing was the entertainment he needed after a stressful day.

“Don’t say anything,” Jimmy warned Gem in a low voice as we left the Sunset Acres property and made our way toward Gem’s SUV. “I see that smug look on your face. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Gem said. “I’m just observing.”

“I could be your fake father-in-law someday,” Jimmy growled as we reached Gem’s SUV. “Why are you here, anyway, Gem? Where’s your car, Kate?”

“Now, that’s a long story,” Gem said smoothly. “You miss a lot when you retire, Jim.”

I grinned at Gem. Jimmy groaned, shook his head.

“I knew I’d never live this down,” Jimmy said. “This was a terrible idea.”

We all climbed into the vehicle.

“Tell me you didn’t have a good time today,” I said. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t have some fun going undercover at Sunset Acres.”

Jimmy licked his lips. In an obvious non-answer, he said instead, “Did y’all know a sound bath doesn’t involve water? Or a bath of any sort? It’s literally just sounds. Like bells and chimes and bowls.”

Before we could offer a response, a knock sounded on the window. It was Andrew, staring intently through the tinted glass.

Jimmy lowered his window. “What’s up, Drew?”

I glanced at Gem. “He’s on a nickname basis already.”

“You forgot your sour cream,” Andrew said, his voice lowered, like he didn’t want to be overheard discussing unhealthy dairy products.

Jimmy frowned, glanced in his bag. “I could’ve sworn I packed it up.”

“I can’t believe this is a real discussion,” I said to Gem. “The things that are noteworthy around here astound me.”

“I stole your sour cream,” Andrew said in a titillating twist of plot that I hadn’t seen coming. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you in private.”

“What’s up?” Jimmy frowned. “Everything okay?”

“You passed.” Andrew handed over a tub of sour cream through the window, along with a thin, tattered notebook. “This belongs to you guys now.”

I blinked. “Is that Declan Remmington’s private journal?”

Andrew nodded. “He gave it to me a few days before he died. I think he had another one, or some sort of copy, that he kept for himself.”

I shifted forward in my seat. “Did he tell you anything about it? Give you any instructions?”

Andrew shook his head. “We were friends. Not, you know, super close—but honestly, I might’ve been one of the closest people he had left in his life. And vice versa. I think he trusted me to do the right thing with it.”

“Did he say anything about what’s in here?”

“No. He gave it to me, told me to tuck it away just in case. I didn’t ask too many questions.” Andrew shrugged. “I always thought he was just paranoid, but now... maybe there is a secret in here that got him killed.”

“You haven’t read it?”

“It wasn’t my place. Declan was a friend. A grown man. I didn’t feel right peeping at the pages of his journal.”

“Even after he died?” I pressed.

“Like I said, not my place.” Andrew raised his hands. “I didn’t want to have it then, and especially not after he died. If something is going on, I don’t want any part of it. I might not have the most thrilling life, but at least I’m alive, and that counts for something.”

“Sure does,” Jimmy agreed. “Thanks, Drew.”

“What changed?” I asked Andrew. “Why did you keep this a secret for so long? Are you aware that you lied to law enforcement, potentially impeding an active investigation, and that could get you into serious trouble?”

“Are you going to arrest me?” Andrew asked, genuine curiosity on his face. He looked around, gave us a long beat to reply. When nobody did, he shrugged. “I was cautious after he died. It made me realize maybe he wasn’t just paranoid. I didn’t want to give this to just anyone without sussing out the situation first. I had to find someone I could trust to use it appropriately.”

“That’s fair,” Jimmy said. “But why lie to us? We’re the cops.”

“Right, but you two had shown up the morning Declan died, before it had even been classified as a homicide. I thought that was odd.”

“Again, fair,” Jimmy said. “Agree, Kate?”

I nodded. I didn’t blame the guy for being suspicious, especially if there really was something going on at Sunset Acres. How could he know who to trust? It was a lot of pressure for a guy who didn’t want to be involved in any of it.

“You’re not in any trouble,” I assured Andrew. “You should’ve been more forthcoming once we were officially on the case, but I understand why you were wary.”

“Be honest, was it me?” Jimmy grinned. “My great personality and excellent gin rummy skills convinced you I was trustworthy?”

Andrew cracked a smile. “Any man who packs his own sour cream for chili day ain’t so bad.”

Jimmy raised his eyebrows at me, muttered, “And you gave me flack for the sour cream. To think, if I wasn’t such a dairy aficionado, we might have missed out on this case-breaking piece of evidence.”

“Y’all should take off before the sour cream curdles.” Andrew gave a salute to all of us in the car. “Jim, you coming back tomorrow to finish our game? Water aerobics at seven. I’ll warn you, Darla likes to watch, so pack real swim trunks—no Speedos—or she’ll never leave you alone.”

Jimmy’s expression looked like he’d eaten curdled sour cream. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

We said goodbye to Andrew. As the SUV pulled away, Jimmy waved through the window, looking a little sad, like he was a kid getting picked up early from a slumber party.

“It’ll be okay.” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll bring you back to visit, Pops.”

“Shut up,” Jimmy grunted. Then, a beat later, he offered, uncertainly, “If there really is something going on at Sunset Acres, maybe it could pay off for me to stay undercover a while longer. You know, once I expose myself as a cop, there’s no going back. Might be more to learn from the residents?”

Gem and I looked at one another.

“Pack your trunks, Jim,” I told my partner. “We’re sending you back in.”

Chapter 14

Gem’s driver took us back to the precinct.

“I’ve got to go inside,” I said reluctantly, thinking of all the paperwork and questions waiting on my desk about one pesky car bomb. “I’ve got a few things to take care of.”

“I’m going home,” Jimmy said. “I should check in with the wife and let her know I’m safe after my dastardly undercover operation. Rosetti, I already know the answer, but do you want me to take a look at Remmington’s journal tonight?”

“No,” I said too quickly. “I’ll get it scanned and take a copy home with me. I’ll send you anything that looks like it could be important.”

“Good deal,” Jimmy said. “This is why I don’t retire. You do all the heavy lifting, and I do water aerobics.”

“At least you’re leaning into your strengths,” I said. “Say hi to the wife for us. Tell her we’re grateful for letting you take part in such an incredibly high-stakes mission.”

“Oh, buzz off,” Jimmy said. “There’s a murderer on the loose at Sunset Acres. I’m risking my neck in that sound bath.”

I tried to suggest Gem head for home, but he flat-out refused. So he followed me to the second floor, my silent shadow, a comfort blanket after a stressful day. A day that felt like it’d been going on forever and ever.

Except when we reached my desk, there was someone already sitting in my chair.

“Melinda?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

She was sitting behind my desk, scanning something on her phone, her high-heeled feet tapping impatiently. Melinda glanced up, tossing long curls over her shoulder.

“I heard you almost got blown up,” Melinda said. “Want to get a drink at Bellini’s and talk about it?”

Melinda saw a lot. As the ME, dead bodies were pretty much her daily MO. But her laissez-faire attitude around this most recent explosion was setting off alarm bells. Either everyone in my life was getting a little too comfortable with how often bombs exploded around me, or something was on her mind. I was going to be optimistic and go with the latter.

“Sure,” I said. “Let me get Asha and Lassie on the horn.”

“Already done.” Melinda stood. “They’re on their way there already. I’ll drive, seeing as your car is toast.”

I looked awkwardly over my shoulder at Gem.

“I’ll give you ladies a ride,” Gem offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you your space. I’m just your chauffeur and nothing more. Also a designated driver, so that makes things easy for you all.”

“Thank you.” Melinda didn’t normally drink a lot, but she seemed more than eager to knock back a few adult beverages tonight. “Let’s go.”

My curiosity ratcheted up a few extra notches. I raised my brows at Gem.

We were in the hallway when Sturgeon craned his neck out of his office, just as I’d anticipated he would.

“Rosetti?” Sturgeon hollered down the hall. “What the hell?”

“Talk to Russo,” I called back. “I’ve got business to discuss with Dr. Brooks.”

Melinda was a stickler for rules. Normally, she’d shoot me a disapproving gaze at my using her to get out of a conversation with my boss. But my sort-of-but-not-really white lie didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. Strange. Very strange.

When we got to Bellini’s, Asha and Lassie were already in the booth. My cousin Angela—a server at the restaurant—greeted me, Melinda, and Gem with a nod. She shot an extra-long, lingering gaze at Gem, then an eyebrow waggle in my direction, which I deftly ignored.

Angela led us over to the table where the other two girls were eyeing a pitcher of margaritas in front of them.

Gem cleared his throat, then turned toward Angela. “Please, may I get a different table?”

“A table...” Angela gestured with her finger. “Away from your girlfriend?”

“It’s girls’ night,” Gem said weakly, as an explanation, “but I drove them here. And I’m hungry. Just... a different table, please.”

Gem, sweet Gem, didn’t want to be out of sight from me. I gave his hand a squeeze. Normally, this level of hovering from a boyfriend would get on my nerves. But considering this whole scenario was partially my fault, and majorly my ex-boyfriend’s fault, and zero percent Gem’s fault, I cut him some slack.

“Okay,” Angela said, dragging out the word like she didn’t totally understand. “Good thing I have this table open for you.”

Angela took approximately three quarters of a step to her right and rapped a knuckle on the back of the booth that butted up right behind us. When I gave her a raised eyebrow, she shrugged back at me.

“It’s not my fault y’all come in here at the busiest time of day with no reservations and a request to not sit together. It was hard enough to clear one table for you, let alone two. I had to practically shoo out a couple of customers who tip great, so...” She leaned on the word, pretty much guilting us into leaving a good tip.

“Thank you,” Gem said quickly, removing a bill from his wallet. “Much appreciated; this should get us started. I have some business calls to make anyway, so I will be distracted. Headphones.”

When Gem forked over a hundred-dollar bill, Angela seemed much happier, looking like she’d shut down the entire restaurant for us at the rate he was paying.

“You don’t have to buy off my cousin,” I said to him in a low voice. “She’s just dramatic and likes to kick up a fuss.”

“I know you don’t like when I use money to solve problems,” Gem murmured, “but sometimes it’s the easiest and fastest way to a solution.”

“You also don’t have to make fake business calls all night.”

“I have real calls,” Gem drawled. “You do know I run a moderately successful business?”

I gave a snort. “Moderately. Yeah, I’ve heard rumors you do all right for yourself.”

Gem plunked a kiss on my forehead. “That margarita is calling your name. Unfortunately, a middle manager named Arthur is calling mine.”

Gem wiggled his phone and slid into the booth behind us. He slipped earphones in pointedly, as if to prove he had no interest in eavesdropping.

“So sweet,” Asha said. “He’s worried about you.”

“Doesn’t want to leave your side.” Lassie clasped her hands in front of her body. “So swoony. Where can I find myself one of them?”

“Don’t bother,” Melinda scoffed. “It never lasts anyway.”

All three of us swiveled our gaze to Melinda.

“Do you want to tell us what’s bothering you?” I ventured carefully.

Melinda wasn’t often emotional. She’d built up a nice fortress around herself, a whole castle to protect herself from pesky things like tears and sadness. We all had some sort of walls erected around us, except for maybe Lassie. We had to in this business. Otherwise, we’d crumble every time we stumbled upon a dead body which was, in Melinda’s case, daily.

“Nothing’s on my mind,” Melinda said. “I’m just being honest.”

The other three of us turned to our drinks and took a big sip.

“What about you?” Asha asked, letting Melinda off the hook for now and turning her sights on me. “You almost died today. Want to talk about it?”

I wasn’t looking at Gem, but it was almost like I could sense him. Like I could feel his shoulders stiffening at the memory of the explosion. I seriously wondered if there was a middle manager named Arthur on the other end of the phone line.

“Not much to say,” I said apologetically. I pointed to my head. “Slight concussion.”

“You probably shouldn’t be drinking.” Melinda pulled my glass away from me. “I’ll have yours.”

I didn’t feel like arguing with Melinda, not tonight. Something about her fortress had cracked. Like the protective moat around her had overflowed, and she was scrambling to patch up the flood in her well-protected castle. I’d argue with her once she’d dried everything out and put in new carpets.

“Gem was helping out on a case for Jack. It’s a national-level scam-type thing, and they wanted to set up a meeting between him and the Big Bad Wolf.” I paused. “Well, the Big Bad Wolf escaped in a helicopter and is probably on his way to a private island somewhere, and I ended up with a pile of paperwork the size of the Eiffel Tower and a charred chassis.”

“Fun,” Asha said, reaching for a tater tot.

“Omigod.” Lassie’s eyes were wide. “And you didn’t even think to text me once?”

“Did you not hear about the part where I cracked my head against the wall and got a concussion?” I asked.

“You must have had some downtime on your ride to the hospital,” Lassie said, like that was all the explanation needed. “A heads-up would have been nice. No puns intended.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” I said dryly.

“Thanks, honey.” Lassie patted my hand. “I’m so glad you didn’t get blown to pieces.”

“Meanwhile, Jimmy spent the day at a spa,” I said. “Did you know sound baths don’t involve water? Or baths?”

“You guys are so out of touch with civilization,” Lassie said. “Sound baths are so yesterday.”

“What’d you guys find at the nursing home?” Asha asked, licking some salt from her rim. “Any progress on the Remmington front?”

“Not quite.” I helped myself to a tater tot in lieu of a margarita. It was delicious, but significantly less satisfying. “We’re following up on a few leads.”

I’d checked the original copy of Declan’s notebook into evidence at the precinct, but I could feel the copies of it burning a hole in my pocket. Any other night, and I would’ve asked to reschedule girls’ night so I could hole up at home and review Declan’s journal.

But I’d already been feeling bad about how long it’d been since our last Bellini’s date as a foursome. Not to mention whatever was eating Melinda. I needed to be here. I wanted to be here.

“There is one thing.” I dipped another tater tot into ketchup. “I’ve got a source that says he drove Declan to a park a couple of times in the weeks leading up to his death.”

“That seems suspicious,” Lassie said. “Why would a guy like him need to go to a park? Was he meeting someone?”

“That’s my best guess, but we haven’t been able to confirm it,” I said. “The driver never saw anyone. I’m going to go check out the park tomorrow.”

“Which park?” Lassie asked.

“The driver called it Spiderman Park. That’s not the real name, just what all the locals call it.”

“No kidding?” Lassie stilled, a tater tot hovering midair in her fingers. “Do you think he was meeting a reporter?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. It could be anyone, really.”

“Maybe he was buying weed,” Asha said. “It’s legal these days.”

“Like I said,” I repeated, “I’m trying to keep an open mind. Why did you ask, Lassie? Do you know the park?”

“I’m aware of it, yeah. Actually, I have a friend—more of an acquaintance, really—who lives around there and sometimes meets sources there. She likes it because there’s a nice flow of people around. Not too busy, not totally remote either.”

“What’s her name?” I asked. “Will she talk to me?”

“Matilda Johnson,” Lassie said. “Let’s ask her now.”

Lassie pulled out her phone and dialed. Someone answered on the other end, and Lassie’s eyes lit up. “Matilda, hey—Erin Lassiter here. Yeah, say, I have a question for you.”

Lassie listened for a couple of minutes. I couldn’t hear what her friend was saying.

“Did you ever meet a source at Spiderman Park named Declan Remmington?” Lassie paused. “I’m here with my friend Detective Kate Rosetti. You might have read about some of her cases. Yeah, she’s the one. I knew you’d be familiar with her work.”

I watched with rapt attention, unable to hear the responses over the low churn of restaurant noise in the background.

“Oh, really? That’s a bummer. Okay, thanks anyway.” Lassie hesitated. “Just so you know, Matilda, Declan is dead. Murdered. So, if you were wrapped up with him and are lying about it, be careful.”

Then Lassie hung up.

“She said she’s never met him,” I said. “Why don’t you believe her?”

“I don’t believe anyone at first go round,” Lassie said. “I’m sure you understand. It’s not in my nature to assume people are telling the truth. People like to protect their sources. I might’ve done the same thing.”

“That’s why you warned her about the fact that Declan was murdered,” I said. “To scare her.”

“Yep. Hopefully, she’ll be careful. But also, if she’s spooked, she might end up coming to us with information sooner rather than later—if she’s worried enough.”

“Devon broke up with me.” Melinda had a ghostly look in her eyes, almost like something otherworldly possessed her to blurt it out. “Out of the blue. He met someone else.”

The rest of us quieted down. We sort of looked at one another uncertainly.

“I’m so sorry,” Lassie said finally. “That really sucks, Melinda.”

“Omigod.” Melinda looked each one of us in the eyes. “You guys don’t know who Devon is.”

“Of course we do,” Lassie fumbled. “He’s the one you went to that one movie with.”

“No,” Asha said. “That was Michael. Devon’s the sushi guy.”

They waited for me to throw my guess into the ring, but I had absolutely no clue.

“Is it me?” Melinda asked. “Am I the problem?”

“No, no,” I assured her. “Did he say why he broke up with you? Are you sure it was another woman?”

“He never said, but I started to suspect there was another woman,” Melinda whispered. “When I asked him if he was seeing someone else, he dumped me on the spot.”

Asha looked like she wanted to crack her knuckles and get to work on this guy.

“I didn’t come to you to research him because I didn’t want this to be treated like a case,” Melinda said, glancing at Asha. “I’m sure you could’ve found out the truth, but I just wanted this to be normal. A normal person in a normal relationship. I thought he was the one. He didn’t even bother arguing or denying anything. He just left, and I never heard from him again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Asha said. “That’s awful, hon.”

“Terrible,” I agreed, thinking since I didn’t get to break Jack’s nose, maybe I could break this guy’s nose instead.

“It just feels like everyone my age is pairing off.” Melinda blinked watery eyes. “Jane has Wes. Chloe’s got her man. Even Kate is in a healthy relationship. I’m happy for all of you. So, so happy,” she emphasized. “But sometimes in the back of my head, I still can’t help but think, what about me? When will I meet my person? Does that make me a terrible person?”

I scooted around, slid right to Melinda’s side, as her tears began to fall. Watching Melinda cry was more upsetting than seeing almost anyone else I knew and loved cry. It was so rare, so intensely personal. She didn’t cry in front of anyone.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“It’s fine.” Melinda sniffed. “It just sucks feeling like I have to start all over again. Name? Number? Siblings? Do you want kids? It’s exhausting.”

“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” I asked. “We can eat ice cream and watch movies.”

“No,” Melinda said with a heavy sigh. “I appreciate it, but I’m good.”

“You know we love you,” Lassie said. “Anything we can do for you, we’re there.”

“I know,” Melinda said.

“Feel like telling me this guy’s name?” Asha asked. “Permission to investigate?”

“Please,” Melinda said sadly. “Just leave it alone. All I need are you guys here. That’s it.”

“We’ll always be here.” I leaned my head against hers. “Ready to break noses and hack into phones whenever you need.”

Melinda snorted. “Don’t make me report you to Sturgeon.”

Asha grinned. “Like he’d be able to catch me.”

Chapter 15

After making sure the other three women got home safely, Gem and I made it back to his place.

I had almost forgotten about the copy of Andrew’s notebook after Melinda’s breakdown, but now that all was quiet, it was burning a hole in my pocket. As much as I loved spending quiet time with Gem, I was anxious to see what Wes’s uncle had been keeping so secret.

“What a day.” Gem stretched like he’d run a marathon as we got ready for bed. “How do you deal with this sort of stress all the time?”

“How do you deal with middle managers named Arthur all the time?” I shrugged. “Pick your poison.”

Gem gave a short laugh. We climbed into bed. I set the journal copies on the nightstand next to me and looked over at Gem. He seemed completely tuckered out, like a toddler who had been dragged to a fair, gone on all the rides, eaten too much cotton candy, skipped nap and bedtime, and was on the verge of either passing out or bouncing off the walls.

“I’m not sleeping tonight,” Gem declared. “Doctor’s orders. I’m watching you to make sure you’re breathing.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what the doctor ordered,” I said. “He said to take me in if I start vomiting. I’m fine. Completely fine. No vomit anywhere to be seen.”

“It’s my choice to sleep or not, and I’m not going to bed.”

“Great, then you can keep me company because I’m not either.” I patted the papers next to me. “I’ve got work to do.”

Gem looked like he wanted to say something. “I think you need your rest.”

“I need to rest, but I can’t sleep?”

“I don’t know.” Gem sounded perturbed at not having all the right answers. “Rest with your eyes open.”

I picked up the journal pages, flipped through a couple.

It took five minutes before Gem was snoring gently beside me. I glanced over, watched him sleep for a moment. A moment longer than I normally would.

Melinda’s words had made an impact, whether that had been her intention or not. Hearing about her experiences in the dating trenches made me feel that much more overwhelmed with gratitude that I’d found my person.

My person. Gem was my person.

Simple as that. I ran my fingers through his curls, basking in the moment. The touch, the scent of him, the comfort of his warmth next to me. Normally, I’d have leapt out of bed to focus on Declan’s journal. Yet here I was, dawdling for no good reason—or maybe for the very best reason of all.

My phone rang, startling me from my trance. I slipped out of bed before the vibrations could rattle Gem awake.

“It’s me,” a female voice said as I scrambled blindly toward the kitchen. “Are you still awake? I tried Mr. Gem’s phone, but he’s not answering.”

It took me a long, long time to run through the list of names that could possibly match up with this voice. It had been a long day, and there was a lag with my brain.

“It’s Bonnie,” the woman finally said, helping me out. “Mr. Gem’s new assistant.”

“Um... I’m awake,” I said.

“Can I come up?”

I glanced over at Gem, then at the clock. Then at the journal.

“I heard about your day,” Bonnie said softly. “I just wanted to drop something off for you. It’ll only take a minute.”

I waited for Bonnie in the living room. The elevator doors opened a few minutes later, and she stepped out, hauling in a huge Crock -Pot, tottering around on very high heels that looked like they were made out of an old pair of jeans. She gave me a quick once-over, then a big smile.

“What great taste you have in clothes.” Bonnie grinned broadly.

I was wearing one of the new pajama sets she’d added to the closet in Gem’s guest room. A very soft, very cute button-down shirt with matching shorts that made me feel like a woman who actually had her life together, instead of the sort of woman who hunted through the laundry, sniffing old T-shirts, trying to find one clean enough to sleep in.

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s very nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Bonnie hiked her denim-clad body over to the counter and plopped something down. There was a lot of denim—the shoes were just the beginning. Tight denim pants, tight denim shirt, or maybe... it was one-piece?

“It’s a one-piece,” Bonnie said, turning to face me. “I can see the wheels spinning in your brain trying to figure it out.”

“I’m mostly trying to figure out how you’d use the bathroom in that thing.” I waved a hand. “You look very pretty; it’s just... so impractical.”

“I don’t,” she said easily. “I drink very little when I wear this thing.”

“That sounds miserable,” I said. “And awfully unhealthy.”

“Beauty is pain,” she said.

“More like dehydration,” I said. “Does that mean you don’t drink coffee?”

She winked at me. “It has a zipper. And I even know how to work it. So there’s that.”

“What a relief.”

“Actually, that reminds me.” Bonnie reached into a pocket. Her hand could barely slide into said denim pocket because it was so tight to her figure. “Mr. Gem asked me to get you this.”

I glanced down and saw a Starbucks card. Before I could ask, Bonnie gestured to the Crock-Pot.

“I heard you almost got exploded today,” Bonnie said. “I made you chicken soup.”

I waited for my mind to catch up, wondering how chicken soup could help with the fact I’d almost ended up in the morgue as a set of charred bones.

“I don’t know how it’s supposed to help, just that it might,” Bonnie said gently. “My mom always made me chicken soup when I had a bad day. I figured maybe it would cheer you up like it used to for me.”

“Actually, that sounds great,” I said, feeling my stomach rumble at the homey scent. “I only had a couple of tater tots for dinner, and I sort of forgot to eat the rest of the day.”

“Want company?” Bonnie asked. “I had a tough day too. Not verge-of-death tough, but there was this middle-manager nut named Arthur who really ground my gears.”

“Uh—”

“I’ll just eat soup next to you and read my book,” Bonnie said. “You can do whatever you need to do.”

“Did Gem put you up to this?” I asked curiously.

“What, the soup?”

“No, the visit,” I said. “Are you here to be my babysitter or something?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. That’s when I tried you,” Bonnie said. “I didn’t want to bother you, but the soup is really best fresh.”

In reply, I grabbed two bowls from the cupboard. I set one out for her, one out for me, and grabbed a ladle.

That was how I ended up sitting next to a woman wearing only denim until three o’clock in the morning. We each read our own books—her a romance novel with a naked man on the cover, me with the pages from a tattered notebook of a recently deceased man.

As I sorted through pages of cryptic chicken scratch, Bonnie was sucking in little gasps of shock every half hour or so. At one point, I looked toward her to find tears streaming down her cheeks. She giggled once or twice. She was having a real roller coaster of an experience over there.

“What are you reading?” I finally asked, unable to concentrate as Bonnie white-knuckled her paperback so hard I thought she was going to rip out the pages.

“A romance,” she said. “It’s so good.”

“Why are you crying?” I asked.

“Because they broke up,” she said. “Obviously.”

“If it’s a romance, isn’t it pretty much guaranteed they’ll end up together?”

Bonnie fixed me with a bit of a glare. “I’m reading a love story, and you’re reading some dead guy’s notes. I’m the weird one?”

“Point taken.”

I turned back to Declan’s journal and the notes I’d jotted down on my own notepad. So far, I hadn’t had any big breakthroughs. Most of his writings were fragments of thoughts, little phrases that didn’t make sense without more context. The only thing I’d found worth following up on were three names. I’d send Asha on the hunt first thing in the morning.

While I wouldn’t bother Asha at this hour, I would bother Jimmy. The man had dozed off to a sound bath and eaten snacks all day. He could handle the interruption to his sleep.

“Do the names Lucas Monroe, Amelia Henry, or Brett Tattleson mean anything to you?” I asked once my partner answered with a sleepy-sounding yawn. To orient him, I added, “Probably from Sunset Acres.”

“C’mon, Rosetti,” Jimmy grumbled. “I spend all day undercover, and you can’t even let a man get a good night of sleep?”

“I almost died today while you were at the spa,” I said. “One of us wins in the Difficult Day Olympics.”

“You aren’t normal,” Jimmy said. “Let’s see, yeah, one of those names rings a bell.”

I gave Jimmy a beat. He was talking in his wife-is-sleeping quiet voice. I waited until he presumably scooted into the hallway and resumed speaking in his normal-volume voice.

“The last one,” he said. “Brett.”

“Tattleson?”

“That’s the one,” Jimmy said. “Some of the guys were talking about him today. I guess he was a resident here until a couple of months ago.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nobody really knows. Hence the rumors,” Jimmy said. “I heard a couple of different things. One was that his family moved him to a new place down in Florida.”

“Okay, what else?”

“Nothing really,” Jimmy said. “It’s a big nothin’ burger.”

“A nothing burger?”

“A nothin’ burger,” Jimmy repeated. “Except that the rumors say Darla killed him.”

“Sorry, what?” My reaction was enough to cause Bonnie to pull herself away from her book to stare at me. “You heard a rumor that Darla killed someone and didn’t think to tell me about it? In the middle of a homicide investigation? Detective Jimothy Jones, that is literally your job.”

“You know my name’s not Jimothy, right?” Then he coughed. “I’m pretty sure it was a joke. I don’t think Darla’s capable of killing anyone.”

“The joke’s not funny when someone is actually dead, Jimmy!”

“It was a joke. I promise you. That’s why I didn’t say anything. A few guys were warning me away from eating Darla’s pudding is all,” he said. “I guess Darla cooks pudding for men she’s trying to impress, and apparently it’s real disgusting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day, Darla made up a batch of her famous pudding for Brett, and the next day he was gone. Up and vanished. Nobody knew where he went. They joked that it was her pudding that did him in. A joke, Kate. I know you’re unfamiliar with the term, but if I thought there was any proof in the pudding—L-O-L—then I would have told you right away.”

“Jimmy...” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “You do not say L-O-L out loud and spell it. That’s not how it works.”

“In retrospect, I see how this all sounds,” Jimmy admitted. “But you have to understand, we were shooting the breeze. Once, apparently, Darla made her lumpy pudding for a potluck. Seven people ended up with serious digestive issues for, like, a week. Since then, it’s a running joke that Darla’s pudding kills people.”

I sighed. “I trust you, but I’m skeptical Jim-Bo Jones.”

“That’s not my name, either, but I appreciate the effort.”

I sighed. “Someday maybe I’ll get it right.”

“I would’ve mentioned these details to you sooner, but when you picked me up I was distracted by—oh, I don’t know—maybe the fact that my partner had almost been exploded.”

“That’s fair,” I agreed. “What else do you know about this Brett guy? I’m not having much luck with Declan’s journal except for finding a couple of names for Asha to dig into.”

“I don’t know anything else,” Jimmy said. “I actually texted Asha to look into the story about Brett ending up in Florida, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“She was with me tonight, so I’m sure she’ll get back to you tomorrow.” I waited a beat. “Since you’re going back in the morning, maybe dig into this Darla thing a little more, just to be sure?”

“If I have time between water aerobics and afternoon tea,” Jimmy said. “My schedule’s pretty full. They’ve got arts and crafts tomorrow too.”

“You’re hopeless,” I said. “I’ll pick you up from the precinct at eight.”

I ended the call. Bonnie snapped her book shut.

“Screw love stories,” she said. “I want to hear more about this woman murdering via lumpy porridge.”

“Pudding,” I corrected automatically. Then I jerked my gaze up to her. “You could hear everything?”

“I have very good hearing. Twenty-twenty hearing, if that’s a thing.” Bonnie grinned. “Comes in handy in my line of work. Anticipating people’s needs, and all that. Need any help on your murder case?”

“No, thank you. Also, that’s kind of against the rules for me to share information with you, so...” I hesitated because Bonnie didn’t seem to be getting the picture. “So, no.”

“Bummer. Well, I should head for home. Thanks for letting me spend some time with you tonight.”

“Thanks for the chicken soup,” I said. “I appreciate it. Shockingly, it hit the spot.”

“Always does.”

After Bonnie left, I shot Asha a note about Brett Tattleson, moving it up her priority list, along with the two other names I’d found. I was starting to get that tingling sensation, the twisting in my gut, the niggling in my brain that we were onto something.

I didn’t have answers yet, but I had a lot of questions, and that was when things started to get interesting. Who was Declan leaving to meet in secret? Who were those three names in his journal? Did Darla really kill a man with lumpy pudding?

Chapter 16

“Ifeel like an asshole.”

“You are not an asshole,” I assured Gem as we sipped piping-hot mugs of coffee in bed the next morning. “I promise.”

The morning had dawned dark, with thunderclouds looming in the distance. As if August had completely forgotten about one of the summer storms on its agenda and was trying to make up for it a few weeks late. I could practically feel the heaviness, the tension of the clouds from inside the building.

It made for a cozy, slow morning, and the last thing I wanted to do was move from this bed. Something about almost dying yesterday gave me a new appreciation for the chance to experience another dawn with a hot coffee and a hot boyfriend.

“I was supposed to make sure you were safe last night.” Gem looked physically pained. “I slept right through it. What if you had died?”

“I had a lot of work to do anyway. Plus, Bonnie stopped by with chicken soup. It was very kind of her. We hung out for a while.”

“You hung out with my assistant?” Gem eyed me. “I can fire her if she’s bothering you.”

“Strangely enough... it was nice,” I said hesitantly. “Maybe she was lonely and looking for company. I vote you give her a chance.”

“If you say so,” he said, not sounding convinced.

“That reminds me.” I fingered the Starbucks gift card Bonnie had given to me last night. I’d set it on my nightstand before bed. “Why did you have Bonnie give me a coffee gift card?”

“It’s got a thousand dollars on it,” Gem said flippantly, like it was a free drink coupon instead of a significant amount of money. “Bonnie told me she set it up so it’ll reset every time it gets below fifty dollars.”

“In perpetuity?”

“I guess? I don’t know—she ironed out the details. It was her idea, actually. I’ve got no clue how it all works.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Let’s just say I feel indebted to your caffeine habit for saving your life.” Gem gave me a kiss to the forehead. “If you hadn’t had too much coffee yesterday, well... the outcome might have been very different.”

“Coffee saves lives,” I said. “My new motto?”

He kissed me, lower this time, on the lips. “Whatever keeps you alive.”

“That was really thoughtful. Unnecessary, but sweet.”

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asked. “Please tell me you’re doing paperwork.”

“It’s low-key,” I promised. “I have a couple of interviews scheduled, and then I’m dropping Jimmy off at daycare.”

“How are you planning to drop him off?” Gem studied me. “In what vehicle, specifically?”

“I, uh...” I paused. “Yeah, that’s a great question.”

“I’ve got a garage full that you can choose from, if you like.”

“But...” I hesitated. “I don’t have a good track record with cars.”

“Fortunately, I have a good track record with insurance.”

“I can probably use Jimmy’s car,” I said. “He’ll be at Sunset Acres all day, anyway.”

“Please take one of my vehicles,” Gem said. “It’s safer.”

“Probably smells less like fried chicken too.”

“One would hope.” Gem rested a hand on mine. “Take a car, Kate. It’s not a big deal.”

I agreed, feeling a bit overwhelmed, thinking I needed to get to work before I asked Gem to marry me before breakfast. It was all too much—not because of any dollar amount he’d bestowed on me, or any of his shiny cars he’d lent to me, but his thoughtfulness.

The weight Gem gave to each decision he made, and the way he always prioritized me, the thundery morning in bed—all of it had me feeling the sorts of fluttery things I’d only heard about before. I thought back to Bonnie and her romance novel. Maybe I wasn’t interested in reading love stories right now because I was too busy living my own. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve this man, but I was going to fight like hell not to screw it up.

After a shower and another goodbye, I hopped into the vehicle that the valets out front told me was mine until further notice. It was shiny and red and very conspicuous. Jimmy would get a kick out of it.

I texted Gem: You’re making it hard for me to blend in on a stakeout.

GEM: Maybe that’s the point?

I was still grinning when I met Jimmy at the precinct. I waited while he gave the car an appraising look. Then he hopped inside, holding on to a backpack, without saying a word.

“My wife made some cookies for me to share with my new friends,” Jimmy grumbled as I cruised toward Sunset Acres. “I think she’s grateful they’re letting me spend the day there again. She’s almost done with her puzzle.”

“I’m sure you’re dreading going back.”

“I’m just a man doing my job,” Jimmy said with a puffed-up chest. “Bringing home the bacon and all that.”

“Literally.” I glanced over. “Tell me that backpack isn’t being used to pilfer some extra pastries from the breakfast menu and squirrel them home.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny your accusations,” Jimmy said. “Not without my lawyer present.”

“Want a coffee?” I asked. “On me. Gem gave me a gift card.”

“A gift card?”

“To Starbucks,” I said. “Long story.”

We pulled into the drive-through. I fumbled with my phone.

“I can’t figure out this app,” I said.

Jimmy took it from me. “You’re the one who belongs at Sunset Acres. Even my geriatric mother knows how to work the Starbucks app.” Jimmy pressed a few buttons, apparently got everything working, because his eyes widened. “A thousand dollars for Frappucinos? That man lends a new definition to the word rich.”

“Apparently, it even refills when it dips below a certain threshold,” I said. “Isn’t that creepy? I’ve got to figure out how to shut that off.”

“Damn, Kate. You’ve got yourself a sugar daddy.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” I cocked my head to one side. “I hate when Gem spends his money on me. Here I am, driving his car and buying coffee on his dime. I don’t even recognize myself.”

“I don’t mind when he spends money on you,” Jimmy said. “Then I get to ride in fancy cars with fancy drinks. Plus, it’s not like he can return this gift card. You should use it and be generous with it. Like donating some to me.”

We pulled up in front of Sunset Acres fully caffeinated. As I parked, my phone beeped with a message from Asha to give her a call. I dialed immediately, leaving my phone on speaker.

“Jimmy’s here with me,” I said when she answered. “Did you find something?”

“Those names you sent from Remmington’s journal,” she said. “There’s something funky going on with them. I only got to my computer a couple of minutes ago, so I need to do a lot more digging. I wanted to catch you guys before you dumped Jimmy back in that place.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What sort of funkiness?”

“For starters, Brett Tattleson is still alive,” Asha said. “He’s in Florida, but he’s not at a new nursing home. He’s staying with someone. I haven’t worked out the specific details, but I think it’s due to financial reasons. Like he couldn’t afford his payments anymore.”

“Maybe he ran out of money,” I said. “Would Sunset Acres have kicked him out?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Asha said. “I’m working on it. In the meantime, I’ve got the number of the person he’s staying with; it’s a distant relative, from what I gather. I don’t think Brett has a lot of family around.”

“I’ll give her a call,” I offered. “Jimmy can ask around today.”

“Sounds good,” Asha said. “Jimmy, keep your phone on you today. Just in case.”

I glanced over at my partner. “If you don’t want to go back undercover, we can go in and start formally interviewing people.”

Jimmy thought a minute. “Give me one more day. Best-case scenario, someone on the inside blabs, and I score important info. Worst-case scenario, they serve hot dogs for lunch.”

I climbed out of the car along with Jimmy and walked him up to the gate. We buzzed in, and I hung next to him as Darla approached with a huge tub of something lumpy and brown.”

“Hey, hon,” Darla said. “I made you my famous pudding.”

Jimmy paled and looked at me. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Everyone here loves it.”

“My wife made cookies.” Jimmy held up his bag weakly.

“That’s so sweet of her,” Darla said. “Come on, let me get you fixed up with a bowl.”

“He can’t,” I said, leaning against Jimmy. “My pops is allergic.”

“No he’s not.” Darla narrowed her gaze at me. “I saw the way the man was putting back sour cream yesterday. If dairy affected his digestion, he wouldn’t be looking so peppy today, if you know what I mean.”

Jimmy looked at me.

“I tried,” I said with a shrug.

Then I did something I never thought I’d do. I leaned in and gave Jimmy a hug.

As he gave me a surprised squeeze back, I warned him, “Whatever you do today—do not eat that pudding.”

Chapter 17

After tucking Jimmy into his room at Sunset Acres, I turned on my GPS and headed toward Spiderman Park, the location where Declan Remmington had gone three times in the weeks leading up to his death.

It wasn’t that I expected to uncover anything by merely visiting the grounds. But I was striking out when it came to uncovering the details of the secret Declan was protecting, and I needed to try something. This park, and the potential person he’d met here, might be my only hope for uncovering the motive that had led to Declan’s murder.

I parked along the curb on a residential side street. Spiderman Park was a small playground surrounded by dirt walking paths, a small oasis in the middle of a popular St. Paul neighborhood.

I scanned the grounds, noting a young mother with two small children near the swings. An older woman was doing laps on the walking trail. A man strolled by, yammering into an earpiece.

I sat, not quite sure what to do now that I was here. I pulled out my phone and scanned Asha’s latest email while I considered my next move. As promised, she’d sent me the contact information for Brett Tattleson and the person he was living with in Florida. I decided to give him a call while I had a minute.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered the phone. “Who is this?”

“Hi, Mrs. McGreary?” I asked, pretty sure the voice didn’t belong to a man named Brett.

According to Asha’s notes, Mrs. McGreary was a seventy-eight-year-old widow living in a tiny condo near St. Petersburg. Asha believed she was somehow related to Brett, and that she was currently acting as his caregiver.

“Yes, or, well, I used to be Mrs. McGreary,” she said. “My husband passed away ten years ago next month. My first name’s Evie, if you prefer that. How can I help you?”

“My name is Kate Rosetti. I’m a homicide detective in Minnesota, and I’m investigating an incident that occurred at Sunset Acres. I was given your name as someone to speak with regarding Brett Tattleson. Is he currently living with you?”

“Oh, my. What happened up there? Something awful?” Evie McGreary sounded almost hopeful, like maybe she was bored and looking for some interesting conversation this morning. “I knew that place was bad news.”

“It’s complicated,” I hedged. “Before we continue, I want to assure you Brett is in no way a suspect. We’re just trying to gather some information from other residents who lived at Sunset Acres with a man named Declan Remmington. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course Brett isn’t a suspect,” Evie outright scoffed. “Have you met Brett?”

“No,” I said. “Could you tell me a little about him? He’s your cousin?”

“He’s not my cousin. Honestly, when I got the call asking me to take Brett in, I was shocked. I’d met the man maybe twice in my life. Nice guy, but we’re barely related through marriage. Poor man, he really didn’t have anyone else for them to call.”

“Brett had been living at Sunset Acres, correct? Do you know why he left?”

“They tell me that Brett ran out of money,” Evie said. “They told me he couldn’t afford to stay there any longer, and he needed somewhere to go.”

“What made you agree to take Brett in if you barely knew him?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Evie sounded tired. “Technically, I guess he’s still family, even though it was distant. Not to mention, I thought it might be nice to have someone around the house. It’s been quiet, a little lonely, ever since Nicolas died. Not to mention, I never thought it would be so much work.”

“How do you mean?” I paused. “Would it be better if I spoke to Brett directly about this?”

I’d planned on going straight to Brett, but the way Mrs. McGreary had answered the phone, it was clear she was looking to talk. I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get information any way I could. Legally.

“You could try to speak to Brett, but you won’t get very far. He’s got a very advanced stage of Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Though I hadn’t had time to thoroughly review his files, I was a little skeptical that I’d missed something so obvious. Had I really missed it, or had there not even been a mention of it? “I see what you mean about it being a lot of work. Being a caregiver can be overwhelming.”

“It’s an awful lot of work, especially at my age,” she said. “I can barely leave the house nowadays. Brett’s too much of a danger to himself, and I can’t afford to hire a nurse. That whole situation up there makes me so mad.”

“What exactly makes you mad?”

“That those folks were just going to throw him out of Sunset Acres! Brett, in his condition, wouldn’t last a week without proper care. How is that legal? I get these places need money to operate, but it’s downright evil the way they’re operating.”

“Did you have any interaction with Sunset Acres when all this was happening?” I asked. “Did they give you any details around the circumstances of Brett running out of money?”

“Not really,” she said. “It all happened very quick. I didn’t even think to ask some of those questions at the time because I was still processing. Once I’d taken it in, I followed up with them.”

“You did?”

“Oh, I gave them a piece of my mind, all right, but they weren’t really listening.” Evie sighed again, sounding resigned about the whole thing. “Once I agreed to take Brett in, that was it. Every time I called after, it was like talking to a brick wall.”

“Do you remember the name of the person you spoke with?” I asked. “What were you following up on, specifically?”

“I don’t remember the woman’s name, but I called a couple of weeks after Brett arrived to let them know they should be ashamed.” Evie’s exhaustion seemed to be turning into renewed anger. “Can you believe they didn’t inform me of Brett’s condition before they sent him down here? Granted, it wouldn’t have changed my decision to take him in, of course. But it would’ve been nice to be properly prepared. They should’ve told me about his disease.”

“They didn’t tell you about his Alzheimer’s?”

“Not a peep. He showed up, and it was dangerous for both of us,” she said. “I didn’t know he had any memory issues at all, and the first time I popped out to the store, he tried to cook himself lunch and almost burned the house down.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s shocking,” I said, meaning it. I couldn’t fathom what Evie had been through, especially at her age, with her limited income and resources. “That’s terrible.”

“If you can get ahold of someone up there, be sure to pass through my complaints. Are you investigating Sunset Acres? Because they need to be shut down. I’m happy to testify.”

“You’ve been immensely helpful, and I promise I’ll be in touch once I find out more information. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” As an afterthought, I added, “Brett is very lucky to have you in his life. Not everyone would be as kind and selfless as you have been.”

Mrs. McGreary burst into tears, sobbing on the other end of the line. “Bless you, darlin’. Bless you.”

Then she hung up, and I sat—a little uncomfy-feeling—in my seat. Normally, I wouldn’t add that sort of personal touch. Especially over the phone, and during an active investigation, but something had tugged on me to do it. I wasn’t sure if I was glad I’d done it or if I regretted it.

Maybe Jimmy was right and I was really truly becoming a human with feelings. I hated when he was right.

I was just debating climbing out of my car to go for a walk around Spiderman Park to see if inspiration struck, when a familiar face passed right by my shiny red car. Of course, she didn’t recognize the vehicle, because technically, it wasn’t mine.

I hustled out of Gem’s car and tapped my friend on the shoulder.

“Lassie?” I said when she whirled around. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“OH, HEY, YOURSELF!” Lassie didn’t seem all that surprised to see me. “Probably the same thing you are.”

“Huh,” I said. “You’re working a homicide investigation because you’re a qualified detective and this is your case?”

“I mean, technically,” she said, “that’s sort of right. Just not the qualified-detective part.”

“Uh-huh,” I said again. “You really think Matilda was lying to you last night?”

“Yes?” Lassie gave me a forced smile. Then she sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t get in your way of the investigation, but maybe if my lead helps you solve something, you’ll consider giving me an exclusive interview to run on my blog?”

“Are you trying to bribe a law enforcement officer?”

“Totally,” Lassie said.

“No promises, but maybe,” I said with a shake of my head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Determined,” she said. “So what do we know about this meeting place?”

“Not a whole lot,” I admitted. “That’s why I’m here. Seeing if inspiration will strike. I did call the man who drove Declan here and ran the address by him. He confirmed this is the location that he drove Declan Remmington to three times in the weeks before his death.”

“Huh.” Lassie turned and stared at the park. “It’s got to be Matilda, right? It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But if she’s not going to talk, that means we’ve hit a dead end.”

Lassie got a contemplative look on her face. “You know, when I met Matilda here as her source, she bought me a coffee from a place a few blocks away. Maybe the barista would remember seeing her? If you could prove she was here, it might tempt her into talking to you.”

“Now you’re thinking like a cop,” I said. “I can do you one better. I bet Asha could tell us if Matilda was buying coffee around here on the days Declan was here with actual receipts.”

Lassie’s eyes widened. “No wonder they pay you the big bucks.”

I snorted. “Yeah. About that.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Asha was emailing me electronic information that proved Matilda had bought a couple of coffees from the shop on the corner—five minutes before she was supposed to be meeting Declan. On all three days.

It could be a coincidence, but I didn’t think so. I didn’t think Matilda would think so either.

“Want to go for a ride?” I asked, inclining my head toward the shiny red car. “Gem gave me a loaner.”

“Do you think he’d lease me a car if I blew mine up?” Lassie wondered, appreciating the car even as she slipped inside. “Because a brush with death might just be worth it for one of these babies.”

Chapter 18

Matilda’s offices were located on Grand Avenue in St. Paul, not far from the location of Spiderman Park. Very convenient, and it was no wonder she used the park as a regular meeting spot for her sources.

I parked on the side of the busy street, climbing a set of slightly hazardous concrete stairs built into the front lawn. Matilda’s offices were tucked between a cute little wedding dress shop and a boba tea place in a revitalized and popular area on this side of town.

We let ourselves in, and Lassie zeroed in on Matilda immediately. I followed Lassie as she waltzed over to a desk situated before a sunny window. I could only watch in shock as Lassie leaned over the table.

“Hey, Matilda,” Lassie said amiably. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Uh, Lassie?” I interrupted. “What are you doing?”

“We can talk here, or we can take you downtown,” Lassie said. “Which will it be?”

“Lassie,” I said again. “That’s not how this works.”

“We are downtown,” Matilda said, eyeing me. “I mean, not technically downtown, but close enough. What are you talking about, Lassiter?”

“I’ve always wanted to say that.” Lassie straightened. “I’m here with my friend, Detective Kate Rosetti. She’s got a few questions to ask you. She really is the police.”

“I see.” Matilda closed her laptop and studied me. “What is this regarding?”

“Declan Remmington.”

Matilda nodded slowly. “Let’s walk.”

The way Matilda was looking around, it was like she didn’t trust the walls of this place. Either she was extremely paranoid, or she was onto a big story and was rightfully cautious. Seeing as Declan had been killed after speaking with her, I was leaning toward the latter.

Once we were outside, with the threat of thunder still buzzing around in the background, I turned to Matilda. “Am I right to assume you don’t feel comfortable speaking about Declan, even within the walls of your own offices?”

“Look, after Declan was murdered, I’ve got to play it safe.” Matilda glanced around. “I never thought they’d kill him over this.”

“Let’s back up,” I said. “You’re a reporter, right? Who do you work for?”

“I worked at the Tribune for almost a decade,” Matilda said. “Now I own my own media company.”

“What sort of things do you do?”

“All sorts of true crime projects. We’ve got a website and a blog, and we’re behind several successful documentaries. Did you see the Michelle Gilbert true crime series on Netflix? That was us. The podcast called Solved It is us too.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Your next project involves whatever Declan was writing about?”

“Yes.” Matilda licked her lips. “And it’s big. I’m paranoid, but for good reason. We’re so close to breaking this story, and apparently someone doesn’t want this information released to the public.”

“We can protect you,” I said. “Come down to the station, talk to us, and we can get you somewhere safe until this is over.”

“Hell no,” Matilda said. “I didn’t get into this career to hide behind police protection. What if the police are involved?”

“Are they?” I asked. “Is that what you’re looking into—police corruption?”

“Well, no. I’m just saying,” she said. “It’s a big story. I don’t know where it leads yet, and if I’ve learned anything in this career, it’s to not trust anyone.”

“Detective Rosetti’s not corrupt,” Lassie said, nodding toward me. “I promise.”

“I know she’s not.” Matilda looked over at me. “I know who you are, Detective Rosetti. And your father. And your boyfriend, Alastair Gem. Even your ex-boyfriend, Agent Russo. While I understand that you are personally not corrupt, I don’t know who is just yet. With all due respect, I have to watch my back.”

“Tell us what you can, then,” I said. “We know you met with Declan at Spiderman Park several times before his death.”

“No, you don’t,” she said. “You can’t possibly confirm that.”

“So you didn’t buy coffee from the Coffee Hut, at the end of the block from Spiderman Park, exactly five minutes before all three meetings with Declan?” I ventured. “What if I told you we had a barista who remembered seeing you?”

Matilda didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t look unconvinced either.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this, with or without your help,” I said. “Are you really going to risk more people ending up dead for a story?”

That did the trick. Matilda’s face fell. “Declan got in touch with me. It took him a few tries. At first, I thought he was a paranoid man feeling lonely in an assisted-living home.”

“What changed your mind?” We turned down a quiet, heavily tree-lined side street, the greenery vibrant against the dark clouds behind. “What made you want to speak to Declan?”

“Declan was persistent,” Matilda continued. “He said he’d seen our show on Netflix and listened to our podcast, and he was positive that I was the only person he trusted to speak to about a huge story.”

“His persistence got to you?”

Matilda raised a shoulder. “Sometimes I just get a hunch. I’ve learned to follow it. Something told me that Declan was really trying to help, not for attention, but because he was passionate about exposing this story. It’s how I feel about my job. I said I’d meet with him once. If nothing else, it would satisfy both of our curiosities.”

“So you met at Spiderman Park. What did he have to say?”

“Declan thought there was something funky going on at Sunset Acres.” Matilda blew a strand of hair out of her face. The humidity was rising, and her flyaways were starting to curl. “I’ve become so successful in my career because I pride myself on putting in the work. I did my due diligence on Declan’s claims, and lo and behold, I started to think he might be right.”

“How do you figure?” I asked. “What clued you into the fact that something was off about that place?”

“The deeper I dug, the more I found evidence that a suspicious amount of residents have been ‘kicked-out’ for running out of funds.” She paused. “I thought that was weird. Were that many people really just running out of money?”

“Do you think management is involved?” I asked. “Some sort of scam?”

“I think someone in management is involved to a certain degree. I’m not sure to what degree, but I don’t know how this could happen without some cooperation on the inside.” A somber expression took over Matilda’s face. “My theory is that someone is running a vile scheme, and they are using Sunset Acres as a harvesting ground for their scams.”

“You’re talking insurance fraud, identity theft, blackmail—something like that?” I wondered.

“Some of that, all of it—I don’t know the full extent,” she said. “That’s what I’m working on finding out. But some of the people who live there are losing a lot of money, and there doesn’t seem to be a reason why. A legal reason.”

“Yikes.” Lassie’s face paled. “That’s downright evil.”

“I can’t help but think this has to be a more widespread issue than just Sunset Acres,” Matilda said. “From what I can find, it’s a pretty polished operation.”

“Apparently,” I said, “if it’s gone undetected for this long.”

“They picked their targets strategically,” Matilda said, clearly frustrated and angry. “The ones who’ve lost the most money are the most vulnerable. We’re talking major health issues, no family around, etcetera.”

“The name Brett Tattleson ring any bells?” I asked.

“So you’re starting to figure things out.” Matilda’s eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement, and I could tell she was teasing. “About time. I figured you’d get there, Detective Rosetti. Sooner or later.”

I snorted a laugh. Maybe this was one reporter who wasn’t so bad.

“Can I guess some more?” I ventured. “Lucas Monroe, Amelia Henry—those names also on your list?”

“Amelia, yes.” Matilda glanced my way. “Lucas, I wasn’t aware of yet. If he’s been targeted, too, that brings the total up to six people in the last twelve months alone. In one facility. Who knows if this is happening other places too? My gut tells me this isn’t an isolated incident.”

My mind whirred, something niggling at the back of my head. A huge operation. Money laundering. Schemes. Insurance fraud. On and on.

Jesse Block.

I had no concrete reason that the two cases might be linked, but it would be lazy of me to assume they weren’t. Both of these cases coming to a head at the exact same time in the exact same locale? Worth looking into.

“The name Jesse Block mean anything to you?” I asked.

Matilda paused. “Not really. Maybe vaguely familiar, like I read something a while ago, but nothing recent.”

I handed over a business card. “Would you be up to sending me the other names you’ve been pursuing, and any additional case notes you’ve made?”

Matilda pursed her lips. “Why should I give you everything I’ve got? I already volunteered a lot of information.”

“Because this is a homicide investigation. We know you met with a man three times before he died,” I said. “Technically, I could bring you down to the station.”

“Maybe if I am very helpful, of my own free will,” Matilda suggested, “I could interview you for my podcast once this is all done?”

“As long as I don’t have to show my face,” I said. “I could agree to that, once this case is signed, sealed, and delivered. If your information proves to be valuable.”

“Deal.” Matilda nodded. “I’ll drop off hard copies of my notes at the station this afternoon. I don’t trust email.”

We circled back around to her office building, but instead of going inside, Matilda headed toward the boba tea shop next door.

“I need a coffee,” she said. “They’ve got a delicious cold brew. Do you guys want something?”

That was it. I stilled, the realization hitting me like a brick wall.

“That’s it,” I said. “Coffee.”

“Is that a yes?” Matilda asked, confused.

“Declan hated coffee.” I thought back to the celebration of life we’d held for Declan Remmington at the Italian restaurant. “Andrew made a point about it.”

Andrew Myers was the only one who’d given a speech about Declan. In his speech, he’d said Declan “hates coffee and loves pasta.” At the time, I had been thinking who in their right mind hates coffee? It was one of those weird small facts that had stuck with me.

“You bought two coffees at Spiderman Park, every time you met,” I said. “I can see how you might buy him a coffee the first time, but he would’ve said he didn’t like it. Why would you buy two drinks for the other meetings?”

“I wasn’t buying coffee for him.” Matilda glanced at me. “That was for the guy who drove him. Tony.”

“Tony.” I blinked. “The guy who drove him to the meetings is named Frank. Frank Taggert.”

Matilda’s eyes widened. She pulled out her phone and went into her photo albums. She showed me a selfie of her and the man I knew as Frank Taggert.

“This is Tony,” Matilda insisted. “We met when he dropped Declan off the first time. He gave me a slip of paper with his number on it and a note asking me out to dinner.”

“You went?”

“Yeah, he was cute enough,” she said. “Plus, I thought he might have more information on Declan. I figured it was worth a dinner date, at the very least. We went out a couple of times. It wasn’t anything serious, but I wasn’t looking for serious either.”

“Did Declan know you were dating Frank—Tony—whatever?”

“No,” Matilda said. “He asked me not to mention anything. Like I said, I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, so that worked for me.”

“Have you been to his place?” I asked. “Do you know where he might live?”

“No, but...” Her cheeks turned pink. “He slept over last night. I was at the office early, so I gave him my garage code so he could let himself out. He should be at work now, but he was going to come back for dinner tonight.”

“You’re expecting him at your place?” I asked. “Where do you live?”

“Not far,” she said. “It’s a five-minute commute by car.”

“I don’t know why Frank or Tony lied about his name,” I said, “but until we figure it out, you cannot go home. We need to figure out what’s going on before you spend any more time alone with him. I’d like you to head to the precinct until we can bring in Frank for questioning.”

Matilda looked shaken. “That’s fine by me. I’m independent, not stupid.”

“Give me your address,” I said. “Do we have permission to go into your place?”

“Do what you need to do.” Matilda unwound a key from her ring. “Do you need me? Otherwise, I can get my notes and meet you downtown.”

“Let’s do that,” I said. “I’ll let my colleagues know to expect you.”

Chapter 19

Lassie and I sat in Gem’s shiny red car outside of Matilda’s office building. I wanted to make a few phone calls while Matilda gathered up her things to head downtown. Asha was on speaker, and Lassie was next to me, playing with features on the dashboard.

“I need you to look up some names for me, stat,” I told Asha. “Beginning with Frank Taggert. Another alias could be Tony White. He was on a list of names I submitted to you, but I hadn’t marked him urgent.”

“That has since changed, I presume.” The sound of Asha’s fingers on the keyboard tapped in the background. “At first glance, I’m finding a few aliases for this man; first impressions tell me this guy is not a genius. He is not deep undercover. I have a feeling a pal of his threw him a few fake IDs, and he called it a day.”

“Do you have his legal name?” I asked.

A pause, then, “Got it. His real name is Franklin Anthony White.”

“How creative,” Lassie said. “He just rearranged his real names for his pseudonyms.”

“He’s supposedly the owner of an app. He’s been pushing it hard on social media, but it doesn’t look like it’s taken off,” Asha said. “Sort of a weird-looking app, to be honest.”

“He told me about this app,” I said. “But I didn’t realize it already existed. The way he spoke made me think it was a pipe dream of his.”

“Yeah. It’s called Family Matcher.” Asha was speaking slowly, as if she was reading from a website. “Something about matching people, mostly elderly folks, with fake family members? Who the hell thought this was a good idea? It’s like a dating app but not.”

“Like you said,” Lassie echoed dryly, “only a real genius could come up with that.”

Asha continued. “You said you’re down on Grand, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Outside of Matilda’s offices, waiting to escort her to the precinct. Why?”

“This guy’s credit card was used a couple of miles away from you,” she said. “Franklin ordered DoorDash to Matilda’s home address.”

“Franklin was supposed to be at work,” I said. “You’re telling me he’s not at work?”

“Someone’s ordering food to Matilda’s house,” Asha said. “If it’s not Matilda, then it’s probably Franklin. Don’t go in there without backup, Rosetti. I’ll get a crew headed your way ASAP.”

Five minutes later, Matilda was tucked into the back seat of Gem’s car, a backpack on the seat next to her, a box of files in her lap. She had her arms circled around the box like it was an emotional support tool.

“Are you sure he’s at my condo?” Matilda asked as she gave us directions to her place. “He said he had to work today.”

“The man lies about his name,” I said. “Do you really think he wouldn’t lie about going to work?”

Matilda fell silent, her face drawn as she stared out the window. I knew that look. Defeat. Embarrassment. Frustration.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I know you feel like you got duped,” I said to her, “but it’s not your fault.”

“My job is to investigate things,” Matilda said. “I didn’t even investigate the man I was dating. I was so hell-bent at first on getting information out of him about Declan, and then later because I liked him, that I lost focus. I should’ve seen the red flags.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said again. “He’s the one who lied. It’s his fault. It’s okay to let yourself believe that someone is good. Sometimes people do just like you for who you are.”

“I don’t know,” Matilda said. “All that trusting men seems to do is leave me burned.”

“I used to feel that way too,” I said. “Until I met the right one. Then everything changed.”

Matilda pointed out her condo, seemingly grateful to have a reason to end the conversation. Frankly, I was too. I needed to keep my head in the game right now, and dwelling on my relationship with Gem was not the way to do that.

We waited, tucked into the car, watching the doors of Matilda’s condo for any sign of movement. Jack and a handful of other cops arrived within twenty minutes. After parking their vehicles surreptitiously on the street, Jack phoned me. We were trying to stay out of sight in the event Franklin had gotten suspicious and was watching the street below.

“Omigod. He just texted me,” Matilda whispered as I greeted Jack. “He said: Come home, babe. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“One second, Jack,” I said. “She just got a message from him.”

“I heard.” Jack’s voice was hard. Pure business, just as it should be. “Do you think he suspects something and is luring her home?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “What do you think, Matilda?”

“I don’t know.” Matilda’s eyes were wide. “I don’t really think he’d be smart enough to put everything together. I was dating Tony—er, Franklin—because he was hot in a nerdy way, and kind to me, and honestly, not that smart. We were just having a fun time. Plus, I have no idea how he’d have gotten wind that I talked to the cops, so quickly.”

“I tend to want to agree with you,” I said, “but we need to assume the worst. We need to assume that he’s armed and waiting for Matilda inside that condo.”

“Agreed,” Jack said. “On your signal, Rosetti. I’m going with you, and I’ve got Dunkirk and Winkler ready too. I’ll leave Christianson behind with Matilda and Lassie. Asha’s talking to the chief to get more bodies here as soon as possible, just in case.”

“You heard all that?” I looked over to Matilda and Lassie. “Any questions?”

“Yes,” Lassie said, “and no.”

“Then I think it’s time to go,” I said, giving the signal to Jack and the others. “You’ll be safe here. Don’t move, no matter what happens, until I come back.”

Jack and I moved silently up to the door of the condo, keeping as much out of sight as possible. Dunkirk and Winkler circled around through the back, joining us at the front door after a few minutes.

Everyone waited while I put the front door key in the lock, twisted it—everything moving in slow motion.

The sound was a barely audible tick, and yet it felt like it echoed up and down the condo. The four of us filed inside and regrouped in the small mudroom.

From upstairs, the sound of music floated down, presumably from the master bedroom. Matilda had detailed the layout of her condo to all of us before we’d gone in. The place wasn’t large, and the only thing upstairs was a bed and bath and small landing.

It didn’t take long to clear the first floor—completely empty. Then Jack and I moved up the stairs, Dunkirk and Winkler close behind. The bedroom door was partially closed. Once we were all in position, I took a deep breath. Then I nodded and gave the signal.

“Police!” I hollered, barging into the room with my weapon out.

The next moments flashed by in a whir. As the door sailed open, the three men followed me into the room, one after another, until we had Franklin White in our sights.

“Put your hands up, Franklin White,” I said. “Now.”

But instead of a man armed and waiting to murder his girlfriend, we found something else entirely. Mostly, it was a lot of curse words and a lot of flesh. Like, the man was naked in bed watching Netflix. It took a moment for me to reorient myself.

Franklin started, dropping a bowl of ramen onto the comforter. Broth and noodles splashed everywhere. He loosed a high-pitched shriek and leapt out of the bed, trying to cover his private areas with broth-soaked hands.

“What the hell is this about?” Franklin’s gaze rotated between the four of us. “I think I scalded Little Frankie. Your boss is going to hear about this. I’m filing a formal complaint!”

“Franklin—”

“Hey,” Franklin interrupted, staring closer at me. “You’re that lady cop who accosted me at the diner.”

“I’m Detective Kate Rosetti who paid for your breakfast,” I corrected. “We had a nice conversation—Franklin.”

At this stage, I’d normally nod for Jack to go pat the man down, but it really wasn’t necessary in this case. The closest thing to a weapon was the plastic utensil forgotten on the bed. Everything else on Franklin was... visible. Too visible.

“We saw your message to Matilda,” I said, an ugly sensation creeping down my back as I realized it might have been slightly misconstrued. “The text message you just sent.”

“I bought lunch for my girlfriend,” Franklin said. “I was trying to surprise her is all. I’m not armed. Wait a minute. How do you know my real name?”

I glanced at the other three men. “Can one of you please grab this man some pants?”

Dunkirk headed forward, tossed the man’s clothes and the comforter, then nodded that indeed there were no weapons to be found, aside from said plastic utensils. We simultaneously relaxed, lowering our weapons.

Winkler threw Franklin his pants. Franklin shrugged into them, wincing as he pulled them all the way up.

“You’re lucky I don’t like to eat my soup too hot, and I put ice cubes in it.” Franklin scowled at me. “Otherwise, things could’ve been really bad.”

“Things will be really bad if you don’t cooperate,” Jack said. “Why’d you lie to Detective Rosetti about your identity?”

I glanced at Jack, a little annoyed he was asking questions. He was only here as backup to me. But Jack seemed like he was buzzing with adrenaline, like he was feeling wired and needed to get it out of his system.

“I lied because that’s what I do,” Franklin said. “My career is unconventional. I pretend to be related to people I don’t know. I’ve had all sorts of names. It’s just become a habit to keep my identity secret. It’s not even a huge lie. My real name is Franklin. I told you it was Frank.”

“You said your last name was Taggert,” I said.

“It’s my mom’s maiden name,” Franklin said. “More like a white lie.”

“Speaking of white, why did you tell your girlfriend your name was Tony White?”

“That’s my dad’s name.” Franklin sighed. “Look, when I started doing this gig, I gave Andrew Myers a fake name. I just blurted out my dad’s name, and then by the time we got used to each other, it was too late to go back.”

“Okay, but why keep lying to Matilda? Why didn’t you keep things consistent at least, and go with Frank Taggert?”

“Look, this is embarrassing. At first, I was just trying to get information out of her. I lied about the name because I wasn’t planning to actually fall for her.” Franklin looked down at his hands. “But we just kept hanging out, and I just kept liking her more, and by then it was too late to do anything about it.”

“I’m sensing a pattern,” I said. “Have you considered just telling folks your real name?”

“Like I said, it’s a habit.”

“What sort of information did you want out of Matilda?” I asked.

“I was just curious about Declan,” Franklin admitted. “I’d never had anyone use me for just a ride before. Not to mention, he was all secretive about it. The whole thing started with me being nosy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this the first time we talked?”

“I didn’t feel like it,” he said. “You caught me by surprise. I didn’t have time to think about what I wanted to tell you.”

“Why don’t you try the truth this time?” I suggested.

He gave me a look of chagrin. “Easier said than done. You’re not the one looking at getting in trouble.”

“Because I’m not the one lying. But, Franklin, being honest at this point is only going to help you. Unless you killed someone, you’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. I’m just an interested third party. I’ll talk.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I was curious about what Declan was doing sneaking around, and on top of it, I thought Matilda was hot. So I slipped her my number that first day.”

“She texted you?”

“Called,” he said. “We talked, and she seemed cool. We got dinner, and that’s when I realized I really liked her.”

“Did she give you information about Declan?”

“No. She said it was private, and I stopped asking.”

“Did Declan know you’d gotten together with Matilda?”

“Not that I know of. He always wanted me to drop him off early, and when I picked him up, she’d already be gone. It wasn’t a secret on purpose; it just happened that way.”

“I know Matilda bought you a coffee when you went to meet Declan,” I said. “Did she give it to you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The second time I drove Declan, I dropped him off. Matilda texted me that she’d bought me a coffee, so I swung by the coffee shop to pick it up and say a quick hello before she went to the park.”

“While they were at the park, what did you do?”

“I went grocery shopping like I told him. By the time I picked him up, Matilda had already gone home.”

I sighed. It seemed like this whole thing with Franklin was shaping up to be a weird sort of misunderstanding. I wasn’t sad that he hadn’t killed anyone, but it was frustrating feeling like I was starting back at square one when I’d really thought we were about to crack this case wide open.

My phone rang. I answered it, seeing Asha’s name on the screen.

“It’s me,” she said. “Are you with Franklin?”

“Yes,” I said. “Though I don’t think he’s involved. Seems like he was really just dating Matilda, and it was sort of a misunderstanding.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Asha said. “I’ve been looking into this app of his.”

“Family Matcher?”

“That’s the one,” she said. “Turns out, Franklin and his company got a huge windfall to the tune of sixty grand the day after Declan died. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’m not buying the fact that some angel investor came around and decided to invest in his clunky website all of a sudden.”

“You think it was a payoff.”

“A payoff, a payout. Blackmail, a bribe. I don’t know, but it’s enough to bring him in for a formal interview, along with the other lies he’s told y’all. Especially considering where it came from.”

I felt chills flicker over my skin. “You know where it came from?”

“One of Jesse Block’s shell companies.” Asha paused for dramatic effect. “I don’t know how the two are connected, but I’ve no doubt they are. We’ll just need to dig a little deeper.”

I sighed again, then turned to Franklin. “You just can’t stop lying, can you?”

It took Franklin a full minute to process what I was saying. Then the man reacted, shocking everyone into action. Like a cat, he coiled, then lunged for the door.

All Jack had to do was stick out a foot. The man tripped himself.

I was on him the second he clattered to the floor. He still didn’t have a shirt.

“I really hate arresting naked men,” I said. “Let’s get you a shirt, pal. You’re going for a ride.”

Chapter 20

“He lawyered up?” Jack cursed.

“Franklin’s told so many lies, I’m not sure he can keep them straight anymore,” I said. “It sucks for us, but it’s smart on his part.”

We’d dragged Franklin into the precinct, gotten him situated with a snack and water, and then pummeled him with questions for the better part of an hour. He hadn’t given us anything else, eventually insisting that he wouldn’t utter another word without a lawyer present. He’d completely shut down once we’d stepped inside that interview room.

Matilda and Lassie had come to the precinct with us. We’d ordered them food and stuck them in the conference room to wait. Matilda was here for safety reasons. Lassie was here for nosy reasons. I entered the conference room, finding both women sipping Diet Cokes and nibbling from take-out containers.

“I can’t believe it,” Matilda said, looking up. “I was completely duped.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I told her, “Franklin actually liked you. He might’ve even been in love with you. That’s about the only thing out of his mouth that I believe wasn’t faked.”

Matilda shuddered, like that really wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I could hardly blame her.

“Sit tight for now,” I said. “Franklin asked for a lawyer, so we’re at a standstill. I don’t want you leaving until we have a game plan for next steps.”

Then I left Matilda and Lassie to their food and headed back to my desk. Jack was waiting for me there.

“So our cases are connected,” Jack said as I sat. “Jesse Block is connected to Franklin, and Franklin is connected to Sunset Acres. You think Block is behind Declan’s murder?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, but yeah. I think there’s some level of involvement. We just need to figure out how much. Do you guys have any idea where Jesse Block is right now?”

“We lost all trail of him the day he took off in that helicopter. He’s holed up somewhere, but until he makes a move, we’re stuck.”

I frowned. I had a headache. We’d reached that point in a case where it felt like we had all the information needed, spread out before us like a bunch of different ingredients. I just needed the recipe to make things come together in a way that made sense. If only I could find the recipe card.

“Franklin will talk.” Jack studied me, probably seeing the frustration play out on my face. “Any lawyer is going to advise Franklin to cooperate. We’re looking for Jesse Block and his crew, not the low man on the totem pole. Once we strike a deal, Franklin will talk.”

“Don’t forget there’s more to this case than Jesse Block,” I said softly, my voice calmer than I felt on the inside. “Declan deserves justice too. Not as a stepping stone to a bigger case, but because he was a human being. He was trying to expose corruption, and he was killed for it.”

Jack blinked, looking like I’d chastised him. I hadn’t meant it that way, but I could hear how it’d sounded.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Jack paused. “For what it’s worth, I think Declan would appreciate the work you’re doing. He was obviously passionate about it. He didn’t give up, even when he suspected people might come after him.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I think you’re probably right.”

“Let’s get a bite to eat, wait for Franklin’s lawyer, and then we’ll run this thing down. We’ll get there. We’re close.”

My phone rang then, even as I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Detective Kate?” said a voice on the other end.

It took me a minute to place that singsong, very enthusiastic tone. “Darla?”

“That’s me,” Darla said, then she paused. Then burst into tears. “Jimmy’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Gone, gone. Someone took him. That man would not have missed out on tiramisu for dessert. He’s been talking about it since he arrived this morning. Lactose-free, my ass.” Darla hiccupped. “He’s gone. For sure. Trust me on this.”

I looked over at Jack. “Darla’s saying Jimmy’s been kidnapped.”

Jack was on his feet before I hung up. Kidnapped. Jimmy.

The words pelted me, like little bits of information that were too overwhelming to process all at once. Fragments of sentences that jumbled together, tossed around like the little balls with the numbers on them at a bingo game. Nothing was making sense.

I wanted to feel sad. I couldn’t muster sad.

I could muster angry and confused and frustrated and bewildered. Determination and fury. But sadness, that would come later if—no—I couldn’t let myself think about the what-ifs, not now, not yet.

“Kate. Kate.” A hand on my shoulder. Jack. “Take a breath.”

“I can’t.” My hands were shaking. Adrenaline was bowling me over. “I can’t. We have to get Jimmy back.”

“Agreed.” Jack’s voice was hard as granite. He was in work mode, 1,000 percent. “That’s why I need you thinking clearly.”

It took me a beat longer to realize he was trying to get me into work mode. My reaction was intensely personal. Understandable, most certainly, but not ideal in terms of getting things done.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “You’re right.”

Then I couldn’t help it. I leaned into Jack. I collapsed on his shoulder, let his arms hug me back, and I cried. Silent tears. Shoulders shaking. Right there in the doorway to our bullpen. Not a care for who saw, or who had anything to say.

This was Jimmy.

“It’s okay.” Jack’s voice was gentle, his arms soft, but his tone remained businesslike, assured, professional. “We will find him, Kate. There is no way we won’t. He’s got the best on the case, and that’s you.”

I sniffed, used the Force to get my tears to stop flowing, and straightened. I looked over Jack’s shoulder and saw Chief Sturgeon staring at me. Probably because he’d never seen me cry before.

“It’s Jimmy,” I said, wiping my face angrily and getting ahold of myself. “He’s been taken from Sunset Acres.”

“You sure about that?” Sturgeon barked.

“I hope not,” I told him. “But I intend to find out.”

I WAS IN MID-CONVERSATION with Asha, detailing the phone call I’d had with Darla, when Matilda rushed to my side, looking frenzied.

“You saved my life,” she gasped. “Thank you, Kate. You saved my life.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but okay,” I said. “You’re welcome.”

“There was a bomb in my car.” Matilda blinked like she couldn’t believe it. “If I’d gotten in my car to drive to the precinct like I’d originally planned, I’d be dead.”

“A bomb?” I processed.

Jack was at my side. He crossed his arms, looked at me. “While you were interviewing Franklin, I had Christianson take a team down to check out Matilda’s place and her car. After what happened to you yesterday, I figured we couldn’t be too safe—now that we know Jesse Block is connected. He has a far reach.”

“Good thinking,” I said. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Someone rigged a bomb up to Matilda’s car. Five bucks the type of bomb matches the one on your car, Rosetti.”

“I’m not taking that bet,” I said.

“The squad was able to take care of the bomb, and they’re bringing your car in now.” Jack looked at Matilda. “I’m afraid Jesse Block—or somebody—knows about you. They know you’re digging into sensitive information, and they might come after you again. I think it’s best we place you into protective custody until this is finished.”

Matilda bobbed her head. “Yes, sure, of course.”

Sturgeon marched down the hall. We caught him up, and Asha, so everyone was on the same page about Franklin and his connection to Jesse Block’s shell company. Jimmy’s potential kidnapping. Matilda’s car bomb. Our theories that these cases were linked. Something nefarious was going on behind the scenes at Sunset Acres.

“Get to Sunset Acres,” Sturgeon said to me and Jack. “I’ll get another team your way; they’ll be twenty minutes behind you. First, we need to confirm Jimmy’s actually missing. And Rosetti, Russo—don’t do anything stupid.”

With that parting advice, Sturgeon marched back down the hall and vanished into his office, already barking orders on the phone. Matilda stared at me with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving me one last hug.

Finally, Jack and I made our way toward the elevator. I was anxious to get over to Sunset Acres and speak with Darla. Except we were interrupted one more time en route by none other than my mother.

“Mom?” I asked, as a woman tore down the hallway at me, a determined look on her face as if she were gearing up to run with the bulls, and not speak with her daughter.

“I hear you’ve got a gift card?” My mother’s voice was an octave too high. “A Starbucks gift card?”

I eyed Jack. “This is not where I thought this was going.”

“Yes, I heard about the car bomb too.” My mother seemed entirely unbothered by the fact I’d almost been blown to bits. “Is my coffee not good enough for you? I haven’t seen you in days. How am I supposed to find out about all the times you’ve almost died if you’re not mooching coffee from me?”

“I—” I looked at Jack.

He blinked back at me. Totally speechless.

“Mom,” I said calmly. “Can I come over for dinner tonight? I’ll explain.”

“Bring that boyfriend of yours,” my mother said. “I’ve got a bone to pick with him. Your sister and Wes will be there too.”

My mother turned and stomped off down the hall.

“That woman is a force to be reckoned with,” Jack muttered.

“Less the Force, more the Sith.”

Jack raised his eyebrow.

“Gem wanted to show me all of Star Wars,” I said. “I’m educated now. Without further ado, can we please go find Jimmy?”

Chapter 21

When we arrived at Sunset Acres, things appeared suspiciously normal. Jack and I made it up the front walk, buzzed in through the outer gates, and found a few bold residents playing card games outside beneath the looming thunderclouds.

Static electricity zinged through the air. My hair had turned into a ball of frizz. I slicked it back into a tight, messy bun to keep it out of my eyes. Thunder cracked in the distance.

We found Darla in a small library off the main entrance, waiting for us, turning over a handkerchief in her hands nervously. She sat in one of two armchairs, gazing aimlessly out the window at the oncoming storm.

“Darla,” I said softly. “What happened to Jimmy?”

I’d spent the drive over calling and texting Jimmy on repeat. Asha had pulled up the whereabouts of his phone, and the cell signal was pinging off towers near Sunset Acres. Presumably, his phone was here—right where it was supposed to be. It was Jimmy who wasn’t.

“A group of us had plans to meet up,” Darla said. “We were going to meet for tiramisu and tea. Play our game of gin rummy. He didn’t show. Jimmy wouldn’t miss it. The game, his friends, or the dessert.”

“She’s not wrong,” Jack murmured to me. “The man schedules his days off around a new menu coming out at the diner.”

“That’s a fair point,” I said. “When’s the last time you saw Jimmy?”

“He opted to swim laps during his morning free time,” she said. “He said he wanted to talk to someone. I don’t know who.”

“Did you actually see him get to the pool?”

“I might have taken a peep through the window. Yes, I saw him swimming laps, but he was alone.” Darla paused, blinked back at me. “Look, I know he has a wife, and I’m not making a move on him. I was just admiring the physique of a handsome young man. We don’t see a lot of ’em around here.”

I wasn’t sure the last time Jimmy had been described as a handsome young man, but I was pretty sure it had been decades. I made a mental note to pass along Darla’s comment when we found Jimmy.

That comment might cheer him up, and the man would probably need to be cheered up after getting kidnapped. He’d also probably need a chicken. Like a big rotisserie chicken and a lot of dipping sauce. Several wet naps.

“I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down Darla’s cheeks. “If anything happened to Jimmy on my watch, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Your watch?”

“I know everything that goes on around here. I’m like, the mascot of this place.” Darla sniffed. “I knew Jimmy wasn’t actually your dad. He was undercover, right? If I guessed it, others could have too.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

She shook her head. “When he didn’t show up at the scheduled gin rummy kick-off time, I told everyone I had an upset stomach and left to go look for him. I figured this had to be about Declan’s death. When I couldn’t find Jimmy, I called you.”

“How’d you get my number?”

“Jimmy’s phone.” Darla held it up. “He left it in the locker room when he went swimming. I snuck in and retrieved it. His code is his wife’s birthday, which he told everyone because he was already looking forward to the cake he was going to buy her.”

“Her birthday’s not for three months,” I said. Then, “Yeah, that all lines up. He loves cake.”

“I knew your name, so I just looked through his recent calls and dialed you.”

“Why’d you go to all that work,” Jack wondered, “and not tell the Sunset Acres’ staff about your concerns? Surely, if you suspected someone was kidnapped, that would be your first, and easiest, mode to report things.”

Darla’s eyes flicked between us.

“You don’t trust them,” I said quietly. “What’s going on, Darla?”

“Everyone made fun of Declan and his paranoia.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “But I thought maybe he was onto something. I’m a long-time staple of this place, and I’ve seen a few things. In the last year or so, a couple of people have left this place for no reason at all.”

“You mean, people like Brett Tattleson?”

Darla looked at me. “You know about him?”

“We know more than you think,” I said. “We’re trying to help. The more you can tell us, the better everyone will be. Especially if Jimmy’s missing.”

“I don’t know much,” Darla said quietly. “That’s why I called you when I found Jimmy was gone instead of telling the staff. I don’t know who to trust. Something funny has been happening around this place, and I don’t want any part of it.”

“Do you have any idea who might be involved from Sunset Acres?” I asked. “Has anyone been acting differently lately?”

Darla shook her head. “In general, the staff doesn’t get too close to us. Mirabelle, Amy Lee, the other front-desk girls, they’re plenty nice, but they face outward. They deal with families and paperwork and money.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“The nurses, they’re nice. They’re the ones we develop relationships with, but even so, it’s possible one of them could be in on it, and I wouldn’t have any idea. I wish I could help more.”

“I think it’s best if nobody knows you suspect anything,” I said. “The best thing you can do for now is go to your room and keep up the charade that you’re under the weather.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “If anyone saw us talking to you, you can tell them that we’re the police, and we’re starting to question people. It’s not a lie.”

Darla glanced down at her hands. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.” I reached out to Darla and gave her hand a squeeze. “This isn’t your fault. You did the right thing coming to us. We’ll find Jimmy and get to the bottom of this.”

I took Jimmy’s phone from Darla as she headed for the door. I scanned through Jimmy’s last calls, both incoming and outgoing, but nothing caught my attention. Same with the texts. I’d get the phone to our tech team and Asha, but I doubted it would lead us anywhere.

“Hey, Darla,” I called over my shoulder. “One more thing—”

But when I turned, it wasn’t Darla standing in the doorway. Amy Lee was there, staring at the three of us. Darla’s lips were pinched in a thin line.

“Darla.” Amy gave a tight smile. “What in the world are you doing with these two?”

A ROLL OF THUNDER BOOMED outside, big, heavy raindrops pelting the windows. I cocked my head, thinking the background soundtrack fitting for the moment. I was also thinking it had been inevitable; we’d been waiting for the storm to break open all day. I only hoped Jimmy was somewhere safe while it raged outside.

“Amy,” I said evenly, “we have a reason to believe that Jimmy has been kidnapped. This is Agent Jack Russo. We’ve got more backup on the way. We are operating under the assumption that Detective Jones has been taken against his will.”

“That’s a big leap to make because you can’t find him,” Amy said. “The man was hardly here under duress. Are you sure he didn’t just drive away?”

“Without a car?” I retorted. “Without his phone? Without letting his partner know? I don’t think so.”

Amy rearranged her expression into one of concern. “How can I help?”

“Like I said, we’ve got more cops on the way. Cooperate with them. We’re locking this place down until further notice; nobody in or out until we’ve talked to everyone. As we go through, we’ll also be searching the premises for Jimmy in case he’s being held somewhere on the grounds.”

“Of course,” Amy said, stumbling over her words, as if the severity of this moment was finally dawning on her. “We have a system in place to deal with lockdowns. I’ll, uh, I’ll go activate it. We’ll get all residents to their rooms. You have our full cooperation.”

“We’ll escort Darla to her room,” I said. “Get everyone else to their rooms, then we’ll need to speak to you and Mirabelle and the rest of the staff as well.”

Amy disappeared then. Jack whisked Darla off to her room. An announcement over the speakers asking all residents to return to their rooms told me Amy had kicked the plan into gear.

I headed into the lobby. I glanced at the front desk, but it was currently empty. I did a double take, however, feeling like something was different.

That was when I realized the photo of Amy and her mother had vanished. It had been the only personal thing in this whole place, which was why I’d noticed it the first time I’d stepped inside. Now, it was gone.

I peeked behind the desk, felt a prickle race up my spine. Something was wrong.

There was no computer hooked up to the monitor. The monitor had been glowing brightly every time we’d entered. I could see the connecting wires where a laptop had been hooked up. My mind raced. Had Amy grabbed her personal photograph and her computer?

A woman only grabbed those sorts of things if she was planning to flee.

I called Asha on instinct. “Amy Lee,” I said. “Dig into her. Now.”

“She took Jimmy?” Asha asked shortly after.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but she’s hiding something. Her mother’s a resident here. She’s involved somehow. I just don’t know how.”

“On it,” Asha said, then disconnected.

I raced to the front doors of the place and threw them open. Rain pelted me, splattering against my face, drenching my clothes in seconds. The wind was not my friend, blowing the storm straight into the front doors of the facility.

This place was supposed to be locked down. But that didn’t mean much if the person locking it down was in on it. As far as I could see, Amy wasn’t in the parking lot. No headlights or taillights were visible, and she couldn’t have that much of a head start.

That was when it hit me. Her mother. Amy wouldn’t leave without her mother.

I launched into a jog down the hallway where I ran into Jack.

“Where are you going?” Jack asked. “What happened?”

“Watch the front doors,” I said. “I need to find Amy. She’s in on it.”

“I’m going with you,” Jack said. “Backup will be here soon enough.”

I wanted to argue, but he followed me anyway, and I wasn’t prepared to waste my breath in a futile argument. I was 100 percent focused on a single task: finding Jimmy.

I flung doors open left and right, startling residents, pausing only when I found Andrew’s room. Andrew Myers was sitting on his bed. His gaze flashed up, not looking surprised to see us. Just maybe disheartened.

“They got to Jim?” Andrew asked. “That’s what this lockdown and search is about? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Yes. Do you know anything?”

Andrew shook his head. “I wish I could help.”

“Amy Lee’s mother is a resident here,” I said. “Do you know where her room is?”

“Three down from me,” Andrew said, nodding farther down the hallway. “Why?”

“Stay here,” I heard Jack instruct because I was already gone.

Three doors down, I barreled into the room.

Amy Lee was knelt beside her mother’s bed, slipping a shoe onto a frail woman with a distinct resemblance to her daughter. Amy froze as she heard us enter.

Jack shut the door behind us.

“Talk to me,” I demanded. “Talk fast, Amy. And you’d better hope nothing has happened to my partner.”

AMY RETURNED HER MOTHER to bed, giving her a kiss on a weathered cheek.

“I’ll talk to you,” she said quietly, not looking at me as she spoke. “But not here. In the library.”

We left Amy’s mother in her room and made it to the library in under ten seconds flat.

“This time it better be the truth,” I told Amy as Jack stood in the doorway, keeping an eye on activity in the hallway while I focused on Amy. “You’re all out of second chances.”

“They threatened my mother.” Amy broke quickly, her eyes pooling with tears, her lip quivering. “I didn’t want to help. I didn’t hurt anyone or kill anybody or kidnap your partner. They made me cooperate.”

“Who?” I asked. “Specifics. Don’t leave anything out.”

“Maybe thirteen months ago, I received a set of instructions via email.” Amy took a shaky breath. “It came from some random email account. A Gmail address, but it was just a random mix of numbers and letters. I deleted the first few as spam without even opening them.”

“What made you open one?”

“A subject line. It was very detailed, something about my mother,” Amy said. “I finally clicked on to it because I was curious how they’d know my mom’s name.”

“What was in the email?”

“A very specific list of instructions about how to file some paperwork incorrectly. The writer of the email said it was a test, and if I didn’t do it, my mother would be harmed. I was completely creeped out, but I still just wrote it off as a weird blip. I figured if I ignored it, they would go away.”

“Did you ignore this email, or did you follow the instructions?”

“I ignored it.” Amy shook her head, almost regretfully. “I didn’t want to do anything wrong. I tried to do the right thing.”

“Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

“First, the email said not to. Second, I still wasn’t sure it wasn’t some sort of weird scam.”

“What happened next?”

“A few days later, my mother came down with a stomach bug so terrible it hospitalized her for ten days. They never could figure out what happened to her, but I knew. They’d gotten to her somehow. They’d poisoned her, or given her something to make her sick.”

“When did the next set of instructions come?”

“A week later. I opened it right away that time. They knew details, like the room number of my mother’s hospital room. That’s when I realized this wasn’t a game. They weren’t messing around. I misfiled the paperwork that day and started cooperating with them. Not because I wanted to, but because I finally realized they would kill my mother if I went against their wishes.”

“I understand. This continued for how long?”

“Irregularly at first. Maybe once a month I’d get instructions to file something extra or misfile something or not file something at all.” She hesitated. “It wasn’t anything huge. Stuff like discreetly rearranging the order of the waiting list or sending the personal information of a resident back to the email address. Yeah, it was bad, but I rationalized that I wasn’t really hurting anyone.”

“You continued to play by the rules for how long?”

“This whole time,” Amy snapped. “They always threatened my mother. They had shown me they could get to her if I didn’t cooperate.”

“Did you think to move her to a different facility?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “They said if I pulled her out, they’d find her anyway. If I let anyone know what was happening, they’d kill her first, and then me.”

“Did the things the sender was asking you to do ever escalate?”

Amy nodded. “More recently, they started sending more tasks. As much as once a week, I’d have to do something.”

“Did you ever suspect how the information was being used?”

“I’m not stupid.” Amy gave me a sideways look. “I figured there was some sort of bribery happening with the waiting-list readjustment. As for the personal information I was asked to provide, I tried not to think about it. Reorganizing the waiting list was one thing. Supplying personal information to a blackmailer—I knew I had crossed a line.”

“Was Brett Tattleson one of the names from the blackmailer?”

“Yes,” Amy said softly. A tear slid down her cheek. “Like I said, I’m not stupid. But it was my mother’s life in their hands. I hated myself for cooperating, but I didn’t see another way. Do you know what happened to him? I can only imagine it was something like identity theft or insurance fraud, based on the information I provided.”

“I can’t say for certain yet, but I can say we’ll find out,” I said. Then, “But I think you’re probably right.”

I was also sure that Jesse Block and his schemes were probably behind this as well. I wasn’t sure which scam paired up with which resident, but it was like a game of memory. Eventually, we’d flip over the right two cards and marry all the pieces together.

But that would come later, sorting the details into their rightful places and creating an airtight case to lock up Jesse Block. At the moment, the most pressing item on the list was finding my partner alive.

“Do you think anyone else at Sunset Acres is involved?” I asked. “Or do you believe the blackmailer was going exclusively through you?”

Amy’s expression was bleak. “I always assumed someone else from Sunset Acres was involved. The instructions I got were incredibly specific.”

“Like somebody knew the ins and outs of the system you guys used?” I asked. “Details that someone on the outside wouldn’t have known?”

“Exactly. I don’t know who, but I always thought it would make sense if it was—”

“Mirabelle,” I said at the same time as Amy. “We need to find Mirabelle.”

“She’s not in today,” Amy said. “I mean, she was here earlier, but she left because of the storm coming. She wanted to beat the rain home.”

Jack was already ringing Asha. Once she answered, he asked her to find Mirabelle.

“On it,” Asha said. “And by the way, I assume you already know this, but Amy Lee was being blackmailed.”

“We’re aware,” I said. “Can you tell where those emails are originating from?”

“The email address is a random mix of letters and numbers from a throwaway account. A cursory glance, though...” Asha paused, obviously working through something on her computer. “A quick glance puts the IP address from the computer as inside Sunset Acres.”

“We thought it was someone on the inside,” I said. “You can’t tell who?”

“I’ll be able to soon enough. This person wasn’t a computer whiz; they just made a burner Gmail account. I have someone from the tech team coming down with Sturgeon’s second wave of backup. A few minutes with the computer system there, and he’ll be able to tell you for sure.”

“Keep digging,” I told her, as Jack hung up. “We need to find Mirabelle.”

“I’m sure you’ll want my computer.” Amy stared at the phone, her shoulders drooping. “It’s in my mother’s room. I was packing it to take with us when we left.”

I gave a perfunctory nod. “What else can you tell us?”

“I swear, I don’t know anything else.” Amy started to cry, really trembling. “I just want to be with my mother. She has dementia and can’t take care of herself. The only thing I ever wanted to do was keep her safe.”

“I understand,” I said. “There’s really nothing else to note?”

“Mirabelle bought a new car this year,” Amy said. “I didn’t know how she afforded it on her salary. I didn’t think about it too hard, but it was one of those things that stuck out to me. Look, that’s all I know. You can take me to prison, or whatever you need to do, but just keep my mother safe.”

I glanced up at the sight of lights flashing outside. The first wave of backup was here.

“Your mother will be safe,” I told her. “Follow us. We need to let the rest of the team inside.”

Jack let the first wave of Sturgeon’s backup squad into the lobby. Dunkirk and Winkler were among them, along with Christianson and some of Jack’s pals from the FBI.

I quickly caught everyone up to speed and gave them instructions to split up and search the premises. Then I assigned others to interview each one of the residents for any shred of information that might help us find Jimmy. I left one cop to man the front doors.

We left Amy sitting on a chair in the lobby, handcuffed to it. I didn’t think she would run, but we didn’t have time to deal with her just now. We needed to find Jimmy.

“Don’t spend time in Mirabelle’s formal office,” Amy called after me, as I headed out of the lobby. “She always worked out of a small office in the back by the cafeteria. Said it was a shorter walk to get fresh coffee. Check there first.”

I nodded, wondering if it was because Mirabelle didn’t want to use the computer provided to her by Sunset Acres for fear of leaving a trail. Or maybe she wanted to do her blackmailing in privacy. Either way, I shot through the hallways toward the cafeteria with Jack on my heels.

“There,” Jack said, nodding toward a small door to the side of the kitchen. “That must be what Amy was talking about.”

We zipped across the empty cafeteria. The normally sun-flooded room was filled with the darkness from the summer storm. Flashes of lightning illuminated the room for seconds at a time.

The light was on inside the office. Jack nodded for me to move to the other side of the door. I didn’t think Mirabelle would be inside; she would’ve heard the announcements and either cooperated or fled. But at this point, we couldn’t be too safe.

Jack drew his weapon, and I did the same. He kicked the door the rest of the way open, and we hurtled around, scanning the room for Mirabelle.

We didn’t have to look far.

She was there, lying on the ground, her lifeless eyes staring back at us.

Chapter 22

Jack cursed. He pulled out his phone and dialed Chief Sturgeon’s direct line.

“We’ve got another body,” Jack said. “Mirabelle—one of the head administrators of this place. We’re going to need a bigger team.”

“Already on their way,” Sturgeon said. “Dr. Brooks too. She wanted to help, said the dead bodies in the morgue can wait until Detective Jones is back safe and sound.”

I took stock of the room, willing my brain to assess for any signs of evidence. Mirabelle’s death was relatively fresh, though I’d have to wait for Melinda to give us a better approximation.

At first appearance, it looked like a knife wound had delivered the deadly blow. A long-handled dinner knife, presumably nabbed from the nearby cafeteria, sat on the floor next to her. It wasn’t a big stretch to assume that it was the murder weapon.

“This hardly looks premeditated,” I said. “It’s possible, but the kitchen knife makes me think whoever did this was startled or taken off guard. That maybe they reached for the first thing they could find.”

“While I agree with that assessment, it also leaves me confused.” Jack hesitated. “Who took Jimmy? I doubt it was Amy. Not only do I believe her story, but how could she physically move a big guy like Jimmy against his will?”

“Right,” I echoed. “Maybe whoever was kidnapping Jimmy killed Mirabelle because she saw? Alternatively, she could’ve been in on this thing, and they were taking care of loose ends. Maybe they just got rid of her here and now because it was easy, and the opportunity presented itself?”

We looked over the room, but we were careful not to touch anything. The team was on their way here to document everything, and as much as I wanted to dig into Mirabelle’s murder and uncover the motive and culprit behind it—she was already dead. Jimmy, as far as we knew, was still alive. He took priority.

My job revolved around death. It was my responsibility to speak for the dead, giving them voices when they could no longer speak for themselves. At best, my job gave closure to loved ones and put bad guys behind bars.

It was a rare day that my job could save a life. Especially the life of someone I loved.

Sturgeon hadn’t been lying. The second wave of help arrived within the next twenty minutes. This included Melinda, along with Asha’s tech guy. They arrived in the cafeteria as Jack and I held down the crime scene.

I checked on the radios that someone had handed out, but nobody had seen any sign of Jimmy in their canvass of the premises. It was a solid conclusion at this point that somewhere between swimming laps and eating dessert, Jimmy had gone missing.

Melinda greeted me with a hug, but the look on her face was tense.

“I’m going to agree that this was a stabbing.” Melinda looked up at me. “I’m also going to venture a guess that the knife on the floor matches the wound on Mirabelle’s body.”

“We need a list of staff. Someone needs to also review the visitor logs,” I said to a couple of cops waiting for a task. Once they’d been given those assignments, I turned to Asha’s computer guy who called himself Harry. “Can you get access to the security cameras? See if they captured anything?”

“You got it,” Harry said. “I’ll let you know what I find. I’ll check the IP address too.”

I faced Jack, feeling agitated and upset. “What am I missing?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s security here. Someone must have seen something,” I said, racking my brain for the missing puzzle pieces. “Could he really still be on the premises?”

“It’s possible,” Jack said. “We did a search, but it was fast. There might be some closet that got missed.”

“Give me a minute.” Restlessly, I wandered around the cafeteria. My brain felt like it was crunching as it worked, a set of gears that weren’t lining up correctly. Something wasn’t right, and my brain was telling me that I had all the information to figure out what. It was a frustrating place to be.

I crossed my arms, stared at the centerpieces on the cafeteria tables. I imagined Jimmy sitting here, preparing to eat his tiramisu. How did someone get a big guy like him out of here unnoticed? The man wasn’t a marathon runner, but he was a large male, a trained cop, and he’d fight like hell before he let someone kidnap him.

Which meant he’d probably been carted out of here unconscious. I moved toward the table, studying the plates of half-eaten food that had been left here when the announcement sounded for residents to return to their rooms.

Listlessly, I reached for the table settings. Someone had grabbed a knife from the table. I reached for a dinner knife, picked it up, held it in my hand. Let my mind wander. Had the killer done this just an hour or so before?

I glanced down, and it hit me. The gears shifted into place, the crunching stopped, and a veil of fog lifted. I hurried around to several of the tables, glancing at the settings to confirm my theory. Once I was confident that I was correct, I rushed back to the office where Melinda was setting up beside Mirabelle’s body.

“It was premeditated,” I announced. “That murder weapon isn’t a knife from the kitchen. At least, not this kitchen.”

I held out the knife in my hand for Melinda to review. We all squinted at the knife on the floor.

“I checked over half the tables. All of the knives there match this one. I checked the kitchen. They all match this one. There’s not a mismatched knife to be found”—I nodded toward the floor—“except for that one.”

“Oh, shit.” Melinda’s eyes widened. “Sorry for my language, but that’s not good.”

Jack also cursed. “They were more prepared than we thought and were trying to throw us off. Dr. Brooks would’ve figured it out eventually, I’m sure, but not until it was too late.”

As we were all digesting this information, Harry returned. “Hey, Asha wants me to let you guys know that some guy named Jesse Block is involved. One of his shell companies got involved with this place about thirteen months ago.”

“Thirteen months,” I echoed. That was exactly when the emails had started to Amy. “We knew it, but I’m glad you guys can confirm it. Keep working while we find Jimmy. We’ll need all the information you can find. See if you can pinpoint a location where they might be keeping him.” 

Harry nodded solemnly and plopped down in a chair, his fingers racing over a laptop.

“Jack, did your team ever find where Jesse landed in that helicopter?” I asked. “The one that whisked him away after the meeting with Gem?”

“No. Somewhere private and virtually undetectable. Could be some place he pays off. Could be private land. It’s a needle in a haystack trying to find that location.”

“What if I told you I had a theory?” A new voice spoke, startling everyone.

I whipped around to find the one and only Alastair Gem standing in the middle of the cafeteria, a crooked smile on his face.

“Gem?” I gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“I ran into Asha when I swung by to bring you food at the precinct,” Gem said. “I heard about Jimmy and the connection to Jesse Block. I think I might be able to help.”

“No.” Jack shook his head vehemently. “Not allowed. I learned my lesson last time. I am not putting you in harm’s way again.”

“Jack, we all know what happened wasn’t your fault. We don’t have time to argue.” I turned to Gem. “What, exactly, do you suggest?”

Chapter 23

We left the team in place at Sunset Acres.

Gem drove his SUV. I sat beside him; Jack sat in the back. When I’d offered to drive, Gem said it was best if he handled it, based on where we were going. Jack and I hadn’t wasted the time asking him to clarify.

As Gem drove across the border from Minnesota and into Wisconsin, he quietly explained about where we were heading to me, Jack, and Chief Sturgeon, who was on Bluetooth.

“How did you find out about the airfield?” Sturgeon asked. “You’re sure Jesse’s there?”

“No, sir. I can’t be positive,” Gem said calmly to Sturgeon. “But we both have friends in high places, and I’ve heard rumors.”

Sturgeon swore. I could practically see him pinching his forehead. “You shouldn’t be involved, Alastair.”

“I know,” Gem said simply.

But nobody argued further. I wasn’t the only one here who cared about Jimmy on a personal level. We all did.

“You need to stay back when you arrive at the airfield,” Sturgeon said. “You’re still a civilian, Mr. Gem. A rich one, but a civilian nonetheless. Let my team do their job.”

“I understand,” Gem said. “I won’t interfere.”

“Don’t do anything until the rest of the squad gets there. I’ve got backup ten minutes behind you.”

“Got it,” I lied.

We all knew I was lying. If we arrived at the airfield, and Jimmy was in danger, there was no way we’d sit around and wait for backup. I expected Sturgeon wouldn’t like that choice. I also suspected that in my shoes, he’d make the same decision.

We hung up with the chief. I looked over at Gem. “What didn’t you tell him?”

Gem sighed. “When I heard about Jimmy being taken, and Jesse maybe being involved, I did some digging.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I wasn’t sure if I would find anything,” Gem said. “And I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to be involved.”

“Well, you were right,” Jack said. “You weren’t supposed to be involved.”

“Sometimes, people like him—people like me—have connections that aren’t easily uncovered. Even by cops. I figured since y’all are in a pressure-cooker situation, you might not mind help, no matter where it came from.”

Jack licked his lips. I tried to feel upset at Gem’s digging and inserting himself into a dangerous situation, but I couldn’t. I could only muster a deep sense of gratitude.

“What’d you find?” Jack asked finally. “You obviously found something.”

“A private airfield I used once mentioned Jesse might be a client. Off the books.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re good.”

We followed a winding road, deep into Wisconsin farm territory. There was nothing out here but cows and corn, and the occasional patch of trees and forest to act as a windbreak.

“It’s a small operation,” Gem said, a bit cagily. “Known for being very discreet.”

“What have you used this place for?” Jack asked. “Something you can share?”

“Preferably not,” Gem said. Then he turned to me.

“Leave it alone, Jack,” I said.

“Ignorance is bliss,” he muttered.

As we pulled up to a gated airfield, Gem muttered for us to let him talk.

Except he didn’t have to talk. Gem merely rolled his window down and gave a salute. A man waited at the front desk, wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. He waved us straight through.

Gem drove through the airfield, pulling up behind a large hangar. He parked it so the SUV was shielded by the building and wouldn’t be visible to anyone coming up the drive.

“Wait here while we take a look around,” I instructed Gem. “Do not move.”

“Be careful,” Gem instructed me. “Please.”

Then Gem gave Jack a nod that spoke volumes. Jack met his gaze, returned the nod. I suspected it was unspoken communication about me, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t have time to dissect it.

Jack and I left Gem in the car. I was loathe to leave him unprotected, but the airfield was a wide-open space, and we’d be able to see anyone coming with a fair amount of warning. Backup was on the way. Above all, we needed to find Jimmy.

As Jack and I crept close to the hangar, I frowned at the sound coming from inside.

Humming. A whimsical little ditty that sounded entirely too pleasant for the circumstances.

“The captain,” Jack mouthed to me. “Preflight checks.”

“Do we think he’s involved?” I asked. “Do we take him in?”

“We could ask him politely to leave,” Jack whispered back.

“If he works for Jesse, he might somehow alert him,” I said. “We can’t take that risk. I think we need to assume anyone working this flight is in on it. It’s against the rules for pilots to fly without proper documentation and whatever, and I’m assuming nothing about this is properly documented.”

“Your call,” Jack agreed. “On three?”

“He might be armed,” I added. “I have a feeling everyone around here might be armed.”

“I have a feeling you might be right.” Jack paused. “You ready for this, Rosetti?”

“We have to find Jimmy. There’s no other option,” I said. “It’s probably safer to neutralize the captain now before anyone else arrives.”

“When did you become Jack Reacher?” Russo asked with a wry smile. “Neutralize the captain?”

“Gem and I needed something to watch.” A small smile curved onto my face. “He likes the books.”

“That man will never stop surprising me,” Jack said. “On three?”

“One...”

On three, Jack and I moved. We slunk around the corner, moving stealthily, our feet barely making a sound against the cement. Jack went ahead; I followed behind.

The captain hopped out of the plane and, with a stroke of bad luck, glanced right at Jack. Without waiting a beat, the man whipped out a gun and popped off a round in Jack’s direction. We both dove behind the wall as the bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the ground several yards away.

“I guess that answers that,” Jack said wryly. “He’s in on it.”

“I’ll distract him; you take him down?” I asked.

“Let’s reverse that plan,” Jack said. “I still owe you for the car explosion. On one.”

Before I could argue, Jack winked in my direction and said, “One.”

Then he took off, sprinting in a zigzag, heading straight for the airplane. I cursed under my breath. I poked my head around the wall, watched as the captain paused a beat in surprise at Jack’s bold move.

That pause was his downfall. I sprinted at him and took him down from behind, just as his arm was coming up to send another bullet in Jack’s direction.

Jack arrived by my side, breathing heavily, a few minutes later. He’d cleared the plane while I’d cuffed the pilot and dragged him to his feet so I could look him in the eyes.

“Plane’s clear,” Jack said, breathing heavily. “Took your time there, Rosetti. I thought he might get another shot off.”

“You’re not as fast as you used to be.” I grinned at Jack. “A few years ago, you would’ve already been on that plane.”

Jack snorted. Then faced the captain with his foot. “Hey, man. What the hell sort of greeting was that?”

Even as we went through the motions of starting to question the captain, my brain flickered to Gem. Stay in the car, I told him through our completely imaginary bond. Please stay in the car.

I was well aware the sound of a bullet was loud. It would be basic instinct for anyone to want to know what was going on, especially if a person you loved was in danger. I just hoped that Gem was smart enough, and had enough self-restraint, to stay put. I couldn’t handle a distraction right now. I needed all my focus on finding Jimmy.

“When’s Jesse Block supposed to arrive?” Jack barked. “Anyone else hanging around here?”

“It’s just me,” the captain grunted. “Solo flight.”

“How many guys are you expecting?” Jack crossed his arms. “Keep in mind, you already took a potshot at a federal agent. Lying isn’t going to help you any.”

“I suggest you start talking, and quickly,” I said. “Start with your name. We’re on a time crunch.”

“The name’s Gerry Thompson,” he said. “I’m supposed to fly a couple of people out of here to a remote island. I don’t know more than that. I’m a freelancer. I’ve got no personal ties to these guys, and I’m not going down with them.”

“Who’re you flying out of here?” I asked. “Names?”

“Don’t got any.” Gerry gave me a wry smile. “Does this look like the sort of airfield where you ask questions? I’m given a time to show up and a location to land. Then I’m paid enough money to keep my mouth shut.”

“What time are they arriving?” Jack asked.

“Any minute. We’re all gassed up and ready for takeoff.”

“Have you heard the name Jimmy Jones, or seen him? He’s Black, about this tall”—I gestured—“and looks like he enjoys chicken and doughnuts.”

“I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that around here.” Gerry hesitated, then nodded at something in the distance. “The answers to your other questions are arriving now.”

Jack and I turned, caught a glimpse of dirt spitting up from the gravel road in the distance. The sky was still churning through dark storm clouds, but the rain had temporarily eased its assault.

“I’m going to stick you in the plane,” Jack informed Gerry. There weren’t a lot of other places to stick a guy in this hangar. “You make a sound, and the outcome for you is not going to be pretty. Understood?”

“Loud and clear,” Gerry grunted.

At Jack’s prodding, Gerry shuffled up the stairs of the plane, a little stiffly due to the cuffs around his wrists. Jack nudged him along, and I took the rear. Jack got Gerry situated near the rear of the plane, cuffing him to one of the seats.

By the time Jack got Gerry situated, I could see a black SUV in the distance. Getting trapped inside the plane wasn’t exactly in our game plan, but we’d run out of time, and there were no other great options for hiding places.

I took my place behind the open entry door of the aircraft. As we waited for the impending arrival of our guests, I hurriedly scoured the plane for anything that might come in handy as a weapon. I had my gun, but I wasn’t sure it’d be enough. We had no idea how many men were in that SUV or how much firepower they were packing. Backup would be here soon, but it didn’t take long for things to turn nasty in my line of work.

I grabbed a length of rope from a cupboard and lifted down a fire extinguisher. In a pinch, that cannister could really pack a punch. Jack joined my side, eyeing my arsenal with an amused quirk of his lips. He crouched next to me without a word.

The black SUV carrying our guests pulled to a stop. A big, burly man—probably security—stepped out of the driver’s seat and headed around to the back of the vehicle. He opened the trunk, grabbed two suitcases, then quickly closed the trunk. He hauled both suitcases toward the hangar.

A minute later, the door opened on the other side of the vehicle, and Jesse Block stepped out. I recognized him from the countless photos I’d studied in preparation for Gem’s meeting with him. One more unfamiliar man followed behind Jesse. Three men total. Not including Jimmy.

I squinted at the windows of the SUV, but they were fully blacked out, and I couldn’t see anything through the darkness. I couldn’t hear anything, either, but it was very possible Jimmy was still unconscious—if he was here at all.

“Two large men and Jesse,” I narrated to Jack. “They’re probably all armed.”

“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t,” Jack said. “On your mark, Rosetti.”

“Set,” I said.

We waited, waited, waited.

The three men approached, their eyes scanning the hangar listlessly. They gathered in a small group near the nose of the plane. I didn’t have a good view of any of them, let alone a good shot. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

“Where’s Gerry?” a deep voice asked. “He should be here.”

“He’s always late,” a second man said. “Probably went inside for more coffee.”

“No.” This voice belonged to Jesse. “Something’s not right.”

Jack cursed, whispered, “We need to move. Now.”

“I’ll look in the plane,” the deep voice said. Probably the security guard. “Maybe he’s waiting for us.”

“Hold on,” I cautioned Jack.

We slipped deeper into the plane, shielding ourselves from view as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Jack watched me, following my lead.

My mind whirred. We could take the security guard out on the stairs, but that’d immediately alert the other two men of our presence, and then we’d be off to the races.

If we could get the guard onto the plane first and take him down quietly, we might earn a few moments’ advantage over the other two men. Without backup, it was our best chance of avoiding a frenzied shootout in a confined area. Nobody wanted that.

Jack watched my face like a movie. Like he was following along with the plotline whizzing through my brain. He gave a slight nod, backed away farther, to the other side of the aisle. We were on split sides now, waiting, waiting...

“Gerry,” the security guard called. “You up here?”

The man had to duck as he entered the plane because he was so tall and beefy. The second he rounded the corner, I lunged for his legs. Jack waited the necessary beat while I took him down. The man was massive, and he fell like an old oak tree—hard and with finality.

Except the guard’s head hit the corner of a seat on the way down, and when he landed, the whole plane let out a shudder—and then all was silent. Jack pounced, cuffing the man, but there was no resistance. Security Goon was out cold.

“Nice,” Jack said.

“It was an accident,” I said.

“Happy accident,” Jack said.

“You hear that?” The other security guard called down on the pavement to Jesse. “What was that?”

“We don’t have long,” Jack said, reading my mind. “Let’s move it, Rosetti.”

I was already bouldering my way over the fallen giant and scrambling for the exit. I hadn’t wanted to get cornered in the plane—it was too small—but it was too late to backtrack now.

The second my foot hit the top stair, a shot rang out, pinging off the metal of the plane a foot away. My turn to curse. I recoiled, holding my weapon by my side, as I peeped out through a window. Another shot in our direction.

“Three shots, and backup hasn’t even arrived yet,” Jack called wryly. “They’re missing the party.”

“Want to play this cool new game?” I called back to Jack, the dark humor taking over. “Put your foot on the stairs. See how many toes you can keep.”

Jack snorted, but it wasn’t because the situation was funny. It was because if we didn’t keep level heads, keep some sort of levity to ground us, we’d be paralyzed with fear. If we let the terror cripple us now, there was only one way this situation would end—with us dead.

“They’re going for the car,” Jack said urgently from the other side of the plane, having secured a better view from a different window. “They’re retreating.”

“I’m going after them,” I said. “What if Jimmy’s in the trunk?”

“Not yet,” Jack insisted. “You’ll be an easy to pick off if you chase after them now.”

I waited, feeling the pull to find my partner, but knowing Jack was right. I couldn’t find Jimmy if I got hurt... or worse.

I took deep breaths, my mind involuntarily flickering to Gem. He would’ve heard all three shots. If it were me on the sidelines, I’d be in agony wondering what was happening. If it were me, my butt wouldn’t still be in that car. I could only pray that Gem would make a better choice. Otherwise, this could quickly end in disaster.

“Now!” Jack barked. “They’re both in the car. They won’t have a good shot.”

I skipped over the staircase and leapt down, straight into a crouch behind the wheel. Moving targets were hard to hit. Harder than the movies made it seem. If the men still had guns trained on us, I wasn’t going to make myself an easy target.

Skipping the stairs turned out to be a good choice. A fourth shot rang out as I rolled deeper beneath the plane.

I peeked out from my hiding spot and glimpsed a gun poking out from the driver’s side of the car. Jesse was in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t see him because of the tinted windows.

“Wait,” I called to Jack. “He’s going to have to put his weapon down to shift into reverse. It’ll give us a second.”

Sure enough, our patience paid off. A few seconds later, the barrel of the gun dipped behind the window out of sight. The driver was preparing to take off.

“Go!” I yelled to Jack. “Now!”

Even as the words left my lips, I was already on my feet—chasing after the vehicle as the driver reversed. I knew I’d have a narrow window of time—a sliver at best—when he threw the car into drive. The car would pause, and maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to get a good shot at the tires.

I dropped to a squat, anticipating the pause. It came mere seconds later.

I aimed as the reverse motion stopped, then squeezed off two shots as the car started to pull away.

“Nice, Rosetti,” Jack called. “Two for two.”

Jack hadn’t stopped his sprint, and he was nearly to the SUV. I joined him as the vehicle came to a screeching halt and the doors flew open.

Jack and I ducked behind the back of the car. Jesse and his partner moved around to the front. We playing a deadly little game of Ring Around the SUV.

Jack made the first move, signaling silently for me to follow him. We tucked around his side first. I followed behind him, implicitly trusting his judgment. Anything less would separate us, cause a divide in our teamwork that could incapacitate us.

Jack dropped to his belly, fired off a shot. Almost simultaneously, a shout of pain sounded, followed by a thump as a body hit the ground. Footsteps took off racing on the other side of the vehicle.

Jack had hit one man. The other was on the move.

I was already around the car, scanning the situation. Jesse was sprinting toward the hangar, his gun pointed behind him. He fired, but it was a wild shot and missed by a mile.

Jesse’s partner writhed on the ground. Jack had clipped the man’s ankle with a nice shot beneath the underbelly of the car. I fastened the man’s hands behind his back with the rope I’d gathered from inside the airplane while Jack secured the loose weapon.

Jack and I looked at one another. Three men down, one to go.

“Jesse,” I shouted. “This is where it all ends. Let us take you in. The only other way out of here is in a body bag.”

“The plane,” Jack said, breathing heavily. “He went into the plane.”

I swore. “There’s no way this ends well. There are two other men in there.”

“They’re not innocent,” Jack said. “They’re far from innocent bystanders.”

“No, but we don’t need a bigger body count.”

“I’m coming out,” Jesse called from inside the plane. “Don’t shoot.”

“Put down your weapon, and come down with your hands up,” I said. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

Unfortunately, Jesse had a different plan, and cooperation wasn’t on it. Instead of Jesse appearing on the stairs with his hands up, the beefy security guard appeared on the stairs, obviously having regained consciousness. His wrists were still cuffed behind his back. Jesse had a gun pressed to his head.

“Let us leave,” Jesse said evenly. “We take your car, and everybody stays alive. Otherwise, I shoot him in the head.”

“Why should we care?” Jack retorted. “He’s the reason we’re in this position to start with. He’s a hired gun, not a hostage.”

Jesse smirked, glanced at me. “I don’t know you well enough, Agent Russo, but I know Detective Rosetti. She’d never allow an innocent man’s blood to be spilled on her watch.”

“He’s far from innocent,” I shot back. “Plus, the blood would be on your hands. Not mine. There’s a way to end this peacefully and only one way. Drop your weapon and let us take you in, Jesse.”

“I will shoot him,” Jesse said, so nonchalant in his declaration that it was eerie. “I will shoot him, and then I will fire on anyone who comes my way. I will make sure Jimmy Jones ends up dead. I will not walk out of here in handcuffs.”

“Then we’ll drag you out of here,” Jack said, but this was under his breath, so only I could hear. “Breathe, Rosetti. We’ve got this. Let these two go. Backup will be here any second and will nab them on the way out. We can’t risk Jimmy.”

He was right. Jack was right. We had to let Jesse leave. Again.

Jesse was right too. I wouldn’t allow him to kill another man on my watch—not if I could help it.

“Fine,” I said, stalling as I thought through our next moves. “But you’re not going to get far.”

“Put your weapons down,” Jesse said. “And we have a deal.”

“You know we can’t do that,” I said. “You have my word you’ll leave unharmed as long as you play by the rules. Get in the car and drive away. If we wanted to kill you and your thug, we’d shoot you right now.”

Jesse considered this, obviously weighing the pros and cons of trusting me. He must have decided my word had to be enough because this was his only chance of escape. He wasn’t an idiot. He probably suspected that backup was already on their way.

Jesse nodded, then shoved his security guard’s shoulder. “Move it. I’m driving, you’re next to me.”

“You got a plan?” Jack muttered to me. “One that I should know about?”

“Does divine intervention count?”

Jack gave the softest of snorts. We kept our weapons trained on Jesse and his security guard. They moved in unison, in a synchronized shuffle, toward the SUV.

“Stop,” I said, when Jesse and his security guard were just outside of the hangar. “I’m going to get my car.”

“I don’t think so,” Jesse said. “I’m not stupid. Walk me there.”

I hadn’t expected him to go for that plan, but I’d needed to get Jesse and his goon out in the open. Jesse squirrelling himself in the plane made for a difficult hostage situation. At least this way, we had a clear shot; we just needed to find a way to take it.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Jesse continued. “Where’d you park?”

“The plan doesn’t have to change,” I said, already walking toward the SUV, in the opposite direction of my car. “But I’m not letting you leave without seeing if Jimmy’s in your trunk. If my partner is hurt, our deal is off.”

“You’re stalling,” Jesse barked. “Let us go, Rosetti.”

I took one step toward the SUV, but a sound caused all five of us to look up, including the man still lying on the ground. Jesse’s business partner had gone quiet and utterly still, like maybe we’d just forget about him if he didn’t make a sound.

“What the hell?” Jack’s weapon didn’t waver from Jesse. But his gaze flicked behind him. “Is that backup?”

Last I checked, the police didn’t drive a red convertible. My stomach did a flip-flop. Something was wrong. This wasn’t backup. This was... Bonnie?

I recognized Gem’s assistant as she hurtled down the road in a shiny red convertible that said BonBon on the license plate. As she neared, I could see that it was indeed Bonnie driving the car. Way, way too fast for this tiny road.

The closer she got, the more details fell into place. Oversized red sunglasses. Blonde hair blowing in the wind. Gum snapping between her lips. The woman had nerves of steel. She was chewing gum while driving straight into a hostage situation.

“What is she doing here?” I said to no one in particular.

Bonnie’s hands were on the steering wheel. Her gaze set. She didn’t seem bothered that there were multiple guns in this equation. In fact, the closer she got, the more she accelerated. The woman couldn’t find her brake pedal with a map. As she flew nearer, I swear she glanced over and grinned.

With a guttural cry, Jesse leapt out of the way of Bonnie’s speeding car seconds before it hit him. He threw himself halfway onto the hood of the SUV.

Jack and I were both ready, having anticipated his move. We were on him, tackling him to the ground before any of us could process what happened.

I stripped Jesse of his gun while Jack pressed the man’s face into the cement so hard he’d have the pattern of it imprinted on his cheek for a week.

I instructed the still-cuffed security guard to get on the ground. The man seemed weary, and he lay face-down on the cement without arguing. He didn’t move after that, like he might be settling in for a nap.

It wasn’t sixty seconds later when sirens sounded. As Bonnie stepped out of the convertible and walked toward us on wobbly stilettos, the soundtrack of additional units swarming the scene was a welcome breath of relief.

Lights flashed, cars squealed to a stop, cops spilled out. Eyes darted around, taking stock of the situation.

“The pilot’s on the plane,” I said. “We need handcuffs for Jesse here, and that guy there needs ’em too. We ran out.”

Cops dispersed, faces set and slightly bewildered, as they all realized they’d arrived just in time to help us clean up the aftermath.

“What were you thinking?” I finally managed as Bonnie sashayed next to me and surveyed the men on the ground. Part of her handiwork, really. “You could have been killed.”

“So could you,” she said. Then, “Nobody shoots at my boss. Or his girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” I said in disbelief. “And you knew we were here, how?”

“Mr. Gem called me and asked for his security team to be dispatched to this location immediately,” she said. “I followed his instructions, of course. I also happened to be closer than his security team, running an errand at the mall, so I figured I might be able to help.”

“That was a terrible decision.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“Thank you, Bonnie. It was reckless, what you did.”

“It’s a good thing it worked out, then,” she said with a small smile, “or I might have lost my job.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

She winked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As I looked over Bonnie’s shoulder, I saw Gem striding toward us. His gaze locked on mine, and he swept toward us with big, long steps, looking like he was on the hunt.

He didn’t stop until his hand reached out, got ahold of my shirt, and tugged me against him. His hand slid around the back of my head, and he pressed a hard kiss to my lips as he cradled the nape of my neck with a feral sort of intensity.

“Thank you for trusting me,” I whispered against his ear, my body tight to his. “I kept thinking, if you’d come out of that car at the sound of gunshots...”

“I know.” Gem stroked my hair. “You cannot possibly understand how hard it was for me to stay put and listen to the sound of gunfire. Don’t ever expect me to do that again.”

“I know,” I said. “It means so much to me. I love you.”

He kissed me again, then turned to Bonnie.

“When I said security,” Gem said to her, “I meant my security team. You are not one of them.”

“Hey,” I said gently, “she was just trying to help.”

Bonnie’s gaze flicked to me, then back to her boss, as if waiting to see if she’d get fired for her little stunt.

Gem sighed, kneaded his forehead. “I guess this probably deserves a raise.”

Bonnie’s eyes twinkled. “I’m glad you see things my way.”

Gem cleared his throat, then glanced around. “By the way, did you find Jimmy?”

“Oh, shit,” Jack said. “Jimmy.”

“Jimmy!” My face flushed, and I rushed toward the SUV.

My fingers fumbled as I popped the hatch. The trunk door raised automatically but not fast enough for my liking. I dipped my head beneath and got a glimpse of my partner, and my heart soared. He had tape over his mouth, and his hands were tied, but his eyes were open wide. Alive. My partner was alive.

I went to throw my arms around his neck, but I paused as I scanned the rest of him.

“Jimmy,” I said, leaning forward and peeling the tape off his lips. “Why are you naked?”

“I’m not naked,” Jimmy said with a frown. “This is my water aerobics Speedo.” 

Chapter 24

The one positive thing about rescuing Jimmy in a Speedo from his kidnappers’ trunk was that it was easy to see he wasn’t harmed. No holes anywhere there shouldn’t be.

Once we unloaded Jimmy from the trunk, I took some time to update the new arrivals of the current situation and what had occurred up to this point. Backup had already secured the pilot and the security guard, along with Jesse and his business partner.

After that was done, and all four men were properly Mirandized, a sense of calm finally started to settle. My jittery nerves lingered, but that was to be expected. Adrenaline didn’t just evaporate, not after a shootout like this one.

It took over an hour before I finally headed back to the precinct. We left most of the team behind to gather evidence, interview employees at the airfield, and take photographs of how everything had gone down. There’d be a lot of documentation for this case.

We couldn’t afford to miss a single detail. Jesse Block wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d hire the best lawyers that money could buy. I was pretty sure we had him this time—it would be a hard situation to wriggle out of for anyone—but we couldn’t risk cutting corners.

Meanwhile, we got reports that the team at Sunset Acres was finishing up their part. Mirabelle’s body was being brought to Melinda’s lab for a full autopsy. It sounded like there were fingerprints on the murder weapon, and I was willing to bet those fingerprints would match to someone on Jesse’s payroll.

Jesse had refused to talk. Unsurprising, seeing as he was an old hat at this sort of thing. He’d wait for his lawyers to try and score them a deal. He wouldn’t get it, but we’d let him try.

Even without Jesse’s cooperation, we were able to start piecing together what had led to today’s events. Now that Asha had solidified the connection between Jesse Block’s shell companies and the shady business happening at Sunset Acres, she was unearthing scores of scams and fraud that would be enough to keep Jesse in prison for years.

According to Asha, Jesse Block had set his sights on Sunset Acres nearly two years before. He’d sniffed out a relatively low-risk opportunity to prey on a vulnerable demographic. He’d chosen easy targets to manipulate and, in essence, take all their money. It was as awful as it sounded.

Jesse had kicked off his scheme by blackmailing Mirabelle into cooperating on the inside. The administrator had apparently had an affair with one of the nurses on staff, and Jesse had caught wind of it through a private investigator.

He’d used that against her, threatening to ruin her marriage and get her fired from her job. It had been enough to get Mirabelle sucked into his schemes, and I could only imagine that as things had escalated, she’d been too terrified to disobey Jesse’s commands.

Mirabelle had orchestrated everything—from sending Amy instructions to murdering Declan Remmington. We didn’t have hard evidence of the latter yet, but we did have an email Harry scored off Mirabelle’s computer instructing her to dispose of Declan Remmington.

It wasn’t a far leap to assume she’d completed the task, just like she’d done every other task Jesse had sent her way. Someone on Jesse’s team had likely supplied Mirabelle with morphine, and we now knew her motive. The evidence to support our theories was starting to fall into place like a series of dominoes.

As for the reason Jesse had ordered Declan’s death, that part was easy to follow. Jesse must have figured out that Declan was speaking to a reporter. In doing so, Declan had made both himself and Matilda targets. They were expendables, and Jesse had clearly wanted to keep them both silent. Hence the bomb on Matilda’s car.

The assault on Sunset Acres had been planned out, much beyond what we’d suspected. Jesse hadn’t liked Jimmy poking around on his private stomping grounds, so he’d ordered his kidnapping. I suspected a large part of that move was sheer panic and desperation, as he’d felt the walls closing in on him.

For the most part, Jesse had been rather cool and collected with his plans, working from a distance—a puppet master tugging on strings. But as things had escalated, he’d started to act more erratically, the situation spiraling from bad to worse, in a heartbeat, culminating in a hit on Mirabelle—Jesse’s biggest loose end yet.

The dinner knife had been carried in, and the whole situation had been faked to look as if it’d been a crime of convenience instead of an incredibly premeditated deadly dance. Jesse was cleaning house at Sunset Acres, moving on to greener pastures. If it weren’t for Gem’s intel, I was certain Jesse Block would be on a plane and out of the country already.

“Looking good,” I said to Jimmy, as he appeared at his desk, looking exhausted. He was wearing department-issued sweats that were a little too tight for him. But it was still better than a Speedo. Much better.

“I don’t usually give out free shows,” Jimmy said, mustering an eyebrow wiggle at me. “Consider yourself one of the lucky ones.”

“I think today we were both lucky,” I said, a little quieter, in a bit of a rush. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Hey,” Jimmy said softly. “Me too. Thanks, Rosetti.”

“Don’t do that again.” I spun to face my computer, my throat feeling a little clogged.

“What, get kidnapped?”

“Yes, you asshole,” I said. “You gave me a lot of gray hairs today.”

“Dammit. You’re going to make me cry with all those kind words.”

Then we both stared at our computers and took a few gulps of air to compose ourselves. Totally ignoring one another. It was as close to a declaration of love as we were ever going to get.

I stayed at the precinct helping with interviews and paperwork right up until the dinner hour. I caught up with Lassie and Matilda and Asha. I debriefed with the chief. I ordered dinner for Jimmy, and paid for it all by myself without even expensing it. That was my grand gesture.

The biggest surprise of the evening was when my sister came around the corner. I looked at her expectantly, unable to help the skip in my heart rate. Every time she turned up unexpectedly, I couldn’t help but worry something had happened to the baby. Especially since there were tears in her eyes.

“You’ve got to relax.” Jane gave me a hug, accompanied by a sniffly little laugh. “Things are fine. We just came to say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I said. I turned to Jane’s husband, who was a few steps behind her. “In fact, I should be thanking you, Wes. If you hadn’t asked for that autopsy on your uncle, Jesse Block might already be home free in Aruba.”

Wes looked down. “I heard a woman was murdered today at Sunset Acres.”

I licked my lips. “Yes. Mirabelle.”

Wes didn’t look at me. “I knew her. Worked with her to get my uncle placed there.”

“Her death is not your fault,” I said gently. “She made some bad choices. Bad men murdered her. I’m not saying she deserved to die, and especially not in that way, but those are the facts.”

“If I’d just let Declan go quietly...” Wes looked to the heavens, looked anywhere but my eyes. “I can’t help but think that she would still be alive.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But you can’t look at the what-ifs. This isn’t your fault. Declan would’ve been proud of you, Wes. You carried on the investigation when he couldn’t anymore. You are bringing justice to a lot of people. You are protecting others from being hurt in the future. It’s awful about Mirabelle; I can’t agree more. But you didn’t cause that awfulness.”

Wes bit his lip, nodded. “I don’t know how you do it, Kate. Day in and day out.”

“It’s just a job.” I brushed it off. I didn’t like when people made a big deal and gave me a gold star for doing what I’d been trained to do.

“No, it’s not. Not for you.” Wes gave me a hug, squeezed me tight, lowered his voice. “You make this world a better place, Kate Rosetti. Not many people can do what you do. Don’t ever forget that.”

Then Wes pulled away. Jane looked at her husband, her eyes spilling over with love and admiration. I blinked rapidly, trying not to let myself get swept up in the emotions.

“Go.” Sturgeon came up behind us, bluntly interrupting the impromptu family gathering. “I heard you’ve got dinner plans.”

I squinted at him. “How’d you hear that, Chief?”

“Your mother called me.” Now the chief didn’t make eye contact with me. “That’s one woman I don’t feel like arguing with right now.”

“I’m not done here,” I said. “Jesse—”

“Jack and his team can handle things for the rest of the evening.” Sturgeon ran a hand over his face. “You’ve got an army of people expecting you tonight.”

I followed the chief’s gaze to find Gem standing in the hallway. It really was a little family reunion happening in here.

Gem had gone home when I’d gone to the precinct, after he and Bonnie had given their statements. He’d asked to come with me to the precinct, but it didn’t make any sense. We both knew I’d be busy dealing with paperwork and interviews. This way, at least, he’d been able to shower and change his clothes and unwind a little after the day we’d had.

“Mr. Gem.” Sturgeon stepped forward, extended a hand. “I can’t thank you enough for your assistance on this one.”

“Dinner’s fine,” Gem said with a curt smile. Then he nodded at me. “With this one, I mean.”

“Please, take her off my plate,” Sturgeon said. “And Rosetti, I’d better not see you in this office tomorrow either. Take a day off.”

“How generous, sir,” I said. “A whole day off.”

“What’s that, Rosetti?” Sturgeon snapped.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “That paperwork won’t do itself.”

Gem smirked, tucking me under his arm as we strolled out of the office. “Have you reconsidered my pitch to be a trophy wife yet? Marry me, and if you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. You can be on my insurance.”

“That better not be a proposal,” I said. Then, more panicked, “Was that a marriage proposal, Gem?”

“Do you want it to be?” He crooked an eyebrow, kissed me on the forehead.

I was about to retort a snarky response, but instead, I took a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. Give me some time to think about it.”

If Gem was surprised, he did a good job of hiding it. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your reply.”

“First, you’ve got to get permission from my parents,” I said. “That’s a whole thing in and of itself.”

“Let me deal with your mother.” Gem looked far too confident for my taste. “You just work on finding your way to a Yes.”

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later

I sat at my desk, earbuds in, dreading the afternoon of paperwork ahead of me.

Seeing as I was up for any form of distraction, I even welcomed the figure of Jack Russo approaching me, looking like he wanted something. That was never a good sign, but I slipped my earbuds out anyway, hoping it was a new case.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jack said, correctly reading my expression. “There’s no new dead body.”

“That’s not what I was hoping for,” I said quickly, hoping to prevent myself from looking like a psychopath. Judging by Jimmy’s snort from his desk, it hadn’t worked. I glanced over at my partner. “Oh, go swim laps in your Speedo, you old fart.”

Jimmy shut up and sank a little lower in his chair.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Jack asked uneasily.

“I thought that was what we were doing,” I said. “Talking.”

Jack cleared his throat. “In private?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up. He asked a little too eagerly, “Is Rosetti in trouble?”

Jack swept out of the room without a reply. I followed behind him, giving Jimmy a shrug. Only when we got into the conference room did Jack stop moving. He spun around, shoved something awkwardly into my hands.

“It’s all I could think of to do,” Jack said bluntly. “As a thank-you, I mean. And an apology. Can we call things good now? I hate owing you.”

I hesitated. “Is this about the Gem and Jesse thing? It’s over and done with, Jack. I’ve moved on.”

“I shouldn’t have dragged the two of you into it like I did. Especially not him. I really am sorry.”

“Hey, thanks,” I said, meaning it. I was touched that Jack would apologize several weeks after the incident. It was clearly still on his mind. “You were just trying to do your job. I understand that better than anyone.”

“Well, the two of you do deserve this.” Jack gave a hard nod. “That much I know.”

I glanced down. It was two pieces of notebook paper with some terrible handwriting on it. “This looks like garbage,” I stated the obvious. I squinted, trying to make out the words. “Did you write this? Were you drunk?”

Jack sighed. “They’re two airline tickets, Kate. To Italy. Europe. Wherever.”

“These aren’t airline tickets. I don’t know the last time you flew in a real airport, Russo, but this handwritten note from you...” I thumbed the looseleaf. “It ain’t gonna do the trick these days to board a plane.”

“No kidding,” Jack said dryly. “Look, I was gonna buy you and Gem real airline tickets, but the man has a private jet. I figured you guys wouldn’t want to fly economy, know what I mean?”

“No,” I said honestly. “I’m not getting any of this.”

“I talked to Sturgeon, and I talked to Gem. I got your work schedule cleared for the next three weeks. I heard fall is a beautiful time of year to see the Amalfi Coast.”

“Jack,” I whispered, the weight of it hitting me. “I can’t take three weeks off work.”

“You’d better,” he told me. “I had to do a lot on my end to make it happen. I offered myself as a human sacrifice to Sturgeon. I’ve also got an extra guy hanging around just in case, because apparently, it takes two grown men to do your job. We’ve got this, Kate.”

“But—”

Jack took two steps toward me. “It’s not only for you. It’s for him too. I put Gem in a terrible position, and I feel bad about it.”

“Gem isn’t the type of person who holds grudges.”

“I know.” Jack blinked, looked deep into my eyes. “He’s a good man, a man who finally deserves you. You deserve him too.”

“This is so sweet. Thank you.”

“What can you buy a man who has everything?” Jack looked thoughtful. “Nothing. The best thing I could do is gift him time with the person he loves more than anything else in the world. Now, say goodbye to your friends. There’s a car out front with Gem in it and two of your suitcases. I’m told Bonnie packed for you.”

“That’s terrible news,” I said. “She probably only packed lingerie and pretty dresses.”

“I don’t think she’s so bad.” Jack smiled. “Enjoy it, Kate. These days are the ones that matter most of all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Jesse’s operation has crumbled. He’ll be in prison for decades,” Jack said. “The court case could take ages, so there’s no use waiting around for that to happen. By the way, did you know your boyfriend covered all the money stolen by Jesse Block from the residents at Sunset Acres?”

“What do you mean?”

“The people Jesse scammed, people like Brett Taggert—he replaced everything they’d lost and then some. I got a call from a woman named Mrs. McGreary today, and she told me she can finally afford to hire appropriate care for Brett because of what Gem did. I could barely understand her, she was bawling her eyes out.”

“Gem didn’t say anything,” I murmured. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “He doesn’t need a gold star for doing a good deed. He’s just like you.”

I finally understood. I nodded, raised the piece-of-crap notebook paper in my hand that suddenly felt like nuggets of gold.

“You know what?” I flashed the airline “tickets” before Jack. “I take it back. You’re right. This is a wonderful gift.”

I gave Jack a hug of deep gratitude, then I did as he suggested. I said my goodbyes to my sister and my friends and my boss and my partner.

Everyone but Sturgeon watched with intense curiosity as I swept out of the precinct. I hurried downstairs to a waiting car packed with fancy lingerie and sweeping dresses and, I hoped, a few pairs of jeans—and best of all—the one man I couldn’t live without.

THE END

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed another adventure with Detective Kate Rosetti and team. Please sign up for my newsletter at ginalamanna.com to be notified when the next book in the series is available!

And, if you enjoyed the book, please consider taking the time to leave a review at your retailer of choice. It is much appreciated and helps other readers find books they love!

Thank you for reading!

Gina

List of Gina's Books!

Gina LaManna is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the Magic & Mixology series, the Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries, The Little Things romantic suspense series, and the Misty Newman books.

List of Gina LaManna’s other books:

Rom Coms

Hate Hex

Women’s Fiction:

Pretty Guilty Women

Three Single Wives

Detective Kate Rosetti Mysteries:

Shoot the Breeze

Riddle Me This

Follow the Money

Riddle Me This

Nail on the Head

Sleigh All Day

Time is Money

Diamond in the Rough

Luck of the Draw

One in a Million

Shoot for the Moon

Dime a Dozen

Murder in Style:

Secrets and Stilettos

Lipstick and Lies

Mascara and Murder

The Hex Files:

Wicked Never Sleeps

Wicked Long Nights

Wicked State of Mind

Wicked Moon Rising

Wicked All The Way

Wicked Twist of Fate

Wicked Ever After

Lola Pink Mystery Series:

Shades of Pink

Shades of Stars

Shades of Sunshine

Magic & Mixology Mysteries:

Hex on the Beach

Witchy Sour

Jinx & Tonic

Long Isle Iced Tea

Amuletto Kiss

Spelldriver

Mint Julep

Mermaid Mimosa

MAGIC, Inc. Mysteries:

The Undercover Witch

Spellbooks & Spies (short story)

Reading Order for Lacey Luzzi:

Lacey Luzzi: Scooped

Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled

Lacey Luzzi: Sparkled

Lacey Luzzi: Salted

Lacey Luzzi: Sauced

Lacey Luzzi: S'mored

Lacey Luzzi: Spooked

Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned

Lacey Luzzi: Spiced

Lacey Luzzi: Suckered

Lacey Luzzi: Sprouted

Lacey Luzzi: Shaved

The Little Things Mystery Series:

One Little Wish

Two Little Lies

Misty Newman:

Teased to Death

Short Story in Killer Beach Reads

Chick Lit:

Girl Tripping

Gina also writes books for kids under the Pen Name Libby LaManna:

Mini Pie the Spy!