He took out a notepad and wrote down the name as Deleon fought a grin tooth and nail. Quincy turned away, unable to rein his in. It always was a recalcitrant thing.

  The captain closed the pad, proud of himself. “Was that so hard?”

  She raised her brows and gestured toward the door. “Do you mind?”

  He stepped aside and offered her a sweep of his hand.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said to the security guard.

  He nodded, clearly in on the joke.

  A big fan of the honey-draws-more-flies method, she showed the captain her very best smile, then strolled past him. At least she wasn’t showing her age too terribly if everyone but the captain got her Buffy reference. She dialed Nancy’s number as she and Quince strode toward the exit, but got her voicemail. “Hey, girlfriend,” she said, reinstating the perky bit. “Broke any felons out of prison lately? How about you give me a call when you get a chance?” She lowered her voice, and added, “And you tell that son of a bitch he’s a dead man,” before hanging up, wishing she could’ve slammed down the phone to emphasize her statement, but that never ended well anymore. She set her jaw and turned to Quincy. “They set me up.”

  “You really think that was your friend?”

  “I can’t be certain, but it makes sense. They’ve been in contact for years. She’s done … questionable things for him.” Nancy had manipulated a DNA test they’d done on the foreign blood found on Kubrick Ravinder’s body. She’d used it to clear Levi’s name and implicate Wynn on Wynn’s orders. The way he explained it to Sun, he was already doing a double life sentence for a crime he didn’t commit. He may as well take the fall for his nephew who killed Kubrick saving Sunshine.

  All of these were facts she had yet to share with her chief deputy. If they turned Nancy in, every case she’d ever processed would be questioned. Guilty people would go free for crimes they committed. Even knowing this, Sun found herself struggling with the decision to keep quiet. She would talk with Quincy about it, just not today.

  “In what way?” he asked, suspicion knitting his brow.

  “For one, she’s been in love with Wynn since they first met. She’s too naïve to realize Wynn is using her.”

  “Or she doesn’t care.”

  “True. Either way, I can’t be a hundred percent sure it was her, which is why I didn’t divulge her name.”

  “Gotcha. Honestly, though, who doesn’t know Buffy?”

  * * *

  “And you saw him?” Sun asked, marveling at the turn of events. She sat at her parents’ kitchen table with Quincy, Auri, and the aforementioned parents.

  “Auri,” her dad said, putting a hand over hers, “why didn’t you say anything?”

  This would mark the second time that day former sheriff Baldwin Redding crossed their afore-agreed-upon boundaries and entered Sun’s orbit. She could be optimistic and try to believe he only wanted to talk about the unidentified woman found in the canyon, to see if he could be of any assistance, but she knew better. He’d burn in hell before assisting her on a case.

  “I don’t know,” Auri said, lifting a slim shoulder self-consciously. “I mean, it looked like him, but I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  Auri had French braided her coppery hair that morning, but long, delicate strands had shaken loose throughout the day to frame her angelic face in dancing flames of red. Sun had hoped she would eventually get over how beautiful the fruit of her loins was. The girl had mesmerized her from the moment she was born, like a glistening fairy made of earth and sea and fire, and Auri used that fact strategically any time she got into trouble. So, often.

  “Are you okay, bug?”

  Auri nodded. “Yeah. I think Sybil got me worked up over nothing.”

  Sun wasn’t so sure, but she went along with her daughter’s assessment for her sake. “I understand. Quincy does that to me sometimes, too.”

  Quince gaped at her, feigning insult and succeeded in making Auri giggle.

  “Oh,” Auri said, opening her laptop and angling it toward them. “This is Lynelle’s cousin Whitney. What do you think?”

  Sun leaned in to get a better look at the girl in the picture. “I just don’t know, bug. Our Jane Doe was so bruised and swollen, it’s hard to say if this is the same girl.”

  “And our Jane’s hair was dyed purple,” Quince said.

  Auri gasped softly. She punched a few keys to bring up all the photos on Whitney’s timeline and pointed. “Look at her clothes. Purple is her favorite color.”

  It was true. She wore purple in almost every picture, but her hair had never been dyed that color.

  “What color were her clothes when you found her?” Auri asked.

  Sun cast a quick glance at her parents before saying, “She wasn’t, hon. She only had a bra and it was pink.”

  “Oh,” Auri said, surprised. Sun could see her mind racing a thousand miles an hour. “That poor girl.”

  “She’s alive, sweetheart. That’s what we need to focus on right now.”

  “And this is a huge help,” Quince added. “Which picture is Whitney’s most recent?”

  Auri scrolled back to the top. “She posted this one after her last final.” She pointed out a pic of Whiney throwing papers into the air, a huge smile on her face. “And these were taken about a couple of days before that, when she was studying.” She gestured toward a pic of Whitney sprawled out on a bed in a dorm room, book in one hand, pizza in the other. Though her hair was blond and longer than their Jane’s, she could’ve gotten a new do before leaving Albuquerque or soon afterward.

  Sun pressed the PRINT button on one of the more recent photos and waited for her parents’ printer to kick in before saying, “We’ll get on this, bug.”

  Her mother stood to get the printout.

  “You need to look at her phone log, too,” Auri offered. “She hasn’t checked in since getting to the ski resort, which is very unusual, but maybe they don’t have service there?”

  “Maybe not on the mountain,” Quince said, continuing to scroll. “But you know the resort will. She should’ve posted something.”

  “Right? She never goes for more than a day or two without posting.”

  “Have you seen anything we could use to identify her?” Sun asked. “A birthmark or a tattoo?”

  Auri deflated and shook her head. “No. She said somewhere that she wants a tattoo but she’s afraid of needles. Wait, what about her eye color? Whitney’s eyes are blue.”

  Quince nodded. “Our Jane’s are blue, too, but—”

  “That doesn’t prove it’s her, I know. Still…”

  Quince stopped scrolling and grinned at her, telling Sun, “If I ever go missing, boss, I want your daughter leading the investigation.”

  The blinding smile that widened across Auri’s face caused Sun’s insides to warm.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Sun said when her mother handed her the printout. She refocused on Auri. “We’re going to head back to the station if you’re okay, hon?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry you hurried back from Santa Fe because of this.”

  “No worries,” Quince said, standing. “We needed to get back anyway.”

  Her dad stood and slapped Quince on the back. “Let us know if you kids need anything.”

  Her mom was clanging dishes in the kitchen. “Dinner’s not quite ready, but I can bring you two a plate later.”

  The bashful grin that commandeered Quincy’s face had Sun fighting a giggle. “That would be amazing, Mrs. Freyr.” When would that man get over his crush on her mother?

  Sun gave Auri a hug. “No more investigating, okay? We’re on this.”

  “But, Mom, what if I have an epiphany that could break the case wide open?”

  “Then you call me and I’ll look into it.”

  She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you can take the credit for my genius?”

  “Yes,” Sun said, deadpanning her. “That is exactly why you should call me. I could not possibly do this job without your genius insights into the criminal mind.”

  “I figured as much.”

  She laughed and gave her another hug. “See you guys later,” she said to her parents.

  They waved as Sun and Quince walked to the front door.

  Sun glanced up at her bestie. “I want to get back out to Copper Canyon tomorrow.”

  “Did you see something in the photos?”

  “Maybe. I just want to make sure forensics didn’t miss anything.”

  “Like?”

  “Did you notice the necklace Whitney had on in almost every picture?”

  “The one our Jane Doe wasn’t wearing when we found her? I did. You think it’s really her?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to double check.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  * * *

  Auri had started for her room when she heard her mom and Quincy talking as they left. She had somehow missed the fact that the girl who may or may not be Lynelle’s cousin had been found at Copper Canyon. It rang a bell, but she couldn’t remember why.

  She hurried to her room and called Sybil.

  “Hey, Auri,” Sybil said, her voice almost despondent.

  “Hey, Syb. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just, I’m so sorry, Auri.”

  Auri sat at her desk and opened her laptop. “What? Why?”

  “I freaked out and my freak-out freaked you out.”

  “So, lots of freaking out.”

  “They’re infectious. Like herpes. Or Ebola. You never freak out, Auri. You’re so calm under fire, you’re like ice. You can handle anything, and then I come along and … I wish I were more like you.”

  “Sybil St. Aubin, stop that right now. You are amazing and you’ve survived a horrible situation against terrible odds. It’s natural for you to be hyperaware of your environment for at least the next thirty years.”

  “I guess. But I feel like I’m dragging you down with me.”

  “Actually, I think you’re a good influence. Maybe I’d stay out of trouble if I were more hyperaware.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Gracias.”

  “De nada. Hey, do you remember hearing something about Copper Canyon?”

  “Yes. They found that girl there this morning.”

  “Right, but I mean before that.” Auri chewed her bottom lip in thought, trying to remember. “I feel like something happened there. Something really strange.”

  “Oh! Oh, my god, yes!” She could hear Sybil tearing through paper or pages of some kind. Maybe a journal? “What was it? Wait. I’ll find it.”

  “You wrote it down?”

  “Are you kidding? I write everything down. Every word is going in my tell-all. People need to know about the crazy stuff that happens in this town.”

  “Your tell-all? Is that the super-secret project you were talking about?”

  “Oops. Yes, it is. I’m so bad at keeping secrets.”

  “No, this is cool. I had no idea you were writing a book. Wait.” The reality of how a memoir about their antics in Del Sol could go horribly wrong hit her. “You can’t publish anything until we’re, like, really old. In our thirties, maybe. Or even our forties, if we live that long. Then we can’t get into trouble for anything we allegedly did in our youth.”

  “That’s a good point. Okay. How about thirty-five-ish? That should give me a couple of years to enjoy my fame before I’m old and decrepit.”

  “That’ll work. Did you find anything?”

  “Yes. Wait a minute … Blah, blah, blah. Oh, right. Wow, Auri.”

  “Yes?” she said from her throne of pins and needles.

  “This can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Sybil,” she said, her patience waning. “What is it?”

  “It was from a conversation some kids were having at lunch. Remember? They were talking about a girl who was taken to the ER last year with head trauma and a broken arm.”

  Auri snapped. She knew she’d heard something. “I do remember. A driver found her on the side of the road leading up to the pass over Copper Canyon. Said she was really disoriented.”

  “Yes, she told the doctors she couldn’t remember what happened.”

  It was all coming back to her. “Right. I can see why you wrote that down. You didn’t happen to get her name, did you?”

  “I don’t think they ever said, and we certainly didn’t ask.”

  “Why?”

  Sybil dropped her voice to a whisper, “Because we were eavesdropping on Lynelle and her super psycho friends, trying to get dirt on her for the Del Sol Inquisitor.”

  Lynelle again. “Oh, right. We were going to start a gossip rag, but other than this story, we couldn’t find any good gossip. Makes sense why we didn’t ask.”

  “Exactly.”

  Auri’s brain raced with how best to find the girl. Sybil was right. No way was this a coincidence, but she couldn’t tell her mom just yet. She’d promised no more investigating. “Okay, thanks, Sybil.”

  “Hold on. Are you about to do what I think you’re about to do?”

  “No. Possibly. Why?”

  “Because I want in.”

  “I don’t know, Sybil.”

  “I promise not to freak out. I’m good now.”

  “Okay, tomorrow we ride.”

  “Where?”

  “No, it’s just a saying. Never mind. Tomorrow we hack into the sheriff’s database and find that girl. There has to be a report.”

  Sybil clapped into the phone, her excitement infectious.

  9

  If you sometimes look at people and think,

  “Really? That’s the sperm that won?”

  we have a whiskey sour with your name on it.

  —SIGN AT THE ROADHOUSE

  Quincy stomped into Sun’s office, his face redder than usual, his chest heaving. She’d been poring over the security footage from the hospital, trying to figure out what vehicle Wynn and his accomplice got into, but nothing was coming up. Either they’d changed into a disguise somewhere along their route, or they never left the hospital.

  “How’s Cruz?” she asked before he could vent.

  He pointed toward the locker room and said from between clenched teeth, “He took the extra shirt I had hanging outside my locker.”

  “Cruz?” she asked, teasing him. She knew full well he was referring to a certain adorable masked bandit named Randy. At the moment, the shirt interested her more.

  “What? No. Cruz is good. He’s asleep.”

  “Okay, then why was your shirt hanging outside your locker?”

  “It was drying. I swerved to avoid a squirrel this morning and had a run-in with a mocha latte. I had to change into my spare before we went to see Doug.”

  Sun shook her head and tsk-tsked her chief deputy. “Raccoons. Squirrels. Mocha lattes. Is there anything you haven’t pissed off?”

  “Whatever. Why would he take my shirt?”

  “Maybe because it tasted like a mocha latte.”

  He let out an aggravated breath. “Okay, where would he take my shirt? Where is that little shit?”

  “Well, the last time Randy and I sat down for a one-on-one—”

  “Never mind.” He started to stomp off, but Sun called out to him.

  “Sit down, Chief,” she said, adding an edge to her voice. Not a particularly sharp one, but it worked.

  Quincy walked back and took a seat across from her desk, slumping down like a kid in the principal’s office. Not that Sun would know anything about that. “What is going on with you?”

  He edged up in the chair. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been in a mood for three days. I know it can’t be about Levi stealing your cruiser.”

  “So, you admit he stole it,” he said, his face practically screaming Gotcha.

  Damn it. “No. And you’re deflecting.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “Am not.”

  She grabbed her letter opener to threaten him, but was interrupted. Probably for the best.

  “Boss?”

  They both looked over to see Poetry Rojas standing in the doorway.

  “I hate to interrupt this stimulating conversation.”

  “It’s okay.” She waved him in with the letter opener. “Why are you still here?”

  “Trying to make a good impression.”

  “Well, you are succeeding, mister.” She looked at Quincy and hooked a thumb toward Rojas, impressed.

  “Also, Tía Darlene keeps trying to set me up with the new waitress at the diner, so I’m avoiding going home.”

  “Figures. What’s up?”

  He walked in and handed her a printout. “This is how you create a heart attack.”

  She scanned the article he’d hunted down on a type of drug called digitalis. Rojas had been in prison, doing time in his twin brother’s stead after the authorities had accidentally arrested him. He knew how things worked at the big house, and anytime she needed info on the goings-on behind bars, for better or for worse, she went to him.

  “So, heart attacks can be faked.”

  “Not so much faked as induced,” he said. “According to his records, he did have a cardiac event. He had a specific enzyme in his blood that only occurs with a real heart attack.”

  She gaped up at him. “You mean he gave himself a real heart attack?”

  “I can’t say for certain, but I had a cellmate that did it once knowing he was on the Aryans’ hit list. Not to mention the precision in how the escape was coordinated, it just seems like a lot to organize at the last minute. How would he get word to his accomplice that quickly?”

  “This is crazy,” she said, now angry at Wynn Ravinder. She hated to admit a fondness for the guy, but he was actively trying to take the blame for a death Levi caused, even though it was in self-defense while saving her seventeen-year-old ass. An ass she would kill for now that she’d gotten older.

  “But how would he get his hands on this kind of medication?” Quincy asked, taking the printout she handed him.

  “Clearly, you’ve never been to prison.”

  “And neither have you,” Sun said, giving Rojas a conspiratorial wink. “On that note, however, you’re saying he could’ve gotten this drug somehow?”