"It was in the alleyway," Grant said, his expression unreadable, the hard lines of his jaw clenching any emotion back.

  "Maybe she lost it when she took out the trash," Ava countered again.

  I had to admit, she might have missed her calling as a defense attorney. She was thinking a lot more quickly and clearly on her feet than I was.

  But Grant shook his head. "The gem was found on the victim's body." He paused, his eyes going to Leah again. "We believe it was left there after the victim was dead."

  The ball of anxiety in my belly turned into a lead weight. I looked from Leah to Grant again, feeling desperation bubble up inside me. "Th-there has to be another explanation," I said, almost as much to convince myself as him. No way was Leah guilty.

  Only right now, she wasn't offering up any other explanations, and she wasn't putting up much of a fight either. Her head hung low, her eyes on the ground, her entire posture one of defeat.

  "I'm sorry," Grant said softly to me. Then he pushed past both Ava and me, and he gently took Leah by the elbow, leading her away from the table and toward his waiting car.

  Ava and I followed, trailing after the pair, even though I knew there was nothing we could do. Even if Grant wanted to let her go, he couldn't. He had a warrant. One way or another Leah was going to jail tonight.

  My heart squeezed, picturing poor Spencer's face. I prayed James did his best to shield his son from this.

  Grant carefully helped Leah into the backseat, then shut the door behind her.

  "I'll call a lawyer," Ava assured Leah through the open window. "We'll get you out on bail in no time. Don't worry."

  Grant took my elbow, leading me a step away from the vehicle to relative privacy. "Emmy, I know you're upset, but—"

  "Darn right I'm upset," I told him, some of the fight coming back to me.

  "But you need to stay out of this," he warned, sounding tired.

  "You don't get to tell me what to do," I returned.

  "I do if it's illegal."

  Good point. I tried to read his expression to see if he was thinking of any illegal acts in particular—like minor B&E at the Atherton house—but he wasn't giving anything away.

  "Look, I have to follow the evidence, Emmy," he said, his voice softening.

  "Well, you of all people should know that sometimes the evidence is wrong," I shot back.

  The soft look in his eyes shifted. "What do you mean 'of all people'?"

  "Haven't you been the focus of an investigation? Before you transferred?" I reminded him. The truth was I knew little about the incident other than what was public record—an arrest had gone wrong, a man had died, and Internal Affairs had eventually dropped it, and Grant had been reassigned from SFPD to the Sonoma Sheriff's Office.

  But clearly there was more to the story, as Grant's jaw went granite hard, his eyes flat and dark, and his voice low, deep, and holding an edge of danger to it. "That was different."

  "What? Because you're a cop?" I asked, sticking to my guns even under his hard glare.

  "No. Because the evidence was right that I killed him. I was guilty."

  That took the wind out of my sails. "Oh" was all I could think to say. "I-I'm sorry."

  He swallowed, his jaw loosening its death grip on his back teeth a little. "Don't be," he said. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. "I don't regret it."

  I wasn't sure which was more unnerving—the thought of Grant guilty of killing a man or the thought that he'd do it again. Though, as the little gold flecks peeked through the darkness in his eyes again, I wasn't sure I totally believed his macho façade. There was emotion running through them, and it didn't feel like pride. It felt a lot more like sadness.

  "Leah isn't guilty," I said softly.

  Grant sighed, his gaze going up to the sky that was just starting to hint at the first twinkling stars of the night. "I wish it was all that simple." When his eyes came back to rest on mine, they looked tired, like the emotion had been drained out of him. "This isn't my call, Emmy. The evidence was enough for a warrant. I'm just doing my job."

  "Your job sucks," I told him.

  "Yeah, some days it does," he agreed. He sighed again, reaching a hand out and gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  I froze in place, the intimate gesture catching me off guard. I hated how my traitorous body heated at his soft touch.

  "I have to go," he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

  He turned and walked back to his car, slipping into the driver's seat without a word.

  Ava stepped away from the vehicle, still reassuring Leah that everything would be okay. We watched them drive away, my cheeks tingling from his touch even as anger collected in my chest on Leah's behalf.

  "Poor Leah," Ava said as the taillights disappeared down the road.

  I nodded, feeling tears of frustration for her back up in my throat. "Grant told me to stay out of it."

  Ava snorted. "As if we take orders from him."

  I smiled. "That's what I said."

  "You know what this means, right?" she asked, turning to face me in the shadowing light.

  I wasn't sure. But I had a bad feeling as I saw the determined fire in her eyes. "What?

  "We're the only ones looking in the right direction for Heather's killer."

  I licked my lips. "You might be right."

  "I know I am!" She paused. "Which means we need to keep looking."

  I took a deep breath. "Which means we're going back to A1 Personal Storage tonight, doesn't it?"

  Ava gave me wicked grin in the evening glow. "Grab your cat burglar boots, Cagney."

  * * *

  To say I was becoming a pro at dressing the part for the crime might have been a slight overstatement, but not far off. I donned the same black skinny jeans I'd worn the night before, this time pairing them with a long-sleeved black turtleneck and, learning from my mistakes, a pair of black leather gloves. I capped it off with a small backpack in lieu of a handbag and loaned Ava a similar outfit. I tried not to take it personally that she looked much better in it than I did. If anyone could make breaking and entering look chic, it was Ava.

  By the time we were pulling up to the facility in Ava's GTO, night had fallen, and the only light came from sparse streetlamps placed at odd intervals. We parked two streets away, making the rest of the journey on foot.

  Fortunately, the parking lot of A1 was empty as we came around the perimeter of the gated complex. Unfortunately, the gate that had been welcomingly open before was now closed and securely locked.

  "Uh-oh."

  "What 'uh-oh'?" Ava asked.

  "The gate. It's locked."

  "Well how did you get in before?"

  "It was open," I said dumbly. Clearly we hadn't thought this plan out ahead of time.

  "Oh. That is an uh-oh," Ava agreed. She looked up and down the deserted street. "We could try to climb over."

  I glanced up at the six-foot-tall fence surrounding the facility, complete with spiky wires on top. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

  "Do you have better one?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

  I bit my lip. "I don't suppose you can pick that?"' I asked, gesturing to the padlock on the gate.

  Ava shook her head. "Let's face it, it was probably dumb luck I ever got one open before."

  I was afraid of that. "Okay, let's climb the fence."

  I pulled my leather gloves on and checked the surroundings for security guards. This area of town was mostly industrial buildings—small warehouses, car repair shops, and commercial buildings. At this time of night, it was a ghost town.

  However, I did spot security cameras mounted on the front office. A couple were trained on the parking lot, and one was staring us directly back in the face.

  "Maybe we should see if there's a less conspicuous spot to climb," I suggested, nodding toward the device.

  Ava followed my gaze. "Agreed."

  The moonlight was helped along by the dim streetlamps lighting our path as we walked the perimeter, looking for a better spot. At that moment, we were just two women who had a thing for black out for a late night stroll. But if anyone saw us trying to scale a fence, we'd be toast.

  Knee-high grass stuck up in tufts of unloved patches near the fence until we got to the very back of the block, where the storage facility faced a heavy machinery lot. There were no streetlamps on this block, giving the large, dormant construction equipment the look of shadowed beasts in the lot across the way.

  "This looks good," Ava said, turning on her phone's flashlight and shining it up at the fence.

  Good was the last thing it looked to me. But it was a lot better than spending the night in a jail cell like Leah was doing, so I sucked it up. "Let's do it," I said resolutely.

  Ava stuck a toe in the slats of the fence, hoisting herself up to the top with ease. I was a bit slower, but with a few false starts, I managed to follow her to the top, where she'd thrown her jacket over the wires as protection.

  Which might have done its job if my backpack hadn't caught on the jagged fence slats, making me lose my balance as I threw a leg over. I grabbed at whatever my hands could connect with to save me from falling, and sharp wire tore my gloves, digging into my hand. I said a few silent curse words as I fell the last three feet, twisting my ankle beneath me as I landed.

  "You okay?" Ava asked, standing over me.

  I nodded, biting my lip to keep from crying like a baby. "Uh-huh," I said. As I stood up, favoring my right leg, I found a tissue in my pocket to wrap around my now bleeding fingers. Putting the glove back on was much more difficult, but I managed it as I sucked up my pride and hobbled across the cracked cement after Ava.

  "Which unit is it?" Ava asked.

  "J26," I told her.

  "Where is that?"

  I looked around. The darkness coupled with our back entrance had me all turned around. I'd done a lot of zigzagging through the maze of warehouses when I'd been there before, and I had no idea what direction our target had been in.

  "I don't know," I told her honestly.

  "No matter," she said, shrugging off the minor detail. "We'll just check them all."

  "Swell," I muttered, only slightly limping as I followed her.

  We wandered the facility for what seemed like an hour before we finally found the J building, with unit 26 sitting near the far end. Like all the other units, this one held a metal rolling door that was padlocked shut on the right. My ankle throbbed as I contemplated it.

  "Now what?" Ava asked, eyes on the padlock as well.

  I really should have thought this through. Of course the facility would be locked at night. Of course the storage unit would be secure. We'd gotten into James Atherton's place on dumb luck. Cat burglars, we were not.

  I reached out to turn the padlock over, hoping maybe it was a combination style that we could guess in less than a hundred attempts. But as I touched it, the arm fell out of its slot, coming apart easily in my hand.

  "It was unlocked!" Ava hissed in the darkness.

  I shrugged. "Maybe he left in a hurry last time?" I asked. I wondered if the Man in Black had seen me earlier in the day and cut his visit short. Maybe forgetting to lock up properly?

  "Or maybe the breaking and entering gods are on our side," Ava said, winking at me.

  That, I doubted. But at the moment, I didn't care. All I cared about was getting a quick peek in the unit before anyone caught us.

  The doors rolled upward with a noisy clatter that I was positive carried into the next county. I instinctively looked around, making sure we were still alone as Ava pulled out her phone again.

  "Whoa. Look at that," she said, shining her flashlight into the unit.

  The room was about ten feet wide and several degrees colder than the air outside. Stacks of cardboard boxes filled the space, going all the way to the ceiling. It was hard to see how deep the room really was, but several shorter rows of boxes were stacked near the entrance. I walked to the nearest one, opening it to find it was filled with wine bottles.

  "There must be hundreds of them," Ava mused, her light going around the room.

  "Thousands," I decided, seeing that each box could hold 24 bottles. I could easily count ten boxes in the first row alone.

  "What kind of wine is it?" Ava asked, coming to look in the box I'd found.

  My heart actually missed a whole series of beats as I pulled out a bottle and looked at the label. A 1972 Latour that I knew retailed for well over a thousand dollars a bottle.

  "It looks old. Is it good?" Ava asked.

  "Very," I told her, quoting the price tag.

  My hand shook as I put it back and lifted the next bottle in line. This one was a 1982 Margaux. Cheaper but still four figures. I placed it back where I found it and continued inspecting the contents of the box, calling out the names of several similar bottles to Ava.

  "Whoever stored these bottles like this should be shot," I mused out loud.

  "Wow, envy much?" Ava asked, teasing me.

  I shot her a grin over my shoulder. "I just meant wines this rare should be stored properly. They should be in a temperature controlled environment." While the room was cool enough now, I hesitated to think what it would feel like at noon during a heat wave.

  I moved on to the next box, checking the bottles held there. This one was only half full, but the first bottle I lifted was a 1979 Haut Brion Bordeaux. I paused. I'd seen that name before.

  "Hang on," I said, taking my backpack off and pulling out my phone. I handed it to Ava. "Check the photos we took of Heather's inventory list."

  She did, scrolling as I held up the bottle until she found what I was looking for. A 1979 Haut Brion, a 1982 Margaux, and a 1972 Latour were all listed in her stock. It was too much to be coincidence.

  "You think this is where Heather stored her inventory?" Ava asked.

  "It has to be," I decided. I also decided that James was right about one thing—Heather knew nothing about the wine business. These bottles were in dire trouble if they weren't put into a temperature controlled room pronto.

  "Let's check the other boxes," I suggested.

  Ava opened the one closest to her. Only, unlike the two I'd opened, this one held two dozen empty bottles. Ava pulled one out, comparing the label to the list on my phone. "It's not in her inventory." She paused. "Why would she keep the empty bottle though?"

  I shrugged. "What are the rest of them?"

  Ava pulled out several more empty bottles, all with labels of older wines, some European, others local. I didn't know them all, but the ones I did felt collectible. Only the contents had apparently already been enjoyed.

  "Is there a market for old, empty bottles?" Ava suggested. "Just, like, for decorative purposes maybe?"

  "Maybe," I decided. Or maybe Heather had thought she could create one.

  "Well, I definitely think—" But Ava paused mid-thought, her body freezing in place. "What was that?" she whispered.

  Adrenaline hit my belly. "What?"

  "I heard something," she whispered again, shutting off her phone light.

  We both sat silently, listening in the dark. I was about to chalk it up to Ava's imagination, when I heard it too.

  Soft footsteps.

  Heading our way.

  "Someone's coming," Ava said urgently. "Does this place have a security guard?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know."

  "We gotta get out of here."

  We both moved at once, a bundle of unfocused limbs all aimed at getting out the warehouse door as quickly as possible. Ava grabbed my arm, practically hauling my limping self along as we ran toward the back of the facility. But we only got a few paces outside the rolling door when I realized I still had the bottle of Haut Brion in my hand.

  I stopped, practically knocking Ava over it the process. "I have to put this back," I whispered to her.

  "What?!" she whispered back. "Are you crazy?"

  "What if they notice it's missing?" I hissed back.

  "What if the security guard catches us!"

  Good point. I shoved the bottle into my backpack, vowing to return it to James at a later date.

  Ava pulled me along, both of us running as fast as we could from the storage unit and toward the shadowing safety at the back of the facility.

  My ankle was on fire as I struggled to keep up, but halfway there, I knew it was a futile effort, as it gave way altogether.

  Ava got a couple paces ahead of me before she noticed. "Whadda ya doing?" she whispered, urgency slurring her words together.

  "I can't," I confessed, pointing to my ankle.

  Ava tried to pull me to a standing position and bear my weight, but we only got a couple feet before we both realized my size eight was probably pushing more toward a ten at this point. No way could she carry me the two blocks to my car.

  "I'll pull the car around," she decided. "You wait here. Don't make a sound. I'll be right back."

  While the idea of being possibly found by the roving security guard was not one I relished, I realized she was right. It was the only way we were getting out of here. I nodded.

  "You sure you'll be okay?" she asked.

  "Go." I glanced around. "I'll hunker down behind that dumpster," I decided, spying a couple at the end of the row.

  Satisfied, she gave my hand a quick squeeze then sprinted into the darkness.

  I hobbled to the dumpster and crouched down beside it. I leaned my head back on the cool metal, closing my eyes and letting my breath even out as I listened for those footsteps again. Nothing. Luck was on my side—he seemed to be patrolling the other side of the facility now. I wondered how long it would be before he realized someone had broken into unit J26.

  A soft noise sounded to my left.

  My eyes shot open, and I listened in the dark.

  Nothing.

  "Ava?" I whispered quietly. Could she be back already?

  I struggled to a standing position, ears perked for any sign of life.

  But none came to me.

  I hobbled to the edge of the dumpster, only daring to peek out when I'd done a ten count without any other sounds than my own ragged breathing.

  Only I probably should have counted higher.