“What was that?” Somers murmured.

  “—through an open window,” Hazard amended, “and it basically endorsed any tactic, up to and including violence, all under that fucking banner phrase of ‘keep the children safe.’”

  “All right,” Brother Gary said. “You said your piece, Emery, and we heard you.”

  “This is the part, then, when you tell me to keep my nose out of your investigation. Is that right? Because let me tell you something: I got hired to keep that woman safe—”

  “Ree, nobody thinks you could have done anything—” Somers tried.

  “—and now she’s dead. So, you’d better believe I’m going to find the fucks who did this whether you like it or not.”

  “This is the part, as a matter of fact,” Red said, “where we offer you a job.”

  “And if you think you can scare me off—wait, what?”

  Somers actually closed his eyes for a moment at that point. It looked like it took him an effort to open them again.

  “We’ve gotten whacked on the nose enough times, trying to work against you or in spite of you.” Brother Gary gave a big-shouldered shrug. “Easier to work with you, I suspect. And you don’t even charge all that much, I understand.”

  “I charge an appropriate amount for a single-operator agency in a rural setting.” Hazard took a sharp breath. “If you think you can hire me and then point me wherever you want to keep me busy—”

  “Good gravy, son. How about saying yes and cooling your jets?”

  It was harder than he’d thought; he’d really wanted that fight. But he managed, “Yes. Fine.”

  “All right, then.” Brother Gary grinned with his big, yellow teeth. “We’ll get that paperwork sent over, and this’ll be nice and official. I don’t need to tell you that anything you’ve seen tonight is confidential; we’ll be keeping some of it back when we do talk to the press.”

  “Jesus, how would I ever have known that? It’s not like I spent almost twenty years as a police officer. I assume that the first step is verifying last night’s events. And we’ll need to start by speaking to Ayelet.”

  “Well, now, that might be a minute. You and the chief here can go home and get some rest. You know how they say—justice grinds slow, but it grinds fine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we’ve got a honey-do list a mile long—not the least of which is getting a decent look at that crime scene ourselves before we turn it over to the deputies for processing. And the whole thing’s on pause. So, like I said, go on, get yourself something to eat and forty winks, and we’ll call you when we’re ready to make the notification.”

  “On pause? Why?”

  “Because Big Dan went halfway through the floor in the hallway after they got the boar sedated. Took two guys to pull him out, and they just about went in after him.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Red Alvin spat and wiped his lower lip. “The sheriff’s not letting anybody in until they get an engineer to look at this place. Took about fifteen calls to find somebody; guess they’re all in bed. The one they tracked down is in Columbia, so we’re talking hours. And before you ask, I’m not leaving my crime scene and my body, not like this.”

  “God damn it. In fucking Columbia? There’s got to be someone closer they can haul out of bed.”

  Brother Gary opened his mouth, but Somers spoke first: “What about this? Why don’t Emery and I do the death notification? This is inter-agency cooperation, right? And we’ll have a talk with Ayelet and get things going on our end. Meanwhile, you two can finish up here and talk to her when you’re done.”

  Red shook his head. “The death notification is for the detectives to do. Tells you something, when you look them in the eyes and say the words. How they react, what they say. Hell, how they breathe tells you something sometimes.”

  “I already called her.” The lie escaped Hazard before he could stop it, and he could tell by Somers’s sharp look that his husband hadn’t missed it.

  “What?” Brother Gary’s preacher voice had a new timbre.

  “You called her?” Red Alvin asked.

  “She hired me to protect her mother. She’s my client. When I found her, I knew that I’d be caught up in this procedural clusterfuck, so I called her and told her.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Red Alvin shouted. “You know that’s not how this works. You’re not some fuckwit who got a license from a correspondence course; you were a fucking cop! You know why we don’t do that.”

  “But it’s done,” Hazard said with a shrug.

  Red Alvin shook his head and spun away. He marched off, swearing under his breath as he trampled the timothy growing up through cracks in the asphalt.

  Brother Gary watched them a moment longer. In that holy roller voice, he asked, “I assume we can count on you being a little more discreet, now that you’re officially employed by the sheriff’s department?”

  “You’re my client,” Hazard said. “What you say goes.”

  Brother Gary looked like he might try to pray that thought away, but all he did was nod and trudge after his partner.

  “Jesus, Ree—”

  “They were going to tie us up all day here,” Hazard said. “And if I weren’t a cop, I would have notified her; it wasn’t much of a stretch.”

  “It was a lie. To detectives. Working a murder case.”

  “We’re working this case, John. They just get to do the paperwork.”

  “Thin ice. I’ve got a professional responsibility—”

  “I know. And I know it was shitty of me to put you in this position. And I know that, by most ethical codes, it was wrong of me to lie. But it’s done, John, and we don’t have a lot of time. Can we fight about this—” He did a quick mental scan. “I think Colt has a baseball game next Thursday, and Evie will be with Cora.”

  For some reason that brought out a lopsided, reluctant smile. “We’re scheduling our fights now, huh?”

  “Or we need to have it now and be quick about it.”

  “No more lying to them, Ree. You’re a terrible liar, and I’ll know, and I’m not going to stand by and compromise myself.”

  “Yes, all right, now come on before they change their minds.”

  Grimacing, Somers nodded. “The hotel?”

  “I’ll meet you there. I want to know what really happened last night.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAY 16

  SATURDAY

  7:42 AM

  SOMERS KNOCKED ON THE hotel door. At this hour, on a Saturday, most of the Acadia was silent, the whole place smelling of Murphy oil and lavender carpet powder. A few early birds puttered about. A cute older couple passed them while they waited at Ayelet’s door; they wore clothes that looked formal to Somers but must have been daily wear to them, him with a natty blazer and loafers, her in a dress and pashmina. And after Somers knocked again, a herd of kids stampeded past, all of them cute, tubby little gingers screaming toward the elevators. Maybe everybody else would be awake sooner than they’d thought.

  On his third knock, Ayelet answered the door. Somers had seen her at Loretta’s talk, and it only took him a moment to recognize her under the patina of a rough night: eyes baggy, hair flat and lusterless, the whiff of alcohol and body odor. She wore a racerback sports bra and yoga pants. Her toenails were painted the same blue as the eyeshadow he’d seen her wear the night before.

  “Ms. Ames? I’m Chief Somerset with the Wahredua police. I think you know Mr. Hazard. May we come in?”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Her voice was rough. Hardscrabble. She started to cry, and she pressed fingertips to her eyes as she added thickly, “I knew it.”

  “Please, Ms. Ames, it would be better if we could come inside.”

  She nodded, stumbling back, and they followed her into the room: crisp linens, dark wood, a wall of windows looking out on a river the color of brick. Above, hung like a tin-plate ornament, the sky was pitilessly blue and bright.

  Ayelet dropped into a chair near the window; Somers remained standing, hands clasped in front of him, posture relaxed but respectful. All the things his brain and body knew to do, an experienced hand on the dials, so ingrained that he rarely even thought about the fine tuning.

  “Ms. Ames, I’m sorry to tell you that your mother, Loretta, was killed early this morning. She was identified by Mr. Hazard, who found her in a real estate development outside of town. Her death was clearly a homicide; we don’t know much, but it appears that she was stabbed multiple times by her assailant. At this point, we are still investigating to find whoever did this. At the moment, your mother is in the custody of the medical examiner. Sometime later today or tomorrow, we’ll need you to make an official identification.” Somers waited the right length and added quietly, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  A shudder ran through Ayelet, and she sank down in the chair, pressing her hands over her eyes. Then she began to sob. Hazard watched her, his head cocked, his scarecrow eyes the fierce, implacable fire of a winter sunset. Somers gave her a moment. Then he moved into the bathroom, found tissues, and brought them back. She clutched them in her hand when he pressed them on her, but she made no move to use them.

  In reality, it wasn’t long—a couple of minutes, maybe five at the outside. It felt like so much longer. She pulled herself back together; it was like watching someone scrape up their scrap-metal armor. She wiped her eyes. When she coughed and cleared her throat, she pressed a wad of tissues to her face and shook her head.

  Then she lowered them and, voice craggy, said, “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize. Please take all the time you need.”

  She nodded and plucked a few more tissues from the box. She held them against her eyes. Then she sat up straight, lowering the tissues to her side, and said, “You’re sure? That it’s her, I mean. You’re absolutely sure?”

  Hazard nodded. After a beat, he added, “I met your mother, remember? There’s no doubt.”

  “But what happened? You said she was—” Her voice constricted until it cut off.

  “She was stabbed,” Somers said.

  “I know. I know! But how? That’s what I don’t understand. How could this happen?”

  “Well, we’d like to talk to you about that. About last night, and about your mother. I understand that you’ve already had a conversation with Mr. Hazard about who might have wanted to hurt your mother—”

  “These psychos! They hate her! They hate what she stands for!” She waved the tissues. “That’s what I told him, and he didn’t listen to me. I told him someone followed us here. I told him someone was trying to kill her. And he didn’t believe me, and now she’s dead!” Her voice rose into a scream for the final words, and the echo hung in the air.

  Scarlet slashed Hazard’s cheeks.

  “What happened to your mother last night couldn’t have been prevented without an armed bodyguard, Ms. Ames,” Somers said in a low, even voice. “It’s important for you to understand that. Someone lured her to a specific destination with the intent of doing her harm. In that kind of situation, there’s very little anyone else can do.”

  Ayelet sniffled, her face turned toward the windows. The morning light carved an oval across the side of her face, and her jaw quivered before she could set it again.

  “Ms. Ames, I know this is a difficult time for you, but in a murder investigation, it’s important to move as quickly as possible. I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to think as clearly and carefully as you can.”

  She gave a stiff nod, still looking out on the muddy waters.

  “What happened last night?”

  “I told him.” She gestured listlessly to Hazard. “My mother got an email about a book burning. We fought—”

  “Fought about what?”

  “About her going. She always had to be the hero. I told her she was going to get herself killed.” Ayelet swallowed. “I was right.”

  “And did your mother leave?”

  “No. I left. I went downstairs to the bar and had a few drinks. I—I decided I wanted some company. I have an app, and there was someone in the hotel. We messaged a few times, and she agreed to meet.”

  “Do you have her name?”

  “She said it was Sylvia.”

  “And do you still have her profile on your phone?”

  Ayelet stood, the movements drawstring-jerky, and fumbled through the clutter on the desk. She produced a phone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it over. Somers hadn’t actually spent much time on dating apps—they hadn’t existed when he’d been sowing his wild oats, although God only knew how things might have turned out if they had. Still, he was familiar with the premise, and it only took him a moment to see the important details: username, belljar2000, a blank drawing of a face where her picture should have been, and then a list of interests—anime and manga, a few specific titles that Somers jotted down to ask a friend, North McKinney, about; hunting; camping; drawing. In other words, nothing that didn’t apply to about fifty percent of the female population in this part of the world.

  “Do you mind?” Somers asked.

  Ayelet’s face was confused, but she shook her head. Somers took a screenshot of the profile and sent it to himself. He looked for their message history and found it blank.

  “Did you delete these?”

  “It’s set to self-destruct.” She must have seen the confusion on his face because she clarified, “Every message disappears thirty seconds after you’ve read it.”

  “Convenient,” Hazard said.

  “It’s a privacy setting.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  Somers tapped out a short message: Need to talk. It’s an emergency. Call me. Then he put in his own phone number and pressed send.

  “She’s not going to call you,” Ayelet said, accepting the phone back. “She’s just going to think I’m crazy or a stalker or super clingy.”

  “What did she look like?” Somers asked.

  “She’s a little shorter than me. She had dark hair, a blue sweatshirt, jeans, and boots. She said she liked camping and the outdoors and all that.”

  “Long hair? Short? Straight? Curly?”

  “I don’t know. Straight, I think. But she had it up under a ball cap.”

  “Anything distinguishing on the hat?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like sports.”

  “What about the sweatshirt?”

  She shrugged. “It was for a college, maybe?” She phrased it as a question. “I honestly don’t remember. It was blue.”

  “You remember that,” Hazard said.

  “Yes, actually. Because she looked, you know, butch. Like she didn’t care that the blue of the sweatshirt didn’t really go with her jeans.”

  “Fantastic. That’s how they caught the Zodiac Killer too.”

  Somers held up a hand. “And what happened?”

  “We had a drink, we talked a little, I wanted to kiss her, so I did. She went to the bathroom and never came back.”

  “Did she say anything in that conversation that might help us find her?”

  “I don’t understand why she matters. It was a drink and a kiss and then she bailed.”

  “She matters because she’s part of last night,” Hazard said. “And our job is to nail down every detail.”

  Ayelet stood. She began to pace. Her foot struck a wastebasket, and glass clinked inside—a bottle of Absolut, and a few smaller bottles of Schweppes soda water. Ayelet didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t know. She said she was visiting. She was in town for—I don’t even know if she said.”

  Somers frowned. “You don’t remember anything else?”

  She shook her head.

  “At what point did you go up to your room?”

  “I don’t know. After midnight, I guess. Around then. I think the bar closes at midnight.”

  “And where was your mother?”

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t in her room if that’s what you’re asking.” She gestured to the connecting door. “We left that unlocked, and I checked.”

  “What then?”

  “I don’t know.” Then her voice gained strength. “I called her. She didn’t answer, so I decided to wait up for her. I sat in that chair, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, she still wasn’t in her room, so I called her again. She didn’t answer. That’s when I called him.” She waved a hand at Hazard.

  “But you had a few more drinks after you came up,” Hazard said, looking at the wastebasket. “Maybe more than a few.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “How much had you had to drink when you came up to the room?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m trying to figure out if you were even conscious at that point. This story is so full of holes that you might as well have been blacking out.”

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t know my mom was going to be murdered!”

  “You knew she was in danger, and you went and got blasted anyway.”

  “Ree, cut it out.” Somers held a hand to forestall whatever Ayelet wanted to say. “Ms. Ames, I’d like to see your call history. And the email you mentioned.”

  She tapped through several screens on her phone and passed it back to him. Two calls to MOMMA were logged: one at 12:47am, and the other at 2:58am. Somers took a screenshot of the history and sent that to himself as well. Just to be safe, he tapped one of the calls and recorded the number of the outgoing call—it was easy enough to change the name of a contact.

  “I don’t have the email,” Ayelet said, taking the phone back. “My mom got it.”

  “Do you have emergency access to anything? Her phone? Her email?”

  “Uh, no.”

  Somers put his hands on his hips and looked at her.