cap of dark hair. “Eden’s not up to believing anything until she gets back from her honeymoon.”
Allie laughed. “It’s just like Eden St. Claire to celebrate catching a pair of serial killers by getting married.”
The residual tension in Simone’s spine eased. “Our friend has always prided herself on being unpredictable. Why else would she leave journalism and have accepted that new job as a police consultant in their cold case division?” Eden and Allie. Simone smiled. Sometimes she swore her life began that first day in kindergarten when they’d found each other on the playground. Sisters from the start. Simone, Eden, Allie and...
Simone squeezed her eyes shut against the unwanted image of a freckle-faced, redheaded little girl with mismatched sneakers. Chloe. Simone brushed her finger against the heart pendant at her throat.
“You have a court case today?”
Allie sighed that exhausted sigh that normally took her weeks to build up to. “I’ve been consulting on a custody battle that’s getting nasty. This poor kid. Hearing her parents fight over her and their failures as human beings is taking its toll. She’s a sad little thing. Hard to believe her name is Hope.”
“How old is she?” Simone sipped her coffee and settled into BFF mode. Whatever was lurking upstairs could wait a few more minutes.
“Nine,” Allie said after a slight hesitation. “The age when everything changes.” Simone dug her manicured fingernails into the hem of her skirt. How well they knew. After twenty years of trying to put the murder of her childhood friend Chloe Evans behind her, behind them, Chloe’s killer had resurfaced and begun bestowing special “gifts” on her, Allie and Eden. The gifts she could handle, for the most part. It was the psychopath’s attention to their professional—and personal—lives that got to her. He’d wedged himself into Eden’s case, nearly costing an FBI agent his life. It was all Simone could do not to think about what Chloe’s killer might be planning next. As much as Simone agreed Chloe Evans’s case should be readdressed, the wounds that came with it weren’t ones Simone was in any hurry to revisit.
The pastry and coffee churned in her stomach as the image of wilted violets and pink stationery came to mind. Push it aside. Focus on the case. On Mara. On what you can control.
“You sound stressed. I take it you can’t do lunch today?” Allie asked.
“Any other day, Al, I swear. My case is circling the drain and I have massive damage control ahead of me. Ah, how about dinner tonight or tomorrow?”
“I’m leaving tonight for a conference in Los Angeles. How about next week after Eden and Cole get back?”
So it wasn’t a one-on-one she needed, but a community confab? “It does for me if it does for you. Allie...” she trailed off, almost afraid to ask. “You haven’t gotten any more notes, have you? This doesn’t have anything to do with Chloe’s killer, does it?”
“There’s been nothing since Chloe’s missing shoe was mailed to the police last month. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with that. Well, not directly. Just something that’s come up I need to talk out.”
“You know what?” Simone knew how much it took for Allie to ask for help. Their stalwart “take on anything” friend was one of the most logical, stable people Simone had ever known. She was also a terrible liar. “How about a late lunch? I can probably get out of the office around two—”
“It can wait, Simone,” Allie cut her off. “Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. You have enough on your plate without adding my sudden insecurities to the mix.”
Since when did Allie feel insecure about anything? “I’m a phone call away, or a text.” Simone looked down at her phone as a second call came in—another from her boss. A headache pounded against the side of her head as if asking permission to be admitted. “Chin up, Al. The world isn’t used to seeing you frown.”
“How do you know I’m frowning?”
“Because I know you and Eden better than you know yourselves.” She hadn’t earned her mother hen reputation by accident. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah. Good luck with the boss.”
“I’m going to need it.” Simone disconnected and tested her stomach by plucking off another flaky bite of chocolaty goodness. She heaved an Allie-worthy sigh and leaned her arm on the door, rubbing her temple as she willed the caffeine to take her away.
The sharp knock on her window had her yelping. Coffee sloshed over the back of her hand, spattering the side of her white shirt, and left her seeing red. “Son of a—”
Simone leaned back and stared out at the familiar, slightly pudgy middle-aged face. “Russo?” The senior deputy who had been assigned to watch Mara stepped away as she shoved open the door. “What do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“I needed to talk to you.” He motioned her into the shadows. “Alone.”
“Well, nothing gets the attention of a single woman faster than stalking her in a parking garage.” Simone planted her hands on her hips and dipped her chin. After a calming breath, she looked at him, only then noticing he wasn’t in uniform. But he was wearing his sidearm. “Is there any news on Mara? Tell me you found her.”
“Can’t say that.” Russo’s eyes narrowed. “And I won’t be getting any updates since Ernie and I have been advised by our union rep not to discuss the investigation.”
“What investigation?” Simone crossed her arms as alarm bells clanged in her head. “It’s not your fault she’s rabbited.”
“Apparently that’s not how the higher-ups see it. Dereliction of duty was one of the phrases my boss and one of your lot from the DA’s office were throwing around. Dereliction, yeah, right.”
One of her lot? The hostility in his voice shoved her off-kilter. Russo was as easygoing as anyone she’d ever known. It was one reason she’d specifically asked for him where Mara was concerned.
“Ernie and I did everything by the book,” Russo continued. “From the time we parked in front of her apartment at six p.m. We did the routine checks, confirmed arrangements for this morning to bring her to court. She even made us a big thermos of coffee before she turned in around midnight.”
“Sounds like Mara,” Simone said. “Then what happened?”
Exhaustion crept over the deputy’s face as his anger seemed to abate. “One second we’re drinking coffee and eating oatmeal cookies, and the next, the sun’s streaming through our windshield and Mara’s gone. We didn’t even have a chance to get our bearings before we’re called into the station and put on indefinite administrative leave effective immediately.”
“You’re suggesting Mara drugged you.” There wasn’t any way to keep the disbelief out of her voice. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Show me one thing that’s made sense with this case from the get-go,” Russo said. “That's not even the weirdest part. As we started asking questions about this morning and tried to explain ourselves, our captain informs us the orders for our suspension came from a higher-up. We’re off the case.”
“And the higher-up he’s referring
