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time?”
    “Same old, same old. So, did your mystery woman commit a crime or not?”
    “She was probably illegally parked.” Mark huffed into the phone. “We arrived at the same time and I couldn’t find a parking space within five blocks.”
    James chuckled. “Maybe I’ll go with theft. She seems to have stolen your sanity. Has it occurred to you, if she wanted to see you again, she would have given you her number?”
    “I knew you weren’t going to make this easy for me,” Mark sighed. “Maybe I’ll have to start a civil suit for negligence and intentional infliction of mental distress.”
    James turned the corner and looked for his vehicle. “I have a friend who’s a private investigator. I’ll give him a call. Not worth losing my career over a girl. What are you going to do when you find her? You can’t just show up at her door.”
    Mark’s long silence told James everything he didn’t want to know.
    “Don’t do anything stupid,” James warned. “They don’t pay me enough to bail your ass out of jail.”
    “I won’t have to,” Mark said quickly. “She’s a lawyer. I can think of a dozen places I might accidentally bump into her.”
    James exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Don’t bump too hard.”
     
     
    Lana Parker, private investigator, hung her shiny new license on her wall. The frame had been an extravagance, considering she barely had enough money to fuel her beloved Jetta, much less eat, but she couldn’t resist. She had completed the private investigator course and realized her dream. She wanted everyone to know that a badass, high school dropout could turn her life around. Not that anyone would ever visit her cheap East Side apartment, but when they did, they would see the evidence of her tremendous accomplishment.
    Now, she just needed some clients.
    She picked up the stack of brochures she had printed with the last of her savings. She hated windshield flyers, but she couldn’t think of a better, or cheaper, way to advertise her services. She had already scouted out the parking lots she planned to hit in her first advertising blitz. Then, she could sit back and wait for the calls to roll in.
    She stuffed the flyers in her worn backpack and headed out the door, taking care to lock the three deadbolts. Security was essential if she intended to run her business from home. She would be dealing with highly confidential information and she had to ensure her clients’ privacy would be well protected.
    After jogging down the stairs to burn off a few extra calories, she slowed to a walk and headed up the street. Emergency vehicles lined the sidewalk and police tape cordoned off a nearby apartment building. She didn’t stop to look. Typical day in East Van. She turned the corner and spotted a gray Crown Victoria parked just ahead of her. Ghost car. So mundane it stood out like a sore thumb. She walked over and pressed her face against the window. A siren glinted on the dashboard.
    No. But her hand had already reached into her bag. “Self-destructive impulsiveness” her high school principal had called it. Her mum just thought she was cheeky.
    She pulled out a brochure and slid it under the windshield wipers. Her instructor had hinted at friction between private investigators and the police in Vancouver. She couldn’t resist letting the cops know there was a new PI in town.
    “Hey. Get away from the vehicle.”
    Lana spun around. Damn . She should have checked the street. The cop stalking toward her was no one she wanted to meet. Hard, angular face, lean tight body, severe buzz cut. She hauled ass around the corner and raced down the road. Her breath came out in short pants as she pushed her usually sedentary body into action. At least she’d had a warm up.
    After a block of torture, she glanced over her shoulder and collapsed against a wall. The cop wasn’t coming after her. She wheezed out a giggle until she realized with horror he didn’t need to.
    If he