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investigators handle this one—until today.
    Until she’d met Mark Wolfe.
    She pulled into the pitted parking lot and slid into an empty spot beside his burgundy sedan. The rental car, the suit, the laptop. He was a fellow law enforcement officer, but in terms of lifestyle, they were worlds apart.
    “You should put some ice on that welt,” he told her.
    His eyes were almost black in the dimness, and the lights of the motel made the angles of his face stand out. A day’s worth of stubble darkened his jaw, and she thought he looked tired. He didn’t look old, though, as he’d hinted back at the bar. He looked experienced. Confident. Smart. It was a combination she found attractive, even though the confidence bordered on arrogance.
    He reached for the door handle. “Don’t beat yourself up about today.”
    She scoffed.
    “You did fine.”
    “It’s embarrassing. I walked right in on it, didn’t even realize it was happening.” She looked at him. “What was your tip-off?”
    “Saw the car running out front.”
    She’d heard the rest. He’d parked in back and quietly slipped in the door Sal had left unlocked after his smoke break.
    “Bet you realized it before you think,” he said.
    “What, you mean when he pointed the gun at me? Snaps for me.”
    “You knew it before that. Think, Allison.”
    It was the first time he’d used her name. She turned away and gazed out the window at the parking lot. She visualized the scene again.
    “I guess, yeah,” she said, “I knew something was up.”
    “Something felt off in the store.”
    “It was Sal. He had this look on his face. Tight.” She glanced at him. “And then when he saw me, suddenly it was pure relief.”
    “You’re a regular there. He knew you’d be armed.”
    “And then there was the guy . . . I don’t know. Even from the back, I could tell he was a tweeker. His movements, his hygiene, everything.”
    “All those silent cues you pick up on without even noticing. Your mind pulls them together and sends you a warning.”
    Holdup. She remembered thinking it even before she saw the gun. Maybe she wasn’t as oblivious as she thought.
    She looked at Mark again and tried to read his expression. His tall, athletic build filled up her passenger seat. Her gaze settled on his long-fingered hands. No ring, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about that. She could tell she made him uneasy, which was okay. She liked to keep men off balance.
    He pushed open the door and got out. “Thanks for the beer.”
    “Thanks for saving my life.” She said it as though it was nothing, but they both knew she was serious.
    He leaned a forearm on the door and ducked down to peer inside the pickup. “Get your lieutenant to listen to you about Stephanie Snow.”
    “It’s not my case.”
    He just looked at her. Something in his expression put the responsibility on her shoulders.
    “It belongs to Jonah Macon,” she said. “He’s a good cop.”
    “Then, how come you’re here and he’s not?”
    She couldn’t answer that without being disloyal to her squad. Mark Wolfe was the outsider, and Jonah really did care. But he liked the suspect they’d already developed.
    “Read the ME’s report,” he said. “Reynolds wouldn’t let me see it, but maybe you’ll have better luck.” He looked at her gravely. “And do it soon. November nineteenth isn’t far away.”
    He started to slam the door, but she leaned across the seat. “Wait.” She looked up at him in the bluish light of the motel sign. It panicked her a bit for him to throw all this information at her and then leave. “What am I looking for?”
    “You’ll know it when you see it,” he said. “Pay attention to the hair.”
    Allison kicked off her morning with a domestic and a purse snatching. By ten a.m. she had two men in custody and a caffeine headache, not to mention a boatload of reports to write.
    She spotted Jonah in the bullpen.
    “Glad I caught you,” she said, cornering him at his desk, where he