I took in the room, then swallowed, hoping to get rid of the lump in my throat. One end of the kitchen, beyond the breakfast nook where a bay window offered a view to the backyard, was a second cozy living area with fireplace. This arrangement was unbelievably similar to the house we grew up in River Oaks. How I had loved that kitchen.

Kate glanced at me and smiled. “Isn’t déjà vu wonderful?”

More love at first sight, I thought. “Maybe, but knowing you, you’ll look at about a dozen other places before you decide.”

“If the upstairs and the bathrooms pass muster, I doubt it.” She took Clint’s hand and they went off to explore the rest of the house.

What had happened to her? The new Kate would take some getting used to.

While Kate and Emma went to Emma’s office to draw up a contract-she was absolutely crazy about the house-Clint left to pick up his son, and I went home. I’d already started separate files for each case-one for Billings, one for Christine and one for the two babies-hoping that organizing them this way would give me better clarity. I planned to work on them, but there was a message on my phone, which Diva pointed out with loud meows and much pacing on the counter. It was Jeff.

“Didn’t want to call you on your cell and disturb you if you’re working your case, but I’m home now. When you get a chance, give me a call.”

Didn’t want to disturb me? When I got a chance? Had everyone I loved gone nuts?

Speed dial is the best thing ever invented, and he answered on the first ring.

“I’m home, so get your butt over here,” I said. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Can you come here instead?”

“Sure, but-”

“Is Kate there?”

“No. Why?”

“I prefer if no one knows I’m back yet.”

“Okay, sure.” This was strange.

“And Abby, do something for me first. After we talked about the Billings murder with Don White and you were feeling all guilty about leading the killer to Billings, I got to thinking. My five-hour flight offered plenty of time for thinking. You need to check your car for a GPS tracking device.”

“You mean the thingie I never use? You’ve seen it. It’s right on the dash-”

“No. I mean someone may have put a monitoring device on your car.”

“You think?” I’d never even considered the possibility.

“Get a mirror and look under your bumpers. If it’s there, the device might be hard to find, could be smaller than a deck of cards.”

“I’m on it. And then I will see you very soon.” I hung up and realized that my heart was beating ninety to nothing. There was no doubt I had a grade-A-pasteurized passion for that man.

The cool fall air had remained, and I ran upstairs and changed into low-rider jeans and a new scoop-neck sweater that Jeff hadn’t seen yet. I considered wetting my hair and restyling it, but didn’t want to waste the time. I grabbed my makeup mirror, the kind that magnifies on one side, and also took an old beach towel outside to lie on.

Turned out the magnifying side only made all things dirty under my bumpers blend together. Using the regular side, I began my search again, going too quickly at first, impatient to get to Jeff’s place.

I stopped and took a deep breath. “Slow down and do this right, Abby.”

I hit pay dirt on the back bumper, driver’s side. I found a small black rectangular case amid the filth. I pulled it free and slid from beneath the car. “Damn,” I whispered.

How do you shut this thing down? I wondered. I turned it over and saw there was a battery case, opened it and dumped out the double-As. I gathered everything up, used the baby wipes I keep in my car to clean my hands and took off to see Jeff, thinking, follow me now, whoever you are.

With Saturday shoppers out in force, getting to Jeff’s apartment took more than thirty minutes. I kept a watchful eye for a tail, but no one seemed to have followed me into his complex. I even parked by the manager’s building for five minutes and waited for anyone else to drive in. Nobody did.

Jeff’s car was parked in the first spot near the sidewalk leading to his building, and again my heart sped up. I hurried to his door and knocked my special knock.

When he opened the door we were in each other’s arms at once. Our kiss was getting better by the second when a woman’s voice interrupted us.

“Jeffy? You got a girlfriend, Jeffy?”

I pulled away and peered around his shoulder. A short, chunky woman wearing blue sweats stood in the center of Jeffs mostly barren living room.

I blinked, not quite believing what I was seeing. No mistaking: This woman had Down syndrome.

“This is Abby,” Jeff said. “She is my girlfriend.”

With Jeff’s arm around me, we came in and he kicked the door shut.

“I’m Doris.” The woman grinned, opened her arms and ran to us, capturing us both in a bear hug.

“Really nice to meet you, Doris,” I said after she let us go.

“Jeffy took me on the airplane. I want to do it again.”

“Not for a while.” Jeff looked down at me. “Doris is my sister.”

“I-I… Wow,” I said. “You have a very cool brother, Doris.”

“Cool?” She picked up his hand and pressed his palm against her chubby cheek. “I don’t think so, Abby. Jeffy feels warm.”

I smiled. “Sorry. You’re right. He is warm, and I’ve missed him a lot since he was in Seattle with you.”

“Linda lives in Seattle. But she went away and Jeffy came. He says Linda’s not coming back, that she’s visiting God.”

“Linda took good care of Doris.” Jeff’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Was Linda related to you two?” I asked.

“Not by blood,” Jeff said. “But she loved you, didn’t she, Doris?”

Doris averted her narrow eyes. “Can I have a Coke?” “Sure.” Jeff walked toward the kitchenette, Doris on his heels.

I followed, wondering why in hell Jeff had kept this from me. But the more I thought, the more I understood. He had a mentally retarded sister twenty-five hundred miles away from Houston-and not once since I’d known him had he visited her. He was a workaholic homicide investigator who’d put his family on the back burner. Talking about Doris to me or anyone else would not come easily to him. In fact, it would probably be harder for him than staring down at a corpse covered in blood.

“This isn’t the red can, Jeffy.” Doris was holding a Diet Coke and pouting.

Jeff said, “I know, but-”

“I want the red can. Linda always gave me the red can.” Doris’s happy demeanor had vanished, and I got the feeling I was about to witness the kind of tantrum that produced the wail I overheard on the phone the other night.

I stepped toward Doris. “This is my favorite kind of Coke. Texas Coke.”

Doris looked at me, frowning, then glanced at the can. “They had red Coke on the airplane.”

“But the airplane isn’t part of Texas,” I said. “This is what I drink all the time.”

“Your girlfriend drinks Texas Coke, Jeffy. And so do I.” She held out the can to Jeff. “Help me?”

After he popped the top, she reclaimed the soda and took a long drink. “Texas tastes kinda good.”

I smiled, and Jeff looked plain relieved. No way was he equipped to deal with this situation if a soft-drink issue made him this tense.

Doris, meanwhile, had something else in mind, because she walked by us, her Texas Coke in hand, headed for the TV. That was when I noticed the stack of DVDs-it looked like all Disney titles. She sat cross-legged on the floor, set her can beside her and started rummaging through the titles.

I said, “Does she need help with-”

“She can work the DVD player and remote like an expert. In a minute, she’ll be so into her cartoons we can talk.”

Jeff was right. Shortly after The Little Mermaid started, Doris seemed transfixed.

Jeff and I sat at the card table in his small dining area. I vowed not to say what he expected, like, Why the hell didn’t you tell me about Doris? But before I could come up with an adequate response to learning something new and very unexpected, he spoke first.