Drake snorts. “I’ve had Brody and Trent both drop by his apartment today. Brody asked some questions and it turns out Nick hasn’t been home in four days at least. According to his neighbors, he’s gone to see his folks in Arkansas for a few days. They know to call us if or when he gets home.”

“What about his parents? Can’t we call and see if he’s there?”

“Did Grecia call your new tech guy?”

“First thing this morning.”

“Wanna pay him overtime and charge it to the mayor?”

I cut my eyes to him. “Am I allowed to do that? The contract said necessary extras, but this doesn’t seem like it should be something necessary.”

“It’s not necessary to verify with a potential suspect’s parents’ if he’s where he claims—in their house?” Drake smiles slyly. “Sounds pretty necessary to me.”

“Oh, you are a bad influence, Detective Nash. I should tell the sheriff about your law-breakin’.”

“I seem to remember him giving you permission to do what you need to for information as long as he doesn’t know about it. I reckon he doesn’t need to know about this.”

Argh. “Okay. Detour to my office.”

He does, and by the time we reach the empty building, I’ve already texted Grecia and had her ask Carlton to come in to see me. He arrives moments after Drake and I do, when Drake is unsurprisingly raiding my coffee stash in the kitchen.

Carlton pushes his dirty-blond hair out of his eyes. “What’s up?”

“First, I’m sorry for dragging you here on a Sunday.”

“No worries. You said flexible, and I was doing nothing except screwing around on the computer.”

Speaking of computers… “Did you bring yours? Computer, I mean. My old guy had two laptops he’d bring in, and I’d like a chance to have Dean show you our system on the desktop in his office tomorrow.”

“Sure. It’s right here.” He pulls the newest Mac computer out of his messenger bag.

“Perfect.” I swallow and give Drake a grateful smile when he brings me a coffee. “Do you need a drink or anything before I get started?”

“No worries. I’m cool.”

“Great. So…” I give him the need-to-know facts about Natalie’s case. “This is a copy of the stalker case she opened with me before she died. It includes the details of her ex-boyfriend, the guy she thought was her stalker. I can’t get ahold of him, and neither can the police, but we’ve managed to work out that he’s at his parents’ place in Arkansas.”

“But you don’t have their details and you want me to find them,” he surmises correctly.

“Can you?”

“It might not be legal.” He cuts his eyes to Drake.

He promptly leaves the room.

I look down, smiling, before returning my gaze to Carlton. “Doesn’t matter. I do things my way in this building. My unofficial business tagline is ‘what the Holly Woods PD don’t know won’t hurt ’em.’ So, Carlton, can you do it?”

“What do you need?”

“Phone numbers. That’s it.”

“You got it.” He opens the computer, slinking down in his chair until his face is completely obscured by the screen.

“I’m just gonna…” I say awkwardly, sliding my chair back and picking my mug up, “leave you to it.”

He doesn’t acknowledge me, his fingers moving across his keyboard at a lightning speed.

Anyone who can type that fast cannot be trustworthy.

I join Drake in the spare meeting room adjacent to the one Carlton is proving his worth in. Perhaps a dining room before, it contains only a two-seater sofa, a couple of armchairs, and a small coffee table as well as a picture of the Austin skyline at night, as seen from the Hyatt hotel. Drake is standing by the window, his arms folded, the sun casting a shadow across the back of him.

I pause by the door, bringing the rim of my mug to my mouth but not drinking. That white shirt—that fucking white shirt. He must have a whole store’s worth of the damn things in his closet. It hugs every inch of his body, and the navy-blue jeans he’s wearing fit way too perfectly to be legal in any of the fifty states.

“He doing it?” he asks, cutting through my moment. He looks over his shoulder at me.

“He said so.” I shrug and put my cup on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the sofa. My elbows rest on my knees, and my fingers brush as my hands fall limply in front of me. “I hope so,” I add. “Because, if not, I don’t know how we’re supposed to move forward unless we get the FBI to hunt him down.”

Drake laughs quietly, leaving the window and joining me on the sofa. “That’s a little drastic at this point in the investigation, cupcake.”

“I know.” I sigh when the sofa cushion dips with his added weight. “It doesn’t matter though, does it? The chance of it being as simple as Nick being her killer is completely outrageous.”

“You’ve watched too much TV.”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh softly. I knock my elbow against his. “No, I’ve seen too many investigations where the people figuring it out have gone around and around more times than an expertly twisted spinning top on a tile floor.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “We’ll figure this out. You’re the only woman on this team.”

“No pressure, then,” I drawl. “I don’t know. Lena’s investigation consumed me for weeks. I can already feel myself obsessing over Natalie’s murder. Like, I’m seriously pissed off that this little bastard Nick has disappeared off the face of the Earth and that I can’t grill the shit outta the mayor and his daughter until someone has found Nick. But then I want to scour through the club’s membership files myself and retrace her steps from the time when my brother left her house to when she was killed. I want to do it all. Isn’t that crazy?”

“No,” he says simply. “You’re an investigator, as much as it’s a pain in my fuckin’ ass.”

I elbow him again.

“You wanna know everything and you wanna know it now. You’re like a damn toddler with candy.”

“Or a grown woman with cupcakes.”

“I’ll refer you back to my toddler comment.”

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and knock his arm from my shoulders. “Prick.”

“Pain in the ass.”

“You already used that.”

“I know.”

“Y’all fightin’ already?” Bek appears in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I look at her.

“Needed some files for that Jenner-Miller case. Caught Brody on his way back from McDonalds.” She grins. “He had half the restaurant in his passenger’s seat.”

“I’m really not surprised,” I snort.

“Uh…” Carlton appears behind Bek. “Sorry. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, you’re not. Bek, this is Carlton, our new tech guy. Carlton, this is Rebekah, my best friend and another investigator.”

They shake hands and murmur pleasantries.

“Did you find it?”

“The number? Yeah. And their address, all of their jobs, and the last used locations of Nick’s credit card.”

Drake gets up and holds his hands out for the papers. Carlton hands them over, and I get the feeling he’s a little intimidated by Drake. There’s no shame in that. I would be, too, if I didn’t have a freaky hate-sex relationship with the man.

Drake’s lips curve to the side, and he drops the papers on my legs. “Arkansas my fuckin’ ass.”

I frown and turn the sheet the right way up. My eyes fall to the credit card records from the last twenty-four hours, including transactions pending. It was last used in the sandwich shop next to the tattoo studio I thought closed four years ago. It’s just outside town, and he apparently works there.

“Can you get the appointment list for there? For today?” I add, noting the opening times.

“I can try.” Carlton disappears again. Two minutes later, he comes back with his computer in tow. “They don’t use anything online. You have to call them.”

“Okay.” Drake looks between me and Bek. “Bek, I need you to go down there and see if they have anything for tomorrow with Nick. If they say yes, book something. If not, ask to see the appointment list for the rest of the week. Get a name of a woman scheduled tomorrow and we’ll do the rest, all right?”