“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and starts to leave, then turns back.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her nervous. My curiosity kicks into high gear.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she blurts out, then bolts for the door. She’s gone before my brain can restart to stop her.

I lean against the door frame, a dumb-ass smile on my face, and that’s how Dad finds me.

He glances from me to the door, then back again. “No. Absolutely not. She’s a client.”

“Isn’t she more of an employee?”

“In my office.”

I follow him down the hall, feeling like that time I was sixteen and I accidentally backed his truck into a pole.

He closes the door after me. “Sit down. You and I need to get something straight.” He waits for me to take a seat. “I thought it was fairly obvious, but after what happened last summer between you and Savannah, I feel like I need to set some boundaries here.”

Shit. He knows about Savannah and me.

“I remember what it’s like to be your age.” This is going to be one of his long talks, when I’m expected to sit here and listen without comment, then totally change my behavior forever. “Pretty girls turned my head too, but you have to have some common sense. This is a place of business, not a pickup joint. I didn’t say anything about you and Savannah, figuring it would work itself out one way or the other. But it hasn’t. I regret not putting a stop to that. And now you’re looking at Cora that same way and I won’t have it. That girl’s been through enough.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished. I’m serious here, Leo. Leave her be. You have no idea what she’s been through. Her family—”

“You investigated her?”

“We investigate all of our clients. You should know that. We have to be sure they are who they say they are and that they’re hiring us for the reasons they give us. We don’t want to inadvertently help an abuser find their victim or help them break the law.”

I should know that, but I didn’t. “What did you find out about her?”

“All you need to know is that we’re working on a very real case. Cora is who she says she is and the circumstances are exactly as she described them.”

I expected that. “Yeah, but what did you mean that she’s been through enough? Don’t you think I should know what you know if I’m going to work with her?”

He considers this, staring at me for a beat, then two, before he speaks. “During the trial her parents separated, then divorced shortly after that. At sixteen, Cora fought to become an emancipated minor and won. She got a job, moved out on her own, and has been living as an adult ever since. She tested out of high school two years before graduation. She’s been completely on her own for more than five years. She’s not…How can I put this? She’s not the kind of person who screws around. She’s serious. Her brother’s case has been her life. Every job, every community college course she’s taken, has been in relation to what she can do to help her brother.

“I’m telling you this so that you can understand where she’s coming from and take it into consideration. I need you one hundred percent on the job and not trying to get into her pants. She needs you one hundred percent. This isn’t a hobby to her, a way to kill a summer. This is her life. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Yeah, that you think all I want to do is sleep with her. Thanks, Dad.”

“I see the way you look at her. And I know she’s the only reason you volunteered to help with her brother’s case.”

“Yesterday, yeah. But today? Today I want to be the one who helps her find a way to free her brother.”

“That’s not all you want.”

“No, it’s not, but it’s what I mostly want.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you mostly want to help her free her brother if it’s not to eventually sleep with her?”

The way Cora looked when she practically stormed into Dad’s office and demanded our help, the way she stroked Cassandra’s photo, the way she talked about her brother, and her box full of papers that’s been her life fill my head until I can’t think of anything else. She deserves—more than anyone else I’ve ever met—to get what she wants. She’s worked damn hard for it. I respect the hell out of her. I genuinely like her. All of these things roll around in my brain, but looking at my dad, I can’t seem to form any of the words to tell him exactly what I’m thinking.

All that comes out is a pathetic “She needs me to.”

Surprise flashes across his face first, followed by the barest trace of a smile that he somehow manages to make look stern. “Okay, then.”

“Okay.” I stand to leave, but Dad’s not done.

“Fix things with Savannah.”

“I already did.” Mostly. As best as I could for the moment.

“Then I guess I’ll see you at home later.”

“See ya.”

I head out to my car and climb in. The summer sun turned the interior into an oven, but I’m not really feeling it. I’m still back in the conference room doorway at the moment that Cora told me she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Her words loop over and around like a roller coaster, making my stomach whoosh, and I can’t help the stupid grin that splits my face. Because maybe, just maybe, Cora might like me too, or at the very least she’s beginning to. I rub the back of my hand across my mouth, but I can’t wipe away the smile or the hope.

Chapter 7 Cora

No.

That’s it. That’s Beau’s one-word response to me asking him if he’ll meet with Leo. I check the envelope again, hoping there’s more, but there isn’t. Why is he being so damn stubborn? I laid everything out for him on my last visit—how Mr. Nash helped to free Maurice Battle, how we’re looking for the missing downstairs neighbor, and how Mr. Nash was able to make an appointment to see Damien LeFeaux, the man who claimed to have seen Beau leaving Cassandra’s apartment at the time of her murder. That in itself was a seemingly insurmountable feat, but Mr. Nash pulled it off. I came real close to hugging him for it. Beau was supposed to think it over and get back to me. He got back to me, all right.

There’s no guarantee that LeFeaux will talk. He doesn’t have any incentive to cooperate with us. As Mr. Nash explained it, LeFeaux has a strong motive not to talk and avoid perjury charges. His visit could be a total waste of time. Or it could be the break we need.

It’s been nearly three weeks since I started working with Leo and his dad. Most of what we’ve done is going over old ground and trying to line up witness interviews. So far, the only person willing to talk to us is one of Cassandra’s old coworkers who now manages the store where she worked. That’s on today’s agenda and I can hardly contain my excitement. So much so that I arrive at the agency before it opens.

I park myself on the stairs and thumb through my emails. Nothing new and exciting. Pulling out my notebook, I start a letter to Beau. I’m going to be relentless in my campaign to get him to talk to Leo. I hate to say it, but Leo was right. Beau will never talk to me about Cassandra, and he might not talk to Leo either, but we have to try. Who knows what goes through Beau’s stubborn head. If it was me I’d do everything possible to get myself free. But not Beau. He’d rather sit in prison and rot like some kind of martyr.

Savannah comes up the steps. I was so engrossed in my letter that I didn’t hear her pull up. We’ve developed an uneasy kind of peace between us. She’s still pissed as hell at Leo, but she doesn’t take it out on me. Much.

I stand and wait for her to unlock the door. She doesn’t hold the door open for me. Okay. So today I’m invisible. That I can live with. It’s better than biting back smart-assed comebacks to her snide remarks. She flips on all the lights and goes to the little kitchenette to start coffee. Mr. Nash really likes his coffee.