“I think I know where to start.”

Something lit up in her eyes for the first time in days. It was the first sign of emotion I’d seen, beyond just complete sadness consuming her. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I think it’s time I interview you,” I suggested.

I saw the way her eyes widened, and she started to pull her limbs in, closing herself off from me without even realizing. The signs were all there.

“I already told you, I don’t remember,” she said softly.

I could see I was losing her. She was shrinking into herself. I slid out of the armchair onto the floor, only a foot from her, on her level.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was our only lead to start with,” I said.

“But we have this,” she said, motioning to the papers around her.

“We need more,” I sighed. “The first lesson I teach trainees is that you can’t look at things so narrow minded. You have to look at all the facts.”

“I can’t-” she started.

“I promise, I will not let anything hurt you,” I said. “We need this.”

We, because we were a team. As much as I hated to admit it, Len had become my partner in a matter of weeks. I swore I’d never work with someone again, let alone work in the field. Somehow, Len was slowly repairing the bullet-sized hole inside me.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

A simple question, but there was more to it. I could see her unraveling the layers of my question, her lips pulling in how they did whenever she concentrated.

“I do,” she whispered.

* * *

“What do you have for me, Mags?” I asked, answering the phone.

“Sorry it took so long, but I have the information about the bar you asked about.”

“No worries. I appreciate you helping with this. I know you have a lot on your plate otherwise.”

I could almost feel her smiling through the phone.

“It has minimal employees, fewer than twenty. It’s owned by Bobby Evans, has been for fifteen years. I’m emailing you a list of the employees and more information about them all, including any records,” she said.

“Thank you, Mags,” I said.

“And Stone?” she added.

“Yes?”

“I also had a chance to look at that footage you sent.”

My heart raced. I hadn’t expected her to have news on that yet. “Were you able to make out the keychain?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve sent you blown up screenshot that’s been clarified too. It’s a tag, a label for keys.”

I pulled open my laptop as I paced back-and-forth in the dining room. Len was still upstairs, getting ready for the day. She’d finally accepted the inevitable fact that I had to interview her after I asked her only two days prior.