“Only if he believes we know her location, and why would he think that when we’ve lost her every damn time we’ve spotted her?”

I didn’t think he’d be that careless after his close shave at the warehouse. He’d have known the information about his location could only have come from Frederick. Still, even if Amanda wasn’t at the apartment, we could search it. While it was likely Rinaldo already had any information she’d gathered, it was also possible he hadn’t had the opportunity to collect whatever she’d gotten from Janice more recently.

If she’d gotten anything and wasn’t just covering her tracks.

Jackson found a parking spot on Bourke Street, and we walked through to Amanda’s building, which fronted the Victoria Harbour Promenade. The building itself was a glass and concrete structure with large balconies that overlooked not only the harbor, but also the Bolte Bridge and the Melbourne Star Observation Wheel. The first two levels seemed to consist of nothing more than restaurants and pool and gym facilities for the residents—none of which the apartment building Rory and I shared had. Maybe we should move . . . I killed that thought almost immediately. Moving would mean pulling apart the fire room we’d created in the third bedroom and restoring it to its original condition, and that just sounded like too much hard work.

We walked into the foyer and approached the reception desk. Jackson flashed his badge again, but the guard waved his hand. “Remember you from yesterday. What can I do for you now?”

“I’m afraid we need to get into Felicity Hocking’s apartment.”

He frowned. “Don’t you need a warrant for that?”

“Not if we think she’s in danger,” Jackson replied easily. “Her lover was murdered yesterday. We have every reason to believe she may also be in danger.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Listen, Mike,” I said, glancing at his nameplate. “We’ll sign in, and we’ll give you the name of our boss so you can confirm we are who we say we are, but we seriously need to get into that apartment.”

He hesitated, then said, “I’ll call the supervisor down. He has the master keys, in case of emergencies.”

In other words, he was passing the decision-making buck. Couldn’t blame him for that. “Tell him to hurry.”

He nodded and made the call. Three minutes later, a well-built, dark-skinned man strode into the foyer, followed by two others—one male, the other female. Both projected a “Don’t mess with me” vibe, and all three were armed.

“You’re the PIT officers?” the first man said. According to his badge, his name was Gale. Whether that was a first name, last name, or some sort of warning was anyone’s guess.

Jackson offered up his badge again. “We’re associate officers, seconded to investigate the murder of one Janice Green—Felicity Hocking’s lover.”