What might look to the average person like a mess of photos, maps, and Xerox copies was my way of keeping straight what agent was assigned to which task, which leads were promising, and which person of interest was more interesting than others. One name in particular caught my eye and came up over and over again—a washed-up poker legend by the name of Abernathy. His daughter, Abby, was also in a few black-and-white surveillance photos although I hadn’t gotten to the reports on her involvement yet.

Val came in and watched in awe as I tacked the final pin into the last frayed edge of red yarn. “Whoa, Liis. How long have you been at this?”

“All morning,” I said, admiring my masterpiece while climbing down off my chair. I put my hands on my hips and puffed. “Fantastic, isn’t it?”

Val took a deep breath, seeming overwhelmed.

Someone knocked on the door. I turned to see Agent Sawyer leaning against the doorway.

“Morning, Lindy. I had a few things I’d like to discuss with you, if you’re not busy.”

Sawyer didn’t look like the creep Val had made him out to be. His hair was freshly trimmed, long enough to run his fingers through but still professional. Maybe he used a bit too much hair spray, but the James Dean coif flattered him. His squared jaw and straight white teeth set off his bright blue eyes. He was kind of beautiful, but something behind his eyes was ugly.

Val made a face. “I’ll let the janitor know you have trash in your office,” she said, shouldering past him.

“I’m Agent Sawyer,” he said, taking the few steps to shake my hand. “I meant to introduce myself yesterday, but I got caught at the courthouse. Late day.”

I walked behind my desk and attempted to organize the stacks of papers and files. “I know. How can I help you, Sawyer?”

Sawyer sat in one of the twin tufted leather club chairs set in front of my large oak desk.

“Have a seat,” I said, making a show of gesturing toward the seat he’d sat in.

“I’d planned on it,” he said.

Slow and without looking away from the pair of ocean-blue eyes across from me, I lowered myself into my oversized office chair, the tall back making me feel like I was sitting in a throne—my throne, and this joker was trying to piss in my court. I stared him down like he was a mangy dog.

Sawyer placed a file on my desk and opened it, pointing to a paragraph highlighted in bright orange. “I’ve previously brought this up before to Maddox, but now that we have a pair of fresh eyes—”

Maddox stomped into my office.

Sawyer stood up like he’d been shot at. “Morning, sir.”