The partnership had seemed destined to be chalked up as one more failure in a long list for Izzy. But as they’d worked together, her wariness had evolved quickly into respect, because it soon became painfully clear that Detective Mia Hart was a badass. A classy one. But a badass nonetheless.

That didn’t mean Izzy understood her, though. Even now, she looked for any sign of distress or anxiety or fear beneath the smooth exterior and found none.

“You saw him outside the station?” Izzy finally prodded as Mia remained quiet.

“Twice.” Mia was quick to answer. “Both times at night. It was like he’d been waiting for me. But he didn’t . . . He never approached me.”

The last bit was said almost beneath her breath, to herself. Izzy waited.

“I noticed him because he was standing under that busted streetlight like he didn’t want to be seen clearly,” Mia continued, her chin dipping down so that her hair shielded her expression from Izzy’s view. “I could, though. See him.”

“Well, shit, Mia,” Sammy cut in. “That’s weird.”

Mia looked up at that, the corners of her mouth tilting up in a weak smile. There was no trace of real humor in it. “Yeah.”

Izzy nudged the doc. “Did you ever talk to him while he was here?”

“No.” The answer was curt, clearly meant to discourage any further questioning, and Izzy wondered if it was because she was a cop, because she wasn’t an islander, or because it was just habit. Whatever it was, Izzy suddenly had insight into Murdoch’s decision to make Mia the lead on the case.

“He must have stuck out like a sore thumb, huh?” Izzy wasn’t deterred. Maybe she didn’t have a ton of experience working a murder, but she’d met enough assholes in her life not to be put off by one.

The doc’s hackles went up, and Mia shifted beside her. Clearly it had been the wrong thing to say, but Izzy didn’t know why. That not knowing made her too itchy and too hot. Most everything about her job came down to being able to figure out why people were reacting the way they were, and when she couldn’t do that, the world always seemed just slightly tipped to the side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The doc’s chest had gone all big and broad, and his eyes narrowed, the skin crinkling into crow’s-feet at the corners. “Just because he was a big-shot mainland reporter?”