It was already happening. Izzy could tell Mia wanted to latch onto Sammy’s suicide explanation, despite the holes in the scenario, despite the impasse they’d reached earlier on the ferry. Suicide or murder? Not enough evidence to tell, they’d decided countless times.

When had that changed? Was it when Mia had recognized the man? Or was it that she had an ally backing the suicide theory?

“All right.” Mia straightened, moving away from the body as she did. “That’s a good start. We’ll head over to Mama’s now, drop our bags. I have your number in the file if we need anything else.”

“Sure. I’ll be here till six, then will probably dip into the bar for a beer. If you two are in the mood, stop by.”

Mia nodded, but it seemed like a dismissal more than anything else. “Thanks.”

They all peeled off their gloves, then Mia headed toward the hallway, back to their layers of coats and sweaters and scarves.

Just before they stepped out of the small room, Izzy turned back. “Oh, one more question, Doc.”

Sammy paused while sliding Robert Twist’s body back into the cold chamber. “Yeah?”

“Was there a suicide note?” It seemed odd that they wouldn’t have mentioned it in the report if there had been, but she had to ask.

Sammy’s gaze shifted to a spot beyond Izzy’s shoulder, where Mia must have stopped, and then returned to Izzy’s face. “No.”

There it was again. Izzy on the outside, while the two of them had entire conversations with just a look. She knew she was missing something, and it made her fingers twitchy.

When she glanced toward Mia, the woman was already heading down the hallway back toward their gear.

“Hey,” she said when she caught up. Mia’s hand was tangled up in the arm of her jacket as she tried to shove her foot into one of her boots.

Izzy kept her voice pitched low so that Sammy wouldn’t be able to hear even if he was lurking in the hallway. “What was that about?”

Mia’s eyes flicked over Izzy’s face, and then she sighed, bringing her arm up to her chest, over her heart. She cradled her wrist with her other hand, her thumb stroking the exposed sliver of skin.

“I didn’t leave a suicide note, either.”

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

MIA

The house on Baker Street was pale petal pink with a sunny yellow door. A summer garden, Mia used to think while dragging her fingertips along the edge of the siding before racing toward the woods in the back.

Now, in the gray mist that foretold a rumbling storm, it just seemed sad.

Izzy hovered behind Mia where she’d stopped on the sidewalk, impatience radiating off her in swooping waves that crashed onto Mia’s back.