“I want to be there.” I reach in my bag at my hip and snap up a card that I hand to her. “Text me the time and details.”

“Of course.” She reaches in her jacket and hands me her card. I snap a photo. “Keep it,” I say, already keying her number in my phone with a contact that reads: DD the Model.

“Special Agent Love.”

I glance behind me to find a uniform standing under the archway. “Kane Mendez is asking for you.”

I don’t react. I’m not shocked. I doubt anyone on this island is shocked that Kane is here or anywhere he wants to be. He all but owns the island and most people attribute that to the cartel that his father, and now his uncle, thankfully still runs. At one point, he went MIA and the cartel was immediately in turmoil and on Kane’s doorstep. Not good, when law enforcement wants to prove Kane runs it, not his uncle. Until recently, that included my brother. I’m pretty sure burying a body with Kane ended that part of our family drama.

And yet, Kane respects my badge, sometimes more than I do, which means if this wasn’t urgent, he’d wait for me to come home. He knows something I need to know.

“I’ll be right there,” I tell the uniform and a niggle in my mind has me turning back to the body. I study the victim, the woman who can no longer speak to me, but yet, she is. The dress is bothering me. It’s loose, too big, as if it’s not zipped up in the back. I walk around the body and kneel to find it is in fact zipped up.

North walks back into the room and I glance up at him. “Either that dress is not hers, or it’s not been altered yet,” I say, standing again. “Find out which.” I don’t give him time to reply. I walk past him and head for the exit, fully intending to leave him behind.

CHAPTER SIX

North is going south fast.

My booties and gloves go in the trash by the door, and I jog down the steps, the snow gone for now, but the cold bitingly present. So is North. He catches up with me. He just won’t go away, and says, “Good catch on the wedding dress.”

“It’s not a good catch unless it is a catch. It might be her dress.” I stop and face him. “Do you know what they say about little bitches?”

He blinks. “What? What are you talking about, Special Agent Love?”

“Sometimes little bitches dress up like officers and talk in circles because they’re afraid to just get to the point. Say what you want to say.”

His jaw flexes. “Why is Kane Mendez at my crime scene?”

My lips quirked. “Intimidated?”