Jay picks Kane and me up in a black Escalade. Our first stop is the airport, where Kane is flying out on a chopper to the city while I ride deeper into Long Island for the autopsy. I say my goodbyes to Kane just outside the Escalade and then Jay and I are on our way. For the sake of the investigation, I lay my head back and shut my eyes. Sleep comes hard and fast and lasts until the vehicle halts. I jolt awake and sit up to find us sitting in front of a place called Duck Donut.

“What is this?” I demand. “I’m FBI, not a cop. We eat chocolate cake, not donuts.”

“I’m a Mexican,” he says. “We eat whatever we like and I like donuts. And they have a strawberry donut with buttercream icing. Thank me later.” He gets out of the vehicle.

Okay, that little monster has tempted me now, when I secretly swore to myself that I’d drink water and eat rice cakes today. Only I didn’t buy rice cakes or water. I was lying to myself. I hate people who lie, even to themselves.

And still, I climb out of the truck and hurry toward Jay, with donuts on my mind. “What the hell does a duck have to do with a donut?”

“They started out in Duck, North Carolina, and yes, apparently that’s a real place.” He opens the shop door for me and motions me forward. “Unless I’m not allowed to be a gentleman with you, Agent Love.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” I ask. “I’m a lady.” I head inside and the sweet smell of sugar and donuts touch my nose. To hell with rice cakes.

A few minutes later, Jay and I each have two donuts, mine are, of course, strawberry, while his are maple bacon, and we head to the vehicle. I walk to my side of the Escalade and stop dead in my tracks. There’s a note on the window and I know exactly who it’s from: my note writer who had gone MIA. Junior is back.

I scan the parking lot, but the strip mall is new, and Duck Donut is the only tenant. There are no other cars. Clearly, someone could have driven into the parking lot and posted the note and most likely they had been following us. Otherwise, they would not know I was in the passenger seat.

I walk around to Jays’ side of the vehicle. “I need my bag,” I say.

He reaches in the car and hands it to me, casting me a curious look. “What’s up?”