It wasn’t until I moved to LA that I noticed the small details of people’s looks. But it’s part of the culture here. You quickly learn to assess a person’s wealth, health, and position of status with a glance.

I offer North a drink, but he shakes his head, then leans a shoulder against the closed door.

I pour myself a glass and sit opposite Martin. My fingers curl around the cool, sharp edges of the cut-crystal glass. “You find her?” No use mucking around with polite chitchat with Martin. Besides, I already know the answer. If he had, she’d be here.

“The girl is a ghost.” He frowns, and there’s a flash of irritation in his eyes; then it’s gone. “I’d be impressed if it wasn’t my job to find her.”

North looks off, barely holding in a grunt. Talk of Sam puts him in a shit mood as well. Jesus, is there anyone who isn’t adversely affected by my ex-partner in misery?

I should be disappointed Sam is still missing. I don’t want to think about why I’m not. “Don’t take it too hard. She’s had a lifetime to perfect her act.”

He makes a disgruntled sound and finishes up his drink in one quick gulp. “So have I.”

“Leave it be for now.”

The request punches into the room with the force of a bomb, and both men gape at me. Hell. I’m shocked as well. It wasn’t what I’d planned to say. But now that I have, I lift my chin and stare back. “We have more important things to focus on now.”

I swear North mutters, “Like Delilah?” But he gives me a blank look when my head whips around, and I glare. But I can’t form the denial. Shaking off my disquiet, I set my glass, still half-full, aside. “I’d rather hear about the other matter.”

I need to know my household is safe.

Martin sits forward, resting his wrists on his thighs. “Michelle Fredericks. A real estate agent from Pasadena. I’m thinking that’s how she found your address.”

The collar of my shirt hugs too tight around my neck. I swear the damn thing shrunk in the wash. “And you’re sure she’s the one who was with Brown?”

Lisa Brown, my stalker. I can’t say the woman’s name without feeling slightly ill. I don’t care if she’s troubled. I just want her far away from me. She was arrested for reckless endangerment and stalking but is out on bail. They slapped her with a restraining order, but it’s only a piece of paper, not a guarantee. And Brown wasn’t alone the night my car went off the road.

I can tell myself as much as I like that my shitty behavior tonight was all about pride. In some ways it’s easier than admitting the fear that lingers, the nightmares. Long ago, I told myself I’d never be afraid of anything again. Too bad emotions don’t listen to orders.

Martin hands me his phone. There’s a picture queued. It’s a headshot, cheaply done and cheesy, the kind you see on real estate signs. A fairly attractive woman in her mid- to late thirties with dark-brown hair smiles back at me.