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.

“Is it her?” North asks.

I stare at the picture, my fingers shaking before I can control them. “I don’t know.” I remember the scent of strong, cheap flowery perfume. One of the women had been brunette. “It was a blur.” Blood and rain tend to do that.

“She’s friends with Brown,” Martin puts in. “They both belong to a Facebook fan group. Saint’s Willing Sinners.”

North makes a gurgling noise at the back of his throat, and I know he’s holding in a laugh. I flip him off with a glare, but there’s no heat behind the action. I’d laugh, too, if it wasn’t for the memory of being hunted, being treated like a thing while trapped in that crumpled wreckage.

Martin pins me with a look. “And she was here the other night.”