Nate peered out the slatted blinds. The sun was just rising across the valley, mist glittering in strips in the distance. The rooftops of the surrounding houses were sheeted in white. Frost coated the patchwork lawns and shrubs, turning the tree-lined street an ethereal silver hue. It looked cold out.

Nate went to the tiny walk-in closet and rummaged around for the box of winter things Emma kept there. When he didn’t find it, he shuffled through Emma’s hanging shirts and dresses.

“Hey, Em, where’s the box of winter stuff?” he called.

He pushed aside a cluster of hangers. Underneath, perched in the corner, was a black briefcase he’d never seen before.

Emma came in then, catching him kneeling in front of the briefcase. “What are you doing?” she snapped, looking annoyed.

“What’s this?” Nate lifted the briefcase, turning it over in his hands. It looked expensive. Soft Italian leather. Gold metal feet on the base. Twin combination locks.

“I borrowed it from the clinic to carry patient files. That’s why it has the locks. Josh was trying to play with it the other day so I stuck it in here.”

“Ahh.” Nate set the briefcase back under the clothes. “Where are the winter clothes?”

“I’ll get them.” Emma disappeared, then returned a moment later with a large box.

Nate rummaged through and found his favorite fleece-lined hat, scarf, and gloves, a gift from Emma for his birthday last year. The doorbell rang and he heard Charlie bark, then his mom’s voice as Emma let her in.

Nate finished tying his tie and rushed downstairs, despair and desperation making him hurry out the door, the draw of the toothpicks in his pocket a call he couldn’t refuse.

NATE HUNG up after updating Agent Hamilton on what he knew about the case so far, which was damn near nothing. Hamilton and Greene weren’t happy, Chief O’Neill and Dyson weren’t happy, and Mayor Walker sure as hell wasn’t going to be happy when she heard that he had basically zilch on this case.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the computer on his desk. The clock said 8:45 a.m. Fifteen minutes until his meeting with the mayor. Dread lodged firmly in his throat.

Muriel Walker was a former district attorney who’d won that office on the strength of a campaign to reduce homelessness back in 2012. She’d ridden the success of that campaign up the chain to become mayor last year, promising to fix the oxycodone problem in the region.