Nate pulled the briefcase out, turning it over in his hands. Soft Italian leather, gold metal feet, twin combination locks. It looked familiar. It took Nate a moment to realize why.

It looked exactly like the one in his closet at home.

Nate felt the ground beneath his feet tilt. Emma had a briefcase matching a murdered drug dealer’s. She’d borrowed it from the clinic. Someone at the clinic was signing fraudulent prescriptions for oxy.

Everything led back to the clinic.

He had to talk to Emma. Did all the doctors share that one briefcase? Who’d used it before her? Was it Julia?

He opened his mouth to tell the others, then snapped it shut. If he told them, they’d scream conflict of interest. His wife worked at that clinic. He’d be yanked off this case so fast he wouldn’t even have time to get his balls out of his throat. And he could kiss that promotion good-bye.

“Anybody have any idea what the combination might be?” Hamilton asked.

“What were those numbers you found at Santiago Martinez’s house?” Kia turned to Nate. “Maybe it’s a combination.”

Nate tried the numbers: 323… 454

Nothing happened.

“Okay, let’s take it back to the station,” Kia said. “Let the nerds try to crack it.”

Kia’s phone rang, and she stepped away to answer it.

“Anything new to report?” Hamilton asked.

“No sign of Ben yet.” Nate told Hamilton and Greene about Violeta’s mom refusing to allow them in. Hamilton agreed to pay for an agent to sit on the house.

“We’ll get someone out there this week,” Greene said.

He trained his dark, unsmiling eyes on Nate for a moment too long. Nate felt his face warming under the scrutiny. He scratched the nape of his neck, wondering if Greene could tell he was holding something back.

Kia hung up the phone, her face white.

“Excuse us, we need to go. It’s an emergency,” she said to Hamilton and Greene.

Kia hustled to the cruiser and Nate followed, grateful for the interruption. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“That was Julia. I think she’s overdosing. I’ve called an ambulance. She said she took birdhouse pills.”

“What are birdhouse pills?”

“I don’t know. But Nate, she said, ‘Tell Emma.’ ”

TELL EMMA.

Julia’s words echoed in Nate’s mind as he unlocked the front door to his house. He was furious that a known drug addict was pulling Emma into her drama. What would it mean for Emma’s career, for his, if he proved Julia was behind this opioid ring?