“You’re right. Some kill for sport, Officer.” As he drew in a breath and nodded slowly, she added, “It takes planning to find the woman, this location, and assemble the supplies.” She raised the bottle to her lips, savoring the cool liquid in her mouth. “Even if the killing was meant to be a lesson, this killer enjoyed his work.”

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Monday, March 11

Two years ago

It was 2:00 a.m. when Jordan parked on the dark corner of Seventh and Red River Streets in downtown Austin. By day, it was a safe enough area where tourists, artists, and hipsters congregated. But at night, drug dealers and sex workers moved out of the shadows and plied their trades openly. Austin was like most cities: bad things happened in the light of day, but they thrived at night.

She moved toward an alley where a man had been shot dead two nights ago over a twenty-dollar squabble. A week before that, two junkies had overdosed.

Jordan wore faded jeans, a graphic T-shirt, and scuffed boots. She was not carrying her badge and had swapped her sidearm for a small .38-caliber revolver strapped to her ankle.

She moved past a brick wall covered with a large mural of a grinning jester, his white teeth amplified by a red background. At the corner, a tall blonde wearing black leather and white sneakers leaned against a signpost. Her name was Stacey, and she was a sex worker. Jordan had crossed paths with Stacey several times when she worked undercover narcotics. Stacey could be funny, and when she was not too loaded, her street smarts zeroed in on trouble faster than most.

Jordan walked up to Stacey and made a point to keep her body language relaxed. People down here could smell fear and desperation.

Stacey knew Jordan was a cop but judged her to be fair because Jordan never razzed her or the other women, and often had a couple of twenties when they answered her questions.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Stacey asked.

“I’m looking for someone.” Jordan pulled a picture of a young woman from her pocket. The woman was twenty-two, looked like she was much younger, but given her current lifestyle, her youth would fade fast. Soon, she would age beyond her years. For now, she remained slender, her blond hair soft and natural.

“You mean Avery?” Stacey asked. “Is she in trouble?”

“No trouble. I’m afraid she’s using again. I want to help her.”

“How do you know her?” Stacey asked.

This was the point where Jordan was not sure if honesty was the best policy. She considered a half dozen well-worn lies but found them tired and less convincing than the truth. “She’s my sister.”

“No shit.” Stacey shook her head but did not look shocked. She had seen it all. “You got a junkie for a sister?”

“She wants to get better. She had a setback.”