She was frustrated that she had not been able to see his face or read his expressions. He was a fine, caring man. But he was not enough for her. He never had been. And she had never lost any sleep over it. Her life had been on track this last year. Avery was stable. Jordan had gotten the promotion to homicide. It had all been good. And now her vision was gone. And she felt even more helpless than she had when her mother had died. At least then she could see the path forward. Now she was lost.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Monday, April 19

9:00 a.m.

The list Spencer had created of Marco Walker’s known associates was a short one. Walker did not have many friends. He had people who knew him from the streets. People who had bought drugs from him. Some who owed him money. Women he had screwed. But when his girlfriend died, the people who knew him backed off.

Spencer had gone looking for Alana Stone, but she had checked out of the hospital and was not at her apartment. With her missing, that put Harold Sunday, Walker’s lawyer, at the top of his list. Sunday made a hell of a living keeping men like Walker out of jail. And Sunday had paid a visit to Jordan, which in Spencer’s book had crossed a line.

He entered the glass-and-steel low-rise building on Congress Avenue. Removing his hat, he crossed the marbled hallway to an elevator and rode it to the top floor. When the doors opened and he stepped out, he had one of the best views of the city.

“May I help you?”

His attention shifted to a woman sitting at the reception desk. “I’m looking for Harold Sunday,” he said as he held up his badge. “I have questions for him about a former client.”

A frown knotted her brow. “I’ll ring him.”

“I would appreciate that.”

She picked up her phone and spoke softly into the receiver as he walked toward the glass window and savored the crystal-blue sky, white clouds, and Austin skyline. His thoughts went to Jordan Poe. What she wouldn’t give to see this view.

“Ranger Spencer.”

He turned to see Harold Sunday wearing a pin-striped suit, a red tie, and his black hair slicked back off his face. “I thought you might stop by. I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner.”

“There a place we could talk?”

“Conference room is right here.” He opened glass doors, and as he did so, the lights above flickered on. The room was outfitted with a conference table surrounded by ten smooth leather chairs and a big-ass television that dominated the back wall.

“Have a seat, Ranger.”

Spencer sat, rested his hat on his crossed knee. “I’m here to talk about Marco Walker.”

“I assumed as much. I can’t discuss the work I did for him, even if he’s dead.”