“No. Medical examiner gave me a brief description. Female, late teens or early twenties, fake blond, five-two-ish. I was hoping you might have reports on someone like that.” She also listed off the tattoos.

“I have several missing person reports, but most don’t fit that age range. I’ll see if any new cases have come in. We get new ones all the time.”

Jordan knew that in the United States, more than six hundred thousand missing person cases were filed annually. But of those, 99 percent were solved or canceled. The person either returned home or was located dead or alive. “Send me whatever you have. I need to start somewhere.”

“Sure. The files will be on your desk by tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Detective Rivers.”

She hung up and checked her watch. She had an hour to get to the courthouse for a bail hearing. She had been following this case since it had come across the wire last week. The defendant was Marco Walker, Avery’s ex. He was being held on manslaughter charges. He claimed he had accidentally killed his current girlfriend during an argument when she had taken a swing at him, and he had pushed her. She had fallen, hit her head on the edge of a fireplace, and died instantly.

Jordan’s heeled boots clicked in the hallway as she moved to the elevator and down to the lobby. In her car, she bristled at the heat, wondering what the hell the air temperatures would be like in August. She quickly turned on the engine, and the AC dutifully spit out hot air. She gave it a few impatient seconds to cool before she backed out of her space.

As Jordan pulled onto the street, her phone rang. It was the café where Avery worked, which meant Avery had likely lost her phone again. Not good, or safe. Adding to her worries was the call itself. It had been over two years since Avery’s last overdose, but Jordan always feared this was the day it would all fall apart again.

Avery was twenty-four. She worked at the Austin City Café forty hours a week and sold her mixed-media paintings at fairs and on street corners. She got by, was staying clean, but the girl’s life always remained on the edge. Like their mother had been, Avery was a free spirit. Jordan had tried to convince Avery to move back in with her, but Avery remained determined to live on her own.

“What’s up?” Jordan asked.

“Today is Mom’s birthday.”

She knew that, or at least had remembered two days ago that today was the day. But this morning she had overslept and, in the rush, forgotten it. “I know.”

“You forgot.”

“I did not.”

“Are you coming with me to the cemetery this afternoon?”

“I’d like to.”

“I hear a but . . .”