“I need a rundown on two missing person cases that interested Detective Poe: Tammy Fox and Susan Wallace.”

“Sure.” Papers shuffled and computer keys clicked. Detective Rivers gave him an abbreviated version of what were likely slim case files. “Was Detective Poe able to link either of these cases to her Jane Does?”

“The medical examiner is looking into it now,” Spencer said.

“What else can I do for you?” Ringing phones in the background mingled with the edge of irritation in her voice.

“Text me pictures of each woman.”

“Consider it done.”

“And if Poe requests any more information linked to these two murders or any missing women like these Jane Does, let me know.”

There was a long pause. “Sure.”

He ended the call, and seconds later his phone dinged with a text. It was from Rivers and contained the pictures of the two missing women. Immediately, he discarded one but keyed in on Tammy Fox. Poe might be onto something.

Jordan’s forced respite ended with an 8:00 a.m. call. Dispatch asked her to respond to a possible suicide by hanging. The body had been found in an East Austin apartment. All suspicious deaths fell under her job description, and it was up to her to evaluate the scene. She would report her findings to the medical examiner, and after Dr. McIntyre conducted her autopsy, the doc would make the final call on whether the death was a homicide, suicide, or undetermined.

When Jordan arrived a half hour later at the run-down apartment building, two marked cars had secured the scene. The building was divided into segments, each section containing twelve units, four on each floor. An exposed center stairwell linked the different levels.

Out of her vehicle she slung her badge around her neck, crossed to the first uniformed officer, who had already strung yellow crime scene tape in front of the master stairwell. “I’m Detective Poe with Austin Homicide.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Officer Murphy. The scene is in apartment number 3-B. The next-door neighbor, Alana Stone, called it in. She lives in 3-A.”

“What’s her story?”

“Spent the night doing coke with the dead man. She said about four in the morning she realized she needed to come down from the coke and mellow. She went back to her place for a beer and fell asleep for a couple of hours. She woke up, realized she left her phone at the male’s apartment, and returned. Door was open; she went in and found the dead man hanging from a light fixture.”

“Where is Ms. Stone now?” Jordan asked.

“Rescue squad took her to the hospital. She was in rough shape.”

“Tell the hospital to hold her until I see her.”

“I’ll ask. But you know how it goes. If they need a bed and she doesn’t, out she goes.”

“Tell the hospital I insist. Does the dead neighbor have a name?”