Sara pushed open the gate and stepped inside, unable to prevent herself from glancing at the spot where she had found Gabriel with Rochelle. She was expecting to see dried blood splashed on the ground, but it wasn’t there. Which made sense. Most of Rochelle’s blood had been caught by her shirt and Gabriel’s, and it wasn’t the kind of wound that sprayed and dripped all the way down to the ground anyway. But Sara still looked before heading up the stairs.

And stopped in shock when she saw what was sitting in front of Gabriel’s apartment door.

It was an unopened bottle of absinthe.

What the hell was that doing there?

Sara went up and studied the green bottle sitting there. It was the same brand that Gabriel had opened the night before. Maybe he’d had a second bottle. Maybe he’d bought another one to replace the one she had put a serious dent in. But she knew immediately that made no sense because he wouldn’t have had time to do that and he wouldn’t have left it sitting on the landing.

A cold chill raced down her spine. She darted her eyes back down the staircase, then tested the doorknob to the apartment, leaning around the bottle. It was locked. She’d locked it after the ambulance had left with Rochelle, before she and Gabriel had headed to the hospital.

Picking the bottle up, she saw there was a decorative tag attached to the neck with a ribbon. It was a quote.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgivenessof sins.

Sara didn’t know what it meant, or what the point was supposed to be, but it kicked the fear up another notch. It didn’t look like something the liquor manufacturer had intended to be there. And someone had intentionally set the bottle out for her. Fumbling with the key and the bottle, she managed to get the door open, herself inside, and the door locked behind her.

Only to scream when she saw a man sitting on the couch typing on his BlackBerry, legs crossed casually.

“Whoa,” he said, glancing over at her. “You have bigger pipes than I would have given you credit for given that you look like you have TB. In person you’re even more waifish than the pictures Gabriel had of you.”

Sara gripped her purse, trying to dig inside it for her cell phone. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alex, Gabriel’s friend. We go way back. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned me.”

She shook her head, not sure if she should turn and run, or if she should believe him. He must have used a key to get into the apartment, which had to indicate he was Gabriel’s friend, whether Gabriel had ever mentioned him to her or not. She and Gabriel didn’t know each other that well, frankly. He probably had lots of friends she knew nothing about.

“You must be Sara.”