Mike’s lips twitched. After years of his partner being the town player, he thought this was hilarious.

“Nope,” he answered. “But I’ll ask Dusty. Maybe Rhonda has something.”

Garrett nodded and reached out to turn on his computer.

He didn’t get there.

“You hear from Ryker?” Mike asked.

“No,” Garrett answered.

“Time to try and hit Cutler again?” Mike asked.

“Absolutely,” Garrett answered.

Mike got up.

Garrett got up without even turning on his computer.

They went to the sedan.

And that day, Garrett drove.

Chapter Twenty

Matchmaker

Garrett

In the bullpen, Mike stood three feet from the whiteboard, staring at it.

Garrett sat on the side of his desk, also staring at it.

Sean and Drew stood close, staring at the board too.

At the top was a long horizontal line, short vertical dashes on the line.

Close to the right edge and under a dash, on three lines, it said, 4:30 a.m. gunshots heard, time of death.

Next to that, under a dash, two lines said, 4:39 a.m., 911 call.

The space between those times and the time Wendy left work as well as the space after those times was empty—except for question marks.

Stuck to the board, there were driver’s license photos of Wendy Derian and Jaden Cutler. There were also crime scene photos of her, her Fiesta, and four shell casings on the pavement outside her Fiesta.

Marscha had heard it right; Wendy had been hit three times. Jake found another bullet lodged close to the gear shift.

Either a warning shot or a miss.

In the top right-hand corner, it said, Cell phone?

Other than that, there was nothing.

Dick.

Their trip to Cutler’s that morning bought them the same. He still wasn’t there.

“Fuck, we got dick,” Mike muttered.

“You got dick,” Drew confirmed.

They all stared at the board.

“Seriously,” Drew kept on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a board so empty.”

Garrett watched Mike turn annoyed eyes at his colleague.

“Can’t go to Carlito ’cause no one mentioned him,” Sean remarked, eyes still to the board. “Can’t go to any of Cutler’s associates because no one has mentioned them either.”

“Not like those guys aren’t used to fishing expeditions,” Mike returned, turning his eyes to Garrett. “They’re known associates. One of their own lost his girl. We’re just looking for any information we can find.” He tipped his chin up to Garrett. “Game?” he asked just when the phone on Garrett’s desk went.

Game to possibly stir up a hornet’s nest they had no idea what was buzzing around it?

“Fuck yeah,” he answered Mike, looking at his phone. The display said it was reception. “Just a sec. It’s Kath,” he said, and took the call. “Merrick.”

“Uh…sorry, Merry,” Kath replied, for some reason sounding like she was talking under her breath. “But Justin McClintock is here and he says he wants to talk to you.”

Garrett stared unseeing at the phone.

He could not believe this shit.

“I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, Kath,” he told their girl downstairs something she knew.