“Not necessarily. Our research shows he came in legally, has all the proper paperwork, holds a responsible job, and is starting a family. Aiding and abetting anything illicit—let alone a drug ring—doesn’t fit.”

“Unless he’s being coerced.”

“How?”

“I don’t know—but we’re going to put surveillance on his house for a few days. That may turn up helpful information. Anything new with Noah Evans?”

“Not yet, but we’re digging deeper on him too. I’m curious about the grounds for his divorce.”

“He lived in New York, right?”

Zeke had done his homework on the players—no surprise there. He’d always been a thorough investigator.

“Yes. So the record should be public, unless the court sealed it.”

“Unlikely, barring a domestic violence issue.”

“I’m not expecting that.”

“You going to talk to the ex?”

“Depends on what’s in the divorce record.” She clicked her pen shut. “Anything else?”

“I think we’re up to speed. Same time Thursday?”

“I’ll be here.” She closed the book, slid it into the backpack, and waved at Kayla on the other side of the glass.

“How goes it with the roommate?”

“I’m making progress. We’re studying together today until dinner. But it’ll take a while to build a relationship. She hasn’t had the best experience with, as she put it, rich white girls.” She rose, anger bubbling up inside her again.

“Sad.”

“Very. Her former roommates didn’t have to treat her like a sister, but would it have killed them to be friendly?”

“I agree.” He stood too. “Speaking of sisters—how are Grace and Eve?”

“Fine. Grace is a forensic pathologist in rural Missouri, and Eve has a national radio show. She got engaged over Christmas to—”

Cate stiffened and clamped her lips shut. That was more family history than Zeke deserved to know. More than she should have shared. They had nothing to discuss except their cases.

Thankfully, he didn’t press her or ask any other questions.

“I’m glad to hear they’re both doing well.” He motioned toward Kayla, who was watching their exchange. “I don’t want to keep you from your homework.”

Without commenting, she stalked out of the fishbowl and joined Kayla, who’d claimed a table against the far wall.

“You didn’t have to hurry on my account.” The other girl draped her coat over a chair.

“We were done.” Cate dumped her backpack on the table and, in true detective fashion, chose a chair against the wall that offered a clear view of the room—though she ignored Zeke.

Kayla, on the other hand, gave the man her full attention. “What were you and Mr. Martinez talking about?”

“Spanish. What else?” Cate sat.

“I don’t know.” Kayla slid into her chair. “It just seemed kinda like . . . like you were having a fight.”

Uh-oh.