She sat forward and plunked her cup on the table as Javi looked her over. She felt especially crappy because Javi’s sister had referred the client. The woman was going through a messy divorce and her ex-husband had been bad-mouthing her for months on Facebook. When he showed up at their kid’s birthday party and called her a cunt in front of a room full of eight-year-olds, she decided she’d had enough.

Javi leaned against the doorframe, and she noticed he was wearing his favorite alligator belt, which meant he’d been in court earlier.

“How’d your day go?” Leigh asked.

“Still going. I’ve got a client at five.”

“Here?”

“Her place.”

She took a last sip of coffee, and Javi grimaced. “How do you drink that stuff? It makes my teeth ache.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Javi scooted aside as Bella leaned in.

“Sorry to interrupt. You were asking about Vivien Adams?”

Leigh perked up. “Vanessa. Why?”

Bella stepped over and handed her a stack of mail. “That was in your box. The manila envelope on the bottom is from a V. Adams.”

“Thanks.”

“There are some bills in there, too. All that’s been in there a few days.”

Bella stepped out as Leigh shuffled through the stack, which did indeed contain some neglected bills.

“Who’s Vivien Adams?” Javi asked.

“Vanessa Adams. A couple of cops tracked me down at the courthouse to ask about her.”

His eyes sparked with interest. “What’d she do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What kind of cops?”

“I don’t know that either.”

She flipped the envelope over. It was addressed to Leigh in a woman’s loopy handwriting. The return address was only a name.

“Well, were they sheriff’s office? Austin PD?”

“APD. Detectives.” She glanced up. “You know Brandon Reynolds?”

“Never heard of him.”

Leigh opened the envelope and took out a familiar two-page document. It was signed by Vanessa Ann Adams. Paper-clipped to the last page was a check for five hundred dollars.

“Well, look at that.”

Javi stepped closer, and she caught a whiff of his Gucci cologne.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She freaking hired us.”

Leigh stood up and handed the client agreement to Javi. It was the standard boilerplate contract used by the firm. Leigh stepped over to her desk and powered up her laptop.

“She came to see me two months ago,” Leigh said. “Some problem with her landlord, if I remember right.”

She opened her email and searched. Nothing from Vanessa. She clicked into a browser and googled Brandon Reynolds and Austin police.

“You’d better get a driver’s license number on this check,” Javi said. “If the cops are after her, it might bounce.”