Brandon watched her, waiting for her to talk. He’d been surprised to get her call at the police station, and she’d been brisk on the phone.

“So, earlier you asked me about Vanessa,” she stated.

“And you said you didn’t know her.”

“No. I said she wasn’t my client.”

He arched his eyebrows, even though none of this came as a surprise. If she didn’t know Vanessa, she wouldn’t be here.

“Semantics,” he said.

Which was one reason he wasn’t crazy about lawyers.

“No, not semantics,” she said. “It’s an important distinction. I met Vanessa exactly once, and she wasn’t my client. But then this afternoon—”

“Wait. You saw her?” He leaned forward.

“No.” She huffed out a breath. “Let’s back up.”

The server returned with a tray filled with drinks. Balancing carefully, she placed the beer in front of Leigh and set a super-full glass of ice water in front of Brandon.

Leigh eyed his drink as she picked up her Shiner. She took a sip and set the bottle down.

“Vanessa came to see me,” she said.

“When?”

“About two months ago. She was having a legal issue with her landlord.”

“All right.”

“Then today—when I got back from court,” she said pointedly, “I had a package from her at my office.”

“A package?”

“It was a signed client agreement and a retainer check. So, as of this afternoon, Vanessa is officially my client. And, no, I did not lie to you earlier when you asked.”

Brandon watched her, waiting. There was more to this story, or she wouldn’t have wanted to meet him.

“The thing is,” she said, “I reached out to her this afternoon.”

“Call or text?”

“Both. And email. She hasn’t responded.” Leigh frowned slightly. “And since a pair of police detectives tracked me down at the courthouse to ask about her, I have to admit I’m worried.” She paused and looked at him. “What’s going on?”

Brandon didn’t respond.

“You’re a homicide detective, right? You and your partner?”

“Crimes against persons.”

She lifted her eyebrows. Now, who was guilty of semantics?

Brandon took a sip of water, stalling for time. He didn’t want to tell her much. He didn’t want to tell her anything, really, but he needed information, and he sensed he’d get more if he gave something in return. She hadn’t said the words attorney-client privilege, but he could tell they were on the tip of her tongue.

“Last night, we got a callout to an abandoned vehicle on Old Quarry Road at the east edge of town.”

Her eyes filled with concern. “Is it Vanessa’s?”

“It’s a Toyota Corolla registered to her name, yes. And her identification was inside.”

“She left her wallet?”

“Her wallet, her keys, her phone.”

Leigh’s expression turned grim. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that I can share.”