Kate looked through the windshield at the distant lake where search-and-rescue divers were packing it in for the day. Her hair was up in a ponytail again. She had no makeup on, and the end of her nose was red from crying, but she looked pretty anyway.

“I have to get back.” She looked at him. “Will you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“If you all find anything, will you call me?”

“Yeah.”

Another dumbass thing to say. Antonio couldn’t promise that. But the look in her eyes got to him.

She started up the engine. “Day or night, just . . . let me know.” She smiled slightly. “I’m not sleeping anyway.”

He nodded and stepped back from the van as she pulled away. She did a slow three-point turn, careful not to sideswipe any of the law enforcement pickups parked everywhere.

Gravel crunched, and he turned around as Brandon approached. His partner’s gaze narrowed as he looked him over.

“You all right?” he asked.

The same question he’d asked Kate.

“Yeah. I heard your phone. Who was it?” He could tell by Brandon’s look there was some kind of news.

“Jane at the crime lab. The results are back from those prints on the car window.”

Antonio felt a surge of relief. It was the first good news he’d heard all day.

“And?”

“And they’re in the system. We got a hit.”

*   *   *

Brandon stepped into the bar and peeled off his sunglasses, and his eyes adjusted to the dimness as he scanned the room. High-top tables, all empty. A couple of wooden booths. On a raised stage in back, several guys were setting up a drum kit. The Backbeat Club offered live music five nights a week and no-cover Thursdays.

“There.” Antonio nodded at the bar, where a man was unloading a tray of glasses. Six-foot-two, heavyset, shaggy brown hair. He looked just like his mug shot. He’d been arrested two years ago on drug charges.

“We don’t open till six,” the man said, not looking up from the tray.

Antonio stepped forward. “Jason Mandrapilias?”

He glanced up.

Antonio flashed his creds. “Austin PD.”

Jason muttered a curse and cast a glance over his shoulder. He wore a black golf shirt and apron, and his forearms were covered in tattoos. He stuffed a rag into the back of his jeans and crossed his arms as Brandon and Antonio approached the bar.

“We need a word,” Brandon said.

Jason darted another glance behind him again as someone walked out of the back room with a keg balanced on his shoulder.

“Yo, Alex, I’m taking a smoke break,” Jason said. His gaze locked on Brandon as he came out from behind the bar and headed for the door.