Leigh jerked back as a man walked into the room. Average height, thin, wire-rimmed glasses. He wore black slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Kyle, hey.” Leigh cleared her throat. “Have you met Detective Reynolds?”

“No.”

Brandon nodded. “Hi.”

The guy looked fresh out of law school. As an appellate lawyer, he might be useful, but as a nighttime security guard, not so much.

“Brandon’s helping with our case,” Leigh said.

“Oh. Thanks.” Kyle looked from Brandon to Leigh, obviously puzzling over walking in on them standing there in the dark. “I’ll just . . . go grab a Coke.”

He disappeared down the hallway, and Leigh looked at Brandon.

“That’s one of our associates.”

“I know.”

She gazed up at him. “Sure I can’t talk you into staying?”

“Yeah.” He moved toward the door. “Lock up behind me. And set the alarm.”

“Of course.”

He turned to look at her and felt a surge of protectiveness. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to call him when she got home.

“How late are you staying?” he asked instead.

“Until my work’s done.”

He shot her a look. “Be careful going home tonight.”

“I will.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Antonio called Brandon as he left the police station.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, merging into traffic. Downtown was packed tonight with tourists and weekend revelers.

His partner didn’t pick up. Maybe he was out. That would be good, really. Brandon hadn’t gone out much since his last breakup, and he was becoming a workaholic. Antonio kept telling him he needed to get out more, which seemed a little hypocritical tonight because his big plans included watching Ultimate Fighting and microwaving a Hot Pocket.

The call went to voicemail, and Antonio waited for the beep.

“Hey, I’m just taking off. I went back to the hospital tonight and our shooting victim was awake and alert. Got a good statement from him and just wrote everything up. Call me later, and I’ll fill you in. . . . Unless you’re out tonight, in which case, have fun.”

The last part was interrupted as a call clicked in. Antonio didn’t recognize the number.

“Peña,” he said.

Silence.

“Hello?”

“Sorry to call so late.”

“Kate?” There was a tremor in her voice. She sounded like she was crying or shaking or both.

“Yes, it’s Kate Morris. Sorry. I’m just . . .”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she said.

Antonio had been about to jump on the freeway to head back to his apartment. Instead, he stayed on the feeder road.

“Kate, what is it?”

“It’s Kelly. My fifteen-year-old. A man . . . approached her tonight.”

Antonio listened, waiting for more.

“The police were just here, but . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry. I was hoping we could talk.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you.”