“As for the fingerprints,” she said, “we should be able to see more detail when I dust them with fluorescent powder. Then I’ll use an alternative light source to photograph them.”

Brandon stared at the gloves, which had likely been discarded in a rush after Leigh’s attack. Fury swelled inside him as he pictured some man’s hand clamped over Leigh’s mouth. He shouldn’t let this case get personal. He knew better than that. But it was too late. Ever since he’d met Leigh, everything that touched her commanded his attention.

He looked at Jane. “How soon can we run the prints?”

“That all depends.” She smiled sweetly. “How soon can you leave me alone so I can finish my work?”

*   *   *

Leigh ate the last warm dumpling and slurped the very last drop of soup from her spoon. She’d meant to take her dinner to go, but she’d walked into Mei’s famished, and the aroma of fresh spring rolls and wonton soup had been so tempting, she’d decided to stay and eat there, while it was hot. Now she glanced around the little restaurant that was packed with rain-dampened customers who’d come in from the cold.

Leigh tucked an extra spring roll into a white paper sack and dropped it into her computer bag for later. She tidied up her table and looked through the window at her building across the street. For the first time in days, she felt relaxed and sated—and decidedly unmotivated to go home and put in another three hours of work tonight. Maybe she’d do a yoga workout to reenergize. She had to get a second wind. She was too far behind to blow off the night.

Leigh threw away her trash and grabbed a fortune cookie from the big glass bowl on her way out the door. Stepping into the chilly air, she hitched her bag onto her shoulder and rubbed her arms, wishing she’d checked the weather before leaving the house. She was in a sweater and jeans, but she’d left her rain jacket at home. She eyed her car down the block and then glanced across the street at her building, thinking of Watermelon. She probably shouldn’t worry about the old cat—he’d been there since long before they were, slinking around, eliciting food and sympathy from tenants up and down the block. Leigh hadn’t seen him today, but she’d left some food on the porch, and it had disappeared while she and Kyle had been inside working.

“Leigh Larson?”

She turned around as a man stepped from the restaurant. Tall, golf visor, friendly smile. She’d glimpsed him in line behind her when she paid for her order.

He stepped closer, and she got a better look at his eyes under the visor.