“I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing.” Chet paced a three-foot square. “This is entirely on me.” He pivoted. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep my shit together, Brody.”

A rattling sigh rolled through Chet’s skinny chest. He shook like a dog shedding water from its fur. “So, who’s the hottie?”

Change of topic. Chet really needed a distraction.

“Hannah Barrett.”

Chet’s brow shot up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I ask why she’s in my kitchen?”

“I thought you might be able to help her.” Brody gave him the rundown on Hannah’s assault and her search for the young girl in Vegas.

“I happen to have some free time.” Chet shook his head. “But that’s like trying to find a needle in a hundred acres of haystacks. No word on the fingerprints the Vegas PD lifted from the rental car?”

“Last I heard, they hadn’t found any matches, but we don’t even know for sure that those fingerprints belonged to either of the suspects or the victim. Could have been the parking valet or one of Hannah’s clients.”

“Do you have a copy of the sketches Kailee made?”

“Hannah brought them with her.”

Chet scratched his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

Brody glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Yeah.”

“Go to work. Thanks to me being a drunken asshole, your caseload just doubled. My files will be on your desk by end of shift. The least I can do is look out for your girl.”

His girl. He wished.

But for now, Hannah was looking out for Chet, and Chet was taking care of Hannah. Brody could get back to work without worrying about either one of them.

Genius.

Unless together they got into more trouble than either one of them would alone.

“Nice dog.”

“She is.” Hannah and AnnaBelle followed Chet up a narrow staircase.

The second floor of the Cape Cod was a converted attic. Two windows, deeply recessed into dormers, provided scant light, leaving the space dark.

Chet walked into the dim room. A bare bulb hung from a string in the center of the room. “I haven’t been in here for a while.”

Hannah’s boots clunked on raw wood. Dust tickled her nose, and she sneezed.

“Sorry about the dust.” Chet yanked on the pull string. The swinging light arced, sending light careening around the room.

Hannah’s head swam. Swaying, she closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Chet reached for the bulb. He stilled it with one hand and rolled a desk chair behind her. One hand on her elbow guided her into the seat. AnnaBelle stretched out on the floor at her feet.

She sat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No dance clubs for you.”

“That’s not exactly a hardship.” She opened her eyes. Her surroundings settled back into place.