He saw it click in her, or perhaps she’d thought of it already and was only recognizing how far down into this thing he’d go with her. A light came into her eyes. She said, “You want her name so you can find the daughter. Get something to trade that isn’t Trey.”

He nodded, even as Gabrielle’s jaw unhinged. He turned to her before she could speak. “We’ll leave you out of anything illegal. I don’t see another way.” The daughter was the only thing she cared about. Finding her was the key.

Bree stood up, firming her lips and squaring her shoulders, her gaze burning into him. Gratitude and hope and something else, unreadable. “So what do we do first?”

She asked as if she were sure he knew, and he felt her faith like a jolt, pure energy crackling through him. This was that force she had in her, the thing that had made her so electric on the stage. She’d turned it on him like a beam.

“We send the phone and bag to a private lab. The pill bottle and the dosed flask incriminate you, so I’ll hold them in case we need them. I know a lab that works Saturdays. I’ll call them. A rush job will be expensive, but . . .” She was already waving that away, so he started packing the artifacts into the gaudy bag. “Not enough time for DNA, but if they can get fingerprints, maybe she has a record. Gabrielle, call a car service? As soon as we’re done here, you need to go drop this stuff off.” He handed her the sack, then unclipped his own phone from his belt. “I’ll text you the lab’s address.”

“I can do that.” She came down hard on the last word as she got her phone out. It was a warning; there were things she would not do.

Bree understood the warning as well. She turned to hold his gaze in what became a promise between them. No limits.

Then she looked down, her cheeks coloring, and changed the subject. “The mother said finding her wouldn’t help me find the daughter.”

Pushback was good. If he had to convince her, it made this idea more his. If it failed, at least Bree would have someone to blame besides herself.