If being an inch shy of six feet wasn’t enough, Tera Montecino was also stocked with muscle that came from buckets of whey protein and a longtime Gold’s membership. Luke had firsthand knowledge of that muscle. She’d pushed and shaken him around on multiple occasions. One time, growing impatient with his responses, she had lifted him out of his chair in the interrogation room and pinned him to the wall. “Lying is more painful with a broken jaw,” she’d growled. She had an alligator’s sleek strength and ferocity.

Her eyes were primer-gray, as if waiting for a color to be applied. A small defect, maybe a scar on the inside of her lip, wrinkled her mouth on one side. Even smiling couldn’t iron it out, which, in Luke’s experience, she didn’t do often. Her hair was her most striking feature (and arguably a more effective weapon than the Beretta 92FS tucked into her side holster). She wore it pinned back on the streets—rigidly, like an old schoolmarm—but let it down in the interrogation room. It was mirror-bright and touched the bottoms of her shoulder blades. Luke had been quite captivated, watching it ripple and shine, and had wondered how many confessions it had coaxed from the mouths of vulnerable suspects.

He loosened his grip on his keys and took a step backward. Montecino followed, as close as she could get without touching.

“You notice anything different about me?” she asked, hands on her hips.

Luke looked her up and down. Brown boots, blue jeans, a red checked shirt beneath a gray sport jacket, and of course the sidearm holstered to her left side.

“You still look like a Tolkien character and dress like Chuck Norris,” he said, and managed a dry smile. “So no, I don’t notice anything different about you.”

“Funny guy.” She tapped the right side of her belt. “No shield.”

Luke dropped his gaze to where she’d tapped, and saw no LAPD badge. As much as he wanted to show indifference, he couldn’t keep the question out of his eyes.

“I’d always planned to retire early,” Tera said. “So here I am. New freedom. New adventures.”

“I’m thrilled for you,” Luke said stiffly. He moved to step around her but she followed again, cutting him off.

“I recently acquired my private investigator license.” There was a glint of intent in her otherwise dull eyes. “It’s a simple process for an ex-cop; I have a police science degree and the requisite hours of investigative work. I have my PI firearm permit, too.” She lifted the left side of her jacket. “A lot of scumbags out there. I’d rather be prepared than sorry.”

“Yeah, best way to be,” Luke said. “Now, whatever it is you really want to say, make it quick.”