He gave a bitter laugh. “People say ‘I’m sorry’ all the time. Doesn’t mean jack.” He began to pace. “The detectives on her case gave up by the second week. The second freaking week! Acted like she didn’t matter. They should have kept searching.”

“I don’t give up easily.” She advanced toward him as Piper watched. “I work until I catch my killer.”

Another laugh. “You always catch them? I don’t buy it. No one—”

“I don’t always catch them. But I don’t give up. I don’t forget the cases. I keep working them. I work until I catch my killer.”

He licked his lower lip. “You really mean that?”

She nodded. “I am asking you…is there anything else you need to tell me about Piper Lane? About anyone you may have seen around her shop? Anyone who was paying extra attention to Piper’s assistant, Jessica—”

“Jessica?” A line appeared between his eyes. “No one asked me about her before.” His lips pursed. “She came to my shop one day last week. Or maybe two weeks ago? Not sure. She wanted a new tat.”

Piper found herself leaning toward the glass.

“What kind of tat?” Layla asked.

“A wolf. A big, black wolf. Told me she wanted something beautiful and savage. And she even sent me a pic…” He fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out a phone.

Piper whirled toward the cop who’d been silently watching with her. “I need to see that picture.” Adrenaline poured through her.

But the fresh-faced guy shook his head. “No, you’re supposed to stay here, not go inside.”

“I need to see that picture.” Because she thought she knew the wolf. Or rather, the artist who’d made the wolf. She stopped asking for permission—especially since it looked as if she wasn’t getting that permission. She just ran past the cop. He shouted after her, but she didn’t stop. She yanked open the door to the interrogation room and hurried inside.

Layla glanced up, and her eyes flared in alarm. “Piper—”

“It’s Dante Fallon’s work.” The description of the wolf—God, Jessica had described it with those exact words the first time she’d seen the painting of what Dante called his “Dark Wolf.”

Jessica. A pang shot through Piper.

Mark remained silent as Layla turned the phone toward Piper. The image staring back at her— “Dante.” She nodded. “I would know his work anywhere.”

“She never got the tat,” Mark muttered. “She called the next day, sounding pissed. Told me she’d broken up with her boyfriend, and she was over that shit. Told me wolves didn’t mate for life. Said they were just assholes like everyone else.”

Her boyfriend? Piper met Layla’s stare.