“What caliber gun was used to kill June Lindstrom?”

“Thirty-eight. Bullet was still in her. It’s on its way to Ballistics.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to use that gun again,” he mused. “Maybe he didn’t want to leave a trail.”

“Maybe. Lots of maybes, partner. Hold on, Tiff’s back.” She unmuted her phone. “What do you have?” She listened, her eyes growing wide. “Really? Well, that’s a helluva mess. Thanks for this. You’ll let me know if anything else comes up?” She disconnected and met Rafe’s gaze. “A Santa Rosa woman was found dead this morning. Broken neck. Cops are at the scene right now.”

“June Lindstrom’s minivan was found in Santa Rosa last night,” Rafe said quietly. “Burton was seen getting out of it, but the security cameras lost him when he ducked into an alley.”

She blinked at him. “Where did you hear that?”

“Gideon,” he said grimly. “I’d almost forgotten that, with all the other shit going on.”

Erin lightly banged her head on the wall behind them. “Why can’t we share information with the FBI?”

Rafe’s grin was razor sharp. “We are.”

Her lips curved. “Yes, we are.”

“Mom’s making a huge dinner this afternoon. Gideon’ll be there. We may or may not talk more about this, if you want to join us.”

“I just might. What does all of this mean for Mercy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve asked her to remember stuff about Eden, anything we can use to track their movements.”

“And?”

“We might have something. Furniture and other crafts, made there and sold or traded outside.”

She drew herself straighter, then faked a few coughs. “Oh my, I may have had a relapse. I might have to take a few days off. Whatever shall I do with all that spare time?”

He snorted, despite the gravity of the situation. “I really do miss you. When we find a lead, I’ll let you know. Until then, you might be able to help more in the office.”

Her frown came as close to a pout as he’d ever seen, surprising him. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re Miss By-the-Book.” He narrowed his eyes. “Which makes me wonder, what gives?”

She lifted one shoulder, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I want to help you. I . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“No, what? Talk to me, Rhee.”

She blew out a frustrated sigh. “Shit, I wish I hadn’t said anything now.”

“But you did. So say more.”

“It’s just that . . . You’ve always been a friend, Rafe. I value that, and that whole near-death thing made me reconsider my priorities.”

“I know about that,” he murmured, thinking of the woman asleep on his sofa.

Erin made an uncomfortable sound. “You know I mean friend, right? Like nothing . . .” Her lips twisted before making little kisses.

He smirked. “Yeah, I figured that out myself, thanks.” The last time she’d come to Sunday dinner, she and Sasha had seemed to connect. “If you come to dinner, Sasha will be there.”