Back at her desk, Stella checked her messages. Finally, Gianna had returned her call. Stella dialed her number. “Can I stop by and show you something?”

Gianna chuckled. “If it’s that hottie you brought the other day, sure thing.”

“Sorry. That’s not it.” Stella grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door.

“I guess you can still come.” Gianna sighed.

“I’ll bring ice cream.” Stella ended the call. A quick stop at the convenience store yielded a container of vanilla fudge swirl, Gianna’s favorite.

If the girl picked Spivak out of the photo lineup, Stella’s life would get much easier. He was a scumbag. He had a record that included assault. But she had her doubts about his ability to have dumped the body. If the ME was right, and Dena had been dead for no more than eighteen hours before she was found, then Spivak would have had to dump her body before sunset last night. Stella had arrested him at nine-thirty the previous night. Dena couldn’t have been dumped before six p.m.

If he’d also been outside the church the night Missy disappeared, Stella would feel better about building a case with him as her killer.

The sun was setting as Stella parked outside Gianna’s apartment. The girl must have been watching for her because she opened the door before Stella knocked. As usual, the apartment was hot as a sauna. Stella stripped off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair.

Gianna walked into the kitchen and took a bowl from the microwave. The aroma of warm fettuccine Alfredo drifted into the room. Stella’s appetite stirred to life, but Gianna needed every calorie.

“Do you want some? I’m not really hungry, but I have to eat.” Gianna put the bowl on the tiny table. Even though she’d clearly been crying, the girl’s color was pinker, her eyes brighter, and her step quicker. The TV was set to a local newscast. She picked up the remote control and muted the volume.

“Go ahead. Please.” Stella dropped into a folding chair. “You look better today.”

A bony shoulder poked out from the neck of Gianna’s oversize T-shirt. “Not a dialysis day.”

Ironically, the treatments that kept her alive also drained her energy.

Stella reached into her pocket and removed the photo of Dena Miller. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Gianna leaned forward. “Yes. That’s Dena.”

“Was she friendly with Missy?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they’d talk during the refreshment hour after the meeting or go out for a late dinner.”

“Did you ever go with them?” Stella’s mind whirled. Not only were the victims members of the same group, they were friends.

“You know I can’t afford dinners out. I can’t even afford dinners in.” Gianna snorted. “Wait. Why are you asking me about Dena?”

Stella put a hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry. She’s dead.”