I hesitated, put aside all my doubts, and went with my gut. “On the baby daddy.”

She grinned. “Look, if David happened to discard a coffee cup in a public place, and we could pull DNA, test it, and if it matched the DNA of Clare’s baby, then you’d have a reason to talk to him.”

“The backlog of DNA tests on cold cases is at least a year, and I only got a week left.”

“What if I had it tested at a private lab?” she offered. “I can work fast. I don’t want to lose this opportunity.”

“Are you going to rifle through his trash?”

“Maybe. Or have a coffee with him and keep the cup. He’s engaged to my sister, and he’s already mentioned me doing the engagement pictures.”

Whenever I landed on the trail of a killer, excitement ran high, much like making a basket from center court or catching a fifty-yard pass. “Don’t do something like this alone.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“If I had a nickel for all the times I’d heard that one, I’d be able to pay for that new boat I had my eye on. Don’t.”

“When you’re gone, Richards, the next guy isn’t going to care as much about Clare’s case as you. The next guy didn’t walk the crime scene, talk to everyone when their stories were fresh, or watch the pathologist cut open my sister. You’ve skin in this game. If you didn’t, you’d have ignored my call.”

“Let me ask around about David Welbourne. I’ll make calls today. But until I know more, stay away from him.”

Marisa shook her head. “How long do I have to wait?”

And now I was negotiating with her. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“And then you’ve five days before you’re gone?”

“I don’t turn into a pumpkin, Marisa. I’ll still be in the city for a little while longer. And last I heard, phones and computers are fairly efficient.”

A grin tugged her lips. “Okay.”

I jabbed a finger at her. “If you don’t stay sober, the deal is off.”

“That was a one-time thing.”

“I said the same to myself more times than I could count.”

“Believe me, that’s all I hear at the meetings. It won’t happen again. It won’t.” She mimicked a child’s whiny tone. “I’m not prepared to make a lifetime guarantee, but there won’t be a slip until you retire.”

Six whole days of sobriety. I knew she meant it. All the best alcoholics repented well. And I wasn’t going to judge, because the demon lived in me, and he was always hungry. “I’ll call you.”

“Fair enough.”

I met her gaze, holding it, hoping I could burn sense into her. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“Deal.”

47 MARISA

47

MARISA

Sunday, March 20, 2022

1:00 p.m.