I sucked in a breath and looked up into the mirror. He’d know my name from the DAC app, but it caught me off guard. He was still staring at me, this time with a small smile.

A small, flirtatious smile.

And maybe because I was tired and makeup-less, with my unwashed hair pulled into a messy ponytail on top of my head, or because I felt I’d done my part by telling him I was married, or because I’d spent the hour between my two jobs scrubbing vomit off the bathroom floor because Keith had missed again, or because I knew I would never, ever let it go an inch past this conversation in this car on this night—maybe for all those reasons, I held the eye contact for just a moment too long.

And then I smiled back.

“You don’t even know me, Lotti.”

Better people have done worse than that.

Much better people have done much worse than that.

• • •

“You’re telling us you didn’t recognize him at all?”

Detective Puhl asked the question as we sat across from each other. She was staring at me the way an adult stares at a misbehaving child.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. I thought back to the man’s expression as he’d leaned forward. “He seemed almost pleased when I didn’t react. I think he was amused that I didn’t know who he was.”

“Okay,” Detective Puhl said slowly. “So, when did you find out?”

“The next day while I was out at a bar.” I waited for them to say something, but they didn’t, so I kept going. “I’m an artist. I draw portraits for a living… Well, I used to, and—”

The detective held up her hand, and I paused before clearing my throat.

“Anyway, I never forget a face. I saw him on one of the TVs, and that’s when I realized who he was. Funny thing is, one of his songs came on the radio while he was in my car. We actually talked about it—”

“And you still didn’t know—”

“No.”

“So, you’ve never heard of Ryan Hooks?” she asked.

Detective Greg snorted, the first noise he had made all day, and I could’ve kicked him for having nothing more to contribute than that.

“Of course I’ve heard of him,” I said. “I just didn’t make the connection that he was the man I picked up that night.”

Puhl let out a long sigh and leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table. She used two fingers from each hand to rub her temples.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she said. “You pick up one of the biggest pop stars in the country and drop him off at an address in the Gold Coast. That was on…”

“August 1,” I said. “The Saturday before last.”