He was a possible. Yet he wasn’t trying to hide his identity. He was dressed in business casual, didn’t strike her as off. But some killers were crafty, and just because her instincts were better than most didn’t mean that they were foolproof.

Then he turned and looked right at her. His eyes were moist. “Excuse me,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know why I came here. I’d hoped for something—I don’t know.”

“You knew Victoria Manners.”

He nodded. “I run the staffing agency she worked at. I was hoping this press conference was going to tell us who killed her—but it’s nothing that wasn’t in the paper. I need to go.”

She let him leave. Verifying his story would be easy enough, and she had a picture of him, but she didn’t doubt him.

No one else fit the profile. She dropped her skateboard and rolled down the sidewalk, looked at parked cars. No one sitting in a vehicle and watching. No one on the periphery or trying to hide. Still, she took photos of every license plate within visual distance of the press briefing. She looked at the buildings—a government office building on one side of the main street, a mix of houses and small businesses on the other side. No one looking out windows. She returned to the conference. Two cops were in the crowd. Had Costa sent them in? Or Maddox? Didn’t matter, she had them both pegged quickly. One was obvious—his gun was partly visible under his blazer—the other was trying to blend. Jeans, loose T-shirt, windbreaker. But he had that cop vibe.

Her eye fell back on the teenager with the skateboard. He was certainly up to no good. She kept an eye on him. Discreetly, but the kid didn’t even notice because of how she was dressed.

Just one of the boys, aren’t I?

She almost laughed out loud as she watched the kid pick the pocket of the baby daddy. So smooth, so clean she was almost impressed. But what really impressed her was when the kid slipped the wallet out of the pocket of the undercover cop in jeans and the cop didn’t even notice. Well, shit. She couldn’t let a badge get burned like that. And the killer wasn’t here. Of that she was certain.

She caught up with the kid not even a half block later. Helped that she, too, had a skateboard and could keep up. Most of the time, no one paid attention to teenagers, which was why it was her favorite undercover disguise.

Kara stuck out her foot and tripped him. He fell on his ass with a foulmouthed complaint. His skateboard slid under a parked car.

“Bitch, watch it!”

“You’re good, but I’m better,” she said.

He jumped up and retrieved his skateboard. She didn’t give him time to get back on.

“You’re under arrest,” she said.

He laughed. “No fucking way you’re a cop.”

She pulled handcuffs from her pocket—always a risk to carry when undercover, but she felt they might come in handy—and cuffed him. The conference was breaking up. She dragged the kid in through the side door and found a uniformed officer.