‘I’m Detective Wyatt from the Albuquerque Police Department, and this is my partner, Detective Roberts.’ Twisting her torso toward the driveway, she pointed. ‘Does that Jeep belong to your son, Beau?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he home then? We’d like to ask him a few questions regarding his girlfriend, Jersey Andrews.’

At the mention of Jersey’s name, Mrs. Cambridge dropped her gaze to the floor but not before Alyssa glimpsed a shadow pass over the woman’s face. And then, with a carefully schooled expression that had Alyssa’s instincts screaming, Mrs. Cambridge said, ‘Beau is home, but I’m afraid he can’t be interrupted right now. He and his father are planning’ – she waved her hand in the air – ‘whatever they plan.’ In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from timid and nervous to self-assured and forceful, if not quite assertive.

Alyssa studied the woman in front of her. ‘I wonder if he would mind being interrupted if he knew the other option would be for us to take him downtown for questioning.’

Mrs. Cambridge paled under her perfectly applied make-up, and she swayed just the tiniest bit. ‘Let me just… let me… I’m sure he won’t mind speaking with you for just a few moments.’ And then she closed the door in their faces as they listened to the receding sounds of her heels traversing back the way they’d come.

‘Who’s she afraid of, do you think? Her husband, son, or both?’ Alyssa kept her eye trained on the door while Cord moved to the left, openly staring into the house through the window.

‘I bet we’re going to find out in a minute.’

Except two minutes, then three passed, and Alyssa was considering ringing the doorbell again when an angry voice and heavy footsteps preceded the door swinging open to reveal a middle-aged man dressed in golf attire, gray peppering the edges of his dark hair. Behind him, with a cocky grin on his face, was a boy of about eighteen or nineteen who she assumed was Beau Cambridge.

Mr. Cambridge puffed his chest out and stepped into Alyssa’s personal space, instantly putting her back up as her hand moved to her hip where it hovered above her gun. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Cord tense as he moved in closer to her, his palm resting on his weapon.

‘What’s this about the police threatening to haul my boy downtown for questioning?’

If the man’s booming voice was intended to be threatening, it had the opposite effect, proving instead to piss Alyssa off, especially combined with the way he continued to press forward. ‘I’ve been warning Beau he needed to get rid of that little tart because she was only good for bitching and blow jobs, and he can get that anywhere.’

A horrified gasp escaped from Mrs. Cambridge a second before she clapped her hand over her mouth. The gleam in her husband’s eyes told Alyssa the man was pleased with his wife’s reaction.

Eyes blazing and temper beginning to simmer, Alyssa said, ‘First off, sir, you’re going to want to take a healthy step back and get the hell out of my face.’ At five-three her height might be diminutive, but her temper was not. She didn’t miss the defiant expression that flashed briefly across the man’s face, making it obvious that women didn’t often challenge him. But she wasn’t most women, and he was about to discover that fast if he didn’t back up. After all, he certainly wasn’t the first male chauvinist she’d encountered in her career or her lifetime, and sadly, he wouldn’t be the last.