Jessica nodded to a poster taped to the wall behind the older woman. It was a sheet of paper with the word MISSING in big bloodred capital letters across the top. Underneath, in a smaller black font, were the words “Have you seen this person?” The paper was glossy, the printout good quality. The same as others Jessica had seen around town the last couple of days hanging in bars and restaurants, stuck on shop front windows, pasted to streetlight poles.

A color photograph showed an unsmiling young Asian woman with ebony hair that shone like wet tar and eyes that were every bit as dark. She looked pissed with whoever was behind the camera taking the photo.

A twenty-year-old college student, Amy Ong had been reported missing by her roommate after failing to return home from a Saturday-night date. Young, beautiful, and smart: the holy trinity that guaranteed her image had been splashed across every news channel and newspaper in LA and the surrounding areas for the last few days. Not like the girls with average looks from the wrong side of the tracks, who barely merited a mention in the inside pages.

Jessica repeated, “You might want to take that down now.”

“Oh, have they found her?” Nancy’s drawn-on eyebrows shot up in a hopeful expression as far as the Botox would allow. “I bet she’s been with some boy, and her cell phone ran out of juice. Happens all the time. I should know—my kid’s the same age.”

“She’s dead.”

The older woman’s face crumpled under her heavy foundation.

Jessica went on. “They haven’t officially confirmed the identity yet, but it sounds like it’s Amy Ong. Cops are treating it as murder, according to the news.”

Nancy’s hand flew to her mouth, and her mascara-rimmed eyes widened. “Murder? Good Lord. That poor girl.” Then she shook her head sadly and turned away. She began peeling the Scotch tape that held the poster in place, careful not to snap her crimson acrylic nails.

Dead or didn’t want to be found.

Amy Ong was now one of the former. A life with so much promise apparently snuffed out in an instant. Jessica had wondered if the young woman’s disappearance might lead to some work coming her way, but that was clearly a dead end now. Literally. She preferred her cases much colder anyway, like a bottle of Bud Light straight from a cooler, and this one had never gotten to be anything other than lukewarm.

It was time to move on. Either the toss of a dime—heads for north, tails for south—or pick a new case from a missing persons website and show up in town and pitch for business.