Tomorrow I’d track down Howie. It was my Spidey Sense again. I had a feeling Howie was important. Singh had been trying to call him. It had to mean something, right?

I let myself into my apartment and said howdy to Rex. I checked my phone messages. Three in all.

The first was from Joe. “Hey, cupcake.” That was it. That was the whole message.

The second was from Ranger. “Yo.” Ranger made Joe look like a chatterbox.

The third was a hang-up.

I ambled into the living room, slouched onto the couch, and grabbed for the remote. A splash of color caught my eye from across the room. The color was coming from a vase of red roses and white carnations, sitting on an end table. The flowers hadn’t been there this morning. A white envelope was propped against the vase.

My first thought was that someone had broken into my apartment. Ranger and Morelli did this on a regular basis, but they’d never left me flowers, and I was pretty certain they hadn’t left them this time, either. I did a quick backtrack to the kitchen with my heart beating way too hard and too fast in my chest. I took my gun out of the brown bear cookie jar and started creeping through my apartment. There were only two rooms left unseen. Bedroom and bath. I looked into the bathroom. No creepy deranged killers lurking behind the shower curtain. None on the toilet. The bedroom was also monster free.

I shoved the gun under the waistband of my jeans and returned to the flowers. There was a message printed on the outside of the white envelope. Tag. You’re it. I had no idea what this meant. I opened the envelope and removed three photos. It took a moment for the images to register. I clapped a hand to my mouth when I figured it out. They were pictures of a gunshot victim. A woman. Shot between the eyes. The photos were close-ups that were too tight in to reveal the woman’s identity. One photo showed part of an eyebrow and an open sightless eye. The other two recorded the destruction to the back of her head, the exit point.

I dropped the photos, ran to the phone, and dialed Joe.

“Someone broke into my apartment,” I said. “And they left me flowers and some ph-ph-photos. Should I call the police?”

“Honey, I am the police.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“So, I’m covered. Okay, just checking.”

“Yes. Drive fast.”

FOUR

MORELLI STOOD HANDS on hips, starring at the flowers on the table and the photos still spread out on the floor. “It’s like you have a sign on your door welcoming nuts and stalkers to walk in. Everyone breaks into your apartment. I’ve never seen anything like it. You have three top-of-the-line locks on your door and it doesn’t deter anyone.” He glanced over at me. “Your door was locked, right?”

“Yes. It was locked.” Yeesh. “Do you think this is serious?”