"I didn't think of it until you'd gone to bed. I couldn't figure out why Rick looked familiar to me. Even before you asked me to snap his photo, I was trying to place him. Last night, I realized that he was the guy who was trying to steal your sister's purse. It was all a set-up."

Marisa's eyes filled. "From the very start. Of course it was, but still... I never knew she could be so devious."

"Wait, though," Sam said. "Why would she go to all that trouble? Why not just knock on your door?"

Nate shrugged. "We'll never know for sure, but what better way to get me on her side than to have me rescue her first? Not only did I help her, but I brought her into my house. I was tending her wounds when she told me she was there to see me. She set herself up from the very start as the victim. It's pretty ingenious, if you ask me."

"Diabolical," Marisa said. "And you know what else? Leslie came to Mexico with that frizzy hair and no makeup, baggy clothes, but at her house, I saw high-end clothes and all sorts of makeup and hair stuff." She looked at Nate. "She wanted us to see her as this... Well, victim is the right word. A frumpy, powerless victim. When really... And now she's dead."

Nate squeezed her hand and looked at Brady. "What's next?"

Brady said, "Richard Gray owns a red Audi A5."

Sam typed quickly and turned the computer so he could see the photo she'd pulled up on Google.

"Definitely not the car I saw that day."

"Your sister, though"—Brady nodded at Marisa—"owned a Chevy Impala." He looked at Nate. "Silver."

Sam typed again, turned the computer so Nate could see the sedan. Looked just like it.

Brady cocked his head at Nate. "That's the car you saw?"

"Yup."

"Good," Brady said. "Good thinking. Helps to know what we're looking for. About the job... We should call and see if he's there."

Rae stood. "I'll do it. You guys keep talking."

Nate watched as Rae glanced at Johnny, found her phone, and dialed. Seemed a waste of time. Obviously, the guy wasn't at work. He turned back to Sam. "The apartment's probably our best bet. Can you see if he has a landline?"

She shook her head. "Already checked."

"We need to get somebody there to check on it." Nate looked at Brady. "Know anybody in that area who could see if anybody's home?"

Brady shook his head. "I don't. Never been to that neck of the woods. I could call the police department—"

"No!"

Brady nodded at Marisa. "Figured you'd say that." He looked around the table, waiting for ideas. When nobody supplied any, he said, "We could call a private investigator."

Nate started to agree when a memory filled his mind. Two very scary men in a minuscule house in a tiny village in Mexico.