The word fiancé had caused his pencil to stall. The word murder had him dropping it on his lap. Her story had launched his career. And ended life as she'd known it. Over the course of the next few weeks, Marisa had told Nate the facts as she understood them in an effort to bring down the people responsible for her fiancé's death. And in doing so, she'd placed herself in the crosshairs of some very dangerous men. Then she'd escaped.

Marisa's image faded. The woman at the table was staring at him as she dabbed at the wound on her forehead. "I take it you remember her."

He hated to think what emotions had crossed his features during that sprint down memory lane.

"How could I forget her? Thanks to her, I got a job at the Times." He couldn't imagine that the Marisa in his memory and this woman were related. "Marisa is your sister?"

"Half-sister. She's seven years younger than me. We have the same mother." The woman's lopsided expression didn't do anything for her plain features. "Marisa looks like her father."

Had his thoughts been that obvious? "So what can I do for you, uh...?"

"Leslie. Leslie Johnson."

He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

She shook it, held on tight. "I have to find her."

He pulled out of her grasp. "I wish I could help."

"She left a clue with you."

He shook his head. "The feds combed through my files after she disappeared. She left nothing."

"Trust me, she left a clue with you, and I have to find it."

"There's nothing—"

"Not to be cliché," she said, "but it's a matter of life and death."

"Is that so? Whose life is on the line?"

She sat taller, swallowed hard. "Mine."

Nate studied the woman. "How so?"

Leslie took a shaky breath. "Last night, somebody broke into my house." Her voice trembled. "It was late, and I was in bed. There were two of them, a man and a woman. I'd been asleep. I woke up when the man grabbed my hair." She stopped and set the bloody paper towel on the table.

Nate handed her a fresh one. "Go on."

"He held a knife to my throat and told me not to move. He said that I had seven days to return the money that my sister had stolen, or I would die. I told him she didn't steal it." She wiped tears with her trembling fingers. "He laughed and said I'd better get the money or find out exactly what happened to it."

Leslie's tears fell faster now, and she lowered her gaze. She used the fresh paper towel to wipe her cheeks. "I don't know what else to do. I could hide, but my life is here. And anyway, I'm afraid they'll find me. But if I find Marisa, what if I put her in danger?"