“That’s so brutal.” She shivered and took a sip of the hot coffee. “It’s like he wants to wipe out everyone who knows about the origins of Pink Lady, but that can’t be Melody.”
“Maybe Melody didn’t know about the origins of Pink Lady, but she had an idea of how it was connected to the casino and she’d heard about El Gringo Viejo.” Sam stuffed the last of his pancakes in his mouth. “I’m going to head out to the station now and then go back to my motel to shower and change. I’ll pick you up later, and we’ll try to get into Melody’s place.”
As Jolene watched Sam back his truck out of her driveway, it felt like someone had punched her in the gut. No affection from him this morning, no kiss, no double entendre about sharing a bed—no nothing.
Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life?
An hour later, she blew out a sigh of relief when she saw Sam’s rental car pull up in front of her house. Not that she doubted he’d return—he did want to get into Melody’s place—but the last time she’d rejected him, he’d taken her at her word.
She patted Chip’s head and said, “I get him all to myself this time, buddy.”
She stepped out onto the porch and waved before Sam had a chance to leave his car. When she dipped inside the car, she said, “How’d it go with the truck?”
“I didn’t have to answer too many questions—about that.”
She shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. “What then?”
“If I’d found anything yet to justify my presence in Paradiso. I was appropriately vague.” He patted his bag in the back seat. “And I got a copy of the tunnel map, courtesy of Nash Dillon.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Nash invited me to the big bash in Tucson tomorrow night celebrating the casino. I’m sure you were invited. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t planning on going, and I wasn’t sure they were still having it. They must be confident those bones I buried there aren’t some long-lost Yaqui.”
“They must be.” He started the car and pulled away from her house. “Anyway, we’re going.”
“We are?”
“It might be an opportunity to find out more about the investors in the casino.”
Jolene covered her mouth. “I almost forgot Nash’s consortium has an investment in the Desert Sun Casino. Do you think he knows anything about a connection to the cartels?”
“Nash?” Sam snorted. “If Nash thought there was anything fishy about that property, he’d pull out. Truth is, he has more to do with the pecan-processing business than the other investments. He and his family leave that up to the partners.”
“The gala tomorrow is a fancy dress-up thing. You ready for that?” She eyed his broad shoulders. She’d never seen Sam dressed to the nines before—and she’d like to.
“I can rent a tux in Tucson. It might not be a perfect fit, but I’m sure I’ll be presentable.”
He’d be more than presentable. “Then it’s a date.”
“Are you ready for it? You didn’t plan to go.”
“I have a few things that’ll work. I wonder if Wade is still going.”
“I’m not saying Wade’s a cold dude, but I don’t think the death of his sister is going to keep him from this. He’s been waiting too long.”
“I think you’re right.” Jolene sucked in a breath. “The crime scene tape is still up. Is it off-limits?”
“They’re done collecting evidence from her place. There are no cops watching it, and you know where Melody kept a spare key, if it’s still there. I say, we go for it.”
He parked the car at the edge of the parking lot in front of the building, just like he had the previous time. Then they’d been accosted by Tucker. Who knew what would happen this time?
Jolene strode across the parking lot, not looking left or right, putting on a casual, noncommittal face—the type of face you wouldn’t wear when attempting to search your dead cousin’s apartment.
She tripped on the first step, and Sam grabbed her arm. “Hold on. You’re acting like you’re on your way to a demolition. Slow down. Take a few deep breaths. You’re here to find suitable clothing for Melody’s burial—if anyone asks.”
Nodding, she filled her lungs with air, realizing that she’d been holding her breath all the way across the parking lot. She continued up the stairs without a mishap, or maybe that was due to Sam’s steadying hand on her back.
He was still here for her, even though she’d relegated him to a tiny, cold corner of her bed last night, although he seemed to have minded it less than she had.
When they reached Melody’s door, Sam ran a finger along the crime scene tape and held it out while Jolene crouched beside the middle pot in a row of wilted plants. She dug the key from the dirt, blew it off and held it up to Sam. They both ducked under the yellow tape, and Jolene clicked the door shut behind them.
As she turned to face the room, her nose twitched. Melody hadn’t been dead long when they’d discovered her body, but the room still smelled like death. She made a wide berth around the red stain on the tile floor next to the coffee table.
“Where do we start?”
“With these.” Sam dug in his backpack and pulled out two pairs of gloves. “Just in case. We don’t need any more of our prints around here.”
Jolene waved at the little table in the corner of the room, printer cables dangling over the edge like spiders’ legs. “That’s where she had her computer. So, I guess we can’t check that.”
“Drawers, shelves, pictures, closets. You might notice something that escaped the cops’ attention.” Sam snapped on his gloves. “I’ll start in here. Why don’t you hit the bedroom? One or two?”
“Just one bedroom, one bath.” Crossing the room, Jolene tugged on the gloves. She stepped into Melody’s bedroom, her gaze tracking across the unmade bed and
