NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

Jade had regrets. To name a few (in no particular order):

a. She regretted turning down Joey Hernandez for senior prom. Not necessarily because she’d thought a different invitation was on its way, but because if she’d gone with Joey and danced all night at Miami’s Vagabond Motel (which was like no motel she’d ever seen before), then Jade would not have walked in on her parents having sex on the kitchen table. What had been seen could never be unseen.

b. Jade also had a few misgivings over spending thousands of dollars on a degree she had never put to use. When high school advisors told their students to “reach for their dreams,” she’d done so. Indiana Jones was fictional, and at the age of twenty-seven, so was Jade’s archaeology career.

c. But what she regretted most was staying with John Thomas for as long as she had. She’d done so because Lucia had expected it of her, and, if she was being honest, she’d maybe worried that John Thomas was “it” for her. She’d never been particularly inclined to date (see the Joey Hernandez fiasco above), preferring instead to work or to hang out with her family.

But Jade had a few new regrets, the first being that she had run away from Danvers after their kiss like an absolute idiot. Who did that? Seriously. There she’d been, lip-locked to the sexiest man she’d ever met, and she had run. Run!

As she’d trucked it back to her car, she hadn’t known whether to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of her exit, or cry because she’d potentially rejected the best kiss she’d had in years—if ever.

The last two days of radio silence from Danvers had proven to be even worse. She felt lonely.

Lonely in the “I might just go adopt five cats today” way, even though she hated cats.

Lonely in the sense that she’d written out numerous text messages to Danvers, apologizing for literally jumping ship, and yet she hadn’t sent a single one.

Jade was in a rut. And it didn’t help matters that Tanya Smith was enjoying the process of digging Jade an even deeper hole.

At the sight of the traffic light switching from yellow to red, Tanya slammed on the car brakes and nearly sent Jade flying into the dashboard. Thank God for seatbelts.

Narrowed blue eyes turned to look at her. “Let’s get real here a second,” Tanya said with an upward tilt of her chin, “You aren’t ready to be on your own. I talked to your superiors today to let them know that you need more training.”

Another week of sitting in a car with the combative Tanya Smith sounded like Jade’s new version of hell.

She sighed, turning her attention to the duffel tucked between her legs. Legs, mind you, which were shoved up near her chin, because she still wasn’t allowed to adjust the seat.

Oh, yeah.

One more week with Tanya, and there was a good chance one of them wouldn’t be making it out alive.

“You heard me?” Tanya snapped. The sneer on her otherwise pretty face didn’t help any. Neither did the fact that she had something stuck in her front teeth. “I said that—”

“You should look in the mirror.”

Those narrowed blue eyes opened wide, deer-in-the-headlights style. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, right”—Jade gestured at her front teeth—“here. Turkey? Canadian bacon? Satan?”

The traffic light turned green and Tanya released the break, swerving between two cars and a bicyclist like a mad woman as she cut to the shoulder of the road and threw the gear into park. Down went the driver’s side visor. Up went Tanya’s face as she flashed her teeth at the mirror.

Furtively she scraped at the piece of food with her fingernail. “Why didn’t you tell me I had bacon stuck in my teeth earlier?”

“When did I have the time?” Feeling very much like she had the upper hand for once, Jade propped her feet on top of her duffel and folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, wait! Maybe when you were flirting with the security guard at the hotel? Or when you were just lecturing on me being a Class-A Failure?”

Tanya froze. Very slowly, as though the shock was like ice in her veins, she lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. I flirted with that guy three hours ago.”

“Time just flies when you’re having fun.”

Normally, Jade wasn’t the sort of woman for pettiness or extreme snark. But after a whole week with Tanya at her side, well, the gloves were ready to come off. Lucia would say it was Jade’s hot Latina blood glimmering through. Jade didn’t think her Cuban heritage had anything to do with it. Instead, she figured that she’d had the misfortune to inherit her father’s infamous temper. Slow to rise, even slower to boil—then, pop! Off came the lid like a champagne cork going airborne.

“Three hours, Harper.” Tanya said this with her hand covering her mouth, and the words came out muffled. “Three. You don’t leave people hanging like that.”

Jade held up a finger. “Correction. You don’t leave friends hanging like that, but you’ve made it very clear that we are not friends.”

Flipping up the visor, Tanya curled her hands around the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. From her angle, Jade noticed the pulsing tick in the other woman’s jaw. Softly, so low that it was a mere whisper of drums and guitar solos, U2’s old classic “Bloody Sunday” crooned on the radio. It wasn’t a Sunday, but it sure felt as though things could turn bloody any second now.

Be a Harper, girl, just smooth the problems away.

Disregarding Tanya’s precious car rules, Jade reached forward and disobediently turned the volume dial to cricket-creaking silence. She resettled herself in the seat, crossed her arms, and prepared herself to make “nice” with the Wicked Witch of the West. Like real adults.

“We could be friends,” Jade said bluntly. “Grab coffee, paint our fingernails.”

“I’m not really into girls’ nights.”

“Me neither. That’s why my two sisters are into fashion and the only fashion I deal with is how clothes look after a crime.”

Silence.

Lovely.

Who had she ticked off in her life to deserve this?

Jade tapped her fingers on her thighs, then went for broke. “Channing Tatum? Chris Hemsworth?” Still nothing. “Seriously, Tanya, can’t we find some common ground? This is miserable and you know it.”

As seconds passed and Tanya said nothing, Jade honestly considered throwing in the towel. She had no problem striking out on her own. She’d never had a problem doing so in the past. But then again, she hadn’t had someone actively trying to hold her back either.

Tanya sharply flicked the visor up. “Robert Downey, Jr.”

Jade just barely kept her mouth from dropping open. Time to act normal. Jade huffed under her breath. Did she even know what normal was anymore? She’d come to New Orleans for a fresh start, and instead she’d entered the Twilight Zone.

Slowly, since she had no intention of scaring Tanya off, she murmured, “Are we talking Sherlock Holmes Robert Downey, Jr. or Iron Man Robert Downey, Jr.?”

“Iron Man. Obviously.”

“Really?” Jade wondered how her work relationship had come down to a Robert Downey, Jr. versus Robert Downey, Jr. showdown. Not that it mattered at the end of the day. If it meant coexisting with the woman behind the wheel, then she would discuss Robert’s hotness ranking every day. She’d become a veritable Robert Downey, Jr. connoisseur.

“Really,” said Tanya. And, for the first time in a week, she no longer looked like she’d just sniffed something rancid. Maybe she even looked a bit . . . All right, so her coworker’s nose was still wrinkled but at least the threats had ceased.

Baby steps.

“I’m a bit more of a Sherlock Holmes fan myself, to be honest,” Jade said, “But I like a man in pantaloons. Does wonders for a guy’s butt.”

“You’re so weird.”

Lucia had always treated her daughter’s “weirdness” a bit like a disease. Coming from Tanya, though, who was single-handedly the Queen of Sarcasm and Snark, it felt almost like a compliment. “Thanks,” Jade murmured. “So are you really anti-Chris Hemsworth? Because if we’re talking about great butts, his is fantastic.”

Surprisingly, the next few hours passed in relative peace. Jade wasn’t quite ready to claim Tanya as a friend, but at least they were friendlier than they had been after leaving the office that morning. After their Robert Downey, Jr. truce, they’d hit up two thefts and a break-in.

On the last scene, Tanya had (begrudgingly) told Jade that she’d done a good job, and Jade would be lying if she said that she hadn’t preened in the passenger’s seat for the next thirty minutes.

“Three-fifty.”

Fishing around in her wallet for the exact change, Jade passed over the money to the cashier and twisted the cap of her water bottle.

When she slid into the passenger’s seat of the van, she handed over a second water bottle. “Think of it as another form of truce.”

“I prefer a mojito,” was Tanya’s glib response.

Jade tipped the bottle up to her mouth. “You’ll have to get that sort of service from a date.”

Settling the water bottle in one of the empty cup holders, Tanya started the car and merged with traffic. “Thanks for the advice, Harper, but it’s gonna have to wait. Got a call when you were in the gas station. Another break-in.”

“Yeah?” Jade tried to curb her enthusiasm. Maybe one day she’d grow tired of the endless calls for service and the crappy side of humanity. Right now, she still loved the rush of adrenaline that threaded through her each time they went to a new scene. “Where at?”

Tanya raised the car’s volume and then went back to ten-and-two-ing the wheel. “Central City.”

By the time they made it to the scene, the afternoon sunlight was unforgiving in its heat.

Jade climbed out of the van and slammed the door shut behind her. The house looked sad, she thought immediately. Or, maybe not sad so much as it looked forgotten. Overgrown plants spiraled out of the soil like reaching hands, and two of the house’s front shutters were splintered. The building across the street appeared to be abandoned, though the homes bracketing either side of it were startlingly new.

Vinyl siding, new. Fancy front gardens, new. Solar panels on the roof, new.

The juxtaposition was bizarre, if not a little startling.

Her gaze went back to the house that had been broken into, taking note of the two NOPD uniformed officers standing on the front porch, before settling on the old lady seated in a rocking chair. Her white as snow hair sat on the top of her head in a thin top-knot, and she was dressed in one of those shapeless tent dresses that Jade’s abuela wore all too often.

Tanya stopped beside her. “I always feel bad when crap happens to the elderly. Makes me think humanity is totally lost.”

Jade silently agreed, and together they headed for the porch steps. She strained to catch blips of the conversation with the police officers.

“Can you tell us anything about the intruder?” said one of the officers. He nodded at Jade and Tanya as they approached, lifting a hand to halt them in their tracks. “We don’t have much to go by right now, you understand. With no report, there’s not much we can do for you.”

The older woman didn’t even bother to glance up, and it was then that Jade noticed her milky pupils. She sucked in a breath. It seemed totally wrong for someone to break into any home—but into a blind woman’s home? What protection did she have against an intruder like that?

“I told you,” the woman said in a raspy voice, “I’d like to speak with Detective Danvers.”

Danvers? Jade’s brain whirred. How many Detective Danvers’ could there be on the force? Jade’s gaze went to the two officers, both of whom shared a Look. She recognized the glance for what it was—they didn’t plan to reach out to Danvers.

But that didn’t explain how this woman even knew who Nathan Danvers was.

The other officer tried. Sweeping his NOPD ball cap from his head, he swatted it against his outer thigh. “Ms. Hansen, this is not a homicide case. You’re the victim of a break-in. Detective Danvers works homicide.” A small pause. “Only homicide.”

Ms. Hansen made a show of kicking her rocking chair into a soft sway as she plucked a cigarette pack from her tent dress.

The first officer sighed. “Call homicide and get a hold of Danvers, would you?”

With a quick nod, the second officer stepped back and brushed past Jade on his way down the porch steps. But she felt rooted to her spot. Danvers was on his way here? Right now? She worried her lower lip with her teeth, and pretended that the thought didn’t totally excite her.

And also fill her with dread.

She still couldn’t believe she’d run from him. So humiliating.

Her gaze sought out Ms. Hansen’s fragile form, who continued to ignore the officer’s quiet interrogation. Who was Ms. Hansen to Danvers? And why did Jade feel as though something a whole lot bigger was going on than she even realized?

Tanya nudged her in the side, shaking Jade from her thoughts. “Should we get to it?”

“Yeah, I—”

The rocking chair stopped. “Is there someone else here, Officer?”

The cop shoved his hat on his head, squaring off the bill. “Just two of the city’s crime lab technicians, Ms. Hansen. They’re going to catalogue the house, all right? See what’s here, see if there might be something my partner and I missed.”

“Nothing is missing.” The older woman said the words with such surety that even the officer blinked slowly.

“Ma’am,” he started in a pacifying voice, “Let’s allow them to do their job, okay? You never know if something might have been taken.”

Oh, boy.

Totally the wrong thing to say. Ms. Hansen’s upper lip curled in distaste. “I may be blind, sir, but I know my own home. Nothing has been taken, ya heard me?”

“Ma’am—”

Jade cut the officer off with a quiet clearing of her throat. Stepping close to the rocking chair, Jade sank to her haunches, putting herself below the woman’s eye level.

“My name is Jade Harper, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.” Ms. Hansen continued to puff away on her cigarette. “My coworker, Tanya, and I are going to do a quick sweep of the property. Check where the perpetrator came in. Broken windows, things like that. After—”

Ms. Hansen harrumphed, stubbing out the cigarette on the chair’s armrest. “You won’t find none of that here. Used a key. Came right in through the front door while I was napping.”

Well, that definitely put a new spin on things. Intruders who used keys weren’t really intruders, then, were they? More like unwelcome visitors. Emphasis on the “unwelcome” part.

She tried again. “How about me and Tanya just give a cursory glance over everything to make sure that nothing is out of place? We’ll work as fast as we can. Make sure everything is wrapped up before Detective Danvers arrives.”

Because you want to show him how good of a job you can do.

Okay, not totally true. Mainly, she wanted to alleviate Ms. Hansen’s worry. Her suddenly erratic heartbeat had nothing to do with a slate-eyed man who could make her wet with just a single look.

Uh-uh.

No way.

Okay, maybe somewhat way.

“Is that all right, Ms. Hansen?” asked Tanya.

Jade looked over her shoulder, for once thankful to have backup in the form of the experienced Tanya Smith. Who knew that conversations about Robert Downey, Jr. could do wonders for a work partnership? If she were the letter-writing type, she’d pen the actor the nicest, most heartfelt thank-you note known to mankind.

But she wasn’t, so Jade settled for offering her partner a grateful smile.

“We’ll be quick,” Jade assured the older woman.

Ms. Hansen’s only response was to blow smoke into the air.

With a quiet nod to the police officer, Tanya and Jade entered the home, briefly pausing when they crossed the threshold.

“It’s morbidly quiet in here,” Tanya muttered as she snapped on latex gloves. “It’s like a hospital. I hate hospitals.”

“Does anyone like hospitals?”

“Doctors.”

Jade rolled her eyes. “That’s different. They have to work there.”

But she silently agreed with her coworker. Ms. Hansen’s house was eerily void of any personal touches. Even Jade’s apartment, which she’d just moved into, had more of a cozy vibe than this place did.

“Want to take the kitchen and bathroom?” Tanya said. “I know how much you love photographing toilets.”

“I thought we were friends now?”

“Sure are,” the other woman said, “that’s why I’m letting you take the one place I don’t want to catalogue. Just like any friend would do.”

Jade figured that she and Tanya had different views on friendship, but she moved into the back of the house regardless. Her shoes clipped across hardwood floor as she conducted a quick sweep of the bathroom. Her camera stayed in her duffel bag. Nothing out of the ordinary there—gracias al cielo.

No way did Jade want to spend any lengthy amount of time in the restroom.

At first sight, the kitchen didn’t seem off either. Utensils tucked away in the drawers. Leftovers sat on the kitchen counter. Plates bathed in soapy water in the sink. Jade wondered if Ms. Hansen had any help or if she knew her house so well that she could manage on her own. A quick glance in the cabinets showed that everything was as it should be.

No stray strands of hair that didn’t match Ms. Hansen’s.

No fingerprints staining the windows or the countertops, as though someone had tried to escape.

No broken doorknobs, as though the intruder had forced himself into a locked space.

Normal. Completely normal.

Jade swallowed her disappointment at the lack of evidence. If there had been an intruder, they’d done a good job of covering any tracks.

Her gaze caught on the pantry door. “What the hell,” she muttered, “might as well.”

Wasn’t like she had anything to lose by checking, though she hated the thought of later reporting to Mike Davis that they’d found zilch at the property.

She tugged open the door, a sliver of anticipation making her hands sweaty, and then felt her shoulders droop with disappointment.

Cereal. Canned goods. Garbage bags.

Everything was lined up so neatly on the shelves it was as though Ms. Hansen ran a proper grocery store.

“Bummer.”

Jade stepped back, intending to strip off her gloves and call it quits, when a flash of color caught her notice on the floor of the pantry. She dropped to her haunches and wedged the door open farther with her shoulder.

Her fingers slipped the photograph out from under the package of paper towels, and she twisted at the waist so she could see it with the light from the window. Dust gathered over the center of the picture, and she brushed it away with the pad of her gloved thumb.

Air vacated her lungs as she stared down at the photograph, immediately recognizing the Victorian-era bar in the corner of the frame as the restaurant she and Danvers had visited the other evening.

But it was the smiling redhead that made her heart pound erratically.

With trembling fingers, she dug into her duffel bag for her camera. But even as she did so, only one thought entered her head . . .

What in the world was a photograph of Miranda Smiley doing in Ms. Hansen’s house?