My car was more memorable than his dark sedan, so we agreed to ride together. My car needed to be parked somewhere, so I drove it back downtown and parked behind the catering kitchen.

I opened Owen’s passenger door, but he immediately said, “Get in the back. I don’t want it to look so obvious that we’re working together.”

As I climbed into the backseat, I found myself hoping this decision to work with Owen wasn’t a big mistake.

We were silent during the ten-minute drive to Brady’s condo, but when he pulled into the parking garage, I started to get nervous. “How do you know Brady won’t be home?”

“He never goes home during the day.”

“But you do?” I asked.

“Not usually. Meeting you was a special circumstance.”

“You have no problem working against your friend?”

Owen parked in a spot and turned around to face me. “I don’t want to think of it that way. I have no intention of getting him into trouble. It’s just that he and I have different priorities right now.” He paused. “You’re willing to work against him. Is this the revenge of a woman scorned?”

“This isn’t any type of plot against Brady,” I said, slinging my purse strap over my shoulder. “I trusted him until last week, when I realized certain things weren’t adding up. I need answers, and I’d hoped he could help me find them, but now . . . I’m not so sure his cold case obsession explains his connection to the serial killer cases. I think it’s personal.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Cold case obsession?”

“Brady told me that he’d discovered Melanie Seaborn’s murder in a cold case club. She had the same mark on her leg that Emily Johnson had. And Amy Danvers.”

“What mark?”

I watched his face. “I think it would be easier to show you. Let me go see about those files.”

Then I opened the car door and got out. I was nervous during the short elevator ride to Brady’s floor, and when it stopped, I looked to make sure no one was around. The hall was empty—not that I’d ever seen anyone around, come to think of it.

Brady had given me a key, and I hadn’t given it back yet. I started to put the key into the lock, then stopped and knocked on the door just in case he was home. I had no idea what excuse I’d use if he opened the door, but I figured it would be better than walking in on him without warning.

When he didn’t answer, I unlocked the door and quickly closed and locked it behind me. I headed straight for the closet where I’d found the files, but the packet wasn’t where I’d originally found it—on the top shelf of his coat closet in a basket of hats and gloves. I wondered if it would be in the apartment at all. What if he’d taken it to the police station? But the night Owen had brought Brady the packet, they’d both acted like it was a hush-hush transaction. I’d bet money it was still in his apartment. Then again, he’d put the envelope in the closet to hide it from me. Now that I wasn’t here, he could keep the files in the open.

The envelope wasn’t out in the open either, but several minutes later, I found it hidden under his socks in his underwear drawer. I dumped the files out of the large envelope on Brady’s neatly made bed and flipped through the pages, my gut clenching when I saw the photos. I quickly stuffed them back inside. My heart couldn’t take seeing the suffering those poor women had endured.

I was heading for the front door when my phone buzzed with a text. I checked the screen and sucked in a breath. The message was from a number I didn’t recognize.

Brady’s on his way up. Get out now.

Shit.

As I tried to figure out how I could possibly escape unnoticed, it barely registered that Owen must have taken my advice and gotten a burner phone. Thankfully, I had a large purse, so I stuffed the envelope inside as I went out into the hall. I had just gotten the front door closed when the elevator doors opened and Brady appeared.

“Maggie?” he asked in seemingly genuine shock. “What are you doing here?”

I forced a fake smile, putting all my Broadway power behind it. “Sorry for just dropping by like this, but I decided to take a chance. I guess I almost missed you.”

“After this morning in the interrogation room, let’s just say I’m surprised to find you here.”

“Yeah . . . well . . .” I was determined to find out everything I could, so I might as well do a little more digging while I was here. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

He stepped beside me and unlocked his door. “Can you come in for a few minutes? I’m not staying here long. I just needed to pick up something.”

Oh, crap. I hoped it wasn’t the envelope in my purse. I had no idea what he’d do when he found out it was gone, especially since I was the only likely suspect. Maybe Owen could photograph or photocopy the pages and return the package before Brady noticed. “Yeah,” I said when I realized he was holding the door open and waiting for an answer. “That’s why I came by. To talk to you.”

“It might be better not to do it in the hallway.”

I stared up at him, searching his face. Brady had lied to me. Multiple times. Maybe it was naïve, but I still couldn’t believe he’d hurt me. He’d always seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare. “No. Inside is probably better.”

I walked over the threshold again, grateful I’d been so careful during my search for the files. There was no visible evidence that I’d just been in here.

Brady gestured toward the sofa. I sat down on one side and he sat beside me, leaving a respectable distance between us.

“I need to explain about this morning,” Brady said, reaching for my hand before he stopped himself. “Maria’s like a barracuda. She would have been relentless. When I heard she had you in the interrogation room, I watched to see what she was doing. I saw enough that I decided to put a stop to it.”

“I had it covered, Brady.”

“I know, but we’ve had so many setbacks . . . I couldn’t stand watching her tear you apart because of me. I’m sorry.”

“Did you really befriend me to get close to me for an investigation?”

“No! Maggie, you know I didn’t. When we met at the deli, I had no idea who you were. You know I was interested in you well before I found out about your involvement in any of this.”

Call me crazy, but I believed that to be true.

He pushed out a breath and leaned forward, holding my gaze. “I’ve never made any secret of my interest in you, Maggie. There’s no conspiracy there. I made up that story to get Maria to lay off you.”

“And she’s not going to figure out that you bluffed?” I asked, trying to control my irritation. There were so many contradictions in his story, so many lies and so much misdirection. I was tired of tiptoeing around the truth. I was tired of buying into his stories. I wanted answers. “I want the truth, Brady. Will you please just give me the damn truth?”

His mouth parted in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I talked to Belinda this morning. She told me about your confrontation with Roy, and her story and yours are completely different.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What did she say?”

“I want your version again.”

He sat up straighter. “I went to their house and—”

I lifted my hand. “Hold up right there. How did you know where they lived?”

“I’d already looked it up. The night you stayed with Belinda. I wanted to know in case you called and needed help.”

Once again, Brady had information about me that bordered on stalkerish. Last week, he’d seemed aware of my every move, something he’d covered for by saying half the police department knew we were together. Maria Martinez had proved that was a lie.

He waited for a moment to make sure I was satisfied, and I gave him a slight nod to continue. “When I got there, I confirmed that Belinda did drive home; then I asked him what he meant by his statement. He pleaded ignorance and said he was just stirring up shit. When I asked him if he knew anything about the night you disappeared, he said he knew you’d gone out in the woods to screw your friend’s boyfriend.” His mouth twisted to the side. “Only, he wasn’t so delicate.”

“And where was Belinda?”

“She was there the whole time. She protested that Roy couldn’t have known anything because he wasn’t even at your momma’s house that night.”

I frowned. “Technically, he wasn’t. He was next door at his best friend’s house.” But how would Brady know that if he were lying?

I felt sick to my stomach. “Did Belinda go inside at any point?”

“Yeah. At the end, but by then I was telling Roy to stay away from you.”

I nodded. Why would Belinda lie? Had Roy told her something about that night—something she didn’t want me to know? I wasn’t sure my heart could handle that.

Time to address the other issues. “When you told Detective Martinez that you’d been trying to establish trust between us for a case, what were you referring to?”

He looked worried but didn’t hesitate to answer. “She thinks you’re in town because of your father. She’s convinced he’s biding his time until he comes back to collect money stolen from the failed Jackson Project. So I let her believe I had gotten close to you to determine your role in that.”

Little did Brady know . . . “So is she working with Owen? Doesn’t he believe the same thing?”

“No. She and Owen don’t get along. She firmly believes Owen’s uncle was dirty, so she doesn’t trust him.”

What a mess.

“Has Roy bothered you? Has he tried to contact you?”

“No.” My mind was on his partner and what she’d hoped to achieve. Catch me finding that annuity? Pulling one million in gold out of a ceramic dog? “Why didn’t you want me to cover for Owen?” While I didn’t trust Brady at this point, it was better to stick with the devil you knew. If Brady waved any red flags bearing Owen’s name, I would have to rethink my brand-new partnership. “The real reason. Are you two having issues?”

“I didn’t want to put you in a difficult situation. There are too many lies and half-truths going around. I think it’s time for the truth to come out.”

“Okay.” But he still wasn’t being honest. I considered pressing him on how he had really tracked my movements last week, but I doubted he’d tell me. Better to let him think I was falling for his excuses. I considered using this opportunity to ask him about Emily’s case, but if he had information he could share about the serial killer, I was pretty sure he’d tell me.

I stood. “I need to go check on Tilly.”

He stood too, keeping his distance. “I really need to go out to that house, Maggie.”

“I’m not sure what Tilly has planned for me,” I lied. “Can I tell you when I have a free hour?”

“Yeah.” But the disappointment in his voice was undeniable.

I started toward the door, which Brady opened for me.

“Do you trust Owen?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’d trust Owen with my life.” He gave me a questioning look. “Why?”

“I’m trying to figure him out. Thanks.” I headed out into the hall, and Brady walked me to the elevator.

“Do you still have that gun in your purse?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“If you need to use it, shoot to kill, Maggie.”

I tasted bile on my tongue. “I hope to God I never have to use it.”

“Me too.”

The elevator doors opened and I walked inside and turned around to face him, wondering how I could ever have believed he represented comfort and safety. Just one more reason to question my judgment, which wasn’t good since I was putting all my eggs in a new basket named Owen Frasier.

I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.