first person you look for?”
“Husband or boyfriend.”
She nodded. “And if the victim was in an abusive relationship, odds are even higher that’s who killed her. Some women try and get out, but that’s when they’re in the most danger. These guys don’t exactly take rejection well.”
“So you step into the middle. You have any idea how reckless that is?”
“Not reckless,” she said. “Carefully calculated. My clients follow my advice, they get free.”
“So what happened with Melanie?”
She looked away. “I’m not sure. I thought she understood the danger of coming back here. I can’t figure out why she did.”
“Where do these women hear about you?”
She forked up a bite of pancakes. Chewed thoughtfully. Washed it down with a sip of juice. “Here and there.”
“Meaning?”
“Courtney was a referral. A friend of a friend. Some of them I get through a shelter, I think. I’m pretty sure someone at one of the places in town has my number.”
Perfect. Someone was sending Alex these people. Parking trouble right on her doorstep, over and over again.
“Melanie get you through a shelter?”
“She never went to one,” Alex said. “She was too scared.”
Nathan didn’t comment. He wasn’t sure fear was what had kept Melanie away from any shelters. He still had his doubts about Coghan’s wife. Alex had been way too eager to accept her story at face value. Nathan knew some of his reservations stemmed from his relationship with Coghan, but another part was experience. He’d learned that most things were much more complicated than they seemed. And people—particularly desperate ones—lied like rugs.
“These are great.” Alex nodded at his plate. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”
He frowned down at his breakfast. Stabbed a link of sausage.
“How’d you get into what you do?” she asked. “You’ve got a lot of crap cases yourself. Can’t be the pay.”
She seemed to like throwing his words back at him.
“I wanted to be a cop since I was a kid.”
“Why?”
He watched her for a moment. She looked genuinely interested, not like someone making small talk.
“My family ran a bar in the French Quarter,” he said. “My dad was always getting called out of bed to go meet the cops, hear about how some punk had busted into our place, looking for money or booze. When I got old enough, he started letting me come along.”
“So cops were your heroes.”
He shrugged. He’d never really thought of it that way, but Alex would. She was an idealist.
“How’d you get into PI work?” He scooped up a bite of pancakes and watched her.
“I always liked computers,” she said, as if that explained it. “I tried working for other people, but I do better on my own.”
“Problems with authority?”
“I like to call my own shots.”
More interesting than what she’d said was all the stuff she’d left out. Nathan had looked into her background—not that he’d ever tell her that. She’d grown up in Urbana, Illinois, the daughter of two university professors. She’d gone through her freshman year of college there, receiving what had to have been a nice break on tuition at U of I, where her parents worked. But then she’d dropped out. Three years later, she’d founded Lovell Solutions in her hometown. Then she’d taken the show on the road, apparently, moving herself and her company to Chicago, San Francisco, and most recently, Austin.
She was just twenty-nine. She’d been here two years, and it looked like she planned to stay. Unless she got itchy feet again.
“What?” Alex said now, and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. He’d been staring.
“Nothing.” He glanced down at his plate, which he’d somehow managed to clear, despite all the distractions. Alex had cleared hers, too.
She downed a sip of coffee and checked her watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got an appointment over in West Campus. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“The date of your
“Husband or boyfriend.”
She nodded. “And if the victim was in an abusive relationship, odds are even higher that’s who killed her. Some women try and get out, but that’s when they’re in the most danger. These guys don’t exactly take rejection well.”
“So you step into the middle. You have any idea how reckless that is?”
“Not reckless,” she said. “Carefully calculated. My clients follow my advice, they get free.”
“So what happened with Melanie?”
She looked away. “I’m not sure. I thought she understood the danger of coming back here. I can’t figure out why she did.”
“Where do these women hear about you?”
She forked up a bite of pancakes. Chewed thoughtfully. Washed it down with a sip of juice. “Here and there.”
“Meaning?”
“Courtney was a referral. A friend of a friend. Some of them I get through a shelter, I think. I’m pretty sure someone at one of the places in town has my number.”
Perfect. Someone was sending Alex these people. Parking trouble right on her doorstep, over and over again.
“Melanie get you through a shelter?”
“She never went to one,” Alex said. “She was too scared.”
Nathan didn’t comment. He wasn’t sure fear was what had kept Melanie away from any shelters. He still had his doubts about Coghan’s wife. Alex had been way too eager to accept her story at face value. Nathan knew some of his reservations stemmed from his relationship with Coghan, but another part was experience. He’d learned that most things were much more complicated than they seemed. And people—particularly desperate ones—lied like rugs.
“These are great.” Alex nodded at his plate. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”
He frowned down at his breakfast. Stabbed a link of sausage.
“How’d you get into what you do?” she asked. “You’ve got a lot of crap cases yourself. Can’t be the pay.”
She seemed to like throwing his words back at him.
“I wanted to be a cop since I was a kid.”
“Why?”
He watched her for a moment. She looked genuinely interested, not like someone making small talk.
“My family ran a bar in the French Quarter,” he said. “My dad was always getting called out of bed to go meet the cops, hear about how some punk had busted into our place, looking for money or booze. When I got old enough, he started letting me come along.”
“So cops were your heroes.”
He shrugged. He’d never really thought of it that way, but Alex would. She was an idealist.
“How’d you get into PI work?” He scooped up a bite of pancakes and watched her.
“I always liked computers,” she said, as if that explained it. “I tried working for other people, but I do better on my own.”
“Problems with authority?”
“I like to call my own shots.”
More interesting than what she’d said was all the stuff she’d left out. Nathan had looked into her background—not that he’d ever tell her that. She’d grown up in Urbana, Illinois, the daughter of two university professors. She’d gone through her freshman year of college there, receiving what had to have been a nice break on tuition at U of I, where her parents worked. But then she’d dropped out. Three years later, she’d founded Lovell Solutions in her hometown. Then she’d taken the show on the road, apparently, moving herself and her company to Chicago, San Francisco, and most recently, Austin.
She was just twenty-nine. She’d been here two years, and it looked like she planned to stay. Unless she got itchy feet again.
“What?” Alex said now, and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. He’d been staring.
“Nothing.” He glanced down at his plate, which he’d somehow managed to clear, despite all the distractions. Alex had cleared hers, too.
She downed a sip of coffee and checked her watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got an appointment over in West Campus. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“The date of your
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