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He shakes his head again, licking the barbecue from his just-eaten rib off his thumb before answering. “Well, Louie’s obsessed with dinosaurs. He keeps making me be the T. rex during bath time. Tali’s got this karaoke machine that she loves to sing on. We do a lot of duets together at night.”

I grin. “The Karaoke Cowboy’s got his own singing partner?”

“You bet your ass I do.” He smiles. “And Hannah’s good. Baby’s due in a couple weeks. And she’s still managing full-time hours at her nutrition clinic. Don’t know how she does it.”

“She always had more energy than you,” I say. “But then again, you’re an old man, you know? She’s young.”

He laughs and flips me the middle finger.

“And the baby? Did you guys give in and figure out the gender?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Hannah’s firm on this one. She wants it to be a surprise. I think it’s a girl, though.”

“You said it was a girl for Tali and Louie.”

“And I was right about Tali.”

I laugh and reach over to steal some of his fries. Eventually, I order my own burger and fries and down it in about one minute flat when the waitress sets it in front of me.

Dom and I shoot the shit over the next hour, bitching about the guys at the station. It feels like old times, and man, it’s a big boost to the doldrums of trying to force a relationship with someone who doesn’t seem to want to bring anyone new into her circle.

Before we leave and say our goodbyes, he pulls me into a bro hug and asks, “You really holding up okay, man?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically. “All good.”

And that’s the problem. No news, when you’re supposed to be informing the alphabet soup of the government, is not good news.

“Okay. Well, kick some ass. Stay outta trouble. Keep your head on a fucking swivel.”

“Always.”

Magnolia Condos is conveniently quiet when I pull into the garage ready to do some sleuthing.

Recon. Standard surveillance. Nothing illegal and most certainly something I should be doing on this assignment as often as possible.

I need to find out more about Valentina Cordone, and my meeting with Dom served to remind me who I really am—a veteran detective more than worth his salt and given this assignment for a reason.

I need to tread carefully, but I can do plenty behind the scenes while I’m taking it easy out onstage. We don’t have to be fast friends for me to find out things about her.

Until she’s ready to buddy up with me, there are plenty of other ways.

Finding my way to the seventeenth floor, I scour the hallway on her end of the building all the way down to the potted shrubbery outside her door. Her choice of ficus over something much more tolerant of low light and infrequent watering says something about her.

She’s not an automatic easy-road taker, and judging by the health of the leaves, she doesn’t typically bite off more than she can chew.

I’m still lingering in the far corner of the hallway when her door opens, and I shrink quickly into a corner filled with shadows.

Valentina steps out in leggings and a messy bun, with a garbage bag tied at the top. She moves down the hall, humming under her breath, and steps into the trash chute room without noticing me at all. Not great news about her level of awareness and discernment of danger, but I’m also really fucking good at blending in. I hear the garbage fall down the chute before she steps back into the hallway and heads back inside the apartment, unfazed.

I wait a minute before I move toward the stairwell doors and take the steps two at a time until I reach the ground level. This wasn’t originally on my agenda, but I can’t pass up an opportunity this good.

Shoving through the ground-floor exit door, I head straight for the outside bay where the trash chute empties into the dumpster.

The rancid smell of a building full of slobs hits like a brick wall, but I stop breathing through my nose and slip on gloves before opening the hatch to step inside. Her bag is easy to find, since it’s sitting directly on top of the pile, and I waste no time ripping it open to have a look inside.

Empty soda cans, granola bar wrappers, old fruit, coffee grounds. A few receipts from Target and the grocery store up the block. Run-of-the-mill young-chick stuff, all in all.

Until I spot a folded piece of cardstock with a handwritten note inside. The ink is smeared so I can’t read the whole note, but I do see the signature at the bottom.