Chapter Two

Emmet pulled into the parking lot and scanned the rows. No black Nissan Pathfinder, thank hell. He glanced up at the second apartment from the end. Her light was on.

He got out and climbed the stairs. As he reached the top, his phone vibrated with a text from his brother.

Buck’s is dead tonight. We’re headed to Finn’s. U coming?

Be there in 20, Emmet responded.

He walked down the open breezeway to Nicole’s door and gave a few sharp raps. A shadow moved in front of the peephole. Several seconds ticked by and then the door swung open, and she sighed.

“Expecting someone else?”

“No,” she said, moving back to let him in.

He stepped inside, and she glanced out at the parking lot before closing the door and turning to face him. The minidress and heels were gone, but he could still smell her perfume. She’d changed into an oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

“Want a beer?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He followed her into the kitchen, on alert for her skinny cat, who hated him.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I came by to update you.”

The phone on the counter chimed, and Nicole grabbed it. Her brow furrowed as she read a text.

Emmet scooted around her and opened the fridge. He grabbed a Corona and watched as she tapped out a message to someone, probably David. He took a bottle opener from the drawer by the oven and popped off the top.

“So what’s going on?” she asked, setting her phone aside. Her long auburn hair was back in a ponytail now, and she looked like herself again, except for all the eyeliner.

“I talked to my DPS contact,” he said. “The prints match the ones on file from her driver’s license. Aubrey Lambert, twenty-four years old. Houston address. Her parents live at the same location.”

Nicole leaned back against the counter. “I thought she was local.”

“Guess she didn’t get around to changing her driver’s license.” He took another sip. “We called Houston PD. They’re going to send someone first thing in the morning to notify next of kin.”

“Why not tonight?”

“It’s Houston.” He shrugged. “They’re slammed. I’m guessing conducting a death knock for us isn’t high on their list.”

Nicole rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, once the family’s notified, I’ll get in touch with them about logistics. We figured you’d want to handle the autopsy. The chief wants a rush on the lab work. If someone sold her some bad shit, maybe something laced with fentanyl, we want to know that sooner rather than later.”

“Brady said it was prescription pills.”

“Yeah, but you know how that goes. Could be from one of the pharmacies over the border.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Who is ‘we’?”

“What?”

“Who decided I should handle the autopsy?”

“Brady. Owen and I were talking to him after you left the station house.”

Her brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “Well, why’d he choose me?”

“He probably figured you’d want a chance to drop in on your boyfriend. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is I hate autopsies.”

Nicole’s weak stomach was legendary. But Emmet got the sense there was more to it.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “I just don’t see why it has to be me on this one,” she said, ignoring his fishing expedition. “It sounds like Brady’s leveraging my personal relationship to work a case.”

“People do it all the time. That’s how the system works.”

She twisted the top off and shook her head.

“I can cover it for you, if you want,” he said.

“Good. You cover it. I’ll reach out to the family about logistics.”

“Anyway, suicide or not, a death on the beach is going to be news,” he told her. “If it’s fentanyl-related, even more so.”

Emmet sipped his beer, watching her. She seemed anxious. She probably wanted him out of here in case her boyfriend showed up.

He glanced around her apartment. He hadn’t been over here in months. Well, except for a few late-night drive-bys. He wasn’t sure why he’d come tonight of all nights when he was likely to bump into David, and he could have easily handled this by phone. But making things easy wasn’t in Emmet’s DNA.

He checked his watch. “I’m headed over to Finn’s to meet Calvin and Kyle,” he said. “You want to come?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So?”

She shook her head. “I’ll pass.”

Her phone chimed on the counter, and she reached for it. A worried look came over her face as she answered the call.

“Lawson.”

Emmet watched her shoulders tighten as she listened.

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes met his. “All right. Well, I was talking to Emmet, and he offered to cover it.” Her jaw tensed. “Okay.” Another pause. “Yes, sir.” She turned away. “All right, will do.”

She set the phone down, and Emmet knew what she was going to say before she turned around.

“That was Brady.” She crossed her arms. “I’m on the autopsy.”

He smirked. He’d known Brady would insist on her going.

“Why are you gloating?”

“I’m not.” He took one last sip of beer and set the bottle on the counter. “Thanks for the drink.”

Emmet headed for the door. She reached around him to open it, and he wished there was something he could say to get her to come out with him.

He should just let it go. But he couldn’t help himself.

“Sure you don’t want to come out with us?” he asked.

“I have to be there at seven freaking a.m. I’m going to bed.”

Right.

“Thanks for offering to trade with me,” she said.

“No problem.” He stopped in the doorway and gazed down at her.

She arched her eyebrows. “What is it?”

He stepped outside.

“Skip breakfast,” he told her. “Maybe you won’t puke.”