"Also, I was wondering about the timeline. How long do you think-"

Pop!

"Gun!" she shrieked, and dove for the floor.

CHAPTER 3.

Will gazed down at the woman sprawled flat on her stomach with her arms covering her head.

"Courtney." He crouched beside her. "That wasn't a gun."

She looked up at him with terrified eyes.

"What was it? That noise?"

He tried for a soothing voice. "I don't know. Something in your kitchen. It wasn't a gunshot."

She glanced at his sidearm. He hadn't even reached for it, that's how certain he was that they weren't in any danger. She seemed calmed by this, but then her cheeks flushed, and he knew she was embarrassed. He offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet.

"It sounded like an explosion." She peered into the kitchen. He doubted she realized she had a death grip on his fingers.

"Let me see," he said, tugging his hand away. She glanced down and flushed even redder.

He stepped into the tiny kitchen. A broom was propped up against the counter, and wisps of hair covered the floor. He remembered she was a hairstylist at some place with a fancy Italian name. Apparently, she was moonlighting.

In the middle of the floor stood a trash can brimming with bottles, jars, and plastic containers. An exploded tube of biscuit dough sat on top.

"Found the culprit." He picked up the can of dough.

She stood beside her breakfast table now, looking uncomfortable.

"It did sound kind of like a gunshot," he lied.

She brushed her hair out of her face and blew out a breath. Then she sank into a chair.

"Sorry." She closed her eyes. "My nerves are frayed."

Will picked up an empty glass on the counter. He filled it with tap water and placed it on the table in front of her.

This visit was netting more information than he'd expected. Her behavior was that of a victim, not a perpetrator. Yes, her story still had holes in it, but he was becoming more and more certain she hadn't killed her ex. The gunshot residue could have resulted from her struggle with the shooter.

Then again, maybe his brain was getting muddled by those tight pants she had on and the bra she wasn't wearing. He needed to keep his distance.

"You eaten anything tonight?" He leaned back against the counter.

"No." She sipped the water. She wouldn't make eye contact, and her cheeks were still pink.

"You should eat something. And get a good night's sleep."

The doorbell rang, and she jumped to her feet. She hurried into the living room, and he followed.

"Check who it is."

She glanced through the peephole. "My neighbor."

She went back into the kitchen and returned with a Tootsie Pop. She unlocked the door to reveal a grinning little boy of about seven or eight. She handed him the lollipop and said something Will couldn't hear.

After the kid was gone, she kept her hand on the doorknob and turned to face him. "Thanks for bringing over my purse."

She was done talking. Which was okay. She obviously needed some rest, and he'd already learned more than he'd expected. He could come at her again later. In his experience, questioning a person on different occasions was more effective than hammering away for hours. It was especially useful to catch people off guard. They got flustered when they weren't expecting to see you, making it more difficult to lie.

As he stepped over the threshold, he examined her door. It had a sturdy latch and a dead bolt.

"You have an alarm system?" he asked.

"No."

He glanced up and down the block. It wasn't a great neighborhood, but it wasn't terrible. The streetlights glowed brightly, and the lawns appeared reasonably well maintained.

He looked her in the eye. "Lock up behind me."

"I will."

When he was halfway down the sidewalk, he glanced back at her over his shoulder. It was probably his imagination, but she seemed sorry to see him go.

Courtney Glass was in trouble again, and Nathan had the colossally stupid urge to help her. He watched APD's newest recruit cross the parking lot. Hodges stopped beside the unmarked Taurus, looking none too happy to see him.

"Thought you were on the Goodwin case."

"Waiting on labs," Nathan said. "Figured I'd give you a hand this morning."

They got in the Taurus, and Hodges didn't say anything as they pulled out of the lot.

"Take Lamar to Ranch Road 2222," Nathan advised. "You'll miss the traffic on Loop 1."

Hodges didn't comment, but followed the instructions. The tension in the car was thick, and Nathan was getting some definite hostility.

"You and Webb got a list of suspects yet?" Nathan asked.

A microscopic nod.

"You want to tell me who's on it?"

Hodges reached into the back and retrieved a brown accordion file from the floor. Nathan opened it. Under a tab labeled poi, he found a thick sheaf of papers. Nathan combed through. The Persons of Interest included two middle-aged males who had been arrested for armed robbery in various local parks. Also included were three women: the most recent Mrs. Alvin, Courtney Glass, and Alvin's ex-wife, who had gotten royally screwed in their divorce.

"You guys thinking murder for hire?" Nathan asked, examining the ex-wife's driver's license photo. With the exception of a ten-year-old DUI, she'd never been in trouble with the law.

"Don't know," Hodges said.

Nathan skimmed the info on Courtney. He felt the weight of Hodges's gaze on him as he reached the last page.

"Funny, you didn't mention her arrest back in January," Hodges said.

"Jail supervisor released her just after she came in. There's no paperwork. How'd you find out about this?"

"Lopez told me."

Nathan nodded. Lopez had been one of the beat cops patrolling Austin's bar district when an extremely intoxicated Courtney took a hammer and a can of spray paint to Alvin's red Porsche Carrera.

"Don't pull that crap again," Hodges said. "You got something relevant to this case, you tell me."

Nathan closed the file. The kid was right. And once again, Nathan regretted calling in favors to get Fiona's sister off the hook. At the time, he'd thought he was doing a good deed for a mixed-up young woman and a personal favor for Fiona, who had gone the extra mile for him more times than he could count. And since Alvin had wanted everything kept quiet, it had been a relatively easy favor to pull off.

He should have known it would come back to bite him in the ass.

"You're right, I should've said something," Nathan admitted. "And I see where you're going with this, but I gotta tell you, I don't think she did it."

Hodges kept his eyes on the road. "Either way, it's relevant. If you're boning her sister, I don't want to know about it, but don't hold out on me again."

Nathan shook his head. "I'm not boning her sister. Hell, I'm the best man in her wedding next month. You should be worried about yourself, not me. That woman's manipulative. She's also volatile, and she lies like a rug."

"But you don't think she did it."

"That's right," Nathan said. "I understand you need to look at her, but don't waste all your time there. There's more to this thing than a mugging or a pissed-off ex-girlfriend."

Hodges clenched his jaw but stayed silent. He didn't seem to like getting advice, but Nathan didn't much care. This was an important case, and he didn't want it fucked up.

Ranch Road 2222 snaked through the hills of west Austin. The hot, hazy morning promised a sweat-drenched afternoon, and here they were, dressed for the occasion in dark suits so they wouldn't stand out among the mourners.

"This thing's gonna be a Who's Who of big Democrats," Nathan said, moving on to an easier subject. "Alvin was a hot-shot plaintiff's attorney. Won a hundred-million-dollar lawsuit against a tractor company about two years ago. This winter he won another sixty mil in some pharmaceutical case. Wife's family is in the meat-processing business. They call her the Weenie Queenie."

Hodges shot him a look.

"I kid you not. Woman's worth a fortune."

Hodges turned left at a light, indicating that he hadn't needed Nathan's directions to find the church.

Alvin and his wife were members of a small Episcopal congregation in Lakeway. Once upon a time, the town had been a haven for retirees who liked to play golf, but Austin's recent population boom had expanded the city boundaries, and Lakeway was now practically a suburb. Many of the houses there were expensive custom-built mansions with views of Lake Travis. Alvin's home had been purchased after his big windfall two years ago, and the most recent appraisal put the property at $3.5 million.

Hodges pulled into a parking lot surrounded by white crepe myrtles. The funeral didn't begin for another half hour, but the lot had started to fill up. So far, the cars were a mix of Lexuses, BMWs, and suped-up SUVs. The gray Taurus would stick out, and Hodges had the sense to park it in the shade of a tree where it would be less noticeable. From their vantage point, they had an unobstructed view of people filing into the church.

Hodges retrieved the accordion file from the floor at Nathan's feet.

"See that man right there?"

Hodges glanced up. "Gray suit?"

"Yeah. He's the CEO of FireBreaker, that big software company."

"Security software?"

"That's the one," Nathan said. "And that blonde in the dark blue? She's a litigator with Wilkers and Riley, Alvin's firm."

Nathan's gaze lingered on the attorney. She probably played well in front of any jury that included red-blooded men.

But Hodges was too busy scanning the area to admire her. So far, this guy was an ice man. The only thing he'd reacted to so far, really, was being cut out of a piece of information.

"Who's the guy in the seersucker suit?" he asked.

Nathan followed his gaze. "No idea."

"And the short guy near the door?"

"Don't recognize him."

"What about the woman in red? Three o'clock."

Nathan looked over. "Well, what do you know? It's Alvin's ex."

The forty-one-year-old barely resembled her driver's license photo. She had short dark hair. She wore a neatly tailored red suit and low-heeled shoes. Everything about her looked understated, except the color she'd chosen, which seemed to broadcast her feelings about the deceased. A teenager shuffled along beside her in khaki pants and an ill-fitting navy blazer.

"Doesn't look like she's grieving much," Hodges observed.

"Ah, you wouldn't expect her to. She supported him all through law school teaching kindergarten. Then he dumped her flat when he landed a job at Wilkers and Riley."

"Traded her in for the hot-dog heiress?"

"Nah, she came later."

"So that's Alvin's first kid." Hodges glanced at the file. "According to the will, he'll inherit ten million dollars on his twenty-fifth birthday."

Nathan whistled. "Wow."

"Yep."

He turned to Hodges, impressed. "You got a warrant for the will?"

"Executor of the estate filed it the day after the murder. It's a public record."

"Usually takes longer to get the probate wheels turning," Nathan said. "Guess someone's in a hurry to divvy up that money."