Prologue
HUNTER
“Youowemefifty bucks.” I dropped the paper bag on the desk of my partner and best friend, Barney, and held out my hand. If I didn’t collect money for the Coney Dog right away, he would conveniently forget. With two ex-wives, an ex-husband, and two kids, he kept his hand firmly on his wallet.
He picked up the bag and stuck his nose in it, inhaling deeply. “Did you get it from that tavern across—”
“Yes, I did. What’s it to me if you clog your arteries on this junk? Pretty sure I can get another partner easy peasy.”
Barney pulled a face. “Ah, come on. I’m an asshole but a lovable asshole. For sure you’d miss me. What’d you say, Carl?”
His reluctance to pay people back wasn’t his only vice. He had a penchant for dragging the unsuspecting into conversations that they weren’t even aware were taking place.
“What’s that, Barney?” Carl glanced up from his computer on the opposite side of the room.
“Just telling Hunter here you’d all miss me if I kicked the bucket.”
“Sure, like a big, fat, cold sore.”
I laughed, propping my hip on Barney’s desk as he pouted. No wonder he had so many exes. Barney had always been a ladies’ man. It’d shocked me when he’d started dating a man, but not even that change had made his last marriage work. The silver threaded through his hair didn’t repel potential partners. On the contrary, he’d turned into a silver fox.
“But do you notice when they’re gone?” Barney dug into his pocket for his wallet. “Sure ya do, which means I’ll take it.”
Carl shook his head and went back to his work. Technically, Barney was also on his lunch hour, but he’d failed to finish up some reports that were due today. I’d volunteered to bring him back a Coney Dog from his favorite tavern.
Barney slapped two twenties and two fives in my hand, then frowned. “Wait, why am I paying you fifty bucks for a Coney Dog?”
I shoved the money into my pocket. “Because that takes care of yesterday’s lunch and the day before that. Anything that’s left over will be used for another day, I’m sure.”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. “What do I get for signing a package delivery for you?”
“What package?”
“It’s on your desk in the silver bubble mailer.”
“Who’s it from?”
“How do I know, man? Didn’t think we were at the opening-each-other’s-mail stage yet, since we haven’t even had a first kiss.”
Vargas, one of our officers, smirked as she walked by. “Don’t know what you’re waiting on to make an honest man out of him, Neely.”
I scowled at her back and slumped into my chair. “He’s not pretty enough.”
Ignoring the chuckles around me, I snatched up the bubble mailer and flipped it over. There was no return address, and my information on the front was printed rather than written by hand. How strange.
I shuffled some papers aside on my desk but couldn’t find my letter opener. I didn’t bother to ask who’d borrowed it. A hazard of working so closely with everyone in a police department meant anything on your desk was deemed public property. Eventually, it would come back.
I found scissors instead and worked the taped end open. The package was so light it was like nothing was inside, but something shifted. I gently shook out the content on my desk.
A hemmed, thin square of black fabric fell out. My heart skipped a beat, the light chatter in the office fading as I stared at the piece of cloth.
This… it can’t be.
I took a disposable glove from my drawer and slipped it on my right hand. I turned over the fabric and straightened it. In the left corner, a naked tree with its last leaf falling to the ground was stitched.
Nate.
“What’d you get?” Barney stopped at my desk. “Don’t tell me you ordered some hoochie’s used panties online, Hunter. Hunter?”