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“I don’t need you to be.”

“Fine,” she repeated. “Just… go upstairs. I’ll finish the clean-ups.”

“You don’t have to be such a martyr.”

She shot me a blistering look. She took a breath, surely ready to launch into her usual lecture. The one where everyone’s lives would be so much easier if we just did things her way.

But the office door opened and PJ poked his head in. “Everything’s done out here. Why don’t you both go home?” He didn’t stay a second longer than he needed. When he shut the door and left, Sylvie looked ready to explode. I had a pretty good guess why. She probably expected PJ to tag team with her on this lecture. But when push came to shove, my brother was the ultimate middle child. He avoided conflict and disappeared.

“I’m going to bed,” I said, rising. “It’s been a long day.”

I pulled my purse off the wall hook. The strap twisted and half the contents spilled out onto the floor. Before I could stop her, Sylvie squatted down, helping to pick up everything that had fallen out.

Her hands closed around a business card I’d slid into the side compartment. “I’ve got this,” I shouted, trying to stop her before she read the card.

Too late.

Her face turning red, Sylvie rose to her feet.

“What is this?”

“Nothing,” I said, snatching the card from her hand. I shoved it back into my purse.

“Who is Detective Roy Dennison?”

“Nobody.”

“Corrine, what’s going on?”

“None of your business.”

“Please tell me you’re not stirring up ancient history.”

I didn’t answer.

“Corrine?”

“Let it go.”

Her face went beet red. “Dammit, Corrine. This is bad news. You swore to me years ago you were going to let this go. Put the past behind you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said. I shoved the rest of the contents of my purse back in and ripped the zipper closed.

“No wonder you’ve been off your game. It’s this. That detective. You know how this ends. You know it doesn’t help.”

I brushed past her. “Stop talking. Stay out of it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She sounded like she meant it, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I started for the back stairs. There were two entrances to my apartment. One from the street, one from inside the restaurant just down the hallway. On nights like this, I wished I could just get on a train and keep going.

My head pounded as I slammed the door behind me and trudged up the dark stairwell. Mercifully, Sylvie didn’t follow me. There would be plenty of time for her to shoot me her disapproving looks tomorrow. My feet throbbed as I kicked off my tennis shoes and pushed them against the wall.

This was a one-bedroom apartment, but large, covering the whole second floor of the building. I had enough room for a king-sized bed in the bedroom. I pulled off my black T-shirt with the company logo above the left breast. Tossing that behind me toward the washer and dryer, I went to the galley kitchen and pulled a mini-bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the fridge.

I pressed the cold bottle against my forehead, letting the condensation drip down my cheek. It felt good. Refreshing.

I picked up my purse and pulled Detective Dennison’s card back out, letting my fingers run over the raised lettering. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. Clutching the card against my chest, I felt my whole body start to tremble. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

I could still feel those strong hands sliding up my arms, closing around my throat. He had squeezed slowly at first. Almost playfully. But it had turned into something else so fast. I couldn’t breathe. Black spots swam in front of my eyes. I could see him staring at me through the darkness. Those dark eyes had drawn me to him that first day we met. And now they haunted my nightmares as I could never shake the memory of that last night with him.