I stretched my arms out to cover my entire doorway, all pretenses of calm lost. If Mrs. Mets walked in there and saw Spencer, she'd lose her mind. She'd refuse to give me back a cent of my security deposit. Worse, she'd make me take Spencer to my new place.

Pierce hadn't required a deposit when I moved into Katy's old place, and that was his problem, not mine.

Mrs. Mets eyed me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, but then finally she stepped back and I sucked in a breath of fresh air. "Fine, Vonnie. We can wait, but if you don't get that key in on time, I'm going to charge you an extra month of rent."

"I'm just waiting for a few things and then it will be in your beautiful hands." I sniffled but then noticed nothing was there to sniffle. Huh, my nose had cleared up.

Interesting.

She turned to trudge up the stairs, and I followed close behind her to make sure she didn't turn around and lunge at my door. I'd locked it, but she had shoulders that would make an NFL lineman weep.

My steps up the stairs had a little extra pep in them. More than I'd had for days. I bet if I tried, I could run a mile without huffing.

Actually, no.

I couldn't do that before the cold.

Broadrick and NB were waiting in the car for me when I hit the parking lot. I dropped into my seat and backed out to take him to work.

"What were in those pills?" I asked as soon as I turned out of the apartment lot. The drive to his office wasn't long enough for a full investigation.

Broadrick kept his gaze out the window that NB was painting with his tongue. "DayQuil."

"DayQuil? So not a street drug?"

He laughed as I stopped beside the curb in front of the Pelican Bay Security office. "Nope. Just good old over-the-counter cold meds. Good to see they're working." Broadrick leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek before wrapping his hand through NB's leash and helping him out of the car. "See you tonight. I have a package of NyQuil waiting for you."

I crinkled my nose. "No, I don't need that."

But maybe I did.

Could you get addicted to cold meds?

I didn't have time to worry about it as I dropped them off and then made the short drive to my office in the older (read: more run down) section of town. My office building had more than one space for rent, and I heard my neighbors before I opened the door to the shared hallway.

"Ugh, they're awake early," I muttered to no one since Broadrick took NB to work with him.

The neighbors were a band. Or a wannabe band. They'd apparently played some big gig in Colorado but wanted to heighten their success and were trying out different genres of music. Last month they'd tried heavy metal. The frantic screaming forced me to invest in a pair of noise canceling headphones.

A drum beat rattled the walls in the hallway as I unlocked my office door. No one screamed, and I sent up a prayer they'd given up on the death metal. My nerves couldn't handle more of those practices.

Wait.

I paused outside the office door before walking in.

Was that a... banjo?

With a head shake, I stepped into the office and let the door close behind me. It cut off the sound and sent up another silent prayer of thanks. The dark spot above my chair appeared the same size as it had the last time I'd stared it with my head tipped all the way back to my shoulders.

Maybe things were finally going my way.

I had to focus and solve the case of the bed-and-breakfast shooting. If I didn't work faster, the police might figure it out before me. They already thought they had the killer, but I knew they were one short. We had one murderer running loose.

First, I had to figure out my clues.

I grabbed the envelope from my light bill and scratched them on the backside.

Dead criminal with gunshot wound.

Old couple from Florida not returning calls.

Trish from the diner reserving a room at B&B.

The couple from Florida definitely raised alarm bells. No one had returned any of my calls, but that didn't mean they were killers. Yet.

Trish, the full-time waitress at the diner, reserved a room, which was definitely something I planned to check out. But Trish was an extrovert. A really friendly and super peppy extrovert. She wasn't a killer. She didn't even believe in hunting.

My clues sucked. How could I solve a crime with so little?

I flipped open the envelope from the morgue and scanned the information for something I missed. There had to be a piece of information that would jump at me and say, "GO HERE AND FIND THE SECOND SHOOTER!"

It didn't happen until page three.

There, in the middle of the paper, was an address-the one listed for the dead guy.

Maybe, just maybe, the guy who shot him hunkered down in his home. It would be the ultimate betrayal and such a Pelican Bay thing for a criminal to do.

I had to check out the house.

Locking up my office, I stopped outside the door to listen to the band. Was that... an... electric banjo?

Did they make those?

"My cat died, and you took the dog," someone bellowed from the door further down the hallway.

Wow. Leaving was a good idea.

Those boys had some life choices to make, and I hoped they kept searching.

It didn't take me long to make it to the south side of town. The brick ranch sat at the end of a long stretch of a city street that ended with a dead end in the forest section. Someplace that seemed familiar, but honestly, in Pelican Bay, everything seemed familiar. I'd probably driven down this street a thousand times and didn't remember. These woods didn't have trails running through them like the wooded section on the north side of town, which made spying harder.

I drove past the home slowly, giving it a good inspection. The brick ranch didn't have a single car parked in the cement driveway, and no lights were on in the home's front.

Did I risk a breaking and entering charge?

Yes.

Obviously.

I parked a few houses down from the ranch home and zipped up my coat as I exited the car, doing my best to resemble a woman out for a stroll. The winter wind didn't want to let go of February, and it whipped down the street, blowing my hair in all different directions and causing my teeth to chatter. It made me look suspicious to be out frolicking in the freezing temps. I needed to get on the internet and buy a mail carrier costume or something.

Would that count as impersonating a federal employee?

How much was the jail time on that charge?

I stopped at the dead end, ready to stroll casually into the woods and approach the house from behind, when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Lainey's name flashed on the screen, and I hurried to answer it.