I lay down on the bed next to NB. All these walks were getting to me, too. "Thanks."

NB repositioned himself as I tore into the envelope, ripping through Katy's return address in the top left corner. A small pile of newspaper clippings fell from the envelope onto the bed. Katy used zig-zagged scissors to cut the articles from the local paper. She always had a flare for dramatics.

"What's that?" Broadrick asked.

I scanned the first piece. "Case updates on my aunt and uncle."

The bold headlines told most of the stories. They'd both been before a judge and blamed one another for the activities that led them to being local drug kingpins. Another article said they'd been denied bail. The most recent update-a short one on the bottom-said my uncle wanted to change his plea from guilty to not guilty by reason of mental distress. Was he pleading insanity? Would that work? The judge hadn't given a ruling on the decision yet.

"You haven't updated your case scrapbook lately." He picked up one article I'd let fall into my lap after reading it.

My case scrapbook was in a box in our storage unit in Pelican Bay, waiting for us to find a permanent place to live. But that wasn't the only reason I hadn't updated it. "Yeah, it feels weird to scrapbook sending your close relatives to jail."

"Then scrapbook getting justice for Emma," he said, handing me back the article.

I nodded and shoved the articles back into the envelope. Finding Emma's killer wasn't as exciting when it turned out to be my aunt, but he had a point. And I appreciated the effort.

Things in Pelican Bay were moving forward-not just with the case against my family but with my friends. We'd moved our stuff out of Katy's place, and now Pierce had to find a new renter for it. Katy said he'd drastically increased the rent, but he'd still find someone quickly since it was right across from the ocean. Hopefully, someone followed the tradition of giving Pierce hell after they moved in.

"There's been a lot of change in just a few months," I said to Broadrick, but really to no one in particular.

He nodded. "Good change, though. Right?"

"Yeah," I said as he ran his hand down my face.

He kissed my temple. "I have to run back into the office to help Tony get settled in. What are your plans this afternoon?"

I pretended to think about it for a minute. "A little of this and a little of that."

"Does any of it include a helicopter?"

I laughed. "No. We're going to gorge ourselves on Forensic Files and take a nap until NB is ready for his pre-dinner walk."

"Sounds thrilling," he said, standing again.

I nodded and did my absolute best to appear as innocent as a small child. "You have no idea. We're just living the dream."

Broadrick gave NB a few pets and then headed toward the front door. "I'll text when I'm about to head out, and we can get some dinner. Be good," he said as he paused by the door.

I waved good-bye with my sweetest smile. He bought it hook, line, and sinker.

It would have been irresponsible to only wait five minutes and then sneak around the island on my afternoon business. Broadrick might wait outside the door for me to do exactly that. Plus, NB hadn't moved as Broadrick petted him, so I figured he really needed a nap. I settled in for an episode of our favorite show and got comfortable surrounded by pillows.

One episode later, I toed NB with my left foot. He didn't budge.

"Come on, buddy. We've got nefarious things to do." I sat up and gave him a gentle push with my hand. "Up and at 'em."

He lifted his head at me and promptly laid it back on the bed. I nudged past him, slipped on my shoes, and jiggled his leash from beside the door. He opened one eye, saw my movements, and jumped off the bed.

"That's what I thought," I said and clipped his leash. "If your daddy asks, you begged for this."

We walked in a different direction than our normal path, and I led NB toward the back row of small buildings on the main street in town. We walked slowly, taking time to smile and wave at people as we passed.

Broadrick believed I'd given up on being a private investigator. Which I had. After I solved Melissa's murder and figured out how Harold cheated at golf, I'd enter civilian life again. But until then, having my big board to work out clues would have been nice. Of course, that was in storage with all my other stuff. It's not like I could whip it out and start connecting bits of string. He'd figure out I was up to something for sure.

There were just so many pieces of Melissa's murder that I hadn't put together yet. NB and I stopped at a roadway and waited for a golf cart to pass. I waved to the driver.

People on the island loved to gossip, so I'd learned a lot about Melissa, but since I hadn't lived here my entire life, I still had holes in my knowledge. I knew Melissa and Larken were cutthroat. They often fought and tried to outdo one another. Melissa had good recommendations from everyone except her lone critical review online. I'd made that person my number one suspect for about thirty seconds-until I learned they'd how long ago it happened. Even if you hated your realtor, I didn't see them returning to the island just to kill her. So, who became suspect number one?

Melissa received at least two rude phone calls, but I had no way of knowing who they were from. It's not like I had access to the phone records, and I doubted I could sneak my way into the police station on the mainland. With my clues running out, my next move had to be a visit to the source.

We crossed the main road lined with streets and stuck to the shadows on the back half. While watching our murder show, I scanned Melissa's website and found her on-island office. She had a place right downtown, which made sneaking into it harder... but not impossible.

A glass back door with her name etched into it met us as we turned the corner, and I brought NB to a stop. He sniffed the bush to our side and lifted his leg. The sun cast a glare on the window beside the door, and I covered my eyes. I really had to get a pair of sunglasses.

With a quick glance behind us, I tried the door. Locked.

Damn it. Although, expected.

The window had to be my next shot. I sent up a silent prayer and moved NB's leash to my elbow, giving me more room to move my hands. I tested the window with a giant push upward using both hands. It flew up, hit the top with a clatter and tried to crash closed again. My hands stopped it, and I crept higher until I hit the top again. The window was only two feet off the ground and tall enough for even Broadrick to walk through it, but I had to hold it open while grabbing NB.

"Come here," I called to him. He finished his business on the bush and turned the other direction like he had more things to pee on. "Right now."

That got his attention, and he moved toward me. I put half my body through the window and turned back to him. Using one hand to keep the window high, I scooped him up and crawled the rest of the way inside, breathing hard.

"You have to start paying attention," I scolded as we turned around. I set him on the Berber carpet in the office and low whistled. "Fancy."

Melissa's office looked exactly like I pictured the place of someone who worked for the mega rich. She had deep blue wallpaper and bright white trim. There was even a column in the middle of the open space.

A thin white desk with metal legs sat off to the left with her plush-looking chair slid underneath it. The top was completely bare. Not even an old coffee stain. Someone had stacked five large boxes beside it. A stack of realtor signs with her name on them leaned up against the back wall, but otherwise the place was empty. She barely had anything in it.

I'd never seen a realtor sign for a home on the island. Or any advertisements for any of the homes that Melissa had listed and with sellers I spoke with regarding her murder. It made me believe they weren't allowed here. But then why have the signs? Did she have listings on the mainland? Would someone ride the ferry to the island just to kill their relator?

And who would pack up her things? I doubted those boxes were then while she was alive. They didn't fit the rich minimalist vibe. NB and I walked toward the desk since it seemed to be the best place for me to find a new clue.

I slid back the chair and opened the single drawer, a big, long one in the middle. It was empty. Everything had to be in the boxes. NB circled the desk, getting his leash wrapped around a desk leg.

"Really, Not Brent?" I asked, using his full name to let him know he was in serious trouble. I pulled away from the box I'd been about to open to help untangle him.

A key scraped into a lock, and we both froze. The office door opened, and a tall brunette wearing two-inch heels walked into Melissa's office. "Vonnie?"

I clutched NB to my chest. "Larken?"