"Stay right there," Tony said and positioned me against the wall opposite him. "That way, no one can see me."

We'd made our way to Larken's building and found her apartment with ease since I'd already been here once. Tony used a master keycard – I had to get myself one of those – to get us in the building. We rode the elevator in silence, while I planned out our next moves. I pointed at her electric lock and held up my hands as we approached. Even if I had my lock pick set on the island, I couldn't use it to break through the mechanical door.

In response, Tony lifted one eyebrow and pulled a small square device with three cords running out of it to another small box from his pocket.

"What is that?" I asked as I lined myself up to block the view of anyone who might walk past us in the hallway.

Tony popped the top of the door lock's keypad off the front, letting it dangle as he attached his machine to the top. "This is an early Christmas gift to me."

The small machine emitted two quick beeps, and we waited. "What's it doing?"

"Working," he said and then shushed me by holding a finger over his lips.

Another two minutes passed before the lock on the door clicked. My mouth fell open as Tony turned the handle and gained us access to Larken's apartment. He popped the lock cover back on the case before opening the door completely. There'd be no evidence of us being here.

"Hey, you need to teach me that," I said as I followed Tony inside. No point in me walking in first, in case she had a big dog with sharp teeth.

Tony slipped into the apartment and immediately put his back to the wall, waiting for said terrifying animal to take a chunk out of him. When nothing came, he lowered his guard and stepped into the home. "Broadrick definitely doesn't want you learning any of those skills."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Tony snickered. "But it might end up killing me."

"Don't be so wimpy," I said, walking past him through the kitchen and into the living room. "Wow."

Larken, as a person, was so put together. She always met us in cute little pantsuits or walked around town in coordinated outfits, but her home... wasn't.

She had a large television sitting on the floor in front of a black metal futon as a couch. There were no end tables or other pieces of furniture in the open space of her home.

Tony gave a slight whistle. "It's possible she can't afford the furniture after the price tag on the condo."

"This is worse than my place in Pelican Bay." I'd furnished that place with thrift store finds, but at least I had two seating options.

"Good view, though." Tony stood beside me as we stared out past her floor-to-ceiling windows. Waves glittered against the ocean, and in the far distance, a haze of a city flickered in and out. Tall dark buildings cut the landscape just enough to let you know they existed. "Didn't your old couch have a broken spring?"

"She doesn't even have springs." The last time I sat on a futon was at college when I used to stay the weekend with friends who lived on campus.

Tony shrugged. "But they aren't broken."

"Whatever. Help me look for clues if you're going to be here." I left him and began my search in the kitchen.

He helped by opening the fridge and grabbing a baby carrot from a bag she had on the middle shelf. "What clues are we looking for, exactly?"

"You know." I opened another cabinet.

Tony watched me from his position by the refrigerator, munching on his carrot. "Not really."

"Murder stuff, Tony." We'd left the second knitting needle under the dresser where we found it, after wiping our prints-and unfortunately any of the killer's as well-from the barrel. That meant we were no longer on the hunt for the missing needle, but there had to be something else to connect Larken to Melissa's murder.

Like a journal with a written confession. That'd be nice.

"That's not a big help, but I have a feeling you're not going to find anything in her spice drawer," he said, and I slammed the drawer shut. Who needed that much cinnamon?

Although I hated to admit it, he had a point. She probably didn't hide her notebook of murder plans in the kitchen. "Let's check the bedroom."

I'd planned on working my way that way anyway, but we'd hurry it along.

"Only a two bedroom," Tony said as we walked past a hallway bathroom with a completely empty room across the hall from it.

The door to the primary bedroom was at the end of the hall. "Bedrooms are expensive."

"How much you think this set her back?" Tony asked as we walked in and surveyed the room.

Larken's unmade bed had stark white sheets and sat on the floor without a bedframe. She really took living a minimalist life to new levels. Was she in a cult? I'd once joined a minimalist Facebook group but quickly realized I liked stuff. Especially shoes. No sane person lived with only a single pair.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed, searching between the mattresses for the murder journal. "She had to pay at least a cool million but probably more."

Tony gave another slow whistle. "That's why she can't afford furniture."

Whatever it was, it was strange. Not that I wanted to judge her for the lack of appeal to her place, but it gave off murderer vibes.

Tony walked into her large closet-every condo on the island had big walk-ins-and rustled the clothes around on hooks. "How many shoes does one person need?"

"Lots," I answered his question the second he finished. At least she wasn't living short of clothing. That made me feel slightly better about her killer abilities. Would a serial killer have an amazing wardrobe? I wasn't sure about the science behind it, but something in my gut told me no.

Tony came out from the closet holding a brown paper bag with twisted handles. "Is this something?"

I stood, giving up the search for the journal. "How would I know until you show me?"

"Now who's being sassy?" He walked over and held open the bag on top of the bed.

I peeked inside. "Holy crap."

Our first real clue.

"Tony, you did it," I said in shock and dumped the bag on Larken's bed. Brightly colored balls of yarn spilled out and scattered over the messy sheets. "This is great."

"It was great in the bag, too. Now you've made a mess."

I shuffled the yarn around with my fingers, looking for more. "But notice what's missing?"

"What?" he leaned over the bed to watch me touch each ball of yarn.

I held one up between us. "Knitting needles. Or even crochet hooks. There's nothing in here. If this is the bag of supplies she bought from the craft store, where are the needles?"

I'd tell you where they were... in Melissa Cramwell's ear.

"Where did you find this?" I asked.

He pointed toward the closet. "By the pile of shoes, but I didn't see anything else in there."

I left Tony in the bedroom to put the yarn back in the bag and checked the closet. On the left side of the crammed space, I found a hole where the bag must have been. I batted away the sleeves of a jacket. Larken wasn't living minimally with clothing. She had every inch of the space covered with fabric. The pile of shoes Tony mentioned spilled out into the walkway. I stepped around them to search the area where he'd found the bag.

A few minutes later, he joined me and placed the bag beside the shoes. It fit like a puzzle piece. "I see nothing interesting in here but also no crochet hooks or knitting needles." Things were not looking good for Larken. "But why take a set of knitting needles with you to meet Melissa at one of her listings?"

No one set out to kill someone by knitting needle. Did they? But if she didn't plan this attack in advance, why have them on her in the first place? There had to be a missing piece somewhere. The needles in the attack looked well-used. Where was the other evidence of her yarn-based hobby?

My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I scooped it out and shut off the timer.