If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

big arts-and-crafts show in Chicago—he was down as one of the vendors—I checked their website. He attends every year.”
    “So?” She shoved up from her desk, not even topping five foot five in whatever skyscraper heels she had on today, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. “A
lot
of people were in Chicago. It’s
Chicago
.”
    “You’re not going to give me the damn warrant, are you?”
    “Based on a bracelet? One a disturbed, distraught woman gave to you?”
    “Nia Hollister is
not
a disturbed woman. Distraught, I’ll give you that, but she’s not disturbed.” Ezra grabbed the evidence bag and the report. Shit, shit,
shit
. “Fine. I’ll find more evidence—I’m getting a damned warrant, Beulah. I’ve had a weird feeling all along about the way the Carson case went down—it was too fucking easy. If something that screwed up looks too simple, then maybe there’s a reason for it.”
    He stormed toward the door.
    “Ezra. You need to calm down. You’ve got a good career here—”
    He paused and looked back at her, furious. “The career can get fucked, Beulah. What good is my fucking badge if I can’t protect people against a killer who’s been in plain sight for God knows how long?”
    “You’re wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “Carter isn’t a killer. You’re wrong.”
    “What if I’m not?” He jerked open the door.
    As he stormed out of her office, Beulah sank back into her chair, shaken.
    The conviction in his eyes, in his voice, worried her.
    Beulah knew cops. She might be a small-town county DA, but she knew cops. She’d be willing to bet the Jimmy Choos she’d just bought online last night that Ezra was a good cop—a smart one. He didn’t strike her as the type who’d go off blindly.
    Pressing a hand to her belly, she closed her eyes and tried to think.
    If he was wrong, it was going to cost him his job. Ash, Kentucky, wouldn’t forgive an outsider coming down on one of their own—especially not somebody like Carter Jennings.
    But if he was right …
    “Shit, boy.”
    The way Ezra saw it, he had two choices—well, three, but one of them wasn’t really a choice. That third one—the not-choice—involved going to talk to Remy. Remy Jennings—Carter’s cousin, and the other county DA. A
not
-choice of the highest order, as far as he was concerned, because if Beulah hadn’t believed him, then why would Remy?
    So scratch
that
possibility.
    Second possibility—get a few of his men out, asking some questions. Even if he just took one or two of the men he thought he could trust the most—hell, even just one, like Keith. Maybe they could get somebody who had seen
something
. Could a man really hide that long without showing anybody his true nature? It didn’t seem that way.
    But it would take too long. Ezra didn’t know how much time they might have. His gut was screaming a warning—
hurry, hurry, hurry
—time was something he didn’t really have, he suspected.
    Not to mention that every minute that went by was another minute Carter would have to bury his trail. He’d done a damn good job hiding already.
    Other choice—go out to the Inn. Maybe he could find Carter, see if the bastard would fuck up. Or maybe Roz would be wearing another piece of jewelry—shit. The fucking jewelry …
    As he climbed into his car, he pulled out his phone. He needed to know more about the jewelry. Had she uncovered other women? Were there other pieces missing? Just how much digging had Nia done? Would it be enough?
    Remy stood on the steps of the courthouse, his briefcase in one hand, the other in his pocket. Puzzled, he stared at Ezra’s car, then glanced back over his shoulder.
    He caught a glimpse of Beulah Simmons before she slipped into her office. If she hadn’t shut the door, he might not have thought anything of it. But that wasn’t like her.
    Shutting the door. Not to mention that she hadn’t so much as waved to him.
    Just like it wasn’t like Ezra to not hear him calling.
    Weird shit abounds … and Remy had been around too long to think the weird shit wasn’t connected.
    He debated for about two seconds—did he go talk to Beulah? Or see if he could get Ezra to talk? Ezra, honestly, was his best choice, he suspected. Beulah wasn’t likely to open her mouth for anything short of a shoe-shopping spree and Remy had a wedding to pay for, a honeymoon … and a house he was thinking about showing to Hope.
    Ezra, it was.
    Of course, Ezra