If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

tightened, the way her lower lip trembled as she fought against tears.
    “Three months,” she whispered again. “When I saw her the day I came to identify her, I didn’t think about her hair.”
    Something inside Ezra went cold. “Her hair?”
    Nia’s eyes cut to his. “It was short—too short. I’d thought maybe she’d gotten it cut … they were getting married soon, and I thought … well, I wasn’t really reading e-mail much, deleting a lot. Not keeping an eye on Facebook or anything either. I just didn’t think. But her hair was too short. And she didn’t cut it.”
    “How do you know?”
    Nia cocked her head. “I asked her fiancé. Joely wanted long hair for her wedding … and if that’s what she said she wanted, she wouldn’t have cut it on a whim. Not my cousin.” With a strained smile, she said, “Joely didn’t do whims. She just didn’t. I might react on a whim and go short with my hair, but once she made up her mind, she didn’t change it.”
    Tucking that information away, Ezra studied her face.
    “Okay. I’m trying to understand why you’re telling me this, but okay.”
    “I think her killer did it.” Then she reached inside the folder and pulled out a picture. It was a close-up of a woman’s necklace—a gold heart, simple, elegant. Nothing particularly unique about it. “And her necklace is missing.”
    Ezra frowned, studying the little bit of gold. “No necklace was reported on her or near the victim. We found a pair of earrings, an engagement ring, and her watch. But no necklace.”
    “I know. I’m the one who claimed her personal effects. But she would have worn that necklace. It wasn’t in her car, her home, and nobody has reported it in the days since she died. I think the killer took it.”
    Now the ice in Ezra’s gut was a cold fire—cold, but ready. Just like him. He felt strangely excited … tense but somehow loose. Even as he tried to tell himself to let it go, to move on. “That’s a possibility, but unless we find where he kept his …”
    “Trophies?” Nia offered, lifting a brow.
    He didn’t respond, wasn’t entirely sure
how
to.
    “I’m telling you this to give you another tool
to
find him,” she said softly.
    “Find him,” Ezra repeated.
    Find him
—fuck, he wished he could just write her words off. Find him—Joe Carson didn’t
need
to be found. He was buried in Clinton, Oklahoma, and half the town there was cursing the people of Ash, Kentucky, while the other half was secretly crowing in delight or thanking God and muttering about just rewards.
    Find him
—according to the way the case went down, Jolene Hollister’s killer didn’t
need
to be found because he was already dead. He’d been found with those personal effects, personal effects that had belonged toJolene Hollister. It had been enough to incriminate him. Questioning after the fact revealed he had been seen in town, often, and he was also staying in a motel in another small town twenty miles away—the room had been in his name for several weeks. Before that, there was no record of him in Ash or even near the town, but if a cop couldn’t cover his tracks, who could?
    Oh, yeah, Ezra wanted to think that Nia was paranoid, even waited a few seconds to give his brain a chance to conjure up the appropriate, noncondescending response.
    It wouldn’t come.
    As he stared into golden eyes, all he could feel was a faint, excited hum in his blood … one that was all too familiar.
    “Exactly why do you think I need tools to find him?” he asked finally, leaning back in his chair, keeping his poker face on.
    “Well, at least you’re not patting me on the head and reminding me that you guys buried somebody, somebody you think did it,” she muttered, more to herself than him.
    Ezra chuckled. “I get the feeling that if some guy tried to pat you on the head, he might draw back a bloody stump, Ms. Hollister. And you haven’t answered me.”
    “I’m still trying to figure out how to say it. I was prepared to come in here and have you throw me out on my ass, seeing as how you were probably involved in closing that case.”
    “No.” He shrugged. “I just stepped into this slot at the beginning of the year. The deputy sheriff, Steven Mabry, took over the job temporarily, but he was only willing to do it until they found somebody else. It’s not a job he wanted for the long haul just yet.”
    Nia lifted a brow. “I take it you’re the somebody else?”
    “Yeah.” He