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were never crazy about Trevor,” she said in a subdued voice. “But I loved him, Grandma.”
    Florinda reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “I know you did, baby. And he loved you, too. I never doubted that.”
    Riley lifted her grandmother’s hand and held it to her heart, looking the other woman in the eye. “You’re the only one I’ve told about my dreams, my fears. I hope you know…I hope you understand why I have to find out the truth.”
    â€œOh, sweetheart.” Florinda reached up and cupped Riley’s face in both hands. “I understand so much more than you could ever imagine. And someday, dear granddaughter, the confusion you’ve been feeling—about everything in your life, not just Trevor’s death—will all make sense. Do you believe me?”
    Tears burned at the back of Riley’s throat. She nodded, but deep down inside she wondered if, perhaps, this was one time her grandmother’s prediction about the future wouldn’t come to pass.

    When Noah left the San Antonio Police Department four years ago to start a private detective agency with his older brother, many of his comrades had feared he wouldn’t keep in touch, that he’d simply drop off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again.
    He’d proved them all wrong.
    The first time he showed up for the Sunday-night game of pool at Fast Eddie’s, the deafening cheers and applause that greeted him made him feel like a rock star. Four years later, not much had changed, other than a few expanding waistlines and hairlines that were beginning to recede—fodder for many of the jokes that were exchanged between the close-knit group of cops.
    Thick smoke hung in the air over the bar and pool tables, and hard-edged hip-hop music blared from a jukebox in the corner. After winning his match, Noah sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer for himself and the detective who slid onto the stool beside him. The barmaid, an attractive young brunette wearing a tight T-shirt and cutoff jeans, offered Noah and his companion a sultry, inviting smile as she set the frothy beers on the counter before them.
    â€œEnjoy your drinks, fellas,” she purred.
    Paulo Sanchez winked at her. “We’d enjoy them even more if you’d join us, beautiful.”
    She gave a demure little laugh. “Maybe next time.”
    â€œThat’s what you always say,” Paulo protested, his dark gaze following the girl’s shapely bottom as she moved off to tend to the next customer. “Damn. What a tease.”
    Shaking his head, Noah scooped his cold bottle off the counter and took a healthy swig of beer. “Look on the bright side,” he said pragmatically.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œShe says the same thing to everyone. So she’s an equal-opportunity tease.”
    Paulo laughed, choking on a swallow of beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave Noah a sideways look. “I bet she’d go out with you if you asked her.”
    â€œGuess we’ll never find out.”
    Paulo gave his head a mournful shake. “Damned shame, that.”
    At thirty-six, Detective Paulo Sanchez had been with the SAPD for fourteen years. In Noah’s judgment, having worked with him in homicide and on patrol, Paulo Sanchez was one of the best of the best: aggressive, hard, intelligent. A cop’s cop. Wearing a black T-shirt, faded jeans, scuffed leather boots, and sporting a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, Sanchez looked every bit the tough guy he was. But few people knew the depth of the emotional scars he bore, byproducts of a failed marriage and the brutal murder of a woman he’d once had an affair with. The guilt he’d suffered in the aftermath of both had nearly destroyed him, sending him into a tailspin of self-destructive behavior until his cousin, an FBI agent at the local field office, had intervened. Sanchez had taken