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victim. They’ve determined a few women our Jane Doe isn’t , but no one she is yet.”
    “So we’re still nowhere.” Noire felt her hopes sink.
    “Not necessarily. She’s too well-groomed to be homeless or a
prostitute so it likely wasn’t a crime of opportunity. This lends credence to your
theory, that she’s a young backpacker staying at a hostel like this one.”
    “It better be this one. Do you know how many hostels there are
in Toronto?” she asked.
    “No.”
    “A lot.” Her dry retort made Cam smile, and Noire felt a small
bubble of happiness in her throat. She’d noticed a change in his smiles—they were
no longer the phony bared-teeth grins of a stranger. They were meant for her, and
sincere.
    “We’ve got detectives and uniforms checking out some of the others
now,” Cam reassured her.
    She rubbed a hand over her eyes. This was not the time to be
falling for the guy. She inhaled shakily.
    “Are you okay?” He peered down at her, gray eyes worried.
    “Yeah. Just thinking crazy thoughts, I guess. I feel like I should
be crying, and instead I’m laughing.” She surprised herself with her honesty. “I
feel guilty. Like I should miss her more. Except I don’t know how it’s possible
to miss someone more than I miss my sister.”
    “You’ve been through a lot. It’s not abnormal for your emotions
to be all mixed up. Try not to judge yourself too harshly, eh? Grief makes people
react in strange ways. What is it they say, don’t do anything drastic for six months
after a major loss?”
    “Drastic how?” Noire wondered wryly. “You mean like jumping into
bed with the first guy I meet?”
    “I was thinking more like don’t get any large tattoos.”
    “Ah. You don’t have to worry about that. I’m terrified of needles.”
Where the hell were these confessions coming from? Noire’s mouth was like a runaway
motorboat today.
    His smile and eyes were the softest she’d seen from him yet.
He wrapped her in an embrace and they stood there for a moment, on the street outside
the hostel, in the middle of the night as the wind blew furiously around them. She
inhaled his scent, a musk like the woods and fur and rain. She loved the way he
smelled. And the way his body warmed her down to her bones.
    “Come on now,” he said. “I can’t imagine you’re afraid of anything.”
    Burying her face in his shoulder, Noire muttered, “I didn’t say
I was afraid of needles. I said terrified. ”
    At that, he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
    She shrugged out of his embrace and attempted to look professional.
They climbed the four small steps up to the hostel together. After the cold outside
and the constant sound of the whistling wind that had accompanied them since the
original ferry ride hours before, the hostel felt warm and welcoming. The foyer
opened into a large room with a reception desk on one side manned by a perky brunette,
and large wooden tables nearly covered with beer bottles and snacks. The air was
filled with the laughter of young women and a few men. Noire felt Cam’s hand on
her back. The contact loaned her strength, and she hoped it worked the same way
for him.
    Feeling generous, she turned and said quietly into his ear, “Let
me talk to the hostess since I’ve been staying here.”
    “It’s fine, I can manage—” he said, but another round of giggles
from the backpackers at the tables drowned out the rest. Noire shrugged and figured
he’d appreciate it once she’d identified their victim.
    She walked up to the reception desk, tossing back her hair, playing
it cool. She flashed a broad smile at the young woman at the desk and hoped she
wasn’t mimicking Cam—those wolf grins wouldn’t fool anyone.
    “Hi, I’m Noire, I don’t know if you remember me or have seen
me around or what but I checked in a few days ago. I’m in house five, room sixteen.
But that doesn’t matter. Except I just mean that I’m staying here—oh ask the Quebecois
guy with the