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come give you a hand.”
    She pushed through the swinging door that led to the rest of the house. Breakfast first, then she’d find the shovel and take care of that damned rosebush once and for all, even if she had to dig up half the house’s foundation.

CHAPTER 7
    ALEX GLANCED AT THE clock over the main door. Twenty past eight. An entire day and most of the evening gone. Those most likely to notice one small, pregnant girl on the streets of Toronto wouldn’t be out there much longer in this cold. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d miss the chance to talk to them, to ask the questions that might lead her to Nina again.
    And yet, she hesitated.
    As much as she ached to continue the search, the looks of utter relief on her colleagues’ faces when she’d sat down at her desk had been hard to mistake. They’d never been stretched this thin before, and it was only going to get worse. Especially if she bailed on them again. So. Stay and help her colleagues, her city? Or go, because Nina had only six days left, and even if she couldn’t survive, she shouldn’t have to die alone?
    Choices .
    “Is the going rate still a penny?”
    Alex jolted in her seat and blinked at Tim Abrams, who had somehow managed to cross the office and settle onto the desk beside her without her noticing. “What?”
    “For your thoughts. You know, a penny for them?”
    She gave a snort. “Hell, I’d pay you to take them, if I could.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” he said. “That was a hell of a thing you and Joly had last night. You holding up okay?”
    She tipped her head toward the boards lining the office. “About as well as all of us, I suspect.”
    “You should be at home.”
    Alex slanted a suspicious look in the direction of Roberts’s office. It was empty, and she remembered that their staff inspector had left a couple of hours ago. But Abrams’s next words confirmed her suspicion that Roberts had called and asked him to talk to her.
    “He’s worried about you. We’re all worried about you. When’s the last time you even slept?”
    “What are you, my nanny?” Before he could retort—or worse, press for an answer—she waved at the case boards. “One of you should have called me. Told me what was going on.”
    “And what, you would have waved your magic wand and solved them for us?” Abrams shook his head. “You had stuff of your own to worry about. We’re coping.”
    “Fifteen open cases in the last two weeks? That’s not coping, Abrams, that’s failing to notice you’re going under for the third time. You should have called me.”
    “Because you’re so good at keeping your head above water right now?” He rested a hand on her shoulder and repeated, “You had stuff.”
    It was his second use of the past tense. Had , not have . Alex scooped back the hair from her forehead and settled an elbow on the desk beside Abrams. She stared at the boards. Thought of Nina.
    Choices .
    “Hey.” Abrams’s voice was gruff. “Just because the brass shut down the search doesn’t mean we stop looking for her.”
    The memory of four dead officers swamped a surge of gratitude. Alex shuddered, swallowed hard, shook her head.
    “No. Don’t. If anything happens to—”
    “We won’t do anything stupid,” Abrams promised. “Not after yesterday. We’re just keeping eyes open and ears to the ground. Any one of us hears something, we’ll let you know. You have my word. Besides, we’ve already decided, so there’s no point in arguing. She’s your niece, and we look out for our own. You’d do the same for us.”
    He stood. “Now, I’m heading home, and you should, too. You’re not invincible, my friend, and you won’t do anyone any good if you drop from exhaustion.”
    She didn’t bother correcting him as he gave her shoulder a final squeeze, lifted his coat from the back of a chair, and waved as he headed out the door. His words remained hanging in the silence he left behind: We look out for our own. You’d do the same