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folio, laid his pen on the table, and folded his arms across his chest. Eyes narrowed, his expression reflected a mental debate. Knowing him, mostly likely it was whether to treat her like a suspect, a witness, or an ex-girlfriend. “I expected more cooperation from you.”
    She mimicked his body language—stiff back, squared shoulders, minus the glare. “I am cooperating. I answered every one of your questions.”  
      “The whole time I’ve been here, you’ve said a lot of words, but everything you’ve told me adds up to a big fat zero.” His tone was level, coolly devoid of emotion. “I have to ask myself, why is she being so evasive?”
    “Wha..?” She sputtered with outrage, but he cut her off with a slashing hand motion.
    “Tell me, Holly. What am I supposed to think? You and your boyfriend just happen to find the murdered body of a woman who is your friend and his partner’s employee. Interesting coincidence?”

Chapter Four

    JC’s suspicions lay on the table between them.  
    Holly stared at him and hung onto her incredulity and her temper. “It may be a coincidence, but it’s only an issue if you make it one. This interview is over.”
    “You said you’d help.” Disapproval frosted his voice.
    She crossed her arms in a defensive move. This wasn’t about JC and the antagonism between them, her frustration with Desert Accounting, or her life in exile. “I said I’ll help you find Marcy’s killer. All you have to do is ask about her. Quit pushing me on the other stuff. I didn’t kill her, and you know it.”  
    His gaze dropped to his notepad. Rather than reopen it, he drummed his fingers across the cover.  
    Dammit, was he admitting he was being an ass about their past or did he actually need her help? How was she supposed to help when she didn’t know anything?
    The muscles across his shoulders relaxed, and his voice warmed from deep freeze to room temperature. “I need to understand Ms. Ramirez’s regular routine. Then we can retrace her steps and figure out when and where she disappeared. Fill me in on the details of her day.”
    Holly softened her posture and reached for her coffee mug. “You should talk to Tim Stevens or one of the Stevens Ventures office staff. They can tell you more than I can.”
    “I have that covered. An outside opinion can be helpful.”
    She fiddled with the mug, stalling. What did that mean? Had he already talked to people at Stevens Ventures? Did he think Tim was lying?
    Did he think she was?
    JC’s expression didn’t give her any hints about his thoughts.
    “As near as I could tell, Marcy did a little of everything.” Her hand swirled in a vague, encompassing gesture. “Bookkeeper, project manager. She even filled in occasionally as the receptionist.”
    “A key employee.”  
    Holly sipped coffee, then placed the mug on the table. “Marcy was smart and she caught on fast. Tim talked about promoting her to full-time project manager. When she didn’t come in Wednesday, people assumed she’d gone up the Valley to check on one of the sites. At the time—until her sister said Marcy was missing—everybody figured she was working out of the Yakima office.”
    JC scribbled on his note pad. “What does that mean? Work out of Yakima? Check on the sites?”  
    “Inspections, checking on contractors.”
    “This was at buildings Stevens leases out?”  
    “No. The property managers handle the occupied buildings—rents, maintenance, that kind of thing. Marcy occasionally did an inspection for the managers, but she handled properties under renovation. She was working on several projects, but the Yakima one was the largest.”
    He rocked his pen between his fingers, his expression a thoughtful frown. “She could’ve vanished from any of those places.”  
    “Marcy never mentioned trouble with the workmen.” Holly combed her fingers through her hair, trying to remember anything else Marcy had said about her trips around the Valley. At an almost