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Georgian mansion. However, she had little time to dwell on the unsettling feeling because her sister flew out the front door and immediately buried her head against Cooper’s shoulder.
    “I’m here. I’m here,” Cooper said soothingly. “Let’s go inside.” She hugged her sister tightly and then gently pushed her away. “I’ll look in the garage while you pour us some coffee, okay? We had a cold ride.”
    Ashley suddenly became aware of both the motorcycle and the silent man dressed in black. Her blue eyes widened and she shot a frightened, questioning glance at Cooper.
    “He’s a friend,” Cooper said quietly and smiled at Edward. At this, he removed his helmet and fell in behind the sisters as they entered Ashley’s house.
    The heat immediately wrapped itself around Cooper. Her fingers and toes tingled as sensation returned to them. She stripped off her mittens but kept her coat and hat on as she moved through the kitchen and out to the garage.
    The trunk of a metallic gold Cadillac sedan was ajar and several shopping bags were lying in disarray on the floor behind the right rear tire. From her current vantage point, Cooper couldn’t see into the trunk, so she breathed deeply, hoping to draw some courage from the still air, and walked to the back of the car.
    Her first impression was of a man’s body curled into a fetal position. He seemed small and slight to Cooper. Almost childlike in the spacious truck. She looked at his black hair and pecan-colored skin, at the pair of callused and grease-stained hands bound with duct tape. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, though there was nothing serene about the silver tape covering his mouth and the lower half of his mustache.
    The rest of the trunk was empty. There were no signs of a struggle. There was no blood or rents in the plush carpet lining the trunk. It was as if the man had been carefully placed inside, like a young boy being tucked into his bed.
    “You know this guy?” Edward asked softly beside her.
    Cooper rubbed her arms, which had broken out in goose bumps the moment she’d looked inside the trunk. She shook her head, still staring at the trussed-up figure. There was something shrunken and diminished about this man, as if he’d become hollow once the energy—the presence of his spirit—had left his body.
    Staring at the dead man, Cooper muttered a quick prayer for those who’d mourn his loss and then stepped back into the kitchen, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from her agitated sister.
    “Have you ever seen that man?” Cooper asked her.
    “No.” Ashley grabbed a tea towel and began to twist it around her fingers. “He might work for Lincoln. Quite a few Hispanics work on the lot. Did you notice his hands? They were covered in grease and oil.”
    Cooper nodded as she sank onto a stool. She sipped her coffee automatically, her mind fixated on the image of the duct tape covering the man’s mouth. Edward held his cup between his palms but did not drink. He simply stared at the sisters, his expression unreadable.
    “We have to call the police, Ashley. Do you really think Lincoln tied that man up and put him in the trunk of a Cadillac?”
    “Of course not!” Ashley snapped and Cooper was pleased to see that her sister was starting to sound like her usual self.
    “We have no idea where this crime was committed or who committed it, but that man”—Cooper gestured toward the garage—“deserves justice. I’m calling the cops now. When they get here, I’m sure they’ll want to speak to Lincoln.” Very gently, she asked, “Do you know where he is?”
    Anger flashed in Ashley’s eyes. “He’s at Morton’s, having one of his three-hour steak dinners with his daddy and a few of the other managers.”
    “And he’s not answering his phone?”
    “It’s Morton’s. You couldn’t hear a foghorn in that place,” Ashley said, as if Cooper should know better. “Everyone talks louder than the next person at that