“Is there any news on Ava’s sister?”

Mason wondered how much Ava had shared with Zander. “The errand she’s running is following up on a lead. You know her sister broke into our place, right?”

“Yeah, she told me that. Personally I don’t know why she keeps trying to help her twin. The woman clearly doesn’t want help.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. But it’s her twin. There’s a bond there that we can’t begin to fathom. For Ava’s sanity, she has to walk a thin line that offers help but doesn’t enable Jayne’s dangerous habits and addictions. It’s a crazy balancing act.”

“What’s she think her sister will do next?”

Mason sighed. “Hell if I know. In a perfect world, Jayne will check into rehab, get ongoing mental health counseling, and walk the straight and narrow. But in the real world, I suspect none of the above.”

But he knew Ava could never completely give up on her sister, and his job was to be there for her.

Ava waved the picture of Jayne at the cashier again. “You’ve never seen her? One of you said you did.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” the female clerk snapped. “There’s two other people who do this job. Why the fuck didn’t you ask for the name of the person who said it?” She cracked her gum, not intimidated by Ava’s questions. The fiftyish woman had to be a tough character if she was willing to work the cash register in this neighborhood by herself. Her ancient, worn-down nametag read DOT.

“Do you work your shifts alone?” Ava asked, scanning the empty store. “Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

Dot fixed angry eyes on her. “Usually people who ask me that are scoping the place out to rob it.” She moved her right hand to a shelf under the counter. “Do I need to call the police?”

Ava raised her hands and backed away. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said I was law enforcement.” Her badge, ID, and weapon were in her purse over her shoulder. Not the most convenient place for them, but it was Sunday and she wasn’t on official duty. She never used her position to influence personal situations. Usually.

Dot cocked her head and gave her an I-don’t-give-a-shit look. “You know how many times I’ve heard that? Do I look stupid?”

Ava thought Dot looked very shrewd. And perfectly capable of pulling out a shotgun from under the counter. She kept her hands in plain sight. “No, actually I admire a woman who dares to take on a job like this. I’m glad to see you don’t take crap from people.”

Dot didn’t melt into effusive thanks. She raised one eyebrow at Ava. “Are you buyin’ something?”

“Ah, sure.” Ava glanced around and spotted the coffee counter. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee.” She lowered her hands and headed to the counter, keeping one eye on the clerk.

“A cup of coffee,” Dot mimicked. “That’s all anyone wants these days. Then they fill it up with a half dozen creamers. The damned cup and lid costs more than the coffee. Add in the cream, and I’m paying you to drink it.”

Ava stopped. “I like it black. And I’ll buy a . . .” She glanced at the case of tough-looking donuts. Ugh. “I’ll buy the banana,” she said, pointing at a sad-looking banana.

Dot scowled.

I’m not going to win here. Ava grabbed a cup and held it under the spout of the coffee carafe and pushed down on the pump. Coffee sprayed and splattered her white shirt. “Shit!” She pulled her purse off her shoulder and set it on the counter, digging in it for the emergency detergent wipes she kept handy for this exact situation. She pulled her shirt away from her chest, dabbing at the brown spots.

Now Dot smiled.

The wipe failed to remove all the color. Giving up, Ava removed the excess coffee from her hands and threw the wipe in the garbage. She held her cup under the other carafe and carefully pushed the button. A steady stream of coffee filled her cup. Sheesh.

“Stop it!”

Ava turned mid-pour to see a woman trip through the entrance. A man had held the door open for her, then had pushed her as she walked past him. Ava’s heart stopped.

Jayne?

Her sister had cut and dyed her hair. Ava hadn’t seen Jayne as a brunette since Ava had moved to Portland. She had dark circles under her eyes and sores on her face that she’d attempted to cover with cheap makeup. Her collarbones highlighted the deep fossa below her neck. Ava had never seen her sister so thin. “Jayne?” She set down her cup and took a step in her sister’s direction.

In unison, Jayne and the man turned toward her. Ava looked at the man. This must be Derrick Snyder. She’d seen his various mug shots, but she wouldn’t have recognized the man. His hair was long and shaggy, with a new beard and mustache that she assumed had been grown to hide his identity. Or he’d simply not had the facilities to shave them. He was tall and thin, his dark eyes angry, and he loomed over Jayne like he owned her.

Jayne spotted her sister. “Ava!”

Derrick grabbed her arm as Jayne stepped her way, and jerked her back. Fear flashed across Jayne’s face. Jayne glanced back at Derrick and wilted; her chin dropped to her chest, and her shoulders drooped.

Ava steamed. No one manhandled her sister.

“Jayne,” she said again. “Are you okay?” She took a cautious step closer, meeting Derrick’s gaze. She saw understanding register on his face.

“Is that your sister?” he said to Jayne, his gaze still holding Ava’s. “Did you used to look that good?” A sneer curled his lips.