Criminally Handsome. Cassie Miles

she said, “were search dogs involved?”

      “There wasn’t time before the blizzard hit.” And he regretted that they hadn’t been able to call on that resource to locate her cousin. “We only had a few hours to process the scene, and the sheriff’s first concern was taking care of Jack.”

      “I know. As soon as he checked the car’s registration, he came to me with the baby.” Guilt furrowed her brow. “I should have been here, should have gone out into the snow to look for my cousin. But I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t prepared to care for an infant.”

      “You managed.”

      “Only because I could order all the baby equipment online. I hired someone to come in four hours a day so I can get my work done, but I’m still sleep-deprived. Sometimes I’m so exhausted that I think I’m losing my mind.”

      “Losing your mind?” He couldn’t resist teasing. “How can you tell?”

      “Very funny,” she said. “Laughing on the inside.”

      She walked to the intersection, turned and walked back toward him. Her purple sneakers dug into the snow and mud. Then she went in the opposite direction.

      Noises from the baby seat in the back of her SUV reminded him that they didn’t have much time. “We can come back here later.”

      She hunkered down beside a pile of dirty snow. “Over here.”

      He joined her. The dark leather of the medallion stood out against the snow. The black design, etched into the leather, was a grizzly paw print.

       Chapter Three

      The coffee at the Morning Ray Café on the main street of Kenner City wasn’t as good as the cinnamon-flavored brew at Emma’s house, but Miguel signaled the waitress for a refill as he checked his wristwatch. Dylan was more than fifteen minutes late.

      It wasn’t like his by-the-book, precise twin to be off schedule by more than a couple of seconds. Ever since Dylan had arrived in Kenner City, he’d been preoccupied; the inside of his head was crammed full with old guilt and new grief. Numero uno was the recent murder of Dylan’s friend and colleague, Agent Julie Grainger. He and three other FBI agents were working overtime on their investigation of Vincent Del Gardo, the former Las Vegas crime boss suspected of Agent Grainger’s murder.

      Miguel gave a nod to the cute, red-haired waitress who filled his coffee mug. When she grinned and crinkled her nose, her freckles danced. “How are things at the lab? Solve any big crimes lately?”

      “Have you committed any?”

      “Not today.” She took her order pad from her apron pocket. “What else can I get you?”

      “Nothing now, Annie.”

      She was one of the few people in town he knew by name. He ate a lot of his meals at this cozy little diner where the burritos were good, and the posole was primo. The head cook and owner was Nora Martinez, the sheriff’s mother.

      Because it was after three o’clock with the lunch rush over and only four other people in the place, Annie lingered at his booth. “Waiting for somebody?”

      “My brother.”

      “The FBI agent.” Her smile grew ten times brighter. “He’s really cute.”

      Women had always responded to Dylan as if he were a rock star, which never made sense. They weren’t identical twins but resembled each other a lot, and the chicas never threw themselves at Miguel. “Better not let Dylan hear you call him cute. That’s a word for baby ducks and puppies.”

      Annie laughed. “Handsome is a much better word.”

      If anyone had heard about the FBI investigation, it would be Annie or the people in the café, which was frequented by many of the local law enforcement people. “How much do you know about Dylan’s investigation?”

      “An agent got murdered. A woman agent. One of the other FBI guys was showing her picture around, asking if we’d seen her or noticed her talking to anyone.”

      “Thanks, Annie.”

      Miguel thought Emma might have picked up Agent Julie Grainger’s name from talking to someone at the café or someone else who had seen the photograph. That’d be a logical explanation for how she came up with Julie’s name. But it didn’t explain the VDG symbol or the grizzly paw necklace.

      Later this afternoon, he and other forensic technicians would process the necklace in the hope that they might discover the identity of the owner. They probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to find fingerprints—not after it had been buried in the snow at the side of the road all this time.

      How the hell had he missed finding the necklace when they first swept the scene? Sure, the leather was the color of dirt and would have blended in when there wasn’t snow on the ground. Sure, they’d had other urgent tasks—dusting for prints, measuring skid marks, photographing footprints. Sure, there was a blizzard on the way. But he wouldn’t easily forgive himself for overlooking such an obvious clue.

      He had to be shown the way by a medium. By Emma. La loca bonita. A crazy, beautiful lady in a purple leather jacket.

      Dylan came through the front door of the café and joined him in the corner booth. “Sorry I’m late.”

      “No problemo. You okay?”

      “Don’t worry about me, vato.”

      Dylan had always been the tough guy, the star athlete, the macho leader of the pack. It bothered Miguel to see his brother rattled.

      Annie rushed to their booth as soon as Dylan sat down. She placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of his brother and set down two pieces of apple pie.

      “On the house,” she said in a throaty voice. She leaned close to Dylan, giving him a glimpse of cleavage. “Is there anything else you want?”

      Miguel couldn’t resist this setup. “My brother likes whipped cream. All over his pie.”

      Dylan raised a hand. “Not necessary.”

      The waitress fluttered her lashes. “You can have all the whipped cream you want. Your name is Dylan, right? And I’m Annie.”

      And I’m yesterday’s fish stew. Amused, Miguel leaned back in the booth and watched as his brother doled out the charm. The guy couldn’t help it. He was a chica magnet.

      When Annie finally moved away, Dylan said, “What’s so important that I had to see you right away?”

      “The sheriff and I met with a woman today. Her name is Emma Richardson.”

      Annie rushed back to their booth. “I love Emma,” she gushed. “She’s a real psychic, you know. She sees things. And she finds missing people.”

      “Thanks for your opinion,” Miguel said in a quiet, firm tone of dismissal. The time for fun and games was over. He needed to talk seriously with his brother. “We’ll call you if we need anything else.”

      “Enjoy your pie.” She turned on her heel and flounced back toward the counter.

      “A psychic,” Dylan grumbled as he dug into his pie. “You interrupted my day to talk about a psychic.”

      “I was skeptical, too.” Miguel kept his voice low so Annie wouldn’t come running back over to them. “You know I don’t like things that can’t be explained by logic or science.”

      “You were always the smart brother. El Ganso.” He smirked. “El Nerdo Supremo.”

      “Because I think with my head, not my huevos.” Miguel fixed his twin with a cool gaze. This wasn’t a time for joking.