Fatal Hearts by Norah Wilson

report is probably weeks away still, and the genetic report will no doubt be months coming. My results from the private lab will probably be back quicker.”
    She licked suddenly dry lips. “So do you have reason to suspect anyone?”
    “No, no one specific.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “But it just doesn’t smell right. The message he left me, then his phone going missing . . .”
    “To play devil’s advocate here, that could be coincidence, couldn’t it? The timing, I mean.”
    “I’m a detective. I don’t have the luxury of believing in coincidence.”
    “Fair enough, I guess.” She watched him take a sip of his beer. “What about the phone. Isn’t it possible that he could have just lost it?”
    He slanted her a look. “Again, this is Josh we’re talking about. I can’t see him letting carelessness separate him from that phone. It was like a damned appendage.”
    She shrugged. “It happened once before.”
    His eyes widened. “He lost his phone? How?”
    “While he was gassing his car up, he thinks. He finished his call, put the phone on the roof of his car while he recapped his gas tank, went inside and paid, then hopped in the car and drove away without pocketing the phone. He completely forgot about it once he set it down. It must have fallen off the roof somewhere along the way. He retraced his route, but he never did find it, or even pieces of it. When he tried calling it, he got that ‘customer out of range’ message, and figured it must have been smashed when it hit the asphalt, or maybe gotten run over.”
    “Or someone stole it while he was in paying for the gas,” Boyd put in. “There’s a huge market for stolen phones.”
    “Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “Then maybe someone stole it this time too. Maybe he left it in the car while he went for his run and someone stole it.”
    He shook his head. “No evidence of a break-in, and you know Josh. He’d never forget to lock his car.”
    “Maybe they used one of those mystery devices we’ve been hearing about that can unlock a car remotely. Then there wouldn’t be any broken windows or scratched paint.”
    “And they only used this rare high-tech break-in tool on Josh’s car? None of the other cars that were parked there?”
    “Okay, so probably not.” She tapped her finger on her glass. “So basically, you’re in a holding pattern, waiting for those reports?”
    “Not quite,” he said. “Detective Morgan has been checking in with obstetricians, trying to discover which ones Josh had talked to, what they’d told him. But he’s one guy, and he has other cases.”
    “What are the chances they’re going to voluntarily tell the police if they were involved, even peripherally, in a shady adoption?”
    “I know!” A few diners turned their way. His face strained, he continued more quietly. “Sorry. I’m just a little frustrated. I know we don’t have much to work with. Maybe when the toxicology report comes in, it will point to something that can help. Or maybe there’ll be nothing there at all. Maybe the coroner will call it natural causes, and the guys won’t be able to sustain the file. But I can’t sit still doing nothing, waiting God knows how long on the damned tests to come back when I feel in my bones something isn’t right about his death. And if our situations were reversed, if I were the one discovered dead in my car, I know Josh wouldn’t rest until every stone had been turned, every lead exhausted, every theory—no matter how implausible—run to the ground. And that’s what I’m going to do for him.”
    The waiter arrived just then with their meals. Grateful for the interruption, Hayden leaned back in her chair to allow the young man to place the plate in front of her. The gorgeous salad failed to tantalize her as it usually did. Not surprising, since her stomach felt like a leaden ball.
    After placing Boyd’s plate in front of him, the waiter said, “Enjoy your meal,” and left