The shrill ringing of her cell phone jarred Tessa from sleep, pushing a gasp out of her even as her body sat bolt upright in bed. Without thought, she reached for her phone on the nightstand...and jolted as she realized there was no nightstand.

In that instant, almost in between heartbeats, a mix of confusion and cold panic slammed into her and her mind automatically raced backwards in time... She'd spoken to D.A. Eckhart...Rogers had gotten hold of her in the break room...she'd gone to the cocktail party to speak with Hallie's friends...Chloe, Leva, Danni...

Her cell rang again, the loud jangle blasting through the air, forcing another gasp out of her. Scattered and slightly addled, she glanced around the room...Peyton's bedroom...feeling her clenched muscles relax a fraction.

She'd left the cocktail party...she'd eaten dinner with Peyton and Kimber...a storm had swept through... And then she must have fallen asleep in Peyton's bed.

She remembered everything she'd done...her every step was accounted for. And everyone she'd come into contact with had been alive and breathing when she'd left them... She hadn't done...the things he'd done. She hadn't laid a hand on anyone. She would have remembered if she had...

Well, except maybe Rogers. But, she couldn't regret that.

The cell rang for a third time and she jerked herself out of that stalled moment, gathering her bearings enough so that she leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed her messenger bag lying in the floor there.  Pulling her work phone out, she saw that it was Cole calling.

With a trembling hand, she accepted the call, trying to steady herself as she spoke. "Detective Stark here," she croaked out automatically.

"Tessa? Did I wake you?" Cole's voice sounded in her ear.

Shooting a glance across the bed and toward the digital alarm clock, she saw that it was just past six a.m. "Um...yeah. I-I guess."

"Tessa? What's wrong?" Peyton mumbled from beside her.

"I'm sorry to bother you this early," Cole went on, "but there's been a murder and the sheriff needs us at the scene."

"What? Why on earth am I being called in?" she asked, feeling not only groggy but completely confused.

She already had a case to work...

"Because the victim is Etienne Montrose," came the resounding answer.

For a split second...time froze.

No. That...simply could not be.  It just...could not...

"Cole...are-are you sure?" she breathed, feeling her pulse speed up and her stomach clench tightly.

"Yes. Its definitely Etty Montrose," was the firm reply. "I'm just on the road now. I'll be at your motel in thirty."

"Uh, no. No, I'm at my sister's place still," she said, trying shake off the fog surrounding her.

"Your sister?" Cole repeated, his surprise evident.

Shit! Realizing that revelation had slid out of her seemed to snap her back into sharp focus with an almost physical jolt. "I need to jump into some clean clothes, so I'll head to the motel and meet up with you there."

"Will do."

Ending the call, she dropped her cell back into her bag and hit the floor, going for her clothes lying beside the bed.

"Tessa? What's happening?" Peyton asked, sitting up and pushing her tangle of hair out of her face.

"There's been another murder," she answered, shrugging out of her pajamas and tossing them aside.

Peyton drew her brows together. "Why do they need you? Aren't you here just for that Whitmore girl?"

"It...it seems its one of her friends who was murdered," she stated, pulling her jeans on.

"Shit! Really?" Peyton gaped. "I-I...what...does that even mean?"

"That's what I'm going to figure out."

Peyton slid out of bed, looking nervous as she regarded Tessa. "Do you think this has anything to do with the first girl?"

"It could be completely random, but I kind of doubt it." That would be a phenomenal coincidence and in her line of work, coincidences of that magnitude were almost non-existent.

"Tessa, that means somebody's killed two people," her sister pointed out, wrapping her arms around herself. "And you're right in the middle of it."

"This is my job," she told Peyton, putting her tank top on and stepping into her sneakers, not even bothering to tie them.

"You'll be careful, though? Won't you?" her sister urged, her eyes enormous in her face.

"I'm always careful. And I'm working with a partner, so I'm usually never alone," she assured, grabbing her bag and placing it across herself.

Peyton gave an uncertain nod. "I-I know you'll be busy, but maybe just let me know you're okay? Shoot me a text or call when you get back to your hotel tonight?"

"I will," she promised. "You really don't have to worry, though. Like I said, this is my job." Granted, this current scenario hadn't been part of her job for a number of years...

Casting her sister a consoling smile, she was off, hurrying through the house and stepping out into the just breaking dawn, which was wonderfully cool and damp from the night's rain. Across the courtyard and through the doorway, she sprinted toward her Wagoneer, pulling her keys out as she went. Once behind the wheel, she was out of the driveway and heading through the empty streets, trying to keep her thoughts from racing out ahead of her.

Cole was certain that Etty Montrose was dead...murdered...and that notion had her mind wanting to toss up a hundred different scenarios, ask a thousand different questions, but she fought against it. She would have no details and no answers until she saw Etty Montrose for herself, so speculating could only muddy her view of the situation. And frankly, she needed to see that the girl was really gone for herself, because a part of her just couldn't quite believe it.

Or perhaps, a part of her didn't want to believe it.

If Etty Montrose was really gone...had really been murdered...a month after Hallie Whitmore had been taken, the odds of those two deaths not being connected were beyond comprehension. And though she had no idea exactly what the connection might be, the fact that Etty had been killed during an active homicide investigation spoke to the fact that the person who'd killed her was either panicked, desperate, or crazy enough to risk exposing themselves. And that did not bode well for anyone...