I stared at the cheap brass chain on the door.

My fingers tightened around the cold metal of the pepper spray canister.

“Anne,” Melanie said again, her voice slightly muffled by the thin hollow-core wood. “I’m alone. I just want to talk.”

I looked back at Chloe.

Chloe had shrunk back against the wall, her hands clutching her elbows, her face pale.

I took a breath, slid the chain out of its brass track, and turned the deadbolt.

I opened the door three inches, keeping my foot firmly planted behind it.

The woman standing on the concrete walkway wore a heavy wool coat with the collar turned up against the Denver chill.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight, sensible ponytail, and her nose was red from the wind.

She looked exactly like the corporate badge photo I had found in Lucas’s files, only tired and older.

“How did you find me?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“I’ve been watching Lucas’s office accounts,” Melanie said, her hands stuffed deep into her pockets. “And I know he has a corporate card registered to this motel.”