A notification in a black rectangle slid in from the bottom right corner of the screen. Ledford's eyes flicked down. It was a reply from Prosecutor Chen. Immediately, he clicked to his emails and opened the new message.

Detective Ledford,

Thanks for the heads up. I'm happy for your progress, but at the same time I must put in a word of warning. Every move we make from now on must be made with extreme caution. Your suspect holds public favor through his spouse, and the lack of definitive evidence we have against him is a little worrying. Still, I'm coming down to the precinct to be debriefed by you and your team, and then we can determine where we can go with legal proceedings. See below for our meeting schedule.

Sincerely,

Prosecutor Chen.

Slowly, Ledford let a breath out from between his narrowly parted lips. He didn't blame the prosecutor for having her reservations. But she had agreed to come down and hear the case as it was so far. They were one step closer to nailing this bastard down.

Ledford started on a reply. Prosecutor, he wrote. The detective was in the midst of keying in his first sentence when movement in the doorway caught his eye. A small, bright pastel green blur scurried out of sight and disappeared behind his desk. Ledford heard faint scuffling come softly around the desk, followed by a little girl's poorly suppressed giggle. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a tiny face peek at him from the left corner of the desk. Fighting back a grin, Ledford pretended not to see her as he continued writing out his email.

The face disappeared, and he heard another giggle. Then, the little girl peeked again, this time growing braver and poking her whole head out. The grin was getting harder and harder to hide. Ledford pressed his lips together.

He finished his next sentence and finally swiveled his chair around, ducking his face down to the girl. She gave a startled yip. "I see you, ya little tater tot!"

Caught, Lily emerged from behind the desk in a fit of giggles. The two-year-old wore a bright green dress and striped leggings. Ledford hadn't seen her in months, but man was she growing! The detective bent down in his seat. "Look at you, Lily! You've gotten so big! I swear, the last time you were in this office you were about this high." He stooped down low and held his hand out a few inches above the ground.

"No I wasn't!" Lily replied.

"Yes you were, tater tot. I'm a detective, and detectives are always right, young lady."

"Nuh uh!" Lily countered. "Daddy's a detective, and Mommy says he's not always right!"

Ledford snorted loudly. "Well, I can't argue with that."

Lily turned her attention towards the desk drawers next to her. The bottom one was locked, and she gave it a fruitless tug before moving on to the one above it. She managed to pull it open, but was too short to look into it. "Where's Bunny?" she asked.

"She's in France," Ledford answered, gently closing the drawer.

"France?"

"Yup."

"Where's France?"

"It's…" Ledford paused. He sat up. "Here." Ledford picked Lily up and planted her on his lap. Turning back towards the laptop, he minimized the email and pulled up a world map. "Do you know where we are right now, Lily?"

"Here." She pointed at the blue shape that represented the U.S.

"That's right. We are actually right…" Ledford moved his finger to the west coast. "Here. And Bunny is all the way over…" His finger moved towards the right. "In this little orange blot right here."

"Oh," Lily peeped from his lap. She rested her chin on the edge of the desk. "That's far. Why is she there?"

"School."

Lily looked over her shoulder at Ledford and wrinkled her nose. "I don't like school."

"School makes you smart."

"I'm already smart."

Ledford suddenly belted out a loud burst of laughter, unable to help himself. "You're a sassy little tater tot, aren't you?" He ruffled Lily's hair. The little girl bunched her shoulders up, letting out a sweet little giggle. She turned around in his lap and looked up at him. Then, Lily extended a hand towards his left ear.

"Only girls wear earrings," she stated.

Ledford reached up and gently pinched his black stud earring. "Says who?"

"Says me."

"How 'bout you make an exception for me?"

"Okay."

Someone appeared in Ledford's doorway. "I should have known she'd run in here." Ledford looked up. A blonde woman stood just outside his office, wearing a simple blue V-neck blouse and gray slacks. When their eyes met, Ledford gave a warm smile and touched his two extended fingers against his forehead in an informal salute. "Detective," he addressed. Even though she had left the force after the birth of her daughter, Ledford couldn't see her any other way.

One of Myra's hands dropped from her hips and came forward. "Come here, Lily." The little girl scooted off of Ledford's lap and hurried to her mother. "I hope she wasn't bothering you, Jackson. I heard you were given a tough series of cases. Working hard?"

"Yup, just like you taught me," Ledford replied lightly. He leaned his head against his hand. "Nah, I needed a visit from the little tater tot to brighten my day. This past week has been, well—rough doesn't even begin to cover it. At least things are looking up."

"Oh?" Myra gently draped a hand over Lily's hair as the little girl hugged her waist. "Got a good lead?"

"Yeah. About time."

"Well, Jackson, it's like I told you—a lead's always going to be there. You just need to look hard enough." The woman brought her hand away from Lily's hair and took her hand. "Lily and I are stopping by to pick Sebastian up for lunch. You want to take a break and come with us?"

Ledford rested his hand over the track pad. Man, that would be even more than just third wheeling. "Sorry, I can't up and leave at a time like this. Have a good time." His eyes lowered to the little girl who was still watching him. "See ya around, tater tot."

"Buh-bye, Jackie."

After the two of them left, Ledford closed out the world map. He brought his email back up. Ugh, back to serious stuff. His eyes skimmed over his written words before he brought his fingers back to the keyboard.

I've got you now, Valentini. And there's not a thing you can do to get away from what's coming to you.

Salt Lake Tribune

La Contessa Breaks Down in Tears During Performance

July 6, 2007

With an act that shocked audience members, opera singer and pianist Celestina Amonte broke down on stage during her Salt Lake City show. The singer was closing one of her last songs of the night when spectators heard La Contessa's voice crack. Immediately after, hundreds witnessed the performer begin sobbing. Amonte quickly rushed from the stage, leaving her puzzled audience attempting to guess what had happened. About 15 minutes later, Amonte returned to the stage to finish the rest of the show.

Many have assumed the act to simply be a publicity stunt. Our journalists were able to go back stage and meet Amonte for an interview. She told us that the reason for her breakdown was because of the arrest of her husband by the Krimson City Police Department. "I didn't mean to fall apart in front of everyone like that," Amonte said. "I'm just so heartbroken, so worried for him. The things they're accusing him of doing are awful, and there's no way Stefano could have done them. He's the most wonderful man I've ever met. It's horrific that the KCPD would turn him into a scapegoat like this."

Amonte would not give us the details of what the authorities were accusing Stefano Valentini of, only that it involved a string of missing people in Krimson City. She did, however, tell us that these cases have long been unsolved and that the KCPD were perhaps pointing the finger at her husband simply so it could close the cases out and mitigate the damage to its reputation.

Readers will no doubt be outraged by this blatant act of injustice—carried out by the individuals who have sworn to serve the people. We can only hope the best for Amonte, and for KCPD to pull their heads out of their asses and start arresting the real criminals.

The phone calls started pouring in—voices from all over the nation relaying their disgust over the line. It was too much, and on the second day, Lieutenant Vankirk marched down to Detective Ledford's office.

"Ledford, are you seeing what they published in the Salt Lake Tribune?" the lieutenant demanded. Tired, ringed eyes flicked up to the outraged man.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I saw."

"The secretaries have had to deal with an upward of forty calls in the past two days," Vankirk snapped. "White knights from all over the nation—I don't even know how they got the station's number!"

"Internet search?" Ledford mumbled, too tired to show proper respect. The secretaries had it easy—somehow these white knights and obsessive fans, spurred by their darling Contessa's tears, had doxxed him and found his personal number. Ledford's phone was currently turned off after having been nonstop ringing since Celestina's little act. He'd have to go and get the number changed soon.

"And that's not the end of the shitstorm," Vankirk continued. "Newell called this morning—threatened to raise hell and have his firm sue for unlawful arrest. We've got some folks from the legal department trying to pacify him, but—." Vankirk cut his words off with an exasperated huff. "Ledford, just what exactly did you get us into?"

The detective rose to his feet. "Unlawful arrest? That lawyer's just trying to scare us. I had probable cause, Lieutenant! All the signs were pointing towards him—you were there for the interrogation. There's a connection!"

"I'll admit, you had me convinced at first," Vankirk replied. "But now that I think about it, and with everything that's going on, maybe… Jackson, maybe there was only a connection because you wanted it to be there."

Ledford's eyes widened. His fingers pressed against the tabletop, pale. "Lieutenant… I didn't fabricate anything."

"By God, Jackson, that's not what I meant. I'm saying maybe you were only seeing what you wanted to see."

Seeing…? No. No. There was a connection, dammit! Ledford gave a firm shake of his head. "I can take the bashing," he said. "They can paint me in whatever light they want."

Vankirk regarded him. "Jackson—."

"I'm serious, Lieutenant. If the KCPD needs to direct the blame to me, then do it. These people don't even know a fraction of the story, and they think they've got a better grasp of justice. They can be as loud and abusive as they can, but I'm not backing down. Let them and Amonte cry all they want."

She sighed a deep, heart-rending sigh over the monitored call. Looking out the hotel window towards the Ahmanson Theater where her last show would take place, Celestina curled a lock of hair around her finger. With her other hand, she held the phone against her ear.

"Oh my darling," she said, filtering sorrow into her voice. "I'll be home soon. LA is my last stop. I'll be back in town by Tuesday. Will they not let you out by then?"

"It doesn't seem like it," the voice on the other end replied. "The detective is adamant on holding me where he can keep an eye on me. I'm afraid you'll have to return to an empty home."

"That's awful." Celestina paused. "I miss you so much."

"As do I, amore mio. Stay safe for me. I love you."

"I love you too."

Celestina leaned the phone away from her ear and hung up. Now, if the officer who'd listened in on that wasn't moved, he was either heartless or stupid. Sitting back in the plush chair, Celestina took a deep breath. So the KCPD wasn't going to bend under bad publicity—fine. There were other ways to make them doubt themselves, and Celestina was going to play each of their keys if she had to.

Turning her head, she glanced down at the magazine on the tea table next to her. On its cover was the picture of a woman with wind-blown hair, posing with her hip tilted in a sultry fashion. Celestina picked up the magazine and thumbed through the pages.

There was one article—ah, there it was. An article about the lovely Marie Chaparé, rising star of stage and show. And how stunning did she look in those photographs accompanying the article—all smiles with that adorable blonde pixie cut. Celestina had been, well, a little more than displeased when she had first laid eyes on the article. Two months ago, Marie had been a nobody. And already these magazine publishers were planting her pictures in their pages? If things kept going on like this, then…

Well, now was as good a time as any to clear the competition. Best to tear out the weed while it was still young. And what good timing for her dear photographer, too.

Oh, but dress rehearsal was in an hour. It could wait. This was important.

Celestina lifted her phone and dialed a number. She flicked her hair back with a jerk of her head and brought the phone to her ear. A woman picked up. "Hello?"

"Marie!" Her voice was so sweet, so delighted. "Oh, cara mia! Am I keeping you from something?"

"Celestina! Oh, no you're not. I just…" Marie sounded confused. But of course—Celestina was still on tour, after all. "I heard about Stefano and Salt Lake. I'm so sorry—are you doing all right?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just… had a silly bit of emotion come over me then. How embarrassing. It's all in the past now." Celestina casually inspected her nails and continued, "And you are so sweet to offer me your condolences. My dear Stefano… he's innocent, of course. And if the KCPD has anyone with any shred of competence, they'll eventually find that out. I just hope it's sooner rather than later." Suddenly, Celestina lowered her hand and sat up. "But Marie—and I'm terribly sorry to be doing this—but I really need to ask you for a favor. I can't trust anyone else with this."

There was a short lull, and then Marie replied, "Sure. What can I do for you?"

"Well…" Celestina let out an airy sigh. "I've been thinking, and I've suddenly come to remember something. It's been keeping me up at night. I need you to go to my place. Not Stefano's, but my own—before I decided to move in with my dear photographer. You know the one, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. You see, I've got… well, let's just call it a dirty little secret. The nightstand in my room has a couple of letters from an old ex of mine. There's nothing between us anymore, of course—hasn't been anything for a long time. I kept them for sentimental reasons, but I'm a married woman and they're just scraps of paper now." Celestina crossed an arm over her stomach. "But the thing is, that kind of explanation won't stop Stefano from the conclusions he'll jump to should he find them."

"But he's—."

"Marie, you know as well as I do that he's not responsible for those disappearances." A corner of Celestina's lips curled up as she said, "I wouldn't marry a killer, would I?"

"No." It tickled Celestina how sure Marie sounded. "Of course you wouldn't. So you think he'll be out before you get back?"

"I certainly hope so. And I really can't risk him finding those letters—he has an extra key. Oh, and Marie?"

"Yes."

"One more thing… I'd really appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. Please don't let anyone know about this or where you're going. You know how crafty journalists can get. They've got noses like bloodhounds."

"You can say that again. So you want me to go get them out of that nightstand?"

"Yes, please. Just hold onto them until I get back into town to get rid of them myself. There's a spare key in the hanging flowerpot next to the door. You can get in that way."

"I didn't think you were the kind of person to do that."

Celestina chuckled lightly. "Oh, I'm not too afraid of burglars." It would be one break-in they'd certainly wished they hadn't done, though Celestina kept that remark to herself. "Cara mia, I can't tell you how grateful I am. You're saving me from a world of hurt."

"No problem, Celestina. Finish off your tour with a bang. I'll see you when you get back."

"Likewise, I can't wait to see you." Celestina hung up. What you become after he's done with you.

An entire afternoon had been spent pursuing his new lead. Ledford had pulled up and dug through Amonte's personal file. All he found was a clean record—no past offenses, not even petty ones. Of course, the file was incomplete. A majority of it centered on Amonte's life after she had entered into the limelight. And she wasn't about to commit any crimes while focused in the spotlight.

Hmm… Ledford reached up and ran his fingers down his freshly shaven jaw as his eyes skimmed the text on the computer monitor. Celestina Amonte—born in Milan, Italy to insanely affluent parents. Well, that explained how an opera singer was living the lifestyle of an A-list celebrity. After finishing music school, she had moved to the U.S. And that was all the information available on her early life. The rest was when she had become La Contessa, and that, well, was as dull as dishwater to be frank.

Ledford ducked his head down to pinch the bridge of his nose. He let out a heavy breath through his nose. He was sure there was more to Amonte than what was here on this screen. And to Valentini.

Stefano had given Ledford information he didn't meant to give—his reaction in the interrogation room made that crystal clear. I just gotta look hard enough, and I'll find that lead.

Ledford glanced away from the screen to ponder. I've never personally met Amonte—just seen what she's shown the public eye. All smiles and glamor. They don't call her Krimson City's sweetheart for nothing. She's an entirely different personality from the asshat she married, but they say opposites attract. Ledford pushed his hand through his hair and logged out of the department computer. He stood and left the lab.

As he walked down the hall, his phone buzzed. It was a text from France. Ledford smiled. Now that there was finally light at the end of the tunnel, it was nice to hear from her again.

He was in the midst of unlocking his phone when he heard the urgent cry. "Ledford!" The detective's eyes snapped up. Hendriks was hurrying down the hall towards him. Ledford didn't like that look on her face. He lowered his phone.

"What happened?"

Detective Hendriks stopped, her eyes darkened with dread. "A 911 call came in," she said. "Another woman just went missing."

Ledford felt as though a weight had been dropped on his chest. No, this couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Valentini was still in custody.