“Couples fight. Some of them sound worse than they are, and I don’t have to tell you that neighbors are nosy in this town. It’s not surprising somebody called us,” Amanda offered.

“Okay, so they weren’t the perfect picture of loving bliss,” Spenser said.

“Or somebody simply overreacted,” Amanda said. “I’m inclined to think the latter since there are no arrest records here.”

“Yeah, it’s a possibility,” Spenser admitted.

“They seem like a pretty loving, very normal couple to me,” Amanda said.

On the monitor, the DMV shot of Layla was replaced by pictures of her and Hamill from their social media platforms. The mostly candid photos showed the couple together in various spots around the world, working out, sharing a meal, walking on the beach, and playing music together. In the photos, Spenser can see the genuine affection between them. The way Layla looks at Hamill is particularly striking. To Spenser, she looks like a woman caught tight in the grip of love.

“She looks at him the way you look at Ryker,” Amanda said with a sly grin.

Spenser’s cheeks grew warm, and she tried to fight off the curl to her lips that seemed to be an automatic reflex whenever his name was mentioned. Though it appalled her, Spenser couldn’t refute Amanda’s teasing since she was pretty sure the woman was right. There was no denying the glow that lit her up whenever she was around Ryker. And she probably did have that same lovesick expression she saw on Layla’s face. It wasn’t something she could control. It just happened organically.

“Oh, I just got Arbery’s report in my inbox,” Amanda said, thankfully steering the conversation in another direction.

“What did he find?”

“He says he and his team went through Hamill’s house meticulously,” she read.

“Of course they did. They’re nothing if not meticulous.”

“Anyway, they have a boatload of prints. Arbery says they’re running them all now,” Amanda said. “But he said they found none on the bottles of Anadrol. Assuming the lab finds the tetrahydrozoline mixed in, whoever laced it either wiped it down or wore gloves.”

“Of course,” Spenser muttered.

“You didn’t think it was really going to be that easy, did you, boss?”

She quirked a grin at Jacob. “No. But it would have been nice,” she said. “Did he happen to find anything else in the refrigerator where we found the steroids?”

“Nope. Just the water.”

“No other secret compartments anywhere else in the room?”

“Not that he found,” Amanda reported.

“Okay. Didn’t think so. Did he happen to find anything else that might be useful?”

Amanda’s eyes flitted back and forth across the screen as she read the report. After a couple of beats, she shook her head.

“Nothing useful, I’m afraid. But he says he’ll try to get names for all the prints he found as soon as he can,” she replied.

“All right. Well, that’s unfortunate, but not surprising,” Spenser said.

“What are your next steps, Sheriff?”

“I think we’ve got a pretty broad picture of Hamill’s girlfriend. I’m going to talk to her and hope she can fill in some of those blank spaces,” she replied. “If nothing else, maybe she can put us onto somebody who might have had a beef with him.”

“Good luck,” Amanda said.

“Thanks. I’m probably going to need it.”

The sound of loud music playing drew Spenser around to the back of the house. Stepping through the open gate, she found Layla Li wearing a pair of dark blue coveralls and a bright pink welding helmet. She was crouched down in front of what looked like an abstract totem pole, welding something to the base. Sparks flew and the sizzling hiss of her welding torch crackled, filling the air with the odor of something burning.

As if she sensed Spenser standing behind her, Layla looked around and cut the torch as she stood up. She tipped the helmet back, revealing the face of the woman from the DMV photo. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks splotchy, and her nose was bright red. She looked as if she’d been crying beneath her helmet. Layla set her torch down then walked over and cut the music, plunging them into a silence so abrupt, it was jarring.

She took off her helmet and set it down on a table, then unzipped her coveralls and pulled the top down to her waist, revealing the gray tank top she wore underneath. She was about four inches shorter than Spenser’s five-nine frame with a petite figure that only accentuated her pixie-cut, giving the woman an appearance that reminded her of one of the fae folk from legend. She grabbed a rag from the table and wiped the sweat from her face.

“Layla Li?”

“That’s right. I assume you’re here about Seth?”

“I am.”

Spenser walked around what Layla was working on. Made of a mix of wood and metal, it was a stylized totem pole that was striking. The sunlight glinted off the steel fins of the fish layered in amongst the faces of the bears that had been carved into the wood. It combined traditional elements with others that were thoroughly modern and created something entirely unique.

“This is beautiful,” Spenser said and meant it.

“Thanks. It was commissioned by an art gallery on the Muckleshoot reservation,” she said. “It’s not done yet, but it’s coming along.”

Spenser walked around the piece again, admiring it from all angles and finding something new with every glance. She wasn’t an artist and didn’t understand a lot of what passed for art anymore, but what she was looking at was most definitely fine art as far as she was concerned.

“Can I offer you a glass of iced tea?” Layla asked.

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

The woman nodded and led her out of the area she was working in—a concrete space between the house and the offset garage. Her small Craftsman-style bungalow was laid out almost exactly like Seth Hamill’s. The biggest difference Spenser noted was that Layla hadn’t built on and expanded her garage. Like Hamill, though, she wasn’t using it for her car. It was her studio.

Spenser followed her into the house through the back door. Layla motioned to a high table that stood in a rounded nook that overlooked her workspace outside. Spenser perched on the edge of one of the tall stools as Layla went to the refrigerator and pulled out a glass pitcher of iced tea. She walked over and set it on the table in front of Spenser, then retrieved a pair of glasses that she filled with ice, then brought those over as well.

She silently poured out the tea, then pulled three packets of Splenda from the caddy on the table and added them. Spenser studied the woman closely as she raised her own glass and took a sip. There were dark half-moons beneath Layla’s bloodshot eyes, and she just had a heavy air of exhaustion about her. It wasn’t difficult to see the woman hadn’t been sleeping well. She looked like a woman caught deep in a web of grief.

“So, have you learned anything about what happened to Seth?” she asked, her voice low. “Do you know what happened?”

“We’re working a number of different angles.”

She nodded and cupped her glass in both hands, staring down into the brown liquid, seeming to be lost in her own head. She looked like a woman in pain and Spenser’s heart went out to her. But she had a job to do.

“How was your relationship with Seth?” Spenser asked.

“It was good. I mean… we had our ups and downs like everybody else. But we were happy.”

“It’s my understanding the police were called out when you guys were fighting,” Spenser said. “A few times, actually.”