We can turn the stereo down.”

“You’re Jaclyn Briggs?” Officer Vance asked.

“I am,” she said, leaning on the door frame.

“Is something wrong?”

“Where’s Benji Quill?” I asked, stepping out from behind the officer’s shoulder.

Jaclyn’s smile froze for a split second before it widened into a bright, pleasant look.

She tapped her long red acrylic nails on the stem of her wine glass.

“Agnes,” she said, her voice sweet as syrup.