Detective Sloan stood near the passenger door, her black notebook already open in her hand.

She did not look down as her pen moved across the page, her junior investigator’s badge catching the white light of the streetlamp.

“We cannot keep a cruiser parked outside your building every night, Mara,” Sloan said.

“He was standing in the courtyard an hour ago,” I said.

“My landlord has already given me thirty days to leave.

I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We don’t have the manpower for twenty-four-hour surveillance on a witness,” she said, closing the flip-book with a soft snap.