“What the hell are you doing working when you’re supposed to be recuperating on medical leave?”

I leaned back and rolled my eyes. Beside me, Tyler’s mouth quirked up. I knew he couldn’t hear my dad’s side of the conversation, but I supposed the one-sided version was amusing on its own.

“Saving my sanity,” I said dryly. “And helping out a friend.” I gave him the quick rundown on Candy and Amy.

“What do you need?”

“I’ve already prowled the phone records and I’m getting nowhere. Do you know anyone in the Vegas PD?”

“I’m insulted you have to ask. I know everyone. That’s what makes me invincible.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are, Daddy. Seriously, I was hoping you could ask someone for a favor. Maybe she’s been cited for speeding or something. Can you get someone to run a search? See if her driver’s license has come up? Maybe get a current address?”

He promised he would, of course. “But you have to promise not to run yourself ragged. Like it or not, you’re still recovering. And more than that you need to take a step back. You go at this like a bat out of hell, but you’re going to burn out.”

“Daddy …”

“I’m serious. Go find a guy. See a movie. Take two hours off being a detective to be a girl.”

My eyes were on Tyler. “Thanks for the advice, Dad. Believe it or not, I’m working on it.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Wow,” I said as we stood in front of the vibrant purple facade. I tilted my head up to look at Tyler. “There are dresses in there?”

“Many,” he said.

“If you say so.”

We’d walked down Michigan Avenue from The Drake to Tonic, this Gold Coast boutique that, to my mind anyway, more resembled a child’s Lego construct than an actual retail establishment. The building appeared to be made of plastic blocks, though Tyler assured me it was more solid than that. It consisted of multiple levels, like a wedding cake that had gone horribly wrong or, again, like a child’s toy, if that child was trying to use up every Lego he owned.

The doorway was in the shape of a triangle, and various geometric shapes made up the row of windows that lined the second story. It was tucked in tight between two classically ornate buildings, and the contrast only made it look more, well, purple.

About the only thing the purple building had going for it, at least in my opinion, was that it couldn’t be overlooked.

Then again, it had no signage at all. Presumably if you wanted to shop at Tonic, you knew how to find Tonic.

Normally I wouldn’t want to find Tonic, but according to Tyler we were attending an event that night. And apparently jeans and a T-shirt weren’t going to cut it.

I must have been gaping, because Tyler laughed and took my arm. “Come on,” he said. “I promise you this will be fun.”

I’m not entirely sure “fun” was the word, but the trip to Tonic was definitely educational. Whoever designed the place was clearly as passionate about purple as they were about haute couture. Every wall, every tile, every surface was either white or some shade of purple. I presumed the white was supposed to provide contrast, but there wasn’t nearly enough of it. And though the purple was charming at first, after a while I felt a bit like I was engulfed in a giant bruise.

Bizarre sculptures descended from the ceiling, and the mannequins turned out not to be mannequins at all, but instead were live women who spent the day wearing the designs and standing frozen in place.

I really didn’t see the point.

The one thing I couldn’t argue with was the clothes. Everything shined and swirled and was designed to flatter.

Zelda—the sales associate who materialized the moment we entered the store—led Tyler and me to the evening gown section where she proceeded to show us dress after dress. Each was more fabulous than the one before—and each was summarily rejected by Tyler.

“Not even close to worthy of her. And the color—it can’t clash with the fire of her hair.”

“I have just the thing,” Zelda said, in a thick accent that sounded Eastern European, but was probably fake. Just more window-dressing for the clients. “Arrived today. I go look, yes?”

She was gone only a few moments before returning with a simple dress that somehow managed to put all the fancier ones we’d seen to shame. It was a backless sheath, the front piece held in place by a thin strip of material over one shoulder.

The entire dress, including the skirt, was designed to hug a woman’s curves, but the skirt was slit so that the woman could actually walk.

Best of all, it was the color of the sky on a clear summer day. In other words, it perfectly matched Tyler’s eyes.

“I love it,” I said. “Can I try it on?”

Zelda led me to the back of the store and the dressing room, which was about the size of my Chicago apartment. It had a chaise lounge, a vanity with a mirror, and a full array of toiletries so that the customer could emerge refreshed and primped. There was even a small refrigerator with bottles of Chablis and sparkling water.

I gaped a bit when Tyler joined me in the room. Zelda, however, seemed completely nonplussed. Clearly, she knew who would be paying the bill for today’s excursion.

As soon as she closed the door, I turned to Tyler. “I usually shop at T.J. Maxx. I think this is a step up.”

“Just a bit,” he said, taking a seat on the chaise. “Let’s see how it fits.”

I slipped out of my shoes, then pulled off my T-shirt and wiggled out of my jeans. Clad in only my bra and thong panties, I took the dress off the padded hanger. The material was thin, clingy, and as soft as a cloud.

“Take your bra off,” he said. “It’s backless.”

I did, then inspected the dress for a way in, finally deciding that I was meant to unfasten the single decorative button at the shoulder and step in from the top. The button seemed too minuscule to be up to the task of holding the dress up, but considering how little dress there actually was, I imagined it could probably handle the job.

“Sloane,” Tyler said once I was wearing it, and there was something almost reverent about his voice.

“You like?”

“I like,” he said, making a turning motion with his finger so that I would turn and look in the tri-fold mirror behind me.

When I did, I saw a woman who looked like she should be on a red carpet. I stood up on my toes and the effect was even better. “I’ll need the right shoes,” I said.

“Of course.”

“And this is a problem.” I pointed to the back, where the top band of my panties showed in the deep dip of the back.

Tyler stood. “Take them off.”

“Commando?”

“This dress is made for it. Take them off,” he repeated.

I did, shimmying out of them and tossing them on the pile with the rest of my clothing.

I walked toward the mirror, sexy and vibrant and daring. Maybe too daring. “I love it, Tyler, but I don’t know. The slit up the thigh is so high. If it were over my hip, maybe. But …” I trailed off as I took more steps and then turned. You couldn’t actually see my crotch, but it was high enough that someone might imagine they could.

“Let them,” Tyler said, when I told him that. “What’s life without a little imagination?”