Detective Noah Cross was three bites into a gas station breakfast burrito when his phone rang. The caller ID said "Dispatch," which meant his Saturday morning was about to get significantly worse.
"Cross," he answered, already reaching for his jacket.
"We've got a 10-54 at the Apex Residences, downtown. Sixteenth floor, unit 1604. Female, mid-twenties, unresponsive. Paramedics are on scene."
Noah checked his watch: 7:47 AM. He had been awake for twenty minutes. "Suspicious circumstances?"
"Possible overdose. But the caller—friend of the deceased—is insistent something is wrong. Requesting detective presence."
"I'm fifteen minutes out." Noah ended the call and tossed the burrito in the trash. He had been a homicide detective for twelve years, and he'd learned to trust his gut about these things. Possible overdose plus insistent friend usually meant one of two things: either the friend was in denial about their loved one's drug use, or something actually was wrong.
The Apex Residences was the kind of building that made Noah's salary feel like a joke. Glass and steel, valet parking, a lobby that looked like a hotel in Dubai. He'd been here twice before, once for a domestic dispute that turned into an assault charge, once for a burglary that turned out to be an insurance scam. Rich people problems.
He badged his way past the doorman and took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. The doors opened onto a hallway that smelled like expensive candles and quiet money. Unit 1604 was at the end, door propped open, yellow crime scene tape already up.
Officer Martinez was standing guard. "Detective. Paramedics pronounced about her about twenty minutes ago. The Medical Examiner is on the way."
"Who called it in?"
"Roommate. Sadie Brooks. She's in the living room with Officer Chen."
The condo was exactly what he expected, open floor plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of downtown, furniture that probably cost more than his car. But there was something off about it. The place was too clean. Too staged.
He found the body in the master bathroom.
She was slumped against the bathtub, head tilted back, blonde hair spilling over the porcelain edge. Mid-twenties, like dispatch said. Pretty in that specific Nashville way, the kind of pretty that came from good genes and better lighting. She was wearing a black dress, expensive-looking, and one high heel. The other shoe was on the floor near the sink.
There was a small plastic bag on the counter. White powder residue. A rolled-up twenty-dollar bill. A bottle of prescription pills, Xanax, prescribed to Lila Monroe, open, several pills scattered on the marble.
Noah crouched down, careful not to touch anything. The girl's, Lila's, eyes were half-open, pupils dilated. No visible signs of trauma. No defensive wounds. Her right arm was extended slightly, palm up, like she'd been reaching for something.
Classic overdose scene. Textbook, even.
Which was exactly what bothered him.
"Detective?" Officer Chen appeared in the doorway. "The roommate wants to talk to you."
Noah stood, taking one last look at the scene. Something was wrong here. He couldn't put his finger on it yet, but something was off.
He found Sadie Brooks in the living room, perched on the edge of a white leather couch that cost more than Noah made in a month. She was small, dark-haired, wearing pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her eyes were red, mascara smudged, hands shaking as she gripped a mug of coffee.
Noah sat down across from her, pulling out his notebook. "Ms. Brooks, I'm Detective Cross. I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you some questions."
Sadie nodded, not looking at him. "She didn't do drugs. That's what I told the paramedics, that's what I'm telling you. Lila didn't do drugs."
"Can you walk me through what happened this morning?"
Sadie took a shaky breath. "I got home around seven. I was at my boyfriend's place last night. When I came in, everything seemed normal. I went to my room, started getting ready for the day. Then I realized Lila's door was open, and she wasn't in her bed. I checked the bathroom and..."
She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth.
"Take your time," Noah said gently.
"She was just sitting there. Against the tub. I thought maybe she'd passed out, so I tried to wake her up, but she was cold. She was so cold." Sadie's voice cracked. "I called 911. They said to start CPR, but I could tell... I could tell she was already gone."
Noah made notes. "When was the last time you saw Lila alive?"
"Yesterday afternoon. Around four. She was getting ready for her showcase, this industry thing downtown. She was nervous but excited. She'd been working toward this for months."
"Did she seem upset? Depressed? Anxious?"
"No. The opposite. She was happy. She said the showcase went really well, that labels were interested. She texted me around midnight saying she was home safe and going to bed."
Noah looked up. "Do you still have that text?"
Sadie pulled out her phone with shaking hands, scrolled through, and showed him the screen:
Home safe. Showcase was amazing. Tell you everything tomorrow. Love you. xo
Sent at 11:52 PM.
"Ms. Brooks, I have to ask, was Lila using any substances? Recreationally or otherwise?"
"No." Sadie's voice was firm. "I know what you're thinking. I know what it looks like. But Lila was terrified of drugs. Her mom died of an overdose when she was sixteen. She wouldn't even take Tylenol unless she absolutely had to."
"The Xanax in the bathroom was prescribed to her."
"For flying. She had panic attacks on planes. But she barely used them. The bottle was almost full."
Noah made a note. "Did Lila have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?"
Sadie hesitated. Just for a second, but Noah caught it.
"Ms. Brooks?"
"No. I mean... the music industry is competitive. There are people who were jealous of her success. But nobody who would... nobody who would do this."
"What about her personal life? Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?"
"She dated someone last year. Musician. It ended badly, but that was months ago. She'd moved on."
"I'll need his name."
"Tyler Hastings. He plays guitar for Miranda Cole's band."
Noah wrote it down. "What about her professional relationships? Manager? Producer?"
"Wade Mercer is her producer. He's been collaborating with her for three years. He's... he's like a mentor to her."
There was something in Sadie's voice when she said Wade's name. Something Noah couldn't quite name. Not fear, exactly. More like careful neutrality.
"I'll need to speak with Mr. Mercer as well."
"He's probably already heard. News travels fast in Nashville."
Noah closed his notebook. "Ms. Brooks, is there anything else you think I should know? Anything that seemed unusual or out of place?"
Sadie looked at him for a long moment. Her eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted, but there was something else there too. Something that looked like guilt.
"She was scared," Sadie said quietly. "The last few weeks, she seemed scared. She wouldn't tell me why, but I could tell. She kept looking over her shoulder. Checking her phone constantly. She started locking her bedroom door at night, which she never did before."
"Did you ask her about it?"
"Of course. She said it was nothing. Said she was just stressed about the showcase, about her career. But I knew Lila. I knew when she was lying."
Noah leaned forward. "What do you think she was scared of?"
Sadie opened her mouth, then closed it. Shook her head. "I don't know. I wish I did."
She was lying. Noah had interviewed enough people to know when someone was holding back. But he also knew when to push and when to wait. Sadie Brooks was in shock, grieving, probably not thinking clearly. He'd give her time, then circle back.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Brooks. I may have more questions later. In the meantime, is there somewhere you can stay? Family? Friends?"
"I'll call my sister."
Noah stood, handing her his card. "If you think of anything else, anything at all, please call me. Day or night."
Sadie took the card, staring at it like she couldn't quite process what it meant. "You think something happened to her. You don't think it was an overdose."
Noah chose his words carefully. "I think we need to investigate thoroughly before we draw any conclusions. That's all."
But as he walked back toward the bathroom, where the ME was now photographing the scene, Noah couldn't shake the feeling that Sadie was right.
Something had happened to Lila Monroe.
And whatever it was, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like an accident.