Claire was in her bedroom changing into work clothes when she heard Sam’s cell phone ring. She finished zipping her dress and walked out of the room. Sam was filling Nightmare’s water dish and listening to the person on the other end. “Where?” he asked. Then more listening. “Okay, thanks, Cruz. I’ll let Claire know and ask her if the description rings a bell.” He hung up. “Let Claire know what?” she asked. “Some of your stuff turned up at a pawnshop north of downtown. Little place on Sheraton Road. Had the television and one of the necklaces.” “What was that about a description?” “Owner said it was a woman. About twenty-five, with brown eyes and curly, short hair the same color. Also, he said she acted like she knew the drill, like she’d been in a pawnshop before. Anybody you know?” “Short, brown hair. Brown eyes.
