Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks

ONE HE didn’t have much face left. Lily stood well back, keeping her new black heels out of the pool of blood that was dry at the edges, still gummy near the body. She’d seen worse when she worked Traffic Division, she reminded herself. But it was different when the mangling had been done on purpose. Mist hung in the warm air, visible in front of the police spotlights, clammy against her face. The smell of blood was thick in her nostrils. Flashes went off in a crisp one-two as the photographer recorded the scene. “Hey, Yu,” the officer behind the camera called. He was a short man with chipmunk cheeks and red hair cut so short it looked like the fuzz on a peach. She grimaced. O’Brien never tired of a joke, no matter how stale. If they both lived to be a hundred and ran into each other in the nursing home, the first thing he’d say to her would be, “Hey, Yu!” That is, assuming she kept her maiden name for the next seventy-two years. Considering the giddy whirl she laughingly called a social life, that seemed possible. “Yeah, Irish?” “Looks like you had a hot date tonight.” &ldqu
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