The numbers appeared after Tara’s tenth birthday. Always red. Never another color. Bright as warning lights. They were hovering above her father’s head while he buttered toast.
32
They flashed like a reflection off glass, wavering each time he leaned toward the raspberry jam. She
Dan McKnight knew what his next customer wanted: strawberries, her favorite fruit. The familiar woman stood before him, wrapped in a scarlet cloak as though she’d stepped out of a pre-Raphaelite painting.
“Hi, Cathy. I’ve picked a punnet just for you.” He lifted
The three suspects fidgeted in their line while Crowe wrote in his notepad. He knew that writing usually made his suspects nervous, and while Crowe didn’t like that fact exactly, it couldn’t be helped. And sometimes he did get a bit of pleasure from
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Book club invitation. Take one if you dare.
Lucy withdrew a folded slip of red paper from the acrylic display. How mysterious.
Hearing shuffling from behind the check-out desk, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, I’d like to renew my library—”
Once in a lifetime, a birthday wish came true.
Theo wished his hadn’t.
He surveyed the bustling marketplace and leaned back against the fruit vendor’s stall. Beside him, two women haggled with the farmer over the price of a clementine. He groped forward and plucked two
“The colonel and I have searched them both.”
I sniffed. “It’s surprising how often people miss essential information when it’s right under their noses—”
“Quinlan!” Colonel Englert intercepted us fifty meters down the corridor, his hair and uniform gray as the station’s walls,
Detective Conan adjusted his fedora and surveyed the broken glass scattered throughout the flowerbed. At some point last night, an intruder had broken into the Westfield home through this window… supposedly. Nothing had been taken, and the couple living there hadn’t seen anyone.
Conan breathed in through his nose, sorting the area’s scrambled scents.
I slam the folder shut on my desk.
“Nothing useful?” Detective Rowe asks as he hands me a mug of coffee.
I take a sip, hoping it will provide some mental clarity. “It’s like everyone in that bank had a blindfold on.”
“Detective Williams?” I turn to see the patrol officer manning the front desk walking into the bullpen,
My detective partner, Monica, was anything but optimistic. Her dark eyebrows were always arched above calculating eyes, and her lips were always set in a frown. She even refused to wear her hair down at work because she thought it made her look
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“All I mean is, one of us has got to make pretend niceties or they won’t like us.” Friedrich crouched down beside Aloysia in the nursery of the kidnapped child.
Aloysia did not bother to contain her eye roll. She had insisted
“What made you want to be a superhero, anyway?”
Leslie Lewis was startled by the question. The stone-faced lady filling out her superhero license application couldn’t really be looking for an answer. What was Leslie supposed to say, that she wanted to use her powers for good?
Professor Kaitlyn Valemon turned off the projector and faced her class. “So, if you’re ever in Ireland, make sure to look out for the fairy rings.”
“Have you been?” asked a student.
Kaitlyn’s heart panged. She’d always wanted to go to Ireland to do first-hand research of their myths and fairy tales.
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