No one in New York paid attention. He liked that.
He also particularly relished this post-rain sunshine.
Taking a deep breath, Dorian started toward the waterfront. This was his ideal way to start the day. It had been for a century.
Immigrating to New York had been his best move.
Richard Mohr stood outside his sister’s room for a full minute, eyes shut tight, not wanting to enter. Then, taking a deep breath, he plunged in.
“You’re late, you little stink.”
Kimberly-Anne’s eyes were somehow sharper than her words: a scowling blue, like chips cleaved off a glacier.
“Five minutes.”
“Tell me again why we’re running from these people?” Harmony Star asked.
Agent Orange stifled the urge to curse as he jerked the steering wheel, just in time to avoid another projectile from behind. He was a master escape artist, but he had a tough job ahead. “Because you witnessed an illegal arms purchase!
“Tell me again why we’re running from these people?” Harmony Star asked.
Agent Orange stifled the urge to curse as he jerked the steering wheel, just in time to avoid another projectile from behind. He was a master escape artist, but he had a tough job ahead. “Because you witnessed an illegal arms purchase!
Oil rainbows shimmered and plastic wrappers floated on the wasted pond by Harmony’s apartment. An olive-green beanie shielded her from the breeze as she stood at the weedy bank, strumming a lazy chord on her ukulele.
She turned to a cyclist who’d stopped near her. “You’d join me tomorrow, right? To clean this pond?”
My first case wasn’t about crime at all. It was about love. I mean, technically, a crime had been committed, but… well, maybe I’d better just tell it.
I was sixteen in 1985 and lived three houses down from sweet old Miss Evans, who dressed up every Friday night, even if she was only going as far as her front porch.
If you had watched me in the kitchen, you would have thought me ordinary, just another wife preparing dinner.
I made everything the way Bob liked it. I roasted the turkey for three hours at 325 degrees, then took it out of the oven and let it rest for fifteen minutes before carving.
Herman McMillan was the best detective in the history of crime, and I was the only one who knew it.
There was that time he found a murderer hiding in the air vents of a drugstore after using his dachshund to follow the scent of the cheeseburger left in the victim’s apartment. Another time McMillan returned
“I’m afraid your understanding of the situation’s more muddled than a mojito, darling.” Nash Welter stretched an arm across his desk and flicked his lighter, touching flame to the tip of the dame’s trembling cigarette. “I’m only a hitman.”
The darling in question narrowed her eyes and inhaled deeply, staining the white paper
As soon as I saw the tweet, I knew he’d be coming after Bridgett. And I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen.
“Can’t wait to meet my favorite author, @BridgettKuzminsky, tonight at Chi-Town FanCon! #DragonAngels5 is the best one yet. I’ve read it three times. I have a special something
The sheriff tossed the yellowed documents onto the Sutton’s kitchen table. “I’m sorry to tell you folks. The documents are real.”
A small cry erupted from Margaret’s lips.
Hank moved behind his wife and gripped her shoulder, hoping the warmth of his hand would lend her strength. “Are you sure, Sheriff?”
“I’m sure.
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