As she peers out into the black night, she can barely see. Darkness and pounding rain obscure her vision. It doesn't matter. She knows he's coming. Her long finger reaches out and strokes at a rain drop that struck against the pane. Her finger slides along the glass tracing its predictable, downward path. Another rain pellet crashes into it and shifts its course. So typical of nature to cause chaos; life is supposed to consist of the unexpected. Sighing, she pulls away from the window and her thoughts. She doesn't have much time.
After she pulls a stool out from inside her closet, she climbs onto it and reaches up on top of one of the shelves. Her hand skims over a firm object, and she clutches her fingers around the hard, square box. She carries it over to her bed and sits down on the white textured bedspread. Opening it carefully, she takes out a faded picture of a young girl with dark pony tails and missing teeth. Just like with the rain drop, her finger traces over her features, a small, sad smile forming on her lips.
Her expression suddenly strains. Footsteps pause outside on her porch; shuffling noises as someone twists the knob on the front door; a grunt of disapproval when he finds it to be locked.
Her fingers shift through the contents of the box until she finds the pendant. Its silver now tarnished from lack of polishing. She pulls it out and dangles it in front of her watching as it slowly sways back and forth. She imagines it resting against the crevice of the young girl’s pink neck.
There are faint scraping noises from outside the front door; she is startled when it suddenly slams open. Quick footsteps, and then he hesitates on the steps below wondering if she has heard him. Fool.

She holds the pendant to her lips and kisses it. Then, grasping it tightly in her hand, she closes her eyes and breathes deeply. Confident, he now bounds up the steps skipping some in his haste to complete his task. He stands outside her door.
Calmly rising, she walks to her dresser and places the pendant down and neatly arranges the chain. The palm of her hand is red from where it touched her skin. The door to her bedroom creaks open. She looks down at the picture again, marveling at the perfection of the little girl, and then up into the face of the intruder.
She smiles at him mockingly, “Do you really feel it was necessary to wear a mask?” Even without her gift, she would recognize those cold, reptilian eyes. Her laugh ignites his anger and the gun goes off; the picture of the young girl gracefully glides through the air and gently lands on the floor now marred with drops of blood.


Chapter One

The annoying ring of the alarm clock smashed through the brick wall of his unconsciousness. With a heavy limb, he hit the snooze button but as soon as he settled back into more dreaming, it went off again.
“Shit,” he mumbled and smacked it again knocking an empty beer can off his night stand. The slumbering female draped on top of him mumbled something in her sleep and shifted slightly. Opening one lazy eye, Beau Braden spied the top of the bleached blond head, dark roots exposed, lying on his chest. He cursed again under his breath. Normally they didn’t sleep over. It was against the rules. He must have been really hammered.
He slowly peeled her off and sat up in his bed. The oscillating fan blew at him but it did nothing to dissipate the heat. The hottest summer of the year in North Carolina, and his landlord was taking his sweet old time fixing his air conditioning. He should arrest his ass. His body drenched in sweat; the female blanket certainly hadn’t helped. He glanced over at her again cautiously and drew out his breath in relief. At least she was good looking. Alcohol definitely impaired his visual acuity on occasion.
He suffered through a cold shower to lower his body temp, ran a comb through his dark hair and, after brushing his teeth, studied himself in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look as hung-over as he felt. His blue eyes clear, he threw on a pair of khakis and a sleeveless t-shirt. He wasn’t about to put on a dress shirt until he got into the air conditioned precinct. When he clicked on his gun belt, her eyes flickered open, and she stretched lazily with her arms above her head in a way that made her breasts look full. He wondered how long she had practiced that move. A pang of guilt washed over him when she gave him a smile, but he instantly suppressed it. Women were good at manipulating. She wanted the sex last night as much as he did. She knew it was a no strings attached deal. He had made it quite clear. He always did.
He pulled a five out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Here. I have to get to work. Get yourself a coffee at the deli on the corner.” He hoped that she would pick up his cue that he wanted her to leave.
Her smile instantly turned to a scowl. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? What is that? My tip?” She sat up ignoring his money and clutched the sheet against her bosom.
He decided to try humor. “Come on. If that was your tip, I would’ve been much more generous.” He winked.
She made some noise of disgust in her throat and scrambled to get her clothes. He calmly let her rant and then silently held the door open for her as she made her exit. She stopped briefly and looked at him. Waving a sandal in his face, she said, “I heard you were a prick. I should have listened.”