Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks Read Free Book Online

would you want to see her? What’s going on?”
    “I didn’t want to see her, I just did. It was in connection with a case. Do you know what happened to the Harrises, where they moved?”
    “This is not healthy. I thought you’d put all that behind.”
    “I have.” Except for the nightmares, but they were rare. “This is for the job, Mother.”
    “I don’t know where they went. I don’t remember. I suppose I could ask Doris Beaton.” The offer was obviously dragged out. “I believe she kept in touch.”
    “I’d appreciate it if you would.” Lily punched the button for the elevator.
    “I don’t understand why you need to know about the Harrises.”
    “I’m not sure yet. Police work would be a lot easier if we knew ahead of time which leads were important.” Was it intuition or the past crawling across Lily’s shoulders? She rolled them, trying to dislodge the sensation. “Thanks, though, for offering to check with Mrs. Beaton. I know the subject distresses you.”
    “This isn’t about my feelings. I worry about you.”
    “I know. I’m fine.” But it had always seemed to Lily that it was about her mother as much as herself. So many threads spinning out from that one event . . . no matter how she tugged, clipped, or tried to untangle them, the knots remained. “The elevator’s here. I’d better go.”
    Julia reminded her to check her planner and said good-bye. Lily slid her phone in her backpack and stepped into the little metal box.
    It was a relief to return her mind to the case, the facts and the possibilities. Threads. That’s what she had—a confusing tangle of threads, and not much in the way of hard facts to tell her where to tug. She’d taken a lot of statements, but there would be lies twisted in with the truth, and all sorts of evasions, omissions, and simple mistakes.
    Time of death was likely to be critical with this one. Maybe the lab would have a preliminary report soon. Not that they’d be able to tell much, but they should at least be able to confirm that the killer was one of the Blood.
    Science depended on things happening a certain way without fail. Water boiled at 100 degrees C at sea level no matter who did the boiling. Mix potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal together in the right proportions, and you ended up with gunpowder every time, no random batches of gold dust or baking soda to confuse matters.
    But magic was capricious. Individual. The cells and body fluids of those of the Blood—inherently magical beings—didn’t perform the same way every time they were tested. Which could make it possible to identify the traces magic left in its wake, but played hell with lab results.
    The elevator creaked to a halt on the first floor, where two people got on. Lily glanced at her watch. Maybe she should have taken the stairs.
    If the parking garage was the beast’s guts, the elevators were its circulatory system. Which meant the building was often in shock due to circulatory failure, because the elevators were notoriously slow and cranky. This one did eventually deposit Lily on the third floor. She checked her watch again as she shoved open the door to Homicide. If she hurried, she could grab a cup of coffee.
    “Hey, Lauren,” she said to the chunky blonde woman at the first desk. Three of the five desks in the bullpen were occupied. Mech’s wasn’t. “Is Mech here?”
    “Do I look like a receptionist?” Lauren squinted at her computer screen and kept typing. “Why does everyone mistake me for the goddamned receptionist?”
    “It’s your charming manner. Makes us feel all warm and welcome.” Mech was probably around. He would know she’d want to talk to him before reporting to Randall. She headed for the coffeepot.
    Sean Brady looked up from the folder he’d been studying, grinned, and howled like a wolf.
    “For crying out loud,” the woman at the desk next to his muttered, “turn it down, will you? No one, but no one, is going to mistake you for a