Double Threat Christmas. Terri Reed

know it. I never asked for their address. She works uptown at some art gallery, though.”

      “Yes, we know.” Frustration knocked at Paul’s ribs.

      He’d have to wait until Lacy came in to work tomorrow to interview her. He flipped his notepad closed. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

      “No bother.” She smiled, two dimples appearing near her mouth.

      “Ma’am, I’d suggest you have a stern talk with your daughter about opening doors to strangers,” Andy stated. “We wouldn’t want to have to come back to find you both raped or murdered.”

      Jasmine paled. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do that.”

      Paul stared at Andy. He wasn’t usually so harsh.

      Just as they were stepping into the hall, Paul thought to ask, “Where were you this evening?”

      She blinked, her gaze shot up to the right. “Here. Here with Susie.”

      She was lying.

      She was about the right height, blond and blue-eyed, as Rod described. But Rod hadn’t mentioned the dimples and they were hard to miss. Looked like Paul would be revisiting Figaro’s. “Thank you. Good night.”

      Back in the sedan, Paul gave his partner a sidelong glance. “What was that about?”

      “What?”

      “You know what. You deliberately tried to scare that woman.” Paul had been just as bugged by the lack of child safety, but Andy’s blunt words had taken Paul by surprise.

      Andy sighed. “When my sister was about eight, she opened the door. She wasn’t as lucky as those two were tonight. Alesha can’t have kids now from the attack and she’s still plagued with nightmares.”

      “Oh, man. I didn’t know.” Empathy for Andy’s pain dug at Paul. Nothing like that had ever touched Paul’s life. At least not here in the States. He’d seen more death and destruction during Desert Storm than he’d care to think about.

      “Yeah, well. Life goes on and all we can do is try to help others not make the same mistakes,” Andy said, his voice grim.

      “You got that right,” Paul agreed. Fighting in Iraq had been hell on earth. But the war they fought every day in New York City, trying to keep their piece of the world safe, was just as fraught with heartache and devastation as a battlefield.

      Sometimes Paul missed the military life. At least then he knew who the enemy was supposed to be. Here…the enemy could be a blue-eyed art curator with a propensity for cleanliness.

      “Let’s head to the station. I think we’ve let Ms. McClain cool her heels long enough,” Paul stated.