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Thorndike’s sun porch, Molly had been dodging daggers from Lily Watson at her front door and learning her husband had fled, a fact that seemed to please Lily somewhat. Ari’s previous visit had primed Lily for a fight, and she acted hostile and defensive toward Molly, responding to questions with clipped, terse answers and allowing the detective only to cross the threshold.
    She glanced at the redhead who was still staring at her. The woman licked her lips, and Molly got an excellent view of her tongue ring. Molly started to stand up, her decision made, when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She quickly exited to a hallway, escaping the pounding music.
    “Nelson.”
    “Gee, Detective, it’s nice to know you’re out on the town while our prime suspect is missing!”
    Molly moved further down the hallway toward the emergency exit, but Captain Ruskin had already made his point. “There’s nothing more I can do tonight, Captain. We’ve got Watson’s house under watch and a File Stop out for him and that Porsche. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
    “Aren’t women always the optimists,” Ruskin cracked. “I hope for your sake he does, Nelson. This is your ass. You let a homicide suspect slip through your fingers. I don’t understand how the hell that happened but you better find him or else you’ll be pulling third shift in Maryvale.”
    The loud click ended the conversation before Molly could say another word. She unclenched her teeth and took a deep breath. The case wasn’t a day old and already it was a disaster, a ticking bomb sitting in her lap, ready to explode and blow her career into pieces.
    She wanted another drink, but there was no way Vicki would serve her again. Maybe she and the redhead could stop at a mini- mart on the way. She made her way back toward the music, imagining the redhead going down on her, tongue stud and all, but the woman was gone.
     
    Molly climbed into her truck and headed home. Crossing Central Avenue, she glanced right at the series of parallel lights that climbed toward the sky. According to her witness statement, Ari Adams lived in one of those condos. The thought of the woman made Molly’s blood boil and her face flush at the same time. If Ari hadn’t beaten her to the Watson’s house, they would have Bob in custody. He’d had no intention of running, which, Molly admitted made his guilt questionable. But once Ari had spoken to him, he was gone, and now Captain Ruskin was breathing down her neck. If he found out that Ari had tampered with the crime scene and warned Bob Watson about the arrival of the police, he would surely have her arrested. She snorted. If she did have to arrest Ari for obstructing an investigation, she’d have to take her straight to her bedroom instead of a jail cell.
    Now there was a woman who wouldn’t be a one-night stand. She was too refined and sophisticated, definitely above something meaningless and cheap. She replayed their meeting at the crime scene and the way Ari sat perched in the SUV, poised like a model, tucking that random strand of hair behind her ear. When Molly had reached for Ari’s arm and taken her elbow, the physical contact sent a surge through Molly that surprised and overwhelmed her. Only when Ari asked her to let go did she even realize they were still connected. More powerful than the touch was Ari’s breathy voice, totally seductive.
    Molly knew she didn’t stand a chance with Ari. An Elle McPherson businesswoman would never be seen on the arm of a lowly civil servant the size of a Chicago Bears lineman. Not likely, and probably not gay either if she really thought about it. Still, when Ari had smiled at her, she felt her knees go weak. Ari hadn’t noticed Molly leaning against the side of the SUV for support, all the while smiling back at her like an idiot.
    Pulling into her parking space this late always sent a pang of loneliness through her chest. She hated living alone, but she’d resolved that after her last