My Lost Daughter Read Free Page B

the promotion. Now she had to supervise other attorneys, some with far more experience and much larger egos. It wasn’t going to be easy. She could use a good stiff drink.
    Duffy turned his head to the side, surprised. Clinton was standing a few tables over talking to Richard Fowler, Lily’s predecessor.
    Lily tried to look into Duffy’s translucent blue eyes, but her gaze was drawn to Fowler. “You transferred into homicide, took my slot, right?” Her eyes burned into Fowler’s back, willing him to turn around. Instead of bending down and placing her briefcase and purse on the floor, she dropped them with a loud thud. The noise was lost in the bar and Fowler still didn’t turn around. Her face felt flushed. “Where’s the waitress?” she asked Duffy, thinking she’d change her order to a glass of wine. She didn’t want Fowler to see her tossing down shots of tequila like a rock star. It was too late. Duffy had already given the girl the order.
    â€œGuess you can call me a victim of the big Butler shuffle,” Duffy said, placing his elbows on the table.
    His words drifted past her and once again her thoughts turned to Fowler. For the past two weeks he’d been working with her, coaching her to make the shift in supervisors as smooth as possible. He was tall, maybe six-five, with the lean, hard body of a runner. His hair and eyes were dark, a sharp contrast against his fair skin. He moved his long body and long legs without sound wherever he went, fluid and relaxed like a large cat ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. He moved the way Lily wanted to move. And he moved Lily.
    He finally saw her and headed in her direction. When the waitress appeared with the drinks, Fowler lifted the margarita off the tray, glancing at Lily. She nodded. Then he saw the shot glass and again looked at her. “Yours?” he asked.
    â€œNo . . . yes . . . I . . .” She blushed. She was stammering like a fool. Fowler did that to her. “It’s been one of those days. Thought I’d try to drown it.”
    Setting both glasses on the table, he slid in close to her, in front of Duffy, who presently waved good-bye. A cloud of Fowler’s cologne drifted to her nostrils, a hint of lime. For the past two weeks she’d been inhaling it, even found it lingering on her clothes like cigarette smoke when she was forced to work closely with a smoker.
    â€œShots, huh?” he said with a smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. “Was it really that bad of a week?”
    â€œNo, you’ve been great, Richard. I mentioned the sentencing I had today, didn’tI? You know, the sweetheart who thinks human life is comparable to a Timex watch.”
    â€œYou mean, ‘takes a licking’? Well, it’s kinda cute, isn’t it? The guy might become a stand-up comic when he gets out.”
    The defendant they were talking about had pumped six bullets into a stranger in a public park. When the police asked him why he’d kept shooting when the victim was obviously dead, the killer told the cops, “He took a licking and kept on ticking.”
    â€œThat’s the problem,” Lily said. “That someone can commit a murder and be back on the streets to do it again in a few years. It makes me sick. It’s just something you don’t get used to, no matter how many times you see it.” She spotted the waitress and bent down to get her purse, turning her back and digging for her money. “Let me buy you a drink.”
    â€œThe waitress is gone. Next time, if you insist.”
    He was so close now that their hips were touching. Lily downed the shooter of tequila with one swallow and chased it with the margarita, licking the salt off her lips. The closer he stood to her, the more flustered she became. She was talking like a rookie DA, like she’d never prosecuted a homicide before.
    â€œDo you remember the last party we