Page 8 of Cat and Mouse

Time slips away, and the club empties out. Then I spot the police cars before I spot her.

Interesting.

Detective Kane steps out of the car. Normally, she's all business in her usual getup—black shoulder-length hair in a sleek ponytail. But tonight, she's trying to blend in—leather jacket, hair down, and, from here, I think she's even wearing lip gloss.

Very interesting.

I knew it was reckless to pose as the coroner and clean up the body right under their noses, but I had to make sure that bitch didn't have any of my skin under her nails. She managed to claw at me before I killed her. I didn't expect the detective to put it together so fast. She looks around, then fluffs her hair beforewalking in. Maybe she's here to question witnesses. Good thing I know no one was there. If they were, they'd be dead.

The club officially closed about an hour ago, but I have my ways of staying after-hours. That's a perk of knowing the right people. I just needed a couple more hours on this balcony. It's the highest point from which I can view most of the city, and it helps me stay calm.

I like a challenge. My alibis are solid, and there's no way she can place me at the scene of the crime. Instead of running, I wait until I hear the door to the balcony open, and she walks in.

"Excuse me, but the club is closed," she says. "I need everyone downstairs for questioning."

I turn, registering the shock on her face when she sees me.

"You!" she exclaims.

"You must be mistaken, detective. I don't think we've met before."

"I'm here looking into the murder of Amy Carson," she says, her voice firm.

"Never heard of her," I reply. "Why are you here alone? Thought you'd be swarming this place with uniforms."

Her hands ball into fists. "I thought I heard something up here. And I don't need backup for a casual inquiry." Her eyes narrow. "It seems my instincts were right."

I smirk. "Instincts, huh? Or maybe you just got lucky." I glance around.

"Why are you up here? And what do you know about Amy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, detective."

She looks me up and down, then reaches for her radio. I tell her casually, "This place has no reception."

She pulls out her gun and points it at me. "Stand still."

I smirk. "Normally, I like making the demands, but since you asked so nicely…" I raise my arms slowly.

"Are you armed? Will I find any weapons on you?"

No. Because I got rid of them as soon as I spotted you and your cavalry!

Instead of answering directly, I choose to taunt her.

"Why would I be armed? I'm just out here looking at the stars. Do you know anything about galaxies?"

"Moretti," she snaps, ignoring my question. "Do you know tampering with evidence is a crime?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She steps closer, and I catch a whiff of her perfume—something floral and sweet.

Distracting.

"Where were you last night?" she demands, frisking me. Her hands are efficient, but I can feel her hesitation.

"I was with my father, reading horoscopes." I watch her face, enjoying the frustration there.

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