Chapter 2

“FUCK!” BEN HAMMONDgrabbed at the back of his head where I’d punched him, turned, and stumbled against the car, dropping the bags. Glass cracked in one of them. He cowered in a half-crouch, trying to make himself smaller. Both hands shot up. “Oh, my God! What are you doing?”

“Stand up.” I waved impatiently.

“Take—m-my—wallet,” he stammered. “Don’t hurt m—”

“You don’t like the surprise attack, do you, Ben? You know how effective it is.”

He realized three things very quickly. First, that I was a woman. Second, that this wasn’t a mugging. Third, that he’d heard my voice before.

The man straightened almost fully and squinted into the darkness of my hood. I tugged the hood down and watched his eyes wander around the silhouette of my short hair against the shopping-center lights, the terror in his face slowly dissipating.

“I…” He straightened. His hands dropped. “I know you.”

“You do.”

“You’re that cop.” He pointed an uncertain finger at me, began to shake it as his confidence grew. “You’re that cop from the trial.”

“I am,” I said. “Detective Harriet Blue, here to deliver your punishment.”