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For Lynda Kachurek, who started out as a fan and becaht me out

CHAPTER ONE

IT FELT WEIRD being in an interrogation room out of uniform Not that thirty-two-year-old Chantel Harris spentsuspects She was a street cop, not a detective But in the twelve years she’d been a cop, she’d been called in to sit with suspects on occasion and to help with questioning a time or two

Even worse than being out of unifor the room on stiletto heels, with makeup on her face and with her blond hair, which usually lived in a ponytail, cascading down her back in artfully curled waves

“Excuse me, miss, but Chantel?”

She alht back out as Detective Wayne Stanton—a friend frorinned

“I not to beco her legs as she sat Cops couldn’t afford Italian- slate blue jacket, she druh this”

“Actually, you’re the i in behind her and closing the door “You clean up nice, Harris”

“Thank you, sir” The undercover assignment had been her idea Hers and Wayne’s She had no doubts about her ability to do the job Or her desire to catch the rich scuht to knock his wife around

“Iback a smile

“What’s that, sir?”

“Before you go to the fundraiser tonight, stop off at one of those walk-in nail salons—I believe there’s one on the corner of Dunbar and First Get yourself so to shoith fingers that look ready and able to pull a trigger”

He had a point “Yes, sir”

“The s you need to see you through a six-week stint?”

Six weeks had been the operation’s initial approvalChantel hoped she could either get proof in that tinment