Blonde curls.
Thick. Soft.
Made to wrap your fingers in.
Slipping into Vitaly Volkov’s back yard like she owns the place.
Juliet fucking Lovelace.
I remember her.
How could I not?
Sweet smile.
Soft voice.
Eyes that said I know exactly what you think I did, and you’ll never prove it.
Grimm called her a person of interest in the Tammy Walters case.
I called her a goddamn person of my interest.
Because she walked out of that station like she’d never committed a crime in her life.
And now?
Now she’s breaking into the home of a man connected to my current case.
I should get out of this car.
Should stop her.
Question her.
Find out what the hell she’s doing.
But I don’t.
Because I want to watch.
While I wait, I flip to the page with my notes on her.
Doodle in the margins.
Gut says she’s not connected to Oksana.
Or Walters.
Heart disagrees.
Cock’s got its own opinion entirely.
I draw a question mark.
She’s watched Volkov.
At the bakery.
