Love's Dangerous Game

In her hand was the grainy photograph she'd spent the last two weeks staring at-a man's face, sharp-jawed an

e face of the man who had stole

t terrible day two years ago. The day he

let it go to voicemail, assuming it was just another client. But the same number called agai

ficer Calloway with the Metro Police Department. I'm afraid there's been an inci

ine repeated, gripping the edge of her desk.

with the kind of sympathy that made Jasmine's st

y she could hear it over the hum of traffic. Every worst-case scenario pl

re she was-Miranda. Jasmine's vibrant, free-spirited younger sister, now pale and lifeless.

the head," the coroner explained clinically. "

ing sister-who had just the day before been gushing about an a

it. A random, senseless act of vi

have wandered into a dangerous area without a reason. And the police's explanation-that she'

She followed up on every lead, called every day for upd

ng her calls. Miranda's case bec

e couldn't

rself. She read the reports so many times she could recite them from memory. She replayed the last voicemail M

, a brea

ng. The man in the image was walking out of the alley where Miranda was found, just minutes before her estimated time of

ho wa

ublic records or criminal databases came up empty. He didn't have a rec

iranda's case, and she knew they'd dismiss this photo just as eas

lating. She knew in her

mbled upon something new. A society blog had posted photos from last year's high-profile tech gala-a glamorou

the event was exclusive enough

red at the screen. The gala

last year, chances wer

to him, to figure out who he was and what role he played in Miranda's death. She didn'

as him-of confronting the man who might have mu

lling her from her thoughts. The

she answer

, then a low, dis

ed, cold and flat. "This isn't

uickened. "Who is

ne wen

ering in her chest. Someone knew what s

olidified her resolve. Whoever this man was, he

as w

aph tightened as her hazel ey

red under her breath, "you m