Kill Shot by J. D. Faver Page A

friend.”
    “And an officer of the law,” Zondra’s voice almost purred with delight. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Officer Oz.” Zondra twinkled her dimples at him.
    Oz fixed her with an intense gaze. “Ma’am. Can you tell me about the accident you were involved in?”
    “Accident, my ass! This man in a big black Hummer ran my car into a tree.”
    Oz glowered at her. “Did you get a look at him?”
    Zondra nodded. “He was a white guy with dark blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. I saw him real good.”
    Oz turned his glare on Micki. She got his meaning, recalling the man of the same description who had assaulted her in her apartment.
    “What happened after you hit the tree?”
    Zondra cleared her throat. “You mean, after I was run off the road and smack dab into a tree?” At his nod, she continued. “While I was sitting there, totally traumatized, he jerked the car door open and grabbed my purse.”
    “Your purse?” Oz glanced beyond her to the large, pearlized leather bag sitting beside her on the gurney.
    “Yes, this purse. The guy reached across me and grabbed it. Then he tossed it out the window of the Hummer when he sped away. My On-Star called the ambulance and cops. One of the ambulance guys got it for me.” She pulled the bag closer.
    “Be sure to cancel your credit cards,” Micki said.
    “No, all he took was the pictures. Can you believe that? I was on my way to my mother’s house to pick one for the newspaper announcement.” Zondra clapped her hands to both cheeks. “Oy! My mother’s gonna freak. I called my fiancé and I called you guys...but I’m scared to call my mom.”
    Oz filched a pair of latex gloves from a dispenser, pulled them on and placed her purse in a plastic trash bag.
    Zondra pointed a long, skinny acrylic nail at him. “What are you doing? That bag cost me five hundred bucks on sale.”
    Oz grinned, giving her the full effect of the melt-you-where-you-stand eye twinkle. “Evidence.” He called for a cruiser to pick up the bag and take it to the good old police department crime lab.
    Micki refrained from telling Zondra that her bag might not be in the same pristine condition when she got it back.
    At that moment, Zondra’s fiancé, Ephraim, burst through the doors. Zondra’s face crumpled and tears rolled down her cheeks as he gathered her in his arms. She got to tell her story all over again.
    Micki prepared to leave with Oz, but Zondra grabbed her hand. “I need another set of the pictures, Micki. I’ll pay extra.”
    “I’ll make you a set,” she said. “No charge. And I’ll see you at the church Friday afternoon for the rehearsal.”
    Oz was quiet when they walked to his car. “Micki, this thing is getting more dangerous by the minute. You can’t afford to take any more chances.” He skewered her with a stern gaze. “You should let someone else take the wedding photos.”
    She felt her jaw tighten. “Not on your life!”
    “No, Mick,” he said quietly. “It’s on your life.”
    A chill whispered along her spine as his meaning sank in.
    #
    Micki thought the familiarity of doing something ordinary together was responsible for lightening Oz’ mood. Something as normal as pushing a shopping cart through a grocery store. They strolled aisle by aisle as though they’d been shopping together forever. He pushed the cart, but pulled her close with one arm around her shoulders.
    His expression poked at her guilty conscience. He was happy and he thought they were really together, or was he trying to fool himself? Micki couldn’t tell, but she was helpless to stop the train roaring down the tracks.
    “Artichoke hearts?” he asked. “What are you going to do with artichoke hearts?”
    “You’ll see.” She put the can in the basket, aware that they were on dangerous ground. On the surface, they were pushing a cart through the market and bantering about meaningless things, but, in truth, they were dancing near the edge of a bottomless