A tall brunette on a silvery “audio.” Gray eyes, covered by the constant smoke coming from his mouth. Can a person like that ruin my life, which isn’t easy to begin with?
I didn’t want to look at the images. All my awareness resisted. The detective’s hand pushed the photographs closer over the smooth metal surface of the table. “Damn! No, just not Alice! God, please,” flew through my head as my heart began to pound faster and faster—when those glass eyes of dead young girls stared at me.