It’s so cold that if I were a guy, I’d be a girl right now, and anyone who doesn’t understand that statement is probably a woman no matter how cold it is outside. The seaside town of East Hampton just loves to spit up weather changes where there should be salt water and sunshine. One minute it seems I was on a boat, getting engaged to my crime lord boyfriend that swears he’s not a crime lord, and stabbing to death my old mentor turned serial killer. The next, or so it seems, I’m here, freezing my ass off, climbing the mile-long staircase to one of the hundreds of overstated mansions clustered around the island, preparing to read the scene of a dead bride.

At the top of the steps, I reach the second layer of crime scene tape and the cop standing there—a tall, thin dude, who would only scare a chihuahua—no scratch that, chihuahuas are annoyingly loud and fearless. Let me start again. A tall thin dude, who would scare no one, greets me with, “Lilah fucking Love. What are you doing here?”
I don’t know him. If I’ve ever met him, I don’t remember him. I don’t try to remember him, not after that stupid question. “I heard they have those chocolate cupcakes with that perfect creamy icing on top,” I say all sweet, something I do well, despite what others might claim. I scowl. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I’m a profiler. There’s a dead bride. Unless you’re standing guard at the wrong wedding?”

Now he scowls. “You’re such a bitch, Lilah.”

“I’m appalled that you just said that. I will have you know that I am a perfect fucking angel and just for that, you don’t get a cupcake.” I start to move away from him and hesitate. “Where are all the guests?”

“There’s no wedding or cupcakes,” he snaps. “There’s a woman wearing a wedding dress.”

“Because she already got married, she’s about to be married, or she likes to play Barbie at home, and takes it too far?”

He scowls and it’s the most remarkable thing about him aside from his uniform. The uniform used to be enough for me to respect and remember a person. Then I found out people like me used to wear the same one, too.

“I have no idea,” he says. “I just hold the yellow line.”