His sunglasses were gunmetal gray with darker gray lenses to hide the paler gray of his eyes, the most unremarkable part of him, really. He favored designer suits, but he was actually in one of the few pairs of blue jeans he owned, with a silk T-shirt and a suit jacket to hide his own weapons, all in grays. We actually had been planning on an outing to the beach, or I’d have never gotten Frost out of slacks and into jeans. His face might have been the more traditionally handsome of the two, but it wasn’t by much. They were as they had been for centuries, the light and dark of each other.

The policemen in their uniforms, suits, and more casual clothes seemed like shadows not as bright, not as alive as my two men, but maybe everyone in love thought the same thing. Maybe it was not being immortal warriors of the sidhe but simply love that made them stand out to my eye.

Lucy had gotten me through the police line because I’d worked with the police before, and I was actually a licensed private detective in this state. Doyle and Frost weren’t, and they had never worked with the police on a case, so they had to stay behind the line away from any would-be clues.

“If I find out anything for certain that seems pertinent about this kind of magic, I will let you know.” It wasn’t a lie, not the way I worded it. The fey, and especially the sidhe, are known for never lying, but we’ll deceive you until you’ll think the sky is green and the grass is blue. We won’t tell you the sky is green and the grass is blue, but we will leave you with that definite impression.

“You think there’ll be an earlier murder,” she said.

“If not, this guy, or girl, got very lucky.”

Lucy motioned at the bodies. “I’m not sure I’d call this lucky.”