Man, he loved that smile of hers. It was a killer.

He could see her using it from here, flashes of the white teeth that she swore she'd never bleached. The raised cheekbones in her profile every time she turned from the bar back to the register. He was too far away to see her brown eyes, but he knew their shine and the way they laughed when she smiled that smile. It was what had captured him, what made him know that this was the one, the girl who was going to save him this time.

He saw it again but he had to lean forward into the steering wheel to keep it in sight through the window as she swung back to her customer. The guy had parked himself right in front of the taps so he'd get to chat her up every time she poured a beer. When she tossed her hair back over her shoulder, he saw the smile again. That killer smile. His smile. So why the fuck was she giving it to this guy?

"Two-oh-four? Dispatch to two-oh-four."

The radio squawked and without looking he reached over and turned the volume lower.

"Two-oh-four. Report of an assault from caller at four-twenty- four Northeast Ninth Avenue."

Assault my ass, he thought. Some old lady trying to get us to run over to her place 'cause she heard a noise that'll turn out to be the damn cat. You don't get assaults in that neighborhood at one in the morning. Waste of time. He didn't bother answering, even though he knew it wasn't going away.

"Two-oh-four? What's your location?"

"Shit," he said out loud, snatching up the mike.

"This is two-oh-four," he answered, monotone, no emotion in his voice.

"I'm in the two hundred block of South Park Road on that burglary call out. I need to check this alleyway and secure the premises."

"Ten-four."

He could hear the exasperation in the dispatcher's voice. But the hell with her.