Don't Call Me Hero by Eliza Lentzski Page A

his college years, but now had to settle for pick-up games during lunch hour with other city employees.
    “Did you draw all of these?” I asked, nodding to the concept art displayed on the hallway walls.
    Peter slipped beside me. “Most of them. I did the plan for the City Hall upgrades that were completed last fall, and the face-lift to Veteran’s Park.”
    “It looks like there’s been a lot of improvements to the city recently,” I observed. “You guys must be doing something right.”
    “Well, the Veteran’s Park renovations never happened, unfortunately,” he said, tapping the drawings I’d so recently admired. “We applied for a grant to get the work done, but it didn’t get chosen. Do you have kids?”
    “Me? No.” The answer came out a little too adamantly. “You?”
    Peter nodded. “A boy and a girl. They were really excited about the park when I was working on the plans at home.” He pointed to the drawing. “My youngest one, Amelia, she even suggested the miniature lighthouse that sprayed water from its lantern.”
    “That’s cute,” I mused. “Maybe the park redesign will still happen someday.”
    Peter looked thoughtfully at the framed plans. “Yeah. Maybe.”
    High heels clicked down the hallway, and somehow I instinctually knew that Julia Desjardin wasn’t far behind. I hadn’t seen her in town since the grocery store on Tuesday evening. I had wanted to reach out to her after that, but I hadn’t wanted to seem like a stalker. Her steps faltered only slightly when she spotted me with the city architect.
    Peter sucked in a deep breath as if readying himself. “Hi, Julia,” he greeted.
    “Hello, Peter.” Her eyes landed briefly on me. “Detective Miller.”
    “Madam Prosecutor,” I returned evenly, schooling my reaction. I was surprised she knew my title and last name, but she’d managed to hunt down my apartment, so I shouldn’t have been too shocked.
    “Miller!” Peter Lacroix’s face lit up in recognition. “That’s why you looked so familiar. From the newspaper.”
    I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Yeah, a regular old celebrity. That’s me.”
    Julia snorted and continued on her way to the single elevator in the center of the city building. Unforgiving heels clicked down the corridor.
    “It was nice meeting you, Peter,” I said absently. I found myself unwontedly staring at the elegant woman who waited for the lift. “Good luck with that park. I hope Amelia gets her lighthouse.”
    Peter nodded his thanks and slipped back into his office.
    The purpose of my first floor visit momentarily forgotten, I sidled up next to Julia.
    “Where are you headed to?”
    She stared straight ahead at the elevator that refused to arrive. “I’m going to trial. Some of us actually work, Miss Miller.”
    “I’m off-duty. You can call me Cassidy.”
    Julia mashed a manicured finger into the elevator button again as if to hasten its arrival. “I’d rather not.”
    “Why don’t you take the stairs?”
    “Because, Detective, the courtroom is on the third floor and these are new shoes,” she said with an annoyed sigh. “I’d rather not have to be on my feet all day while I’m defending the city, distracted by the blisters on my ankles.”
    “Have you been avoiding me?”
    “I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”
    I struggled for a witty retort, but before one came to mind, the elevator doors swished open. Julia stepped inside without another glance.
    The doors closed in front of my face.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    The national weather alert warned of flash flooding and hail the size of golf balls, but instead of being curled up in my apartment, I was on duty. As the daylight hours turned to night, the storm had only intensified. The lightning came so frequently, it was like strobe lights outside the police car windows. I tried to ignore the