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IT WAS MIDMORNING and Rob Trilling was riding in the passenger seat of Terri Hernandez’s city-issued SUV. The Ford Explorer was reasonably clean, but nowhere near the standards that Trilling held for his vehicles. Everyone assumed it was from his days in the Army, but actually, his grandfather had taught him to always take care of his equipment. Especially his cars.

A body had been discovered in a Bronx stairwell with two .40-caliber slugs in the head. The victim was yet another rival to the gang Trilling and Hernandez were investigating. They wanted to see the scene and talk to a few witnesses, even though the detective in charge was treating it as an unrelated homicide.

Trilling wanted to ask how the party for Hernandez’s sister had gone, but after their last exchange, he wasn’t sure how she would take the inquiry. He was happy to sit quietly.

Hernandez surprised him, however, by making an effort to ask him a few personal questions herself. Eventually, she got around to: “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Trilling hesitated. Then simply shook his head.

Hernandez said, “Anyone on your radar?”

That was a much tougher question. “I really haven’t met a lot of women since I graduated from the academy. I’ve tried to focus on my job. You know how it is.”

“I certainly do. But that doesn’t keep me from having a social life. It’s important to get out and meet people.” She kept digging at the same question from different angles.

Finally, Trilling said, “The last interesting young woman I met was Juliana Bennett.”

Hernandez turned her head slowly and said, “As in the daughter of your partner?”

“I didn’t say anything happened. I just said she was interesting.”

“I know Juliana. She sets the bar awfully high. Beautiful, smart, talented, and way, way out of your league. Besides, Bennett loves those kids so much. If he found out you’ve become even more interested in Juliana, he might kill you. And he could get away with it. Or, more likely, he’d make your murder obvious as a warning to any potential suitors for his daughters.”

Trilling had to smile at that. It was the first intentional joke Terri Hernandez had ever made to him.

They rolled up to the crime scene and saw there were still paramedics on the street.

Trilling said, “I thought the victim was dead when they found him.”

“So did I. Let’s go see what’s going on before these paramedics destroy whatever evidence might be around.”