by Jaci Burton
"Laptop. Software."
"I'll need to see it."
"Got a warrant?" If she could be difficult, so could he. She was wasting her time looking at him as a suspect.
"I can get one."
"Then do it. And while you're doing it, why don't you spend some time chasing down who really killed George, because it wasn't me."
"He's right, Anna. This is a waste of time," Roman said.
She inhaled, let it out. "Maybe, maybe not. It's my job to look at everyone."
"You're pissed at me," Dante said. "I get it. I deserve it. But you're not thinking clearly right now and you're mixing personal stuff with business."
Her brows shot up, then knit. She took a step toward him. "Believe me, Renaldi, I know exactly how to do my job. And if you think for one second my feelings are hurt over you, then you're dead wrong. My job is first and foremost on my mind here, so shut up and stay out of my business."
This was a different side to her, something he'd never seen before. She was a completely different Anna.
"Where are you staying?"
He shrugged. "Hotel, probably. I don't know yet. I'll get it figured out."
"Fine." Anna shot a glance at one of the uniforms. "Get his location and phone number for follow-up." She jotted down notes. "What else?"
Roman handed her the evidence bag containing the drugs. "Also found this in his pocket."
Anna's brows lifted. "Looks like coke or heroin."
"It's coke," Gabe said.
She shifted her gaze to Gabe. "You would know, wouldn't you? Bertucci has a lock on distribution and sales in the city. You know anything about this?"
"Not a thing," Gabe said.
What the hell was Gabe into? Dante wondered. Expert on drugs and drug dealing?
"Was he doing a drug deal here?" Anna asked.
"No idea," Roman said. "But George didn't do drugs."
"So you think this was planted on him by the killer?"
"That would be my guess."
"Okay, I'll turn this over to Forensics."
It was fascinating watching Anna, all grown up and in charge now, directing the forensics team, handling evidence, taking photographs and leading everyone in the scene.
She caught him watching her and shot him a look he'd never gotten from her before. A mature kind of cold inspection. He didn't like it at all. The last time he'd seen her they'd been in love. Her looks had been warm.
But Dante had left town. So maybe she was still just a little pissed off at him about that. And maybe he couldn't blame her for giving him an icy, hard stare.
Plus, the circumstances of them meeting each other again weren't exactly ideal.
"That's all for now. I have work to do."
She walked away.
"So Anna's a detective, huh?" Dante looked at Gabe after Roman went to talk to Anna.
"Yeah."
"Kind of a hard-ass, isn't she? That's new."
"You've been gone a long time, Dante."
"I guess I have."
He'd imagined a lot over the past twelve years, but Anna becoming a cop wasn't one of the things he'd thought about. Her married with a couple kids, yeah. Becoming a schoolteacher or a nurse, he could totally picture. He'd even thought the worst, like that traumatic night would turn her to drugs or make her a runaway. A hundred other nightmarish things he'd never wanted to pop into his head had. And he'd taken responsibility for all of them--thoughts that had left him in a cold sweat and guilt that made his stomach feel empty and sick. But a cop? He'd never included that in possible scenarios for Anna.
She looked comfortable in the job, directing the uniforms and whispering with the medical examiner. She knelt next to the body, pointing here and there and actually touching George.
The Anna of twelve years ago would never have done that.
This wasn't the Anna of twelve years ago.
He supposed he had the answer he was looking for. Anna was fine. She'd survived what had happened here in the alley, had moved on with her life and had become a success.
And now there was George's murder in the alley.
What happened here?
Roman walked over to them. "You two are sprung. Dante, let me know where you are once you get settled."
Dante nodded. "Will do." He headed over to Anna, who stood over the crime scene techs as they worked the scene. The coroner's assistants had wrapped the body and were putting it on the gurney.
"I have to tell Ellen." God, he didn't want to do that.
She nodded. "I'm sorry. I'll go with you. I need to ask her some questions."
"This is going to be rough for her."
"I know it will. I still need to ask the questions."
"And I understand that. Which is why I'll be with her."
"Okay. We're wrapped up here. You two going to Ellen's, too?" she asked, looking at Gabe and Roman.
"Yeah," Roman said. "Since we found George, I think it's important we're all there for her."
Gabe nodded. "Someone needs to get in touch with Jeff, let him know what happened. I'll take care of that and then I'll catch up with you at Ellen's."
"All right," Anna said. "I'll meet you all there."
Dante thought about how he was going to tell Ellen on the drive back to the Clemons house. There was no way to prepare her for this. She knew as soon as she opened the door and saw Roman, saw Anna, saw the badge.
"It's bad, isn't it?"
Dante took her hand. "Let's go inside and sit down."
She trembled as he put an arm around her and led her to the sofa. She sat, and Roman slid next to her. Gabe came in right behind them and took up position behind Ellen.
"You remember Anna?" Roman asked.
"Of course. How are you?"
Anna didn't smile. "I'm fine, Mrs. Clemons. I'm sorry to have to tell you this--"
"We found George," Dante said, interrupting Anna.
Ellen shifted on the sofa to face him. "Where?"
"In an alley off Lindell."
Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. She squeezed Dante's hand. "Is he dead?"
Dante nodded. "Yes, Ellen. Someone killed him."
She reached up, covered her mouth, then burst into tears. "Oh, God. Oh, no. George."
Dante pulled her into his arms and let her sob. Her loud crying woke the kids staying there. Roman and Anna went to talk to them, assured them Ellen was okay, but that something bad had happened to George. Coming from violent households, this wasn't anything new for these kids. Still, Dante felt bad for them, too. Here they had hopes of a stable life. Now, their lives had been shattered again.
Ellen's life had been shattered, too, in a way she'd likely never recover from. And there was nothing Dante could do to make this better for her.
Dante went into the kitchen to get Ellen some water. Gabe followed. "You get in touch with Jeff?" he asked Gabe.
"Yeah. He's out of town. He's as wrecked about George as the rest of us, and as confused about where it happened. None of this makes sense, man."
Dante nodded. "Tell me about it."
He brought Ellen a glass of water and box of tissues. After a while, she stopped crying and contacted a friend, who came over and collected the kids. Once they were gone, as typical for Ellen, she sat, straightened her shoulders and looked at them.
"Tell me what happened."
Anna looked to Dante. She was giving him the opportunity to take the lead, to decide how much to tell her.
She deserved the truth. All of it.
Dante grasped Ellen's hand. "He was beaten to death. And...someone carved a heart in his chest."
Ellen sucked in a breath and held her hand up to her heart. "Who would do this?"
Dante wished he could tell her about the connection to that night twelve years ago. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not without betraying his brothers--and Anna.
"We don't know yet, Mrs. Clemons," Anna said. "But we'll do everything we can to find out."
"Thank you,"
she said, then turned to Roman. "Will you work the case, too?"
He nodded. "They won't want me to because George was my father, but I'll do everything I can to be involved."
She held out her hand and Roman grasped it.
This was family. Dante had missed it. And he'd come home too late to save it.
"There's more," Anna said. "An ounce of cocaine was found in George's pocket."
Ellen's eyes widened. "Drugs? George doesn't do drugs. Never did."
"Do you have any idea why he would have had drugs in his pocket?" Anna asked. "Maybe one of the foster kids was mixed up in drugs and he was interceding on their behalf?"
Ellen shook her head. "No. None of the boys staying with us have drug-related issues. I can't think of any reason he'd be involved in that. George was strict about no drugs in this house. You took drugs or brought any into this house, you were in deep trouble with him. He'd personally call the police on one of the kids if he found drugs. For him to be found with drugs--" her eyes watered "--it's an insult to his memory."
"We're all pretty sure it was a setup, Ellen," Gabe said, laying his hands on her shoulders. "The police will get it figured out."
She grabbed for a tissue. "But in the meantime, they'll put in the record that he was found with drugs on him. And that doesn't sit well with me. George would be so hurt by that."
She shuddered out a sob, and Dante wanted to make this all go away. He wanted to back up one more day, get here sooner. He wanted to stop all this from happening.
Could he have?
Dante didn't want to leave Ellen, but she said her two younger sisters were coming over. There were funeral plans to be made, and he didn't want to get in the way. They all took their leave with the arrival of her sisters. Dante promised to come back tomorrow. She grabbed him in a fierce hug.
"Don't disappear."
He kissed her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. And if you need me--for anything--you call."
She pulled back, her eyes shimmering with tears. "I will."
They all walked outside, and Dante looked up at the clear sky. God, it was still hot out, and he had no idea what time it was. Late.
Roman and Anna were huddled near his car, whispering. Arguing. Roman finally took off, and so did Gabe, leaving the two of them together.
Anna was about to get into her car, but Dante headed her off.
"Anna."
Her head shot up and she pinned him with a glare, but didn't say anything.
He'd forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. As a teenager, she'd been so pretty with her hair always in a ponytail, her face shaped like a heart, her skin dark in the Italian way, her eyes the color of the finest whiskey. And her mouth--he'd never truly been able to appreciate her mouth, with her full bottom lip that begged for the tugging of a man's teeth.
He hadn't been quite a man yet, hadn't had the time to fully appreciate Anna, never got to see her blossom into a woman.
She was so pretty at sixteen. Now? She could stop traffic.
It had been a rough night. The kind of night when a man thought about grabbing what he wanted before it was too late.
He'd denied himself what he wanted for a long damn time. Things like home. Family.
Anna.
His jeans tightened as she stared at him and he stared back, but he didn't think she was lusting after him the way he lusted after her, since she was probably thinking he was guilty of some kind of crime. Or maybe she thought he was guilty of a lot of sins that had nothing to do with the murder tonight.
He probably was.
"You need something?" she asked.
Loaded question. "Not really."
"Then I need to go. I'm busy."
She was brushing him off.
He wasn't going to let her.
"Anna."
"What?"
"I haven't seen you in twelve years. Have a cup of coffee with me."
Three
Anna's stomach clenched. Just being in the same vicinity as Dante Renaldi again made her dizzy. His presence brought up memories she'd shoved so far into the past she hadn't thought about them in years.
Or tried not to think about them. Tried like hell not to think about them. Until tonight.
Coming upon that murder scene in the alley tonight and seeing Dante had stolen every breath in her lungs, had made her legs go weak. Her first instinct had been to turn around and walk away--no, run away. She'd almost called another detective in to take the scene, but she refused. This was her job. There'd be no excuse for walking. Plus, Dante, Roman and Gabe had been there and she'd needed to know why.
She didn't like it. It had all been too much like twelve years ago, the night humid and smelling like recent rain, the asphalt streets slick and mirrorlike as she'd driven onto the scene. She'd seen plenty of dead bodies and people standing over dead bodies since she'd been on the force, had worked plenty of crime scenes with Roman. It wasn't until she'd spotted Dante and Gabe that the shock of awareness had hit her. The familiarity had cloaked her in heavy memories she still hadn't been able to break free from, clouding her thoughts and jumbling her normally stellar police process. She was organized and relentless in pursuit of a case. Was this fate getting back at her for her part in what happened twelve years ago?
Fate was awfully fucked up sometimes.
"Well?"
She lifted her head, found Dante staring at her.
Losing herself in thought wasn't like her, either.
"Well, what? I said I was busy."
"I asked you to have a cup of coffee with me."
"I'm on duty, Dante."
"Later."
"I won't be finished for a while."
"I'll meet you in the morning."
She sighed, feeling suddenly tired. "Why?"
"Because I want to talk to you."
"Why?" She knew it was juvenile to repeat the question. She was stalling.
"Have coffee with me in the morning and I'll tell you why."
And so, apparently, was he. She should say no, walk away. Maybe then he'd go and leave her alone, leave the memories alone.
But for some reason, she couldn't let it alone. Curiosity, maybe. And maybe he had some information on George's death. A cup of coffee and some conversation could yield some info.
"Fine. Meet me at Uncle Bill's Pancake House at seven-thirty."
"See you then."
She didn't exhale until he walked away from her and got into his car.
She climbed into hers and drove to the precinct, her body on autopilot while her mind tried to process everything that had happened tonight.
A body in the alley, killed just like the guys had killed Tony Maclin. Beaten to death. And not just any body, but George Clemons, the boys' foster father.
A connection.
Then the heart carving, just like hers.
Shoving the thoughts aside, she drove into the parking lot of the Metro police station, turned the engine off and sat there, needing a minute or two to collect her thoughts and just breathe.
What did it all mean? And why did it happen just as Dante came to town?
Was he the connection?
The station was always quiet at night, she thought as she walked in. She could use a little quiet right now, some time to think about the events of the night. She sat down at her desk and picked up the now-cold coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. She dumped it in the trash and went to the machine for a soda, then stared out the window at the few cars that passed by this time of night, wondering where they were going and what they were doing. Going to work, getting off work, leaving the bars?
Where was Dante right now?
Not that it mattered.
She still couldn't believe he was back after all these years, after all this time and finally having reconciled herself to never seeing him again. She didn't know whether to be angry or curious or how to feel about the ache inside her chest that had settled there ever since she'd seen him tonight.
There'd be
en too much to process at the crime scene.
Being in the alley again. Seeing the guys there. The body and how George was killed.
Dante.
And she'd still had to do her job.
This was a nightmare.
She took the drink back to her desk and stared at her computer monitor, knowing she had a report to file, and knowing she wouldn't fill in the background information of what she knew had happened twelve years before.
But the past had just collided with the present, hadn't it?
She didn't like mysteries like this. And she definitely didn't like questions without answers.
She rubbed that spot on her chest that always hurt on rainy nights, then opened a new investigation file to make some notes.
She looked at her watch: 3:00 a.m. and damn if she wasn't already anticipating that breakfast.
Four
Anna was an hour and a half late, figured Dante wouldn't hang around and wait for her, or maybe wouldn't show up at all.
She hoped he wouldn't be there. One less thing she'd have to deal with. She was tired and she wanted to go home, take a shower and forget the night had happened.
She walked in and took a look around. He was easy to spot since it was past the breakfast rush hour. There were only two other tables occupied. Dante sat in a booth at the rear of the restaurant, his back to the wall.
Interesting.
She told the hostess she was meeting someone and headed toward where Dante sat nursing a cup of coffee, two menus sitting on the edge of the table.
"You waited." She slid into the booth.
He lifted his head, smiled at her. "Yeah."
"Sorry I'm late. Paperwork had to be done."
He shrugged. "If you didn't show, I'd head out."
"So you ate already?"
"I got hungry after an hour or so, figured you'd chickened out."
She bristled. "I don't chicken out."
He didn't reply, so she poured coffee from the carafe on the table. "You sleep yet?"
"No. I'll sleep later."
"Where are you staying?"
He shrugged. "Don't know yet."
"So maybe you're not staying?"
He lifted the cup to his lips, then smiled. "Trying to run me out of town, Detective?"
He was saved from her biting retort by the waitress, who took her breakfast order--actually her dinner order.
"You look tired. Long night?"
She nodded.
"Why the night shift?"
She took a long swallow of coffee. "More crime happens at night. Less time spent sitting at a desk. We're out on the streets and that's where I like it. Besides, I don't have a shift. People don't die on shifts. I work when I work."
