After carrying out Rossi’s orders, Hughes slid behind the wheel of the Audi, and I got in on the passenger side. At the entrance to the property, Batano stood guard, waving curiosity seekers away, keeping chaos at a distance.
“You have the address?” Rossi asked Hughes, as if I weren’t sitting there perfectly capable of giving her directions myself. The nerve of him.
“Surfside Club on Gulf Shore.”
“That’s it.” He turned to Batano. “Hughes will need a ride back.”
Batano gave Rossi a noncommittal nod and, striding out to the middle of Gordon Drive, held up traffic long enough for Officer Hughes to gun the Audi across the grass and pull out onto the road. I wondered if the tires left tracks in the pristine lawn, but dismissed the thought as soon as it flared up. What difference did it make?
“Buckle up, Mrs. Dunne,” Officer Hughes said and then drove silently all the way to Surfside. I laid my head back on the tan leather cushions, happy, actually, not to have to fight the traffic. At the height of the tourist season, the Naples roads were as congested as clogged arteries.
At Surfside, she parked in my assigned parking slot in the carport, and we both piled out of the car. Officer Hughes snapped the locks and handed me my keys. So she planned to walk me to my door. Fine. Police procedure? I shrugged and trudged across the parking lot, tired and depressed. Today Rossi and I had been total strangers. Though he said he believed my story, the easy camaraderie we shared the night he brought pizza and grocery store flowers had completely disappeared.
At my door, I inserted the key in the lock and extended a hand. “Thanks for the lift, officer.”
Instead of taking my hand, Officer Hughes reached into her hip holster and removed her service pistol. “Open up and step aside, please.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I pointed to the gun. “What’s that all about?”
“Lieutenant’s orders. I’m to make sure your house is secure. Wait outside here till I return.”
“You check under the bed?” I asked.
No smile. “Your house is secure, Mrs. Dunne. Have a good evening.”
She strode off to the waiting squad car. “Hey,” I called after her, “thanks for checking.”
If she heard me, she didn’t turn around to wave. Resigned, I just shrugged. I’d struck out all day long. But Jesus, Jesus had struck out big time.
Chapter Nineteen
The short winter day had lowered into dusk. I kicked off my heels and peeled out of my sweater and skirt, replacing them with a Florida uniform-white T-shirt and denim cutoffs.
Too demoralized to eat or drink a thing, too world weary to even snap on the evening news, I flopped on one of the club chairs and stared at the living room wall. As the gloom gathered around me, I gave myself a halfhearted pep talk.
So what if Rossi had treated me like a piece of wood all day? A consummate professional, he had concentrated on his job, and, without question, that was the right thing to do. I was annoyed with myself for letting his clinical attitude bother me. What I needed to do was suck up my disappointment and believe that once the case was solved, he would come after me like gang busters, no holds barred, and love the breath right out of my body. Easier said than done. The day’s trauma and the loneliness I’d been holding at bay for a year overwhelmed me, and I heaved out a sigh that echoed in the quiet room. I might have sat like that for hours, not moving a muscle if the doorbell hadn’t chimed.
Whoever it was could damn well go away. I wasn’t in the mood for drop-in company. I wasn’t in the mood for anything.
“Open up. Police.”
“Open up! Police.”
I gripped the chair arms. Maybe this wasn’t a social call at all. Maybe Rossi was here on official business. The man
My breath caught in my throat. Only one way to find out what he wanted. Slowly, as if my bones might be mush when put to the test, I got to my feet and dragged out to the foyer.
For some reason, he couldn’t wait for me to open up, and I tensed for a moment. Then my Irish flared. I was innocent, for Pete’s sake. Why act like I was approaching the gallows? Straightening my shoulders, I held my head high and flung the door open.
Ready to press the bell again, Rossi’s finger hovered in the air before he lowered his hand to his side. Some part of my mind registered that he looked harassed and irritable, not surprising in light of what he’d had to deal with today, but I was too irritable myself to cut him any slack.
“Why are you here, Lieutenant? It was my impression the interrogation was over,” I said, damned if I’d let him get past the foyer.
He waved his hand forward, impatiently nudging me back into the living room. To put a few inches between us, I retreated a step. That was all the edge he needed. Slamming the door behind him, he shot the bolt and strode past me into the living room.
Hands on hips, I followed him in. “I don’t remember inviting you. I have nothing more to say to the police.”
“Well, I have a few things to say to you.” With a couple of strides, he covered the distance between us, pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. “It could have been you on that garage floor. The thought’s had me crazy all day. You could have walked in on the killer. Caught him in the act. Then what?”
Too stunned to protest, I nestled against Rossi’s chest, inhaling aftershave and a faint trace of something else. Male pheromones? Whatever it was, I liked it. I liked it a lot and didn’t even try to pull out of his embrace. This was what I’d been wanting him to do for a month. What I’d been longing for. My irritation melted like icicles in April.
“I could have lost you before we ever…”
This was all so unbelievable. A hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. I wanted to hear more. Had to hear more.
“So sorry,” he whispered into my hair.
“For what?”
“For what you found last month. For what you found today. For everything that makes you unhappy.”
I tried loosening his embrace so I could see his face, but as I tensed in his arms, he held me even tighter.
“Let me go, Rossi. I want to look at you.”
He relaxed his arms a bit. I drew back, still in the circle of his embrace, and glanced up at him. This was no joke. He was utterly serious.
“And I’m sorry for something else-for not being here to keep you safe all these weeks.”
“But, the chief-”
He lowered his mouth to mine and, unthinking, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I opened to him and slipped my tongue between his lips. He growled and seized me so close he sealed us together from thigh to hip to chest, his mouth hardening, pressing, his tongue teasing, his breathing labored and quick, as was mine. Why were we breathless? We hadn’t climbed any mountains, had we? No, not yet. But somewhere in my fevered brain, I knew the Matterhorn loomed ahead.
When we finally parted so we could both inhale, his hands cupped the back of my head, his fingers probing deep into my hair. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Not after today. Not after walking into that fancy kitchen and seeing
