“Are you sure
“Of course not!” Bennie exploded. A long day of drama and wet underwear was coming to a head. “What do you think, I’m making this up? I have a twin, it’s a matter of record!”
“You don’t understand what I’m telling you, Ms. Rosato. There’s no evidence that any crime has been committed here. You claim that somebody took your dog out of the house, but the backdoor wasn’t even unlocked. And the front was nailed shut.”
“She exists! Ask
“Everyone settle down,” David said, spreading his large hands palms down. He addressed the cops, but Bennie knew he was talking to her, since she was the only one throwing a hissy fit. “Officers, my name is David Holland and I was running along the river when I saw her twin intentionally endangering the dog.”
“Tell you what,” Officer Leighton said with a slow sigh, like a tire deflating. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a skinny notepad. “Mr. Holland, you give me the statement for my report while my partner takes Ms. Rosato on a walk-through. This way we get this over with, we file a complete report, and Ms. Rosato makes sure that nothing of value was taken from the premises.”
“Fine with me,” David answered. “Bennie? Okay with you?”
“Yes, thanks.” Bennie stalked to the staircase and went upstairs, going straight to her bedroom. If Alice was going to steal something, it would be here. She entered the bedroom, which looked inviolate, and experienced the same eerie tingle she had downstairs. Alice had been here, too, she just knew it. But not by looking. Everything was in absolute order, or least a completely familiar disorder, only partly due to the local constabulary.
She hurried to her dresser, a three-drawer chest made of pine, and checked her jewelry box on top. She didn’t have much-a tangle of gold chains from when they were the new thing, a few pairs of gold hoops, and three bangles-but all of it was there. She rifled quickly through her drawers-undies, unmatched socks, tattered jeans, and faded T-shirts-but they were the in same mess she’d left behind. She went to the closet, but it was fine. Then she remembered. Her gun.
She hurried to the closet and shoved aside old running shoes to get to the orange-and-brown Nike box, tearing off the lid. There it was. The brown case, a canvas triangle. Bennie unzipped it with shaking hands but was reassured by the weight alone. Her Smith amp; Wesson revolver lay untouched. She zipped it closed and tucked it safely away.
She closed the closet door with relief and hurried past the cop to her office, a second, smaller bedroom just off the hall. An old Bianchi bike leaned against the wall in the corner, and clutter covered her daybed and her IKEA workstation. Her computer was still there, and a Bose radio/CD player. She’d left the only things of value. Bennie didn’t get it.
“It all here?” Officer Banneman asked, and Bennie nodded slowly, wondering.
She couldn’t think of an immediate answer and returned downstairs with the cop.
17
Bennie did a double take when David came into the kitchen wearing her ex-boyfriend’s clothes. It wasn’t only the confluence of past and present men; it was the way the clothes fit, or more accurately, didn’t fit. Grady’s old Duke sweatpants were puffy Capris on David, and the leftover T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps, making him look like an oddly butch ballet dancer.
“These were the clothes you left outside the bathroom door,” David said, holding out his arms with a faint smile. The armholes rolled up along each mound of shoulder cap. “You were joking, right?”
“Sorry, I thought they’d fit.” Bennie had always thought that her ex was big, but David was bigger. She could tell because she had to look up to see his eyes, qualifying him as one of the two men on earth taller than she. It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, standing oh-so-close to a handsome, muscular hero, but even Bennie sensed she was getting ahead of herself, if not entering the zone of what they used to call “on the make.”
“Oh, well, at least they’re clean,” David said. “Thanks.” He’d taken a shower, and the wet sheen of his hair caught the light of the overhead lamp. He leaned down to pat Bear, who had curled into a cinnamon doughnut on the rag rug in front of the sink.
“Want coffee?” Bennie asked, pouring him a cup and handing it to him. “I have no food in the house, I’ve been kind of busy. I do have cream and sugar, if you want dessert.”
He smiled. “I take it black.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Bennie touched her hair, suddenly self-conscious. It was wet from her shower, too, but she was dry again in her favorite work shirt and loose khaki shorts. He didn’t seem to notice one way or the other, though he stood sort of close and she could smell the fresh soap smell clinging to his skin. She tried not to inhale. It had been a long time since she’d had a soapy man in her kitchen. “So how do you know all that stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“How to save dogs and boats.”
David sipped his coffee. His eyes were kind and intelligent, with a sort of benevolent reserve about them. “Good coffee.”
“My goal in life. So what do you do for a living?” Bennie asked. “I already confessed to being a lawyer.”
“I’m taking some time off.”
“From what?”
“From work.”
“What kind of work?”
“Nothing important.” David leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. His eyes were intense and brown, his nose long and straight, and he had a squarish chin. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever had in her hemisphere, much less her kitchen, but he was hardly the most animated, especially in Capri pants. And he was clearly avoiding the question. He drained his cup and set it down, and Bennie felt a sudden twinge of nervousness coming out of nowhere. She really didn’t know much about him, and she’d let him into the house.
“Forgive me, but who are you and what do you do? I may sound paranoid, but someone
“I should have thought of that. Sorry.” David grinned easily. “I was assistant director of the SEAL/BUDS command. I’m an instructor. I’m taking some time off.”
“You’re a SEAL?” Bennie asked, astonished even though she wasn’t sure exactly what that was. She just knew that it was something cool. “Okay, what’s a SEAL?”
“SEALs are a division of the Navy. BUDS is basic underwater demolition training.”
“And who do you instruct?”
“Cadets.”
“Where did you instruct them?”
“California.”
“What did you instruct them to do?”
“Become sea-air-land commandos.”
“If you make it, twenty-seven weeks.”
“Do a lot of people drop out?”
“If they don’t drown.”
Bennie was pretty sure he was kidding. “Do I have to take your deposition, or can you tell me a little more about yourself?”
“I would, but there’s not much more to tell. I’m a Navy captain, graduated class of eighty-four.”
“From the Naval Academy?”
“Yep. The Southern Maryland School of Boat and Barge. Went to BUDS in Coronado, southern California. Served two years in Central America, then Desert Storm, instructed for three years, then went operational again in the
