The Heart of a Killer

“Anna,” Roman said, “I don’t think Dante—”

“You stay out of this. You’re related to the victim. You can’t be on this case.”

Roman opened his mouth, then closed it. “Fine. You take it.”

“I intend to.”

“Here’s his cell phone and wallet. George left the house about 9:00 p.m. tonight, said he was going for a drive, but didn’t come home.”

“Is that unusual for him?” she asked.

“His wife said it was,” Gabe explained. “He wouldn’t be gone that long without calling.”

“So how did he end up here, and how did you all end up here?”

“We were with Ellen Clemons,” Dante said. “She called Gabe and me, worried about George, so we went over there to see if we could help.”

She finally turned to Dante. “And you just happened to find him here?”

“I found him via his cell phone.”

She frowned. “How?”

“I have a program on my laptop. It’s not hard if you have the right equipment.”

Her gaze drifted south for half a second, and his lips curved. When she lifted her head and met his smiling face, she seemed more irritated than ever.

“What equipment?”

“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.”