Strictly Confidential

Once in the guest room, she changed into lightweight stretch pants and a T-shirt, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and then fired up her laptop computer.

With the marvel of modern technology, she’d have access to all sorts of information on Donato. And luckily she knew several reporters in Europe who would be willing to do a little footwork for her.

She settled in and started digging into the life of Alessandro Donato.

Alessandro was glad to see Colleen leave, but he hated that he had the urge to follow her home to make sure she arrived safely.

As it was, he’d watched her get in the cab without harm and that would have to do for now. Without the distraction of Colleen’s presence, he could concentrate on initiating Dahlia’s trust.

Dahlia had led him to an alcove near the swinging doors that closed off the caterers from the party. “Tell me, Mr. Donato, would your buyer be willing to come to Colorado Springs and meet with me?”

“ Sì , that could be arranged.”

Out of habit he moved to stand with his back toward the wall so he could see any approaching threats.

Dahlia laid a hand on his arm. “Good. You’ll get back to me with a time?”

“ Sì , yes.” Alessandro would contact his boss and have someone arrange to pose as an art buyer.

A piercing scream split the air.

The noise came from behind the swinging doors.

“Stay put,” Alessandro said to Dahlia, as he left her to charge through the doors.

A sobbing waitress was trying to explain to another waiter what had made her scream. Alessandro took her hands. “Shh. Breathe, signorina . Slowly, now. What has caused your tears?”

Behind him, the swinging doors banged open as Sam Vance stormed in, followed closely by the Montgomery brothers and Al Crane.

“I heard a scream. Is someone hurt?” Sam demanded.

The girl hanging on to Alessandro’s hands hiccupped and then pointed out the back door. “I think…he’s dead.”

Alessandro beat Sam out the door. Seeing Neil O’Brien face down on the ground, Alessandro hung back as Sam bent to check the pulse of the man lying prone in the alleyway, a dark stain spreading across his back.

“He’s dead,” Sam confirmed.

Sam secured the crime scene and placed a call for forensics. The burly doorman ushered all the bystanders back inside, where they were instructed to wait because the police would need to ask questions since they were all potential witnesses.

Alessandro observed Dahlia’s less-than-horrified expression as she assured those around her that the museum would be open for visiting as soon as the next day.

As the CSI techs and medical examiner arrived, Alessandro stayed on the fringes of the activity. After combing the scene for clues, the CSI team released the victim. They rolled Neil over and placed his body in a black bag before loading him onto a gurney and taking him away.

Alessandro watched Sam bend down and with the end of a pencil pick something up. A large lump formed in Alessandro’s chest when he realized the object of Sam’s inspection was the blue scarf Colleen had been wearing when she’d first walked into the museum.

Colleen stayed up all night, tapping her resources for information on the mysterious Alessandro Donato. She’d e-mailed a friend at immigration asking for information on Alessandro’s visa, because knowing where the visa originated and when it expired could be helpful.

The information supplied had led her to Fabriano, Italy.

She contacted a former classmate who lived in Rome and had her check hospital records in the small town in the center of the country.

A few hours later, the information she received back stunned her. Not only had Alessandro been born in that small Italian community, but so had his child. A little girl.

The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. It was one thing to think of Alessandro as a playboy but another to know that there was a woman in his life.

“A daughter,” she muttered as she typed in the information in the spreadsheet she used as a tool for gathering notes for her articles.

She could picture a raven-haired feminine version of Alessandro running around with mischief in her dark eyes and a grin on her face.

The image tightened something unfamiliar in her chest. She frowned.

Children were for other people, not her. She didn’t have time in her life for the ties of an immediate family. Yet…she couldn’t shake the strange feeling or the image. She hoped that if she slept, she’d be able to banish the sudden abnormal longing for a family of her own.

She forced herself to lie down and tried the relaxation techniques she’d learned in college when she’d needed sleep in order to be attentive for her classes. Deep breathing and concentrating on letting each limb become heavy helped her to relax. Eventually she fell into a light sleep.

Colleen awoke as daylight filtered in through the slats of the blinds covering the window. Though she was not completely refreshed, her mind buzzed with alertness.

Without preamble, she went back to work. In her note file, she typed, Where’s mother of child? Where’s child? Is the mother his dead wife? Is Dahlia Sainsbury mother of child? If so, what are they planning? If not, is he just a playboy sniffing after a pretty face?

That last question brought her up short.

There was no question the man was suave and charming. He had the ability to make whomever he was talking to feel special. But a womanizer?

Surely she’d have heard rumors of specific liaisons if that were the case. No, whatever he was up to wasn’t anything so frivolous or obvious.

“Find the child and the mother won’t be far away,” she muttered.

She put another request in to her Italian connection and asked that she track down the child’s whereabouts and check marriage records for Alessandro Donato.

A knock sounded at the front door. She glanced at the clock and realized she was alone in the house. Her parents would have left over an hour ago.

She clicked out of her e-mail and brought up her desktop screen saver: an ocean beach with tranquil water and warm-looking sand. One of these days she was going on a vacation.

She left her office and went downstairs to open the front door. Becca Hilliard and Sam Vance stood on the stoop.

“Hey, guys, come in.” Colleen stepped back to let them enter. It wasn’t unusual for the pair of detectives to appear at her front door. Often they’d come with leads or in hopes of gaining information on a story she was working on.

Becca’s light-brown hair was pulled back into her usual long ponytail hanging almost to her waist. She was dressed in navy slacks and matching jacket over a white blouse. She smiled slightly as she stepped into the foyer. “Hello, Colleen.”

Sam passed Colleen without comment. His tall, muscular build could be overwhelming at times, especially when he was working. His dark wavy hair looked clean and his face freshly shaved, but Colleen noticed the grim expression tightening his strong jaw.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked as he looked around.

Colleen arched one eyebrow. “You saw me last night at the museum. What’s up?”

Becca walked into the living room. “Are you alone?”

Wary, Colleen followed her in. “Yes.”