FITZ SAT IN THE ATTIC SUITE she rented in her fathers house and stared at the roofs of the neighborhood where she had lived since the two of them had moved here from Belfast twenty-plus years ago. She wanted more out of life than to live in a shabby-chic suburb in a Midwestern city that too many people still tended to associate with a 1970s sitcom. Or if she had to stay, she wanted to do it in style.
She wished shed been born beautiful like Romana. Unfortunately, the most flattering description shed ever received was the time James Barret had called her a sprightly lass. Still, shed learned how to turn a mans head. She paid attention to what each one liked and used that knowledge to stroke their egos.
Belinda Critch had taught her that single valuable lesson years ago, in the days when Romana had been a cop and she, Fitz, had been a mere gofer in Forensics.
The hospital underworld had revolved around Belinda back then. All the men had wanted her, except old Doctor Gorman, whod been so feeble that snickering techs had occasionally stuck mirrors under his nose during his several-times-daily catnaps.
Men had adored Belinda; women had hated her. So why did everyone think a man had killed her?
Giving her head a shake, Fitz sat cross-legged on the window seat and dumped the contents of her treasure box on the cushion. This was her secret stash, mementoes mostly, nothing of value, just trinkets that had stuck to her fingers when shed been feeling low. She separated out a pair of Patricks sunglasses, one of Belindas watches, a pair of Jamess cufflinks-actually, those would be worth some-thing-a womans antique pin, another of Belindas watches and a ten-karat gold ring that Dylan, the so-called security whiz, hadnt missed even though shed slipped it off his finger in the middle of a Fourth of July picnic.
Hed been glowering at someone, she recalled. James? Patrick? His brother-in-law? His sister?
Fitz couldnt remember. Not about that day. But she remembered other events, like the Christmas party where Belinda should have been dancing with her then-fiancé Warren Critch, but had instead been wrapped around twenty other men.
Had she ever unwrapped herself from any of them? Fitz picked through her treasures and tried to line it all up in her head. The men, the marriage, the men.
Maybe it didnt matter.
Then again, maybe it did.
She turned to stare at the soft blue lights her father had woven through the limbs of a chestnut tree. Romana was important to her, like an older sister in many ways, except she was two years younger. Ah, but hey, serious childhood issues, Fitz reminded herself.
She forced her mind back to Belinda and the upshot of the womans death. Critch claimed someone had threatened his wifes life. Now he was threatening Romanas. Because shed saved a cop.
But what if Romana was right, and the cop was innocent? What if someone else had killed Belinda?
Fitz rubbed her forehead, had to think. What had Belinda said to her in those last days theyd worked together? If she hadnt been so busy trying to liberate Belindas silver bracelet watch from her wrist, she might have paid more attention.
Picking up the coveted silver watch, Fitz ran her thumb over the tarnished inner band. Letters and numbers emerged through the black, enough of them to pique her interest.
Ten minutes later, her hands trembled, her cheeks had lost much of their colorand her fear for Romanas life had shot off the scale.
Chapter Eight
Romana couldnt recall ever spending a more chaotic three hours in a mall, and that included the time one of her brothers had released seven gerbils in a busy department store. It had been Christmas then, too, and thered been shrieks and squeals and a great deal of running by sales associates and customers alike.
But those had been small, terrified animals. This was a fire, or rather several fires, lit in trash cans throughout the complex. It was also, she discovered sometime during the first hectic hour, no less than seven smoke bombs, set off with crude timers near the outflow air vents.
Shoppers didnt squeal so much as scream and stampede. In rushing for the exits, the more hysterical ones knocked down and injured a number of those who were somewhat more bewildered.
Mall security did its collective best. So did Jacob, Romana and three off-duty officers whod been endeavoring to chip away at their Christmas lists.
Two of the doctors they found refused to help due to possible malpractice suits. Two others sighed and rolled up their sleeves.
Firefighters arrived and evacuated the mall, but of course that took time with a number of the exits shrouded in smoke and only a brave few willing to dart past the blazing cans to access them.
It took until midnight for the smoke, flames and screams to subside. The wounded, thankfully none seriously, had been transported to the hospital, disgruntled storeowners congregated in the parking lot, and Jacob was talking to the fire chief near one of the main entrances.
As the last of the ambulances pulled away, Romana spotted Shera Barret clicking across the parking lot with no regard for the ice under her designer boots.
You. She stabbed a gloved finger. I know you, dont I?
My father knows your father. Romana took shelter from the wind behind one of the fire trucks. TriBel Productions makes global travel documentaries. My father produces them. Yours is part of the media conglomerate that airs them. She held out her hand. Im Romana Grey.
Three tiny shopping bags hung from Shera Barrets thin wrists. She had two broken fingernails, her hair was rumpled, and a streak of black marred her cream cashmere coat.
She worked the hair from her face. I feel like Ive been hit by a very long train. What happened in there? She waved Romana off. Not a question really. Her eyes sharpened. It isnt through your father that I remember you. Youre that police officer who stopped Warren Critch from shooting a man. Detective Knight. Handsome, sexy and stupid to have been involved with a woman like Belinda.
Romanas interest kindled. You knew Belinda?
Of her. We spoke twice. Once, I picked up the telephone and she asked for James. The second time, she was sitting in a car across the street from our house. As you might expect, I had a few choice things to say.
Romana envisioned the fireworks, but remained silent and let Shera vent.
She told me she had business with James. Shera scoffed and slashed a finger across her chest. Of course I bought that whopper with her wearing a dress cut down to here. Stupid woman. Did she think Id just fallen off the turnip truck?
Her insecurities were showing, Romana reflected. Off tranqs and on a verbal tear, who knew how informative she might become?
Did you talk to your husband about the incident?
Apparently its a rather crowded turnip truck. Unable to claw her hair back into place, Shera settled for sweeping it out of her face. Yes, I talked to him. He said Belinda Critch had been coming on to him since he met her. A case of wanting the one thing she couldnt have, I imagine.
Romana turned up her collar against the rising wind. When did this confrontation take place, Ms. Barret?
Sheras fine. Shortly before she died, in mid-December.
Before Belinda died, but after Ben Brown passed away.
A month after Bens death, yes.
And youd been married to your husband for how long at that point?
Eight months, three weeks, five days. Shera plucked at the bulge under her glove that was undoubtedly her engagement ring. My family is very wealthy and even better connected. I knew Id land a big fish from the marriage pond, but I have to say I didnt expect to fall in love with it-him. Most unsettling. Her eyes ran the length of Romanas body. Youre very pretty, Officer Grey. Are you married?
Not anymore. Were you surprised by Ben Browns death?
Shera shrugged. Surprised, but not upset. His death bothered James, but I suppose when youre partners with a man, even one as stoical as Ben, youre bound to feel something when he moves on. She flicked at the broken fingernails on her right hand. Such an annoying night. I had more shopping to do. The early whisper is that the fire might have been a prank. For the alleged pranksters sake, I hope thats not the case. I have excellent lawyers and a great deal of animosity for people who inconvenience me.
An influential daddy didnt hurt either, as Romana well knew. With Jacob starting toward them and her lips going numb, she got to the point. Do you like mistletoe, Shera?
Something glinted in the womans brown eyes, but vanished a moment later.
I hang it in the house during the holidays. A kiss at odd moments never hurts, dont you agree?
That would depend on who youre kissing.
I have to think Detective Knight would be quite proficient in that area. If I werent married She set a hand on her throat and gave it a considering pat. Never mind, James is more than enough for me, and hes wonderfully faithful.
Like a cocker spaniel. Romana smiled. Youre a fortunate woman, Shera. More fortunate, I think, than Warren Critch.
Yes. Sheras expression faltered, but she brushed the lapse aside. Ive always had luck on my side. Have a nice evening, Romana. Tell the detective whos closing in that I think hes hot enough to burn.
A cryptic remark from an unfulfilled and likely unhappy woman. Romana watched her click away on those impossible six-inch heels, amazed that she didnt so much as wobble on the icy pavement.
She glanced up. A ring of clouds circled the moon. Romana recalled countless nights like this when, as a child, shed longed to ride with Rudolph across the face of that moon.
Now she longed for a different sort of adventure, with a man she barely knew, in a world she hadnt expected to visit again.
Funny how life never worked out as planned. Unless you were Shera Barret and had the ability to rewrite whatever scripts didnt suit you.
As she continued to stare at the sky, Romana sensed Jacobs approach. His features, mesmerizing and mysterious, drifted through her mind. She felt his mouth on hers, remembered the way his hands had explored her body, drawing her closer until she almost couldnt breathe. Certainly couldnt think.