Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Going down on my haunches, I tilt my head and lean closer to study the object. It’s a bone, perhaps from a dead animal. It’s small enough to belong to the skeleton of a bird. Curious, I dig with my hands around the bone, uncovering more of the protrusion. Three more bones. And another. The hair in my nape stands on end as the skeleton starts to take shape. The bones buried in the sand aren’t the remains of a bird.
The long, narrow hand belonged to a human.
Chapter
Seventeen
Sabella
* * *
The engine of a car sounds outside just as I’m finishing my breakfast in the kitchen. Angelo never visits during the day unless the children are here. Heidi normally comes late in the afternoon. The only other person who’d come around this early is Fabien.
I tense a little, remembering Angelo’s order not to let Fabien visit alone. Too bad. Fabien became a friend. I’m not going to chase him away.
Already looking forward to the company, I go to the lounge and open the door with a smile. A white car with a rental company logo on the side pulls up. When the driver opens the door and steps out, my smile slips and my heart starts racing.
Lieutenant Lavigne.
Behind the aviator sunglasses, I recognize his face.
How did he find me? He probably asked around in the village where many people know I live here. Nothing stays secret in a small town.
He tilts his head and studies the house before shooting me a stilted grin. I clench my teeth and glare at him. Despite the unwelcome message my body language sends, he makes his way over, climbs the three steps, and stops in front of me.
Removing the glasses, he says, “Good morning, Mrs. Russo.”
I take in his bloodshot eyes and leathery skin. He bears the marks of someone who works too much and doesn’t take care of himself. I want to tell him to get out of my sight, but I know from experience he’s a cop who doesn’t stick to the rules. He’s not going to turn around and leave politely. He’ll force his way in if he must. It’s best that I keep the upper hand for as long as I can, even if I have to pretend to be in control of the situation.
Not bothering with a greeting, I go back inside the house. He follows, leaving the door open. We measure each other in silence. The unpleasant memory of our first encounter stirs up my resentment and anger.
“It seems like you’re doing well,” he says, looking around the space.
I cut a gaze over his dusty suit pants and creased jacket. “I can’t say the same for you.”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I had to catch an early flight. I’ve been up since four this morning.”
I cock a hip. “Are you hoping for sympathy?”
An unfriendly smile splits his face. “I suppose that means you’re not going to offer me breakfast.” When I don’t reply, he adds in a mock-hopeful tone, “Coffee?”
“You do realize my husband knows that you’re here.” Heading toward the kitchen, I add over my shoulder, “He’s having the house watched.”
His steps fall on the floor behind me. I pour a mug of coffee and push it into his hand. I may hate his guts, but with his murky eyes and the dark rings marring them, it looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.
“There’s sugar on the table and milk in the fridge,” I say.
He blows on the coffee. “Thanks.” The smirk that pulls his lips over his teeth is anything but grateful. It’s rather taunting as he holds my gaze over the rim. “I take mine bitter and black.”
I cross my arms. “What do you want?”
He takes a sip of coffee and casts a glance at the ceiling. “If your husband is having the house watched like you said, it’s strange that he hasn’t shown up yet or sent someone to drag me off his property.”
The same thought crossed my mind, but I don’t express it. I don’t want to give him the benefit of knowing my doubts.
“He’s probably got cameras in the house,” he says in a tone too casual for the heaviness of his declaration.
I try not to show him how much that statement shocks me, not that it should. It sounds like something Angelo would do. Why haven’t I considered that earlier? I mentally kick myself for the oversight.
As I suddenly remember the phone I hid in the vent, every muscle in my body tenses. Why hasn’t Angelo confronted me? There are only two plausible explanations. Either there’s no cameras, or he hasn’t seen that part of the recorded feed. But the most pressing question is why Angelo is allowing the lieutenant near me when he’s so certain I’ll betray him. If he knew when Johan showed up, he must know the lieutenant is here. Angelo’s guards would’ve alerted him.