“One teaspoon of sugar.”
Now Angie was giving her a look. Angie, of course, knew how she liked her coffee. Christy made a face at her sister.
“How about something to eat? You want a bologna sandwich?” Luke asked.
“Go for the muffins,” Gary advised with a shudder.
“Yeah, they’re really great.” Angie grinned at Gary. “You guys are the bomb. You’re like the perfect couple. One of you has a cat, the other can cook.”
“I’ll have a muffin,” Christy said to Luke, then added a quick thanks when he put the steaming cup and a muffin in a saucer in front of her before sitting down himself with coffee and some sort of sandwich.
“Besides being worried about the serial killer, I came over here to tell you some deputy called. He said they found your purse.”
Christy sat bolt upright. “What?” It would have been an exclamation, except that it came out through a mouthful of muffin.
“Your purse. They found it. He said he’d bring it by about four, if that was all right. I said sure.” Her eyes gleamed. “He sounded hot.”
Christy’s eyes cut to the clock on the kitchen wall. It was nearly three-thirty.
“Did you get his name?” Luke asked. Having already finished his sandwich, he was slouched back in his chair, putting down coffee like he needed it.
“I don’t remember, but he said he was headed this way anyway to visit his aunt, so that’s why he didn’t mind bringing it by.”
Gordie Castellano. Christy felt her throat close up, and almost choked on her muffin. Her eyes shot to Luke, who was frowning now as he chugged coffee. His eyes met hers over the rim of the cup.
“So what’s the deal about you losing your purse?” Angie asked, looking from one to the other of them.
“Remember I told you how the serial killer attacked me and put me in the trunk of my car? My purse was in the car.”
“Oh my God.” Angie’s gaze cut to Luke. “I heard all about that. I am so glad you were there to save her.”
Luke took another swallow of coffee.
“Yeah,” he said in a slightly sour tone. “So am I.” He glanced at Christy. “You know, when you’re telling everybody what happened, I kind of wish you’d leave me out of it. It’s embarrassing to admit that some guy managed to clobber me over the head and stuff me into a car trunk.”
Angie looked at him wide-eyed. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about that. That could happen to anybody. Anyway, in the end you practically saved Christy’s life. You should be proud and shout it from the rooftops.”
“Yeah, well.” Luke downed another swallow of coffee and looked at Christy over the rim of his cup.
“Fine,” she said. Then, to Angie, with a shrug, “It’s a man thing.”
“I appreciate it,” Luke said to Christy.
Angie looked at Christy. “So what did the cops say? Do they really think a serial killer’s after you?”
“Actually, I haven’t called the sheriff’s department yet,” Christy said. Exhaustion was setting in with a vengeance, and she couldn’t summon up enough energy to get all worked up at the memory of the previous night. Terror would have to wait until she got a decent night’s sleep. “This will save me from having to. I’ll just make a report to whoever shows up. Then I guess I’d better call the insurance company about my car.”
Marvin slunk into view, emerging from the hall. Both Luke’s and Gary’s eyes fastened on him, following him fixedly as he crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. Then they looked at each other.
“We’re still out of litter,” Gary said to Luke.
Luke’s face tightened. “Maybe you should just let him out.”
“No,” Christy and Angie said in unison. The Petrino women might be different in many ways, but they were cat lovers all.
“If you don’t want to run to the store right now, you could scoop up some sand for him,” Angie suggested. “Or if you have some newspaper, you could just tear it up and put it in his litter box.”
“Or any box,” Christy put in dryly.
Luke and Gary exchanged glances.
“I’m beat,” Luke said plaintively.
Gary’s lips thinned, but he got up, presumably to do what he could to round up a litter box.
Having finished her coffee, Christy forced herself to her feet. Sitting down had been a mistake, she realized. She was so tired she was light-headed. Her ears were ringing, and her legs felt weak.
“You don’t look so good,” Angie observed.
Thanks, Ange.
“Probably we should go back to our cottage. We don’t want to miss the deputy,” Christy said.
Both Angie and Luke stood up, although Angie displayed considerably more energy.
“Gary, I’m going over to Christy’s. Hold down the fort,” Luke called to the absent Gary as they trooped toward the sliding glass door.
“And don’t let Marvin out,” Christy added, giving Luke a pointed look.
“Yeah,” he said, then called to Gary with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t let Marvin out.”
They were almost to the other cottage when Angie, who’d been chattering the whole way although Christy, being now too tired to focus, had missed most of what she’d said, turned to Luke.
“Are you still going to be here Sunday?” Since Luke was the last person in line, Angie had to raise her voice to be heard over the rush of ocean and the sounds of the happy vacationers who were crowding the beach below the dunes. “ ’Cause if you are, we’ll probably be having a little birthday party for Christy.” She threw Christy a teasing glance. “I won’t tell you how old she’s going to be.”
“Twenty-eight,” Christy said sourly.
Luke grinned at her.
“Oh, by the way.” Angie cast another glance Christy’s way. “When he heard I was coming down here, Uncle Vince asked me to bring your birthday present with me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s all wrapped up in a big box and it’s heavy. He said you shouldn’t open it until Sunday.”
First chance he
got, Luke hightailed it back to his cottage with Christy’s birthday present in his arms. He had almost no doubt that this was the delivery she’d been told to expect. Amori had either stage-managed Angie’s little beach vacation by suggesting to Christy’s mother that it might be a good idea, or he had taken advantage of the ladies’ own concern for a hurting family member to get the package to Christy in as unobtrusive a manner as possible. That Christy had been told not to open it before Sunday—her birthday—told him something else: whatever was going down was going to happen before then.
“That certainly went well,” Gary said to him in a dry voice as Luke stepped in through the patio door. Gary was seated in Command Central with the door open. Luke could hardly look at that open door without wincing.
“Yeah.” So well he just wanted to stand up and shout, Luke reflected glumly. He was nuts about a girl who was, at the moment, a great deal less than nuts about him; he was having second thoughts about the wisdom of letting her stay in harm’s way;
and the thought of the alternative—her being swallowed up by the Witness Protection Program, never to be seen again—was too damned depressing to think about.
“She mad?” Gary asked.
Luke set the gaily wrapped box down on the table rather gingerly. He didn’t think it was very likely, but given the way things had been going lately it was always possible that the thing contained a bomb.
“She’s not happy. But she’s going to cooperate, help us nail Donnie Jr.”
“I almost crapped my pants when she saw those monitors.”
“Yeah.”
Oh yeah.
“You might want to keep that door shut from now on.”
“Hey, I knew you were coming. I saw you sneaking out through the garage with somebody’s present in your arms. Until then, it was shut. I just opened the door so I could ask you what’s up with that.”
Luke was studying the package from all angles. “Amori sent this down with Angie. It’s for Christy. Supposedly her birthday present. Her birthday’s Sunday, by the way.”
“Holy shit,” Gary said, and stood up.
Luke looked at him. “Whoa. Stay put. You’re on the monitor, remember. What’s happening with Christy?”
“She’s sitting with Angie, and they’re both talking to Gordie Castellano. He’s getting out a notebook to take Christy’s statement.” Gary was leaning out the door watching him.
“Where are the Barbie twins?”
Gary glanced at the monitor. “Hanging over the kitchen counter listening.”
“Okay. Keep an eye on things.” Christy should be safe enough for the short time it was going to take him to check out the package. “Where’s the camera?”
“Kitchen drawer beside the silverware.”
Luke retrieved it and took half a dozen pictures of the package. That was the easy part. Now he had to get the package open without tearing the wrappings noticeably. When he was finished checking it out, it was going to have to be wrapped up again so that it looked like it had never been touched.
A muffled yowl reminded him of another one of his problems.
“Where’s the damned cat?” Wrapping presents was not really his forte. Unwrapping one was proving not to be any easier. Getting an elaborate bow and some tinsel and a bunch of sparkly tissue off one without tearing or breaking anything seemed to be beyond him, he discovered as he worked to unknot the ribbon.
“I locked him in your bathroom. With a plate of chopped-up bologna, a bowl of water, and strips of newspaper in a box. I don’t see why we don’t just let him out.”
“Because Christy said not to. Because he’ll just end up on her patio again, and that’ll piss her off, and she’s pissed enough at me as it is.”
“I told you we should have brought her in sooner.” Gary watched his efforts with his head cocked to one side.
“Yeah, well, hindsight’s a beautiful thing.”
“No offense, but you suck at that. You want to watch the monitors for a minute and let me try?”
“Yeah. Good thought.” He and Gary changed places. Instead of trying to unknot the damned ribbon, Gary simply slid the whole thing off to the side, bow, tinsel and all. Luke was impressed.
“Nice job,” Luke said as Gary carefully ran a knife under one piece of tape and then, by some process Luke knew he would never be able to duplicate if he lived a hundred years, slipped the box—it was silver, shiny, clearly from an expensive store—out of the paper, which was still neatly taped together except for the one opened side.
“I’ve had practice. I used to open my Christmas presents while my mom was at work, then put them back together again so that she never knew. You want to open this?”
Luke took a quick glance at the monitor. Christy was still talking to Castellano. With three other girls in the room, and perimeter sensors in place that would let out a beep anytime somebody passed from the inside to the outside of the house, or vice versa, she should be safe enough.
“Yeah.” He and Gary changed places again.
Grimacing a little—it was still not beyond the realm of possibility that the thing might be a bomb—Luke braced himself and lifted the lid off the box. Lots of tissue paper inside. Parting it cautiously, he spied a pink satin box. Frowning, he lifted it out. A jewelry box: girly, lots of satin and lace.
Not what he’d expected.
“Open it,” Gary said, and Luke did. A tinkly tune filled the air as a tiny ballerina twirled in front of a mirror in the lid.
A small blue satin bag tucked into the open space in front of the ballerina drew his eyes. Luke lifted it out—it was full, but not particularly heavy—and opened the drawstring top.
The sight that greeted him made his heart skip a beat.
“What? What?” Gary demanded, apparently in response to Luke’s expression.
Luke poured the contents of the bag into his hand.
“Diamonds,” he said, looking up at Gary. “Probably more than a million dollars’ worth. They’re small enough to be carried in a pocket and they don’t show up on airport metal detectors. Bingo: Donnie Jr.’s here, these are for him, and he’s planning to leave the country.”
By the time the package was put back together again, the bag had been outfitted with its own minuscule tracking device.
They’d lost track of the last delivery. This time there was more at stake. Luke wasn’t taking any chances on something getting screwed up.
Angie and Christy
sat on the patio watching the sky slowly darken from lavender to deep purple. Sea oats swayed in the salt-smelling breeze that blew in from the ocean; waves rolled shoreward in undulating white lines. With Gary, still in khakis and that blue polo shirt, roped into the role of bodyguard, Maxine and Amber
were on the beach, which was slowly emptying of people. As Christy watched, the girls picked up their towels and shook them out, Gary unwound from his chin-on-knees huddle in the sand, and the three of them started heading back toward the cottage. Luke was in the living room behind them stretched out on the couch, watching sports on TV. With the patio door closed, he couldn’t hear them but he could see them through the glass. As annoying as it was to have to acknowledge it, she was glad he was there.
With the onset of night, not even exhaustion was enough to keep her stomach from tying itself in knots, or her heart from skipping a beat each time a shadow moved. Talking to Castellano had been bad enough; seeing him with her purse had made her go all lightheaded. They had only his word for it that a passerby had found it near the ferry and turned it in. She had no reason—other than her quivering sixth sense—to disbelieve him. But, as Luke had pointed out when she had whispered her suspicions to him, if it was in Castellano’s possession because he was the man who had attacked her, would he have been brazen—to say nothing of stupid—enough to bring it back to her? She didn’t know; she was too tired and too confused to calculate the odds. Then Luke had told her about the diamonds, and the knowledge that the delivery had been made had cranked her anxiety level up about a thousand degrees. The phone call she dreaded could come anytime now—like tonight. Thus it was no surprise that as darkness fell fear crept over her as inexorably as night crept over the beach. There was no escaping it,
no doing anything about it. It just had to be lived through until morning came again.
“So, does Luke sleep here or what?” Angie asked in a low voice.
“Why do you want to know?” Christy countered, shooting her sister a look. Angie was lying on the chaise longue, where she had been sprawled ever since they’d finished the carry-out pizza that was dinner. Christy was sitting up in a hard plastic chair. If she got too comfortable, she was afraid she would fall asleep.