"Thank you, ma'am. I think that's all we need right now."
Marie-Terese frowned and glanced at Trez, who was sitting next to her on one of the club's velvet couches. As he uncrossed his legs as if he were getting ready to stand up, he seemed utterly unsurprised at how little time the questioning had taken - almost as if he'd prepped the police officer into keeping it short and sweet.
She looked back at the cop. "That's it?"
The officer closed his notebook and rubbed his temple like it hurt. "Detective de la Cruz is in charge of the investigation and he might have more questions later, but you're not a suspect or anything." He nodded at Trez. "Thank you for cooperating."
Trez smiled a little. "I'm sorry those security cameras weren't working. Like I've said, I've been meaning to get them fixed for months now. I have a log of malfunctions that I'd be happy to show you, by the way."
"Well, I'll take a look at it, but..." The man rubbed his left eye. "But as you say, you have nothing to hide."
"Not a thing. Let me see her out first and then we'll go to my office?"
"Sure. I'll wait here."
As Marie-Terese walked off with Trez and they headed down the back hallway, she said quietly, "I can't believe they aren't going any further with this. I don't know why I even needed to come."
Trez opened the rear door and put his hand on her shoulder. "I told you I would take care of things."
"And you really did." Her eyes searched the parking lot and she hesitated in the doorway. "So you saw that Vin came by."
"That his name?"
"It's what he said it was."
"He makes you uneasy."
On a lot of levels. "You don't suppose he and his friend - "
"Killed those guys? Nope."
"How can you be so sure?" She got her car keys out of her pocketbook. "I mean, you don't know them. They could have gone back and..."
Except even as she said the words, she didn't believe them: She couldn't imagine Vin and his friend being the killer or killers. They'd fought with those boys, sure, but they'd done that to protect her and had stopped before they seriously hurt them. Besides, Vin had been with her right afterward in the locker room.
Although God only knew exactly when the shootings had occurred.
Trez leaned in and gently stroked her cheek. "Stop it. You don't have to worry about Vin or his buddy. I get feelings about people and I'm always right."
She frowned. "I don't believe those security cameras are broken. You'd never put up with that -
"Those two guys took care of you when I wasn't here. And so I take care of them." Trez put his arm around her and walked her over to her car. "You see your Vin again, tell him not to worry about anything. I've got his back."
Marie-Terese blinked in the bright cold sunlight. "He's not mine."
"Of course not."
She stared up at Trez. "How can you be so certain - "
"Stop worrying and trust me. When it comes to you, that man's heart is not dark."
After everything she had been through, Marie-Terese had learned not to put her faith in what was said to her. What she listened to was the security alarm in the center of her chest - and as she looked into Trez's eyes, her inner warning bell was utterly silent: He knew exactly what he was talking about. She didn't have a clue how, but then Trez had ways, as they said...ways of finding things out and fixing problems and taking care of business.
So yeah, the police weren't going to see anything he didn't want them to. And Vin hadn't killed those two boys.
Unfortunately that pair of convictions gave her only a measure of relief. He's coming for you...
Trez unlocked her door for her and then gave her back her keys. "I want you to take tonight off. This is tough stuff."
She got in, but before starting the engine, she glanced up and spoke her greatest fear. "Trez, what if those killings have something to do with me. What if someone saw them with me, someone other than Vin? What if...they were shot because of me."
Her boss's eyes grew sharp, like he knew every single thing she had never told him. "And who in your life would do such a thing."
He's coming for you...
God, Trez knew about Mark. He had to. And yet Marie-Terese forced herself to say, "No one. I don't know anyone who would do that."
Trez's stare narrowed like he didn't appreciate the lie, but was willing to respect it. "Well, you decide to answer that in a different way, you can come to me for help. And even if you decide to pull out of town, I need to know if that's the why."
"Okay," she heard herself say.
"Good."
"But I'll be back at ten tonight." She pulled her seat belt across her chest. "I need to work."
"I won't argue with you, but I don't agree with you. Just remember, you see your Vin, you tell him I got his back."
"He's not mine."
"Right. Drive carefully."
Marie-Terese shut her door, forced the Camry to start, and turned around. As she came out on Trade, she put her hand in the pocket of her fleece.
Vin diPietro's card was exactly where she'd put it after she'd found it tucked in her duffel, and as she got his information out, she thought of the way he'd looked this morning with his beaten up face and his smart, concerned eyes.
It felt odd to realize she was frightened more by what he might know, and not of what he might be.
The thing was, she was a Scully kind of girl, a nonbeliever in all that XFiles-esque stuff. She didn't believe in horoscopes, much less...much less whatever could turn a grown man into some kind of channel for...yeah, whatever. She didn't believe in that.
At least, not usually.
The trouble was, after having spent most of the night replaying what had happened in the locker room with him, she wondered if it was possible that something you didn't believe in could in fact be real: He'd been terrified in the midst of that trance, and unless he'd pulled off an Oscar-worthy performance today, he honestly had no clue what he'd said to her and he was honestly worried about what it all meant.
Taking her cell phone out of her purse, she dialed the number at the bottom of his card that didn't have cellar fax written next to it. Except as the ringing started, she remembered it was Saturday, and if this was the office number, she was going to get voice mail. What could she say?
Hi, I'm the prostitute Mr. diPietro helped out last night and I'm calling to reassure him that my pimp is going to take care of everything. He doesn't have to worry about those two dead bodies in the alley.
Perfect. Just the kind of a Post-it note he'd want his assistant sticking to his desk. She dropped the phone from her ear and put her thumb over the end button - "Hello?" came a male voice.
She scrambled to get the cell back into place. "Hello? Ah...I'm looking for Mr. di - "
"Marie-Terese?"
Oh, that deep voice was dangerous. Caught up in the sound of it, she almost said, No, it's Gretchen. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to bother you, but - "
"No, I'm glad you called. Is there anything wrong?"
She frowned and hit her directional signal. "Well, no. I just wanted you to know - "
"Where are you? Still at the club?"
"I just left."
"You have breakfast yet?"
"No." Oh, God.
"You know the Riverside Diner?"
"Yes."
"I'll see you there in five minutes."
She glanced at the clock on the dash. The babysitter was supposed to be at the house until noon, so there was plenty of time, but she had to wonder what kind of door she was opening. A big part of her wanted to run from Vin because he was too handsome and too much her type and she was an idiot if she didn't learn from the past.
But then she reminded herself she could bolt. At the drop of a hat. Hell, she was on the verge of pulling out of Caldwell completely anyway.
He's coming for you...
Remembering the words he'd spoken to her gave her the impetus to meet with him. Attraction concerns aside, she wanted to know what he'd seen and why he'd said those things.
"Okay, I'll see you there." She ended the call, flicked her directional signal to the other side, and headed for one of Caldwell's landmarks.
The Riverside Diner was just two miles away and so close to the Hudson's shoreline, the only way it could get any nearer was if the booths were anchored by buoys and floating in the current. The dining car had been rolled onto its blocks in the 1950s, before the EPA laws, and still had original everything, from the Naugahyde twirling stools at the Formica counter, to the jukebox extensions at each table, to the soda fountain from which the waitresses still pulled Cokes for customers.