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Kaylin had done what you’re always told not to do in a fire—she’d grabbed personal belongings on the way out of the building. Now she was trying to juggle not only the toddler but a purse and what looked like a bag full of kid stuff as well. Before I had time to think things through properly, I stepped forward.
“Hey, let me give you a hand.”
I grabbed the changing bag as the strap slid down her arm, and she flashed me a half-smile. But no fake expression could hide the fact that without her stage make-up, Kaylin La Rocca looked utterly miserable.
“Thanks. I just… I can’t…” The boy’s face creased into the beginnings of a wail. “Matty, shhh. It’s okay.”
“What happened? I was getting a coffee when an alarm went off.”
“It’s the fire alarm.” Kaylin glanced back toward the building. “I smelled smoke in the stairwell.”
“It sounds as if the emergency services are on the way, so I’m sure they’ll soon have everything under control.”
Fear flashed in her eyes. “Right. That’s good, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come sit down? There’s a bench right over there. Your son looks heavy. Sorry, I shouldn’t make assumptions—is he your son? Or are you his nanny?”
“Yes, he’s my son, but?—”
“I’ll take that.”
The bag was lifted from my arm, and I whirled to find one of Cavallaro’s henchmen glowering at me.
“It’s okay.” Kaylin’s tone turned placating. “Dino, it’s okay. She was just trying to help.”
I held up both hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset anyone. This is your husband?”
“No, no, just a…friend,” she said, but her expression told a different story. She wasn’t fond of Dino at all, and I wasn’t certain whether the flash of fear I’d seen was due to my mention of the emergency services or because Dino was headed in our direction.
“We’re leaving,” he told her. “Car’s over here.”
She shot me an apologetic glance but didn’t say another word. Instead, she followed Dino to a waiting limo and climbed into the back seat with her son, and a moment later, the three of them were gone.
My phone rang. No surprise who it was.
“Did you get the photos?”
“Yes, but how?—”
“Good. I’ll see you back at the apartment.”
Then Dasha was gone as well.
* * *
My mind was working overtime when I stepped off the elevator and into Emmy’s sumptuous marble hallway, but I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of a small fluffy dog staggering across the polished tile.
“What the hell? Where did the dog come from?”
Dasha sauntered into view, now dressed in sportswear. “I picked it up at the dog park.”
Huh? “I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. All you need is a cocktail wiener, a tranquilliser, and a large purse.”
“Wait, you stole a dog?”
“Relax, I only borrowed it. There’s a phone number on the tag. Once the tranquilliser’s worn off, I’ll give it back.”
