“The cops are about thirty seconds out,” Eli said. “Passed them on the way in.”
Right on cue, a team of uniform-clad men and two women rushed into the home. “Lower your weapons!”
Lonny, wearing his thick cowboy boots, walked in right after them. “What’s going on?”
Dane stepped away from Donna Lee, and I turned off the video. Our part in this case had ended.
“And you never learned who was in the hoodie?” an officer with tattoos running up his arms asked.
I glanced at Dane, who was answering the same questions on the other side of Donna Lee and Lonny’s expansive dining room table. “I don’t think we ever did. Did we?”
Dane glanced at me with a smile. “No. It was probably just a coincidence, like I said.”
“He always thinks he’s right. It’s really annoying,” I said, turning back to the officer.
The same unaffected expression met me. “I’m sure. What about the note? Any idea who wrote that?”
“Not a clue.” I tapped the table. “But Donna Lee broke into my room at the condo place. She knew about us before we knew about her.”
“Donna confessed to one of our officers she found out you were in town asking questions about William from one of her tour guides. It sounds like you weren’t the most inconspicuous.”
Oops.
The officer asked a few more questions, took our information, told us not to go too far, and a few hours later, they let us go.
“So, what’s next” I asked Dane as we walked away from Donna Lee’s home.
He grinned. “This.”
I didn’t wait for him to take control this time. I launched myself into Dane’s arms in the middle of the sidewalk.
He caught me—like always—and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. Dane cupped my face and kissed me like it was the only thing that made sense.
It wasn’t rushed. Nor frantic. But solid. Firm. Slow. Deep. Perfect.
Dane kissed me with a promise.
When we finally pulled apart, I stood staring into his eyes. “It’s over now.”
“No,” he said, pushing a strand of my hair from my face. “It’s just the beginning.”
EPILOGUE
*About a year later*
“I just love this place,” I said as the first view of Charleston’s waterfront came into view.
The pineapple fountain sparkled in the evening light. The water cascaded in perfect symphony, catching sunbeams to sparkle as the sun worked its way down the horizon.
I stood at the edge of the fountain and stared at the water with my arms folded across my chest. Families and couples wandered through Waterfront Park. A young woman sipped an iced coffee as she pushed a stroller, making me regret drinking mine so fast. Beside the fountain, people stopped to snap photos.
It was all so wonderful. And normal.
Too normal.
It shouldn’t be right to feel so happy to be back in Charleston considering why we were here. Dane and I flew in that morning to testify against the woman who sent Wiliam to his watery grave.
“She still doesn’t look like a killer,” Dane said as he tugged me closer to him in front of the fountain.
