Page 40 of Lorenzo

My pulse picks up.

The problem with hotel crime scenes is that anything could have happened at any time. Nothing in here is guaranteed to have happened last night. One of the guests could have pulled the curtain a little too hard.

I move to the balcony anyway and study the neighboring partitions, the ledges between floors, the same route I just used.

It's possible, as I just demonstrated.

Someone else may have thought so too.

A sound comes from the hallway.

A door opening.

Voices.

I freeze.

I cross the suite quickly and position myself beside the entry wall, out of sight from anyone who opens the door.

But no one does. The footsteps move away, and the hallway falls silent again.

I take the rest of my photographs quickly, then return to the glass doors of the balcony.

Going back the way I came is the only option.

I open the balcony door and step into the wind.

This time, I know exactly how far down the street is.

That does not help.

I sigh before I step out.

Chapter Five

Lorenzo

Donna arrives at Julian’s office a few minutes before our scheduled meeting.

Alessio and I are already seated in the chairs across from Julian’s desk. My son has been restless since we left the house, though he hides it better today than he did the first morning. He sits with one ankle over his opposite knee, his fingers tapping intermittently against the arm of the chair.

The tapping stops when Donna enters.

She wears dark trousers and a blue blouse beneath a fitted jacket, professional without looking as though she spent the morning preparing for our benefit. Her blonde hair is pulled back, and she carries a leather folder under her arm.

She looks from Julian to me, then settles her attention on Alessio.

Julian stands. “Donna.”

“Julian.”

He gestures toward us. “Lorenzo Conti, whom you know. His son, Alessio.”

Alessio rises and offers his hand.

“You must be Donna Costa.”

“I am.”