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I smiled. "Good night, Officer Harris. I daresay I'll be seeing you around."
"Not in any official capacity, I hope."
I raised my eyebrows. "Does that mean you're open to unofficial approaches?"
"No. It simply means stay out of trouble."
"I'm not sure I'm capable of doing that." And the truth of that statement echoed right through my very being.
Trouble and I were old mates. Of that I was sure.
"Good night, Hanna," he said, then turned and loped off into the darkness. I watched him disappear, then headed past the caravans and to the villa.
Evin was sitting on the sofa drinking a beer, his bare feet up on the coffee table. "There's more in the fridge,"
he said, as I entered the room and closed the glass sliding door.
"Thanks, but I'm more a champagne person." And why wouldn't my own brother know that? I dropped down on the other sofa and crossed my legs. "So tell me about our pack."
He raised a pale eyebrow. "Why? You'll remember it soon enough."
"Maybe. Maybe not." I hesitated, then added, "You had a happy childhood?"
"Why?">"Oh, I have no doubt you're dangerous, lady," he said softly, his blue eyes glinting. "The question is, are you a murderer or merely a fruitcake?"
Chapter 9
Murderer. The word seemed to echo around my aching brain with a resonance that was both familiar and frightening.
Was I a murderer?
No, something inside said. Then, frighteningly, yes.
I grabbed my coffee with a hand that was shaking, and wasn't entirely sure whether it was due to the weakness still washing through my body or that whispered revelation. I finished the coffee in one quick gulp that scalded my throat, then pushed to my feet. The room spun violently, and it was only my grip on the table that kept me upright.
"Am I under arrest?" I said, through gritted teeth.
"Not yet." He leaned back in his chair and continued to study me through slightly narrowed eyes. "But you and your brother should consider yourselves to be persons of interest."
"If you do the damn check, you'll discover we shouldn't be." I spun and headed for the front door.
A chair scraped backward, then footsteps followed me up the hall. "One more question," he said, as I flung open the front door.
"What?" I said it without looking back or even stopping.
"There's very little blood on your car and the damage - though extensive - doesn't look recent. Also, if you hit the roo hard enough to roll the car several times, why isn't its body anywhere in the immediate vicinity?"
Interesting observations, both of them. "Can I see the car?"
"No. And don't leave town, Hanna." He said it softly, but his words seemed to echo across the night as I retreated down the street.
I was a suspect.
And the worst of it was, even I wasn't so sure that I shouldn't be. Everything was so screwed up - both this situation and my mind - that right now, anything seemed possible.
I hit the main street and turned to head back to the villa, then paused.
Harris had said that Evin used the phone in the pub. Why would he do that when there was a perfectly usable phone at the villa?
