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“The police are here with a sketch artist,” she said. “They want to work with Officer Jenkins.”
“Of course,” Trey said. “Show them to the solarium.”
“Damn,” Kelly murmured, coming to her feet. “I forgot about that.”
“So I guess it’s good you didn’t leave,” Trey said.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Kelly nodded her approval at the completed sketches of Adam and Caleb. Rafael, the artist, had captured their likenesses quite well. Not exact, of course, but close enough to give patrol officers a good tool to work with.
“I wish everyone had a memory as good as yours,” Rafael said as he packed his drawing materials into a huge canvas satchel. “You made my job easy.”
“It would be hard to forget those scumbags,” Kelly said.
“Did you hear someone on scene filmed your encounter with the kidnappers on their phone and gave the video to Channel Eight?”
“Seriously?” While she’d been banished to fantasyland, the case—her case—had developed leads and moved forward in the real world without her. She was totally out of the loop because she’d been busy babysitting a screwed-up kid.
“Yeah, but the video is of you holding the Wentworth kid,” Rafael said. “They didn’t manage to get a good head shot of either perp.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Good thing, or I’d be out of a job. Channel Eight showed the recording on the six o’clock news. Congratulations on your thirty seconds of fame.”
“Gee, thanks.” But she was curious about what had been captured. Maybe she could catch the footage at eleven o’clock. She hadn’t seen a TV anywhere in this mansion, but there had to be one somewhere.
Laughing, Rafael turned to look out on the pool deck through the huge plate glass windows of the solarium, a room full of casual wicker furniture, colorful prints and green plants, including more blooming orchids. Kelly followed his gaze and found the two officers who had driven him over sitting at a table with a glass pitcher of what looked like iced tea and another cheese-and-fruit tray. Both men had their feet up. A glorious sunset was in full view behind them, creating a scene fit for a slick travel magazine—if it weren’t for the two cops in black uniforms with loaded guns on their hips.
“Now, there’s a duty I could get used to,” Rafael said.
“You think so? I’d be bored sick sitting around and doing nothing.”
“That’s a sickness I could take,” Rafael said. “I guess a stay on Collins Island is your reward for saving Wentworth’s kid.” He nodded at the remains of a buffet the blonde cook had laid out for them. “Damn, but that food was amazing.”
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
Rafael turned back. “Good job, by the way.” He gave her a high five, the slap of their palms sharp in the quiet room. “I’ve already heard talk of a commendation for you.”
“Thanks.” A feeling of pleasure tickled her belly. A commendation? Really? Still gazing at the resort-like view, she added, “But I did what anyone would.”
“Yeah, right. Anybody would karate-kick a gun out of a perp’s hand. How’s the kid by the way?”
Kelly shrugged, ashamed of her resentful thoughts about babysitting Jason. Poor little dude’s head was in a super bad place. What was one day out of her life? “Asleep. Hopefully he’ll be himself again when he wakes up.”
“And if he’s not?” Rafael asked.
Kelly shook her head. “I don’t know.” But she did know, and she didn’t like the idea of Carico stashing the little guy in a loony bin. Even if they found one for kids. Even if the hospital was as luxurious as this villa. Jason needed to be with his father and in familiar surroundings. She wasn’t any shrink, but she knew the only way he’d get better was to be around people who loved him.
And his father might be a jerk, but he loved his son. That was Wentworth’s only saving grace. Well, besides his looks.
Rafael hefted his satchel over his shoulder. “Let me roust my ride and get going. Having to use that ferry takes forever.” At the last minute, he stepped to the buffet, wrapped two sandwiches in a napkin and stuffed them in his bag. He winked at her. “For my wife.”
