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“And after lunch?” Constable Warren picked up the questioning, her dark eyes beetling as she scrutinised Jane’s pretty face. Even now, having taken a rather severe knock to the side of her head, she was quite obviously very beautiful. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. It was totally flawless, not a freckle or mark anywhere in sight. Her eyes were enormous; almond-shaped and set wide on her symmetrical face. Her lashes were thick and black, and her nose petite, with a little ski jump at the end. Her lips were pale pink, her mouth wide. Her blonde hair, though now matted with crimson blonde on one side, hung in loose waves on the other, half way down her back.
“I don’t remember,” she said with genuine anguish. “I wish I could. I know I had a black shopping bag when I came in my gate.”
Constable Warren carefully hid her frustration. This sort of confusion was routine with victims of crime, particularly when a head trauma was involved. “The memories will come back,” she said quietly, putting a hand on the young woman’s pale fingers. “And you can call or email me as you do recall various details. In the mean time, let’s try something else.” She scraped the chair over the tiles, and placed it beside Jane’s head. It effectively cut Constable Stuart from the inquiries, but Jane didn’t mind. Warren seemed far more useful and interested in working out just what had happened.
“Tell me what you would normally do when you come home.”
Jane sucked in a breath and tried to imagine a normal day. “I open the door…”
“No,” Constable Warren’s smile was reassuring. “Let’s take it back even further. Where do you carry your keys?”
“In my handbag.”
“Always in your handbag?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So you come home, and then?”
“I unlatch my gate and step onto the property,” she said, uncertain how much detail the
Constable Warren required. “Then I unlock the door and step inside.”
“Do you think you’d notice if someone was waiting for you?”
Jane pulled a face. “I would have said yes until today.”
Constable Warren’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m only trying to gather an impression as to whether your attacker was hiding in wait for you, or just an opportunistic thug.”
Jane freed her hand from the Constable’s and lifted it to her necklace. “I doubt theft was their motive, anyway. This necklace is worth a small fortune and would have been easy to slip off once I was unconscious.”
Constable Warren made an approving sound as she leaned forward to inspect the diamond. “Excellent. I think you’re probably right.” She clicked her ballpoint pen back in, and settled back into the chair. “Jane, more than likely this was a random attack. Perhaps a junkie, though that’s uncommon in your area, it’s not unheard of. I’m happy to have someone change your locks and check your property over for you. There’s also a Victims of Crime group who can arrange some temporary security presence for you while you settle back into your place.”
Jane didn’t need that. She mightn’t have a family, but she did have money. Thanks to Carlo and his guilt complex over their marriage.
“Thank you, Constable.”
“You have my business card. I’d like you to contact me if you think of anything. I don’t care if it’s minor. Sometimes something really small can help us a great deal.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Constables Stuart and Warren rose as one. As they moved towards the door, it banged open, admitting the fabulous, dark, breath-takingly handsome figure of Carlo Santini.
Jane’s eyes flew to him, drawn, as they always had been, by some invisible magnetic force. Three years had not changed him. He was as imposing, powerful and gorgeous as ever.
Her gut clenched in instant recognition of the man who’d broken her heart. His darkly tanned skin showed a pallor, as he scanned Jane’s petite form. His eyes drifted over her slender figure, collapsed against the bed, to the bright red stain on her head. He ground his teeth, then turned to the two police officers. “Detectives,” he murmured grimly, turning his back on Jane and giving the two uniformed officers his complete attention.
“Constables Warren and Stuart, sir,” Constable Warren corrected, extending her hand.
Jane, despite the pain and desire that were flooding her system, couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s confidence. Carlo Santini was a man who inspired awe and fear wherever he went. Yet this short British officer apparently had no such feeling.
“Constables?” His eyes were black stones in his face. “Your initial inquiry is appreciated, but please have your superior come to my wife immediately.”
Constable Stuart seemed to feel the awe that Warren did not. “Sir, we… that is… we…”
“Yes?” Carlo demanded impatiently, his eyes visibly eviscerating the man opposite.
“What Constable Stuart is trying to say is that our Sergeant doesn’t get involved with simple attacks like this.”
