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“Home,” they both chimed simultaneously.
“Do you know a young woman named Becky?”
“They have already answered those questions, officer,” a deep masculine voice echoed through the room. Surprised, everyone rose to their feet and all eyes fell upon Torin and Gage, standing at the living room door. Torin, dressed in tight black slacks and a white shirt with a black, button down vest which emphasized his perfect physique, took a step forward. He removed his shades, his dark eyes shimmering.
My God, he cut his hair and he looks so much younger, Donja thought.
“How did you get in?” Carson asked.
“Forgive the intrusion,” Torin said with a disarming smile, “but the front door was ajar, and seeing the police, I took the liberty. My apologies, but I was concerned for Donja.”
“And you are?” Officer Blackfoot asked.
“Torin Mancini, lead detective for the Ontario Soo.” He whipped out his badge from inside his vest. “As I said, we have already interrogated the ladies,” Torin said, smiling. It was in the moment that Donja noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Well, I apologize,” Blackfoot replied, “I wasn’t aware.”
“My fault,” Torin answered, “I haven’t turned in my report, but it will be on your desk by nine a.m. tomorrow.”
“Very well, “Mr. Mancini. Tell me, your voice. Do I detect an Italian accent?”
“You’re very observant, officer,” Torin replied, with a voice as smooth as honey. “I’m originally from Italy,” he smiled proudly. “I’ve been here five years now after accepting a position with the Ontario Justice Department,” he continued with an aura that would charm bees. “It’s a magnificent area and I love it more every day,” he said, eyes locked on Donja.
Donja felt her cheeks flame and she didn’t fail to notice the concern in her mother’s eyes.
Officer Blackfoot turned back to Donja and Makayla. “Thank you, ladies,” he said as he and the other officer took their leave.
The room succumbed to an eerie silence. Finally, Carson spoke up. “Sorry, he said as he extended his hand. Torin took it and they shook firmly. “I’m Carson, Donja’s stepfather. Won’t you sit down,” he said as he turned and shook hands with Gage. “How are you, Gage?”
“Gage, dressed in a white shirt with a tan corduroy overcoat and trousers, nodded with a thin smile. “Good, sir, and you?”
“I’m well, thank you, but I’m still waiting on that golf game you promised.”
“It’s hard, Mr. Hampton,” Gage replied. “I work odd hours.”
Torin made a beeline for Donja and much to her amazement kissed her cheek. “These are for you,” he whispered, extending the bouquet of flowers.
She felt herself all but swoon. He was close, lips to her cheek close and he didn’t flinch or tremble, he wasn’t nervous, and he had flowers. She eyed them with a kiss that still tingled on her cheek. They were beautiful. She raised them to her nose, unsure of the feelings welling in her chest. They were her first. “Thank you,” she blushed with a fleeting glance which revealed the shock in her mother’s eyes.
Torin turned to Lisa. “You must be Lisa, Donja has told me so much about you.”
How does he know her name? Donja wondered.
Lisa’s eyes fluttered her distress as Carson sat down beside her and put his arm around her.
“Torin,” Lisa blurted, her voice edgy. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but how old are you?”
“Twenty-six just yesterday, he said, “though I must admit, I still get scanned every time I buy a drink.”
Gage and Makayla laughed, but it fell on empty ears.
“And you realize Donja is sixteen.”
“Seventeen, Mom,” Donja corrected her.
“Seventeen, yes, excuse me, but still, that’s almost a ten-year difference? I don’t know about Italy, but in this country, that’s illegal.”
“I’m aware, I’m in law enforcement,” he smiled.
