The Heart of a Killer

George was dead, killed the same way he and his brothers had killed that guy in the alley that night. And there was a heart carved into George’s chest the same as Anna.

What the hell did it mean?

His head swam with questions. He turned to Roman, who had pulled his radio to call it in.

Dante took another look at George, then pushed off his knees and stood, looking around the alley, searching for something…anything that would give him a clue as to why the fuck this had happened.

“Who did this?” Gabe asked, looking as lost as Dante felt.

“I don’t know. Ellen said he went out earlier, she thought for a short drive. She tried to call him when he didn’t come back, but she didn’t get an answer.”

Roman had already gone to his car and come back with his evidence kit. He’d gloved up and leaned over George’s body, swallowing hard as he checked George’s pockets.

“Yeah, here’s his phone.” He tucked the phone in an evidence bag and slid his fingers into the other pocket of George’s jeans, paused and pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with white powder.

“What the fuck is that?” Dante asked

“My guess is cocaine,” Gabe said. “About an ounce.”

“And you know this how…?” Dante asked.

“Because he works for Paolo Bertucci,” Roman said.

“The mob-guy Bertucci? That family’s still around?”

Gabe didn’t say anything, just turned his attention to the bag. “What’s George doing with coke in his pocket?”

“Good question,” Roman said.

The scream of police sirens interrupted any further discussion. Roman bagged the coke as the uniforms arrived. Dante wished they could hide the drugs, but he knew they couldn’t.

George, with coke? Had he come here to do a deal? It made no sense.

Black-and-whites blocked off both entrances to the alley. In short order, yellow police tape roped off the alley, and crime scene techs began working the area. The medical examiner had arrived and was looking at the body.

And Dante still hadn’t called Ellen. He wouldn’t call her. He’d have to do this in person. Did Ellen know about the drugs?

God, right before the couple’s anniversary. What was he going to say to her?

Another unmarked car pulled up at one end of the alley in front of the tape. Another detective, he imagined. He’d let Roman handle him.

Dante folded his arms and waited while the car door opened. The lights were shining on them, so he couldn’t see the detective coming at them until he—no, make that she—moved in front of the lights.

He caught the flash of badge clipped to her belt, which was attached to a very nice set of hips, the swing of a dark ponytail and the piece attached to her holster. His gaze lifted to rounded breasts in a polo shirt, and some very wide, very shocked amber eyes.

No fucking way.

Anna.

Two

Anna Pallino’s steps faltered when she entered the alley.

First, because she was in this godforsaken alley again, a place she hadn’t set foot in since that night twelve years ago. Now she was back again, and someone was dead in the alley. Again.

Second, Dante Renaldi was back.

Those were enough to justify the stutter in her step.

Roman greeted her.

“What the hell is this?” she asked as she caught sight of Gabe standing next to Dante. “Old-home week? Dante comes back and you three decide to have a reunion here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why am I here?” Something had obviously happened, but why would Roman call her to this crime scene? Because Dante was here?

And why the hell was Dante here?

She hated questions with no answers.

“Thought you’d want to know. That’s George Clemons back there.”

Third reason she almost tripped over her own feet. “George? Oh, my God, Roman. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

He laid his hand on her arm to halt her forward progress. “You need to know, Anna. He’s been beaten to death.”

She sucked in a breath and grabbed onto Roman, fighting to stay in the here and now. “And? There’s more. Tell me.”

She saw the reluctance in his eyes. “Tell me.”

“Someone carved a heart in his chest. Right where…” He glanced down at her shirt, at her left breast.

Oh, God. No. The heart carving just like hers. Her scar throbbed and she resisted the urge to touch it, to rub the ache away.

George Clemons, beaten just like the guys had beaten Tony Maclin that night.

She took a slow, long breath, then let it out. “I don’t understand.”

“Anna.”

Dante appeared beside her, but she had no time for him. Not now, not when her vision was nothing more than a pinpoint of light.

She had to focus on the scene and only the scene. It was the only thing that was going to get her through this.

She pushed past them both. “I need to see it.”

“Don’t,” Roman started, but she was already on her way to the body. To George Clemons, a nice man who’d raised foster children ever since he’d been discharged from military service.

And his wife, Ellen. Poor Ellen.

She knelt beside the body. Richard Norton was on the scene already, thank God. She was glad to have the chief medical examiner on this case.

“What have you got?” she asked, pulling on her gloves.

“Warm body. Based on liver temp and lividity I’d say he hasn’t been dead more than a few hours at most. Won’t know cause of death until I do the autopsy. He’s a bloody mess.”

That he was. Someone beat him badly, worse than the guys had ever pounded on Tony Maclin.

“This is interesting,” Richard said, pointing to the heart carved into George’s chest.

“Yes, it is.”

“Someone loved him to death, I guess.”

She grimaced. “So not funny, Richard.”

Richard grinned. “Hey, I thought it was one of my better lines.”

“George Clemons, our victim here, was Roman’s foster father.”

His smile died as he looked over his shoulder to where Roman stood with Dante and Gabe. “Oh. That’s a pisser.”

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“Not until I get him cleaned up and try to figure out what killed him. I don’t see any obvious bullet or stab wounds on the body, other than the carving here, but like I said, he’s a mess.”

“Okay. When will you autopsy?”

“Probably sometime tomorrow or the day after. I’ll check my schedule and let you know.”

She patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”

She stood and walked the scene, looking for evidence, then moved over to talk to the crime scene techs.

“Find anything?”

“No,” one of the guys said. “It’s like whoever did this vacuumed the place up after he was done. There’s nothing. Not even a gum wrapper. The only evidence is the victim himself. But we’re picking up whatever we can.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She turned around and there he was.

Twelve years. Twelve goddamn years and not one word.

“Anna…”

“When did you get back into town?”

So much for the reaction Dante had hoped for. If Anna was surprised or shocked to see him, she was sure masking it well.

“Couple hours ago.”

She looked to George, then back at Dante. “Just in time to kill your former foster father?”

Dante scratched his nose. He’d laugh if this whole scene wasn’t so sad.

“I think you know better than that.”

“You think I… That’s so funny, coming from you. I don’t know anything about you. You’ve been gone for twelve years, you suddenly show up here and now there’s a dead body in the alley. A body you’re connected to.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“Anna,” Roman said, “I don’t think Dante—”

“You stay out of this. You’re related to the victim. You can’t be on this case.”

Roman opened his mouth, then closed it. “Fine. You take it.”

“I intend to.”

“Here’s his cell phone and wallet. George left the house about 9:00 p.m. tonight, said he was going for a drive, but didn’t come home.”

“Is that unusual for him?” she asked.

“His wife said it was,” Gabe explained. “He wouldn’t be gone that long without calling.”

“So how did he end up here, and how did you all end up here?”

“We were with Ellen Clemons,” Dante said. “She called Gabe and me, worried about George, so we went over there to see if we could help.”

She finally turned to Dante. “And you just happened to find him here?”

“I found him via his cell phone.”

She frowned. “How?”

“I have a program on my laptop. It’s not hard if you have the right equipment.”

Her gaze drifted south for half a second, and his lips curved. When she lifted her head and met his smiling face, she seemed more irritated than ever.

“What equipment?”

“Laptop. Software.”

“I’ll need to see it.”

“Got a warrant?” If she could be difficult, so could he. She was wasting her time looking at him as a suspect.

“I can get one.”

“Then do it. And while you’re doing it, why don’t you spend some time chasing down who really killed George, because it wasn’t me.”

“He’s right, Anna. This is a waste of time,” Roman said.

She inhaled, let it out. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s my job to look at everyone.”

“You’re pissed at me,” Dante said. “I get it. I deserve it. But you’re not thinking clearly right now and you’re mixing personal stuff with business.”

Her brows shot up, then knit. She took a step toward him. “Believe me, Renaldi, I know exactly how to do my job. And if you think for one second my feelings are hurt over you, then you’re dead wrong. My job is first and foremost on my mind here, so shut up and stay out of my business.”

This was a different side to her, something he’d never seen before. She was a completely different Anna.

“Where are you staying?”

He shrugged. “Hotel, probably. I don’t know yet. I’ll get it figured out.”

“Fine.” Anna shot a glance at one of the uniforms. “Get his location and phone number for follow-up.” She jotted down notes. “What else?”

Roman handed her the evidence bag containing the drugs. “Also found this in his pocket.”

Anna’s brows lifted. “Looks like coke or heroin.”

“It’s coke,” Gabe said.

She shifted her gaze to Gabe. “You would know, wouldn’t you? Bertucci has a lock on distribution and sales in the city. You know anything about this?”

“Not a thing,” Gabe said.

What the hell was Gabe into? Dante wondered. Expert on drugs and drug dealing?

“Was he doing a drug deal here?” Anna asked.

“No idea,” Roman said. “But George didn’t do drugs.”

“So you think this was planted on him by the killer?”

“That would be my guess.”

“Okay, I’ll turn this over to Forensics.”

It was fascinating watching Anna, all grown up and in charge now, directing the forensics team, handling evidence, taking photographs and leading everyone in the scene.

She caught him watching her and shot him a look he’d never gotten from her before. A mature kind of cold inspection. He didn’t like it at all. The last time he’d seen her they’d been in love. Her looks had been warm.

But Dante had left town. So maybe she was still just a little pissed off at him about that. And maybe he couldn’t blame her for giving him an icy, hard stare.

Plus, the circumstances of them meeting each other again weren’t exactly ideal.

“That’s all for now. I have work to do.”

She walked away.

“So Anna’s a detective, huh?” Dante looked at Gabe after Roman went to talk to Anna.

“Yeah.”

“Kind of a hard-ass, isn’t she? That’s new.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, Dante.”

“I guess I have.”

He’d imagined a lot over the past twelve years, but Anna becoming a cop wasn’t one of the things he’d thought about. Her married with a couple kids, yeah. Becoming a schoolteacher or a nurse, he could totally picture. He’d even thought the worst, like that traumatic night would turn her to drugs or make her a runaway. A hundred other nightmarish things he’d never wanted to pop into his head had. And he’d taken responsibility for all of them—thoughts that had left him in a cold sweat and guilt that made his stomach feel empty and sick. But a cop? He’d never included that in possible scenarios for Anna.

She looked comfortable in the job, directing the uniforms and whispering with the medical examiner. She knelt next to the body, pointing here and there and actually touching George.

The Anna of twelve years ago would never have done that.

This wasn’t the Anna of twelve years ago.

He supposed he had the answer he was looking for. Anna was fine. She’d survived what had happened here in the alley, had moved on with her life and had become a success.

And now there was George’s murder in the alley.

What happened here?

Roman walked over to them. “You two are sprung. Dante, let me know where you are once you get settled.”

Dante nodded. “Will do.” He headed over to Anna, who stood over the crime scene techs as they worked the scene. The coroner’s assistants had wrapped the body and were putting it on the gurney.

“I have to tell Ellen.” God, he didn’t want to do that.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll go with you. I need to ask her some questions.”

“This is going to be rough for her.”

“I know it will. I still need to ask the questions.”

“And I understand that. Which is why I’ll be with her.”

“Okay. We’re wrapped up here. You two going to Ellen’s, too?” she asked, looking at Gabe and Roman.

“Yeah,” Roman said. “Since we found George, I think it’s important we’re all there for her.”

Gabe nodded. “Someone needs to get in touch with Jeff, let him know what happened. I’ll take care of that and then I’ll catch up with you at Ellen’s.”

“All right,” Anna said. “I’ll meet you all there.”

Dante thought about how he was going to tell Ellen on the drive back to the Clemons house. There was no way to prepare her for this. She knew as soon as she opened the door and saw Roman, saw Anna, saw the badge.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Dante took her hand. “Let’s go inside and sit down.”

She trembled as he put an arm around her and led her to the sofa. She sat, and Roman slid next to her. Gabe came in right behind them and took up position behind Ellen.

“You remember Anna?” Roman asked.

“Of course. How are you?”

Anna didn’t smile. “I’m fine, Mrs. Clemons. I’m sorry to have to tell you this—”

“We found George,” Dante said, interrupting Anna.

Ellen shifted on the sofa to face him. “Where?”

“In an alley off Lindell.”

Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. She squeezed Dante’s hand. “Is he dead?”

Dante nodded. “Yes, Ellen. Someone killed him.”

She reached up, covered her mouth, then burst into tears. “Oh, God. Oh, no. George.”

Dante pulled her into his arms and let her sob. Her loud crying woke the kids staying there. Roman and Anna went to talk to them, assured them Ellen was okay, but that something bad had happened to George. Coming from violent households, this wasn’t anything new for these kids. Still, Dante felt bad for them, too. Here they had hopes of a stable life. Now, their lives had been shattered again.

Ellen’s life had been shattered, too, in a way she’d likely never recover from. And there was nothing Dante could do to make this better for her.

Dante went into the kitchen to get Ellen some water. Gabe followed. “You get in touch with Jeff?” he asked Gabe.

“Yeah. He’s out of town. He’s as wrecked about George as the rest of us, and as confused about where it happened. None of this makes sense, man.”

Dante nodded. “Tell me about it.”

He brought Ellen a glass of water and box of tissues. After a while, she stopped crying and contacted a friend, who came over and collected the kids. Once they were gone, as typical for Ellen, she sat, straightened her shoulders and looked at them.

“Tell me what happened.”

Anna looked to Dante. She was giving him the opportunity to take the lead, to decide how much to tell her.

She deserved the truth. All of it.

Dante grasped Ellen’s hand. “He was beaten to death. And…someone carved a heart in his chest.”

Ellen sucked in a breath and held her hand up to her heart. “Who would do this?”

Dante wished he could tell her about the connection to that night twelve years ago. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not without betraying his brothers—and Anna.

“We don’t know yet, Mrs. Clemons,” Anna said. “But we’ll do everything we can to find out.”

“Thank you,” she said, then turned to Roman. “Will you work the case, too?”

He nodded. “They won’t want me to because George was my father, but I’ll do everything I can to be involved.”

She held out her hand and Roman grasped it.

This was family. Dante had missed it. And he’d come home too late to save it.

“There’s more,” Anna said. “An ounce of cocaine was found in George’s pocket.”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “Drugs? George doesn’t do drugs. Never did.”

“Do you have any idea why he would have had drugs in his pocket?” Anna asked. “Maybe one of the foster kids was mixed up in drugs and he was interceding on their behalf?”

Ellen shook her head. “No. None of the boys staying with us have drug-related issues. I can’t think of any reason he’d be involved in that. George was strict about no drugs in this house. You took drugs or brought any into this house, you were in deep trouble with him. He’d personally call the police on one of the kids if he found drugs. For him to be found with drugs—” her eyes watered “—it’s an insult to his memory.”

“We’re all pretty sure it was a setup, Ellen,” Gabe said, laying his hands on her shoulders. “The police will get it figured out.”

She grabbed for a tissue. “But in the meantime, they’ll put in the record that he was found with drugs on him. And that doesn’t sit well with me. George would be so hurt by that.”

She shuddered out a sob, and Dante wanted to make this all go away. He wanted to back up one more day, get here sooner. He wanted to stop all this from happening.

Could he have?

Dante didn’t want to leave Ellen, but she said her two younger sisters were coming over. There were funeral plans to be made, and he didn’t want to get in the way. They all took their leave with the arrival of her sisters. Dante promised to come back tomorrow. She grabbed him in a fierce hug.

“Don’t disappear.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. And if you need me—for anything—you call.”

She pulled back, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I will.”

They all walked outside, and Dante looked up at the clear sky. God, it was still hot out, and he had no idea what time it was.

Late.

Roman and Anna were huddled near his car, whispering. Arguing. Roman finally took off, and so did Gabe, leaving the two of them together.

Anna was about to get into her car, but Dante headed her off.

“Anna.”

Her head shot up and she pinned him with a glare, but didn’t say anything.

He’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. As a teenager, she’d been so pretty with her hair always in a ponytail, her face shaped like a heart, her skin dark in the Italian way, her eyes the color of the finest whiskey. And her mouth—he’d never truly been able to appreciate her mouth, with her full bottom lip that begged for the tugging of a man’s teeth.

He hadn’t been quite a man yet, hadn’t had the time to fully appreciate Anna, never got to see her blossom into a woman.

She was so pretty at sixteen. Now? She could stop traffic.

It had been a rough night. The kind of night when a man thought about grabbing what he wanted before it was too late.

He’d denied himself what he wanted for a long damn time. Things like home. Family.

Anna.

His jeans tightened as she stared at him and he stared back, but he didn’t think she was lusting after him the way he lusted after her, since she was probably thinking he was guilty of some kind of crime. Or maybe she thought he was guilty of a lot of sins that had nothing to do with the murder tonight.

He probably was.

“You need something?” she asked.

Loaded question. “Not really.”

“Then I need to go. I’m busy.”

She was brushing him off.

He wasn’t going to let her.

“Anna.”

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you in twelve years. Have a cup of coffee with me.”

Three

Anna’s stomach clenched. Just being in the same vicinity as Dante Renaldi again made her dizzy. His presence brought up memories she’d shoved so far into the past she hadn’t thought about them in years.

Or tried not to think about them. Tried like hell not to think about them.

Until tonight.

Coming upon that murder scene in the alley tonight and seeing Dante had stolen every breath in her lungs, had made her legs go weak. Her first instinct had been to turn around and walk away—no, run away. She’d almost called another detective in to take the scene, but she refused. This was her job. There’d be no excuse for walking. Plus, Dante, Roman and Gabe had been there and she’d needed to know why.

She didn’t like it. It had all been too much like twelve years ago, the night humid and smelling like recent rain, the asphalt streets slick and mirrorlike as she’d driven onto the scene. She’d seen plenty of dead bodies and people standing over dead bodies since she’d been on the force, had worked plenty of crime scenes with Roman. It wasn’t until she’d spotted Dante and Gabe that the shock of awareness had hit her. The familiarity had cloaked her in heavy memories she still hadn’t been able to break free from, clouding her thoughts and jumbling her normally stellar police process. She was organized and relentless in pursuit of a case. Was this fate getting back at her for her part in what happened twelve years ago?

Fate was awfully fucked up sometimes.

“Well?”

She lifted her head, found Dante staring at her.

Losing herself in thought wasn’t like her, either.

“Well, what? I said I was busy.”

“I asked you to have a cup of coffee with me.”

“I’m on duty, Dante.”

“Later.”

“I won’t be finished for a while.”

“I’ll meet you in the morning.”

She sighed, feeling suddenly tired. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“Why?” She knew it was juvenile to repeat the question. She was stalling.

“Have coffee with me in the morning and I’ll tell you why.”

And so, apparently, was he. She should say no, walk away. Maybe then he’d go and leave her alone, leave the memories alone.

But for some reason, she couldn’t let it alone. Curiosity, maybe. And maybe he had some information on George’s death. A cup of coffee and some conversation could yield some info.

“Fine. Meet me at Uncle Bill’s Pancake House at seven-thirty.”

“See you then.”

She didn’t exhale until he walked away from her and got into his car.

She climbed into hers and drove to the precinct, her body on autopilot while her mind tried to process everything that had happened tonight.

A body in the alley, killed just like the guys had killed Tony Maclin. Beaten to death. And not just any body, but George Clemons, the boys’ foster father.

A connection.

Then the heart carving, just like hers.

Shoving the thoughts aside, she drove into the parking lot of the Metro police station, turned the engine off and sat there, needing a minute or two to collect her thoughts and just breathe.