Part 14 (1/2)

”I guess the Northrops are those people you're always hearing about who shouldn't throw stones,” she added.

”No kidding. Can you picture yourself living in something like that?”

”Not on your life. You can see everything right now, in the daytime. It'd be way worse at night.”

”So much for running around in the buff,” he mused, ”and there'd be nothing left to the imagination when you made love. Even worse when nature called.”

”Okay,” she said, turning off the key and handing it to him. ”Don't say I never gave you nothin'.”

”Gee, you're too generous.”

”So, are we buddies again?”

”I wanna drive it the whole rest of the day.”

She leaned over and puckered up. ”Every other trip. That's the rule.”

He gave her a quick peck, then glanced at the house. ”If we can see in, they can see out. We might lose some credibility if they catch us smooching.”

”Point taken.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the front door, which was, of course, also gla.s.s.

They watched as a woman wearing a white dress appeared from somewhere in the back of the house and hurried to the door to greet them.

She was a dignified, middle-aged lady, with long brown hair and very large brown eyes. She had a slight accent, which sounded German, when she said, ”h.e.l.lo. Won't you come inside?”

She ushered them into the living room and gestured toward a large white leather sectional sofa. ”Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Mr. Northrop will be with you in a moment. May I get you some refreshment? Something cold to drink perhaps?”

”No, thank you,” Savannah said. ”We're fine.”

But Savannah wasn't fine at all, she decided as the maid left them and walked toward the rear of the house. In fact, she was really dreading this conversation.

It was never easy to speak with those who had recently lost someone close to them. That difficulty was compounded if the loss had been a result of violence. Then, to that terrible mix, was the additional misery that William Northrop himself had recently been a victim of an attack.

Savannah knew all too well what that was like.

But being aware of all these sad factors was little preparation for the emotional jolt she felt when Northrop descended the stairs and stood before them.

He was a tall, thin man, perhaps in his midforties, with hair that had once been dark but was now silver on the sides. It was cut in a gentleman's conservative style, which made Savannah think of high-ranking politicians' hairstyles.

He was wearing black silk pajamas, leather slippers, and a robe of thick, luxurious charcoal cashmere-the exact evening attire she'd imagined that Ryan Stone wore . . . that is, before she'd become a married woman and sworn off such fantasies.

He could have stepped directly from his exotic gla.s.s house straight onto the glossy cover of any men's fas.h.i.+on magazine. Except for his eyes.

They were an unusual shade of pale gray that Savannah had never seen before. But that wasn't what startled her.

What she found unsettling was how terribly red and swollen they looked. If the eyes were the windows of the soul, this man's soul had been destroyed.

When he and Savannah looked at each other, she felt a chill sweep over her.

She could recall a few times-but only a very few-when, for a moment, she might have felt as empty and completely joyless as this man did. But, thankfully, those periods had been brief. Her world had righted itself and life was good again.

But as she looked into William Northrop's eyes, it occurred to Savannah that the damage to this man's life was too great for him ever to recover fully. The wound to his soul appeared totally devastating and permanent.

She held out her hand to him. ”Mr. Northrop,” she said, ”my name is Savannah Reid. This is Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter. We're so very sorry for your loss.”

”Thank you,” he said, his verbal response as weak as his handshake. ”I was told you might be coming. Won't you sit down?” He motioned to the white leather sofa.

Savannah and Dirk sat as directed.

Northrop walked over to a chrome chair. He slowly, carefully, and stiffly sank into it. One of his hands was clasped against his belly, on his right side just below his waist.

Savannah knew the routine. She, herself, had moved exactly that way while recuperating from her wounds. As she watched him, it was as though she could feel every searing pain in her own body all over again.

”It'll get better with time,” she told him, thinking how lame and trite the words sounded. ”The physical pain, at any rate,” she added in an attempt to be completely honest.

”So my doctors tell me,” Northrop replied.

Dirk cleared his throat. ”Excuse me, sir, but a moment ago, you said you were told we might be coming around. May I ask who told you that?”

”Charlotte La Cross. Or, I guess I should say, Chief La Cross. It's hard to call her by her t.i.tle when we've been friends for so many years.”

Oh, great, Savannah thought. He's bosom buddies with Dragon Lady. Just what we need.

”Did she mention that my wife and I saw your wife . . . saw what happened to her?” Dirk asked.

Northrop grimaced and put his hand quickly to his belly. ”Yes. She said you were eyewitnesses.”

”We were,” Savannah added. ”I'm sorry to say.”

”I'm sorry for you that you had to see it.” Northrop closed his eyes for a moment. Savannah wondered what he might be envisioning behind his lids. ”But for Amelia's sake, I'm glad you were there.”

He took a deep breath and struggled for his next words. ”I don't think I could have stood it if I'd heard she died alone. I'm glad you were with her when she . . .”

Savannah nodded. ”If it's any comfort to you, I believe she pa.s.sed peacefully . . . under the circ.u.mstances. She didn't appear to be in pain or in a lot of distress.”

A sob caught in his throat and he pa.s.sed his hand over his eyes. ”Thank you for that. I was wondering, but I couldn't ask.”

”I understand. And there's one other thing,” Savannah added, ”it may give you comfort to know that her last words were about you.”

”Really? What did she say?”

Savannah decided not to tell him that she had been asking the woman for the name of the person who had killed her. Or that she had denied it was him. ”Just your name. She spoke it several times.”

”I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Northrop said. ”I should have been there to protect her.”

”You can't protect somebody from bullets,” Dirk said.

A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment.