scooped up the photos and followed me to the front door.
“Monroe’s Marina in Hampton Bays. Midnight tonight,” he pressed. “Come out with me.”
“I have to work,” I insisted. “Good-bye, Mr. Rand.”
I walked briskly across the street to my Honda and slid behind the wheel. When I looked up from starting the engine, he was leaning on my car roof with one arm. My heart almost stopped, seeing him suddenly there. He’d followed me without casting a noticeable shadow. He’d stalked me without making a sound.
“Keep the hard copies, Clare,” he said, passing the photos through the open car window. “I have the digital files.”
I didn’t thank him. I didn’t say another word. I took the photos and pulled away without a backward glance. But half a block away, I couldn’t resist a quick peek in my rearview mirror.
He stood in the middle of the road, legs braced, muscular arms folded, watching me go. Seeing him like that, I couldn’t help comparing him to another man who’d watched me drive away less than twenty-four hours before—Bom Felloes.
Despite his polish, his fortune, and his absolute gentlemanly behavior, Bom had left me cold. Consequently, it had been easy to keep him on my suspect list. But Mr. Rand, however, was another matter entirely.
Regardless of my determination to remain aloof, I couldn’t deny, at least to myself, that Jim Rand, with his scruffy masculinity and wry sense of humor, was most definitely my type. And that’s why he was terribly dangerous for me to be around.
Rand was the most likely killer I’d come across yet, and I had an obligation to inform Detective O’Rourke about what I’d found. Which is why, with a final, regretful glance in my car’s mirror, I once again cursed my inability to reengineer my taste in men.
EIGHTEEN
“WE’LL question him, Ms. Cosi. Thank you for the heads up.”
“You’re welcome.”
The phone call with Detective O’Rourke had gone well, now that it had finally taken place. I had left a message for him well before our lunch shift. We were about to prepare for dinner and he’d just gotten around to calling me back.
During the call, O’Rourke had been vague and distant. But he’d also seemed genuinely intrigued to hear that I’d “accidentally” come across that diver who happened to admit being in the vicinity of David Mintzer’s mansion the night of Treat’s shooting.
Unfortunately, O’Rourke wouldn’t reveal much about the progress of his investigation. He’d implied that because I wasn’t a member of Treat’s immediate family, he wasn’t obligated to tell me anything. I countered with the reminder that I had found the body and was a key witness to some basic events including the recovery of the bullet casings.
The Suffolk County detective wasn’t too happy to be pressured, but he did politely invite me to call back again—“anytime.” I intended to do just that, especially to find out where their questioning of Jim Rand would lead them.
“Hi, Mom…Mom? You okay?”
I’d been sitting on the couch in Cuppa J’s empty break room, staring off into space after my call to O’Rourke. On the coffee table in front of me were the photos Jim Rand had given me, the photos he’d taken the night of Treat’s murder. When I realized Joy was standing there, I checked my watch. She’d arrived thirty minutes early for her dinner shift.
“Hi, honey,” I murmured. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to make up for coming late yesterday.” She shuffled her feet, crossed and uncrossed her arms. “Look, I’m sorry about fighting with you, okay? I don’t want to argue anymore.”
“Oh, honey…I’m sorry, too.” I opened my arms. She sat down beside me on the couch and we hugged.
“I want you to understand how I feel…I really like Graydon,” she said quietly. “And I really like it out here. It’s so beautiful. I hate what happened to Treat, but it was my idea to come out here in the first place. Don’t ask me to go back to the city before the summer ends.”
I brushed my daughter’s lengthening brown bangs away from her green eyes. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Mom, you want to see my driver’s license? I’m over eighteen. If I want to spend the night with Graydon or Keith Judd or any other guy, I will. I only didn’t last night because I didn’t feel right about it. I didn’t want to do it to spite you. When I sleep with a guy, it’s going to be because I want to, not because I’m trying to prove something.”
I smiled.