told herself. She was sure of it.
ROSE GARCIA GOT UP every morning and ran five miles no matter the weather. This morning it was drizzling. That’s what she got for living in Seattle.
At the time she’d moved here, rain had seemed enjoyable compared to the winters where she’d grown up, in North Dakota. Her family had been Spanish royalty at some point, but her great-grandfather had gotten into trouble in Spain, been forced to catch a boat and light out for a new life. On the boat, he’d befriended some Norwegians and ended up a general store owner in North Dakota.
Rose stretched on the porch, listening to the drizzle turn to full-fledged rain as she prepared for her run. She loved living in Beacon Hill and had bought the house cheap because of the depressed area. But with the cost of houses around Seattle now, Beacon Hill was making a comeback. People like her were buying up the older houses and renovating them.
She’d done the work herself, watching those home improvement shows for tips. The guys she worked with made fun of her, but she could swing a hammer better than most and she was hell on wheels with a power saw.
She stretched her other leg, then quit stalling and bounded down the porch steps. As her luck would have it, the rain began to fall even harder. She ducked her head, burrowing down in her jacket, determined to do five miles even if it killed her.
It almost did.
A car came around the corner, moving too fast, as she was crossing the street. She lunged out of the way, feeling the bumper just miss her. The car’s tire dropped into one of the potholes in the road. A wave of muddy water splashed over her, making her feel like a drowned rat.
She swore at the retreating car, noticing that it was black and expensive. The downside of an improving neighborhood, jerks like that one, she thought, and resumed her run, not worrying anymore about getting soaked by the rain.
LORENZO DANTE GLANCED back in his rearview mirror at the runner he’d almost hit, and cursed her. Stupid health nuts. Why didn’t they join a gym like normal people? Or better yet, buy equipment and stay home?
Not that he wasn’t already in a bad mood. And then to have some stupid pedestrian almost dent his rental car… He swore and slammed his fist on the steering wheel. Damn Jenna to hell and back. This was all her fault.
He was so angry he missed Rose Garcia’s house address the first time and had to turn around and come back, circling the block, driving down the alley.
It was a small house. There were potted plants on the porch, checked curtains at the kitchen window, a red-and-white Mini Cooper out back. A house that said a woman lives here—alone.
But still he drove around the block a couple more times before he parked down the street. This didn’t feel right. Franco and the woman who lived in that neat little house? Didn’t add up.
Finally, taking his umbrella, he walked through the pouring rain up the steps to her porch and knocked softly, thinking she might still be in bed, since the car was out back.
No answer. He knocked a little harder, then surreptitiously peeked into her mailbox by the door. No mail. Glancing in a window, he saw that the place was neat, freshly painted, nice hardwood floors, modest carpets but well tended.
This was definitely not the kind of woman who would have dated Franco. Lorenzo wondered if he was dead wrong about her. But how could he be, after what she’d said when he’d called her number? She’d been expecting Franco to call her. She’d been worried about him. Had stayed up half the night. Sounded like a girlfriend. One who had Franco on a short chain.
Lorenzo double-checked the address, but remembered that she’d also sounded about the right age. Late twenties, early thirties.
He tried the number on Franco’s cell phone for her. The phone rang and rang inside the house. No answer. She wasn’t home. Someone must have picked her up.
He walked around back, and almost started to break into the rear door, but something stopped him. What if she had an alarm system? He decided a window was safer and, using his elbow, knocked out a pane.
No audible alarm went off as he reached through and unlatched the window. He shoved it up and, cleaning off the jagged glass, stepped through, annoyed his