Still, the drill of what Hudson had told me early that morning played out in my mind. I moved into his office, heading for the monitor attached to the security system. Not only could I see who was at the front door, I could talk with them if desired. And if there was an issue, I could press a single button and the police would be called.
Since he’d assured me no one just stopped by and he hadn’t ordered anything, by the time I flicked on the camera above thedoor, my stomach was churning, full of knots.Please let it be Tim.
Gone were the grainy videos taken in black and white of the old systems. The camera was in full color, allowing me to see the beautiful woman standing with her arms full of bags. Okay, now I was confused. Her expression was one of impatience. Dressed impeccably in a tailored pantsuit and beautiful violet blouse, she was certainly stunning and completely out of place.
What unnerved me was that Tim hadn’t accompanied her to the door. That either meant he knew her or… That he was dead. The ugly thoughts refused to fade. There were female killers, maybe even someone working with the Undertaker.
“Yes?”
My single word question brought her immediate attention. She was none too happy when she peered directly at the camera. “Valentina Sciascia?”
What? She knew my name. Another set of red flags raised.
“Who are you?” My voice held the same irritation hers did.
She pulled something from her jacket, holding it up to the camera’s lens. A detective from the Miami Dade Police Department. While her credentials should provide me with comfort, Mama hadn’t raised a stupid girl. I was well aware of the lengths cartels would go to.
“I don’t know you.”
My answer was stark and just as annoyed as she seemed to be. She pulled her credentials away, clearly more aggravated than before. When she adjusted the bags in her arms, I realized they were from different clothing stores.
“I know you don’t know me, Valentina, but Hudson should have called to let you know I was coming. He asked me for a huge favor. Huge. Can I come in?”
“Where is the other officer?”
She was taken aback by my question, the camera highlighting her smirk. “He’s here.” But where?
“I need to confirm your visit with Hudson. Stay right there. If you don’t, I’ll call the police.” I was aware she was saying something when I walked away, jogging into the living room to grab my phone. Shit. He’d tried to call twice. I was surprised he hadn’t sent a black and white instead, bursting into the house to look for the bad guy.
Thankfully, he’d also texted, although he was certainly frustrated with me.
Where the hell are you? I had to call the officer to ensure you were safe. Anyway, I wanted you to know I sent a detective I’ve worked with over the years to see you. She’s doing me a favor. You can trust her. Her name is Camille Morgan.
As I returned to his office, I did a quick little text in return.
Sorry. Phone in the other room. She’s here.
I didn’t bother asking why in the hell she’d been sent. Wasn’t Tim enough security? I did a check out the window. Tim’s car was still parked on the street, but there was no sign of him.
Even though the name on her badge was the same, I had no intention of opening the door unarmed. That’s why I grabbed the first thing that I thought would protect me and my little girl.
A bronze statue.
When I opened the door, I sensed she was about ready to walk away.
She spun around, her eyes opening wide after noticing what I had in my hand. As if by her own instinct, she shifted her jacket toward her hip, revealing her weapon in a shoulder holster.
“Not to be rude, but if this is a game of rock, paper, scissors, I’ll win.”
I wasn’t certain whether to scratch the woman’s eyes out or feel as if she and I could be best buddies. At least her caustic words were some that could have come from my own mouth. “I’m sorry but I don’t trust anyone.” Tim suddenly appeared, waving as if saying goodbye.
“I can tell.” She looked me up and down before glancing past my shoulder. “Can I come in now or should we both just wait until Hudson gets home?” There was a distinct air of familiarity about how she knew Hudson.
Why was it that I had an instant twinge of jealousy? Maybe because I was in the same skirt that I’d worn to work. I had a barbeque sauce stain on the front. I was also wearing one of his tee shirts, which was woefully too big, enough that it could be a dress on me. While I’d had a shower, I knew my hair was wild given the lack of mousse and hair spray.
And forget about makeup.
She was perfect in every way, not a hair out of place even in the horrific humidity. As she adjusted the bags in her arms again, I realized I’d been staring at her.
