“Officer Blackstone!” Dixon called over his shoulder to one of the policemen working the scene. “I need you to grab two uniformed officers and follow me to—” He rattled off the information Chrissy had given him. Then he said to Wolf and Chrissy, “The way word travels on this island, she may already know we’ve got Williams and Hernandez in custody. If I were her, I’d be looking to run.”
Chrissy stood. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Dixon shook his head, obviously not understanding when Chrissy’s jaw was set at that particular angle, there was no dissuading her.
To save the detective the brunt of her sharp tongue, Wolf stepped in. “After everything she’s been through the last twenty-four hours, I think she’s earned the right to look her would-be executioner in the eye. Don’t you?”
A muscle in Dixon’s cheek twitched. Wolf could tell the man didn’t want to drag along a couple of civilians while apprehending a perp. But he eventually relented with a breathy sigh.
“Fine. But I want you two to stay in the car the entire time.” He pointed a finger at Chrissy. “Do I have your word?”
She crossed her heart and held up two fingers.
Seven minutes later, they were outside Jill’s house, staying put in the back of Dixon’s car—as promised—while the detective and the uniformed police officers stormed through Jill’s front door.
Chrissy rolled down the window to get an unencumbered view, and Wolf was glad for the ventilation. Dixon’s car was filled with greasy fast-food bags and half-empty coffee cups. It smelled about how one would expect.
“Hey.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Chrissy’s ear, loving the delicateness of that tiny shell. “I’m so sorry about all this.”
She nodded and swallowed noisily. But her face was turned partly away from him so that her lashes concealed her eyes and her stony expression hid her thoughts.
Then she went stiff as a board when Jill was frog-marched down the front steps of her porch by the officers. Wolf could feel the tension, the anger and betrayal, vibrating through her. But she didn’t say a word as Jill was led to one of the waiting police vehicles.
He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms. To shelter her from the pain of this moment. But knowing Chrissy, she didn’t need comfort. What she needed was closure. She needed toseeJill on her way to jail.
“Don’t look at me like that, Chrissy!” Jill called before the officers could shove her into the cruiser’s backseat. “You remember what it was like after Hurricane Wilma! The whole island was underwater! I lost everything! The house. The boats. Funding for my kids’ college educations! When someone came along offering me a way out, I took it! You would’ve done the same thing. We’re the same, you and I! Both businesswomen trying to make it in a man’s world!”
Chrissy’s voice was quiet but crystal clear. “We’renotthe same, Jill. One of us is a lying, murderous bitch. And the other one is me.”
Attagirl,Wolf thought with no small amount of satisfaction as Jill was crammed into the police vehicle. There was a sense of finality when the door slammed shut with a pleasant-soundingthunk.
Detective Dixon came to stand beside the open back window of his car. Leaning an arm along the roof, his tone sounded jaded. “She was packing a bag full of clothes and cash when we burst in on her. Headed to a non-extradition country, no doubt.”
Chrissy shook her head. “She’s known me since I was a little girl, and yet she didn’t blink at the thought of having her goons kill me. What does that say about me?”
“We are defined by our actions toward others,” Wolf quoted. “Not by others’ actions toward us.”
Chrissy offered him a wan smile. “That fortune cookie thing of yoursdoescome in handy sometimes. Well”—she heaved a big sigh and glanced up at Dixon—“I guess that’s that then. The warehouse mystery is solved. We can all go back to our former lives now.”
“Not so fast.” Dixon made a face. “There’s just one more thing.”
“Ha!” Wolf crowed. “You said it. You actually said it.”
Chrissy turned to frown at him. Dixon ducked down into the window to do the same. “Huh?” the detective asked.
“Columbo’s catchphrase,” Wolf explained.
Neither Chrissy nor Dixon seemed to have a clue what he was talking about. “Never mind.” He shook his head. “What’s the one more thing?”
“I need you both to come down to the station so I can take your statements.”
Wolf groaned. After every mission, he’d had to write and file a report. It seemed the world revolved around paperwork.
“Can we do it tomorrow mornin’?” he asked hopefully. “I don’t know about Chrissy, but I feel like someone set me on fire and tried to put me out with a hammer.”
Dixon took a second to consider, then nodded. “Fine. Now, give me a minute. I need to talk to Officer Blackstone and then I’ll drop you both off at Miss Szarek’s place.”
Once the detective walked away, Chrissy turned to Wolf. The shirt she’d been given was printed with the letters WTF. Beneath them were the words:Welcome To Florida.
