hill toward the area where they would wait for the bus to pick them up. A group of elementary students crossed the street at the crosswalk, and a little girl about seven years old stooped to entice a cat to come to play until she was hurried on by the worker bringing up the rear.
Nothing changes, he thought. When his sister had been a student here a little over three years ago, the same two boys played football, the same couple held hands—everything was the same. Then he shook himself. Of course everything wasn’t the same, but it sure did bring back memories.
Memories that brought the pain of his sister’s death to the surface one more time, along with the resentment of his parents’ just moving on as if nothing had happened, as if his world hadn’t been ripped apart. A week after her funeral, his parents had left to tour Europe. Sure, they’d asked him to go with them, but he’d been shocked at their plans, had thought they were crazy, insensitive, unfeeling.
Forcing his thoughts from the past, he concentrated on watching for the one person he hadn’t been able to push from his mind.
Marianna Santino.
And then there she was. Coming out of the cafeteria, her heavy wool skirt swaying against her endless stretch of legs. The baby-blue, cable-knit sweater only enhanced her dark beauty. She had her raven-colored hair flowing around her shoulders and down her back, just as she had two days ago.
His palms suddenly itched, curious to feel what it would be like to let that hair flow through his fingers. Curling his traitorous hands into fists, he told himself to focus. He was here on a case, not a date.
And soon she would be gone from his sight. Where was she going? Climbing from his car, he followed her. She was on her BlackBerry, texting someone, her fingers flying over the keys. Totally focused on her task, she kept her head down, never looking left or right—not exactly the best defensive walk. But then she wasn’t the one who needed to be on the defensive; Suzanne was the one who’d been killed.
He wondered how Suzanne had walked. Probably like Marianna, completely unaware of her surroundings. The thought chilled him.
“Marianna!”
She didn’t turn. Instead, she flipped her phone shut, pulled open the glass door and slipped inside the building. Closing in fast, Ethan saw her enter the third classroom on the right.
Reaching the door, he entered after her. Her desk faced the door and she stood behind it, pulling a box from a drawer. “Marianna?” He moved farther into the room.
Looking up, she gasped. “Oh, Detective O’Hara.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. And it’s Ethan.”
“Ethan, then. And it’s all right.” She held up a shoebox. “I’d forgotten to give this to Josh to take home last Friday, and with all the craziness this week, I forgot to give it to him today. He loves to bring me computer parts each week. I believe in recycling, so I was just going to rush down to the bus pick-up area and give it to him.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you. I’ve got a few questions to ask if you don’t mind.”
She blew out a sigh, grief crossing her flawless features for a brief moment. She shut the drawer and walked around the side of the desk. “I don’t mind. I can’t think of anything I haven’t already told you, but maybe your questions will jar something.”
Together, they walked back to his car, with Marianna greeting various staff and students along the way. When they reached his vehicle, he drove her around to the where the buses picked up the students and she hopped out. Ethan stayed put and watched her approach an on-duty staff member. She asked in sign language while voicing, “Cleo, has Josh already gone?”
Cleo signed back, “Yes, his bus left about five minutes ago.”
Marianna sighed, hands gracefully forming the words, “Oh well, it wasn’t anything major, just his box. I guess I’ll save it for next week.”
“You want me to keep it until Monday? I have to go back to my classroom anyway, so I don’t mind.”
“Sure, thanks.” Marianna handed over the box of treasures with a dimpled smile, then walked back to climb in Ethan’s car. “Do you want go up the street to the coffee shop to talk?”
“Sounds good to me.”
The sooner he got this investigation out of the way, the sooner he could start thinking about asking Marianna Santino out on a date. Maybe. If he thought his heart could handle it.
Ice Cream and Coffee Beans, home to tasty milk shakes and fresh-brewed coffee. Sandwiches could be ordered, too. Marianna chose a peanut butter shake with whipped cream. Ethan decided on a chocolate one, sans the white topping, and a club sandwich.
A plain, no-frills kind of guy, she thought. Nice. He kept his beard trimmed close and his mustache neat. A well-shaped mouth with firm lips smiled at her through the facial hair. Sometimes it was hard to read the lips of people who hid them behind beards and mustaches, but not Ethan. He was an easy read. His lips anyway; his eyes were another story.
He said, “I can’t believe you went to work today.”
Taking a sip of her milk shake, she relished the sweet richness on her tongue for a minute before swallowing. “I had to.” She leaned back against the booth. “I love my parents, and my mom would like nothing better than for me to come home on a permanent basis, but one day was enough.” She gave a wry smile. “And Joseph was driving me nuts.”
“Your brother?”
She nodded, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the strength that he exuded. “He’s an FBI agent who works in New York. He works a lot of missing person cases. It’s the first time he’s been home in almost a year, and he gets confronted with this. I told him to stay out of it, but don’t be surprised if you get regular calls for updates from him.”
“Not a problem.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she asked, “So, what kind of questions did you have?”
“Catelyn and I were hashing over the case and we realized there was only one car in the driveway—yours. Where’s Suzanne’s?”
Marianna furrowed her brow. “Oh, I’d forgotten all about that. It’s in the shop getting new brake pads. She was supposed to pick it up yesterday. Since we live so close to my school, I let her use my car to drive to work and I just walked.” She rubbed a hand across a forehead that was beginning to ache. “I’ll have to call her parents and let them know to go get it.”
“I’ll take care of that. I also called Suzanne’s school. They said she arrived on time Tuesday morning and signed in but left early because she was sick. We do know that she signed out at four minutes after ten. Assuming she didn’t stop anywhere because she felt bad and wanted to get home and go to bed, I think it’s safe to say she probably arrived home around ten-fifteen. The murder happened shortly after that.”
Grief cut into Marianna. She didn’t want to think about it anymore but was determined to do whatever it took to catch Suzanne’s killer.
Running a hand over her hair, she smoothed it down around her ears, a habit she’d picked up two years ago. Curt Wentworth, her ex-boyfriend, hadn’t
