Winfield was young but strongly muscled. He clutched Spencer’s hands, lifting her easily out of the grave. He kept staring at her once she was standing by his side.
“Now you,” David told his captive. He looked at the young cop. “Might want to give this fellow a hand, too, Winfield. But keep an eye on him while you do.”
David hopped out of the grave even as Tim Winfield pulled the ski-masked culprit up to ground level. When they were all standing, a plainclothes man Spencer hadn’t met before came forward. She might not know him, but David did.
“Lieutenant,” David acknowledged.
“Mr. Delgado,” the cop said, offering him a handshake and staring at Spencer. “We’ve been after these guys for a long time. Thanks for the call.” He stared again at Spencer, taking in her black outfit, smiling.
“A new investigator on the payroll, David?” the lieutenant inquired, amused as he assessed Spencer. He was tall and lean, with thinning brown hair, but he had a decent enough smile.
Officer Winfield gasped, letting out a choking sound, then pretending to cough.
“No, Lieutenant Anderson, this is Mrs. Huntington. Mrs. Daniel Huntington.”
“Oh!” the lieutenant said, looking at Spencer in a new light. He was, she knew, wondering what the hell she was doing dressed up like one of the grave robbers.
“Spencer likes to walk at night. In strange places,” David offered.
“Dangerous places,” Anderson said, looking Spencer over very seriously once again. “How did you know that something was going to go down here tonight?” he asked David suddenly.
“I didn’t,” David answered flatly, holstering his gun as a uniformed cop came to take the grave robber away. The cop instantly began to read the man his rights.
“Then—”
“It was Spencer,” David said politely. “You see, I followed her here,” he told Anderson, watching Spencer from the corner of his eye. “It seems that Mrs. Huntington doesn’t believe that either I or Miami’s finest are really doing our jobs to the best of our abilities.”
“Mrs. Huntington,” Anderson said, and now he sounded worried, “you can’t take these things into your own hands, you know.”
“I don’t actually want them in my own hands—” she began, but Anderson interrupted.
“What were you doing here, then? Who tipped you off? What is going on?”
“I came here because…” She paused. She was never going to tell them about Willie. Never. And it didn’t matter. Audrey had drawn the same conclusion. Anyone could have. “I came because I thought the grave diggers might show up here. I didn’t want them digging Danny up.”
“And how did you intend to stop them, Mrs. Huntington?”
Spencer opened her mouth, then shut it. They were both staring at her. David was delighted to see Anderson harassing her—he wouldn’t have to do it himself.
“Yes, Spencer, just what was your intent?” David asked, his tone irritatingly polite.
She stared at Anderson. “I—”
“Withholding information from the police is against the law, Mrs. Huntington. You must know that.”
“Withholding information?”
“Where did you get your tip?” Anderson asked impatiently.
Spencer inhaled deeply. “No tip-off, Lieutenant. My secretary happened to notice the way the last wave of grave robbings made a circle around the city. All she did was read the newspaper. Maybe the police should try taking that direction on occasion!”
“Mrs. Huntington, I’m afraid that we’ll have to ask you to come down to the—”
“Anderson,” David interrupted, “I really don’t think that will be necessary. There’s nothing more Spencer can tell you, and you’ve got at least one of these ghouls to grill. Maybe your men have come up with a few more. I’ll take Mrs. Huntington home.”
“You two know each other, huh?” Anderson said.
“Not that well—” Spencer began.
“For ages,” David interrupted.
Anderson grinned. “Well, you sure do dress alike. I guess I don’t need anything more for tonight. I know where to reach you, Delgado. And Mrs. Huntington—”
“I haven’t moved, Lieutenant. I’m still at Danny’s address, and you can reach me at the same number. And I’ve been down to the station plenty of times, so I’ll know where to go if you decide you do want something from me.”
“We just want you to let us do our jobs, Mrs. Huntington,” he said, taking her hand. She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss it. She almost wrenched it away.
“Come on, Spencer, let’s go home,” David suggested.
They started walking. She resented his hand at the small of her back, but she resented Lieutenant Anderson more. Even as they started walking away, he called her back.
“Mrs. Huntington, it is illegal to trespass in graveyards at night, you know. Don’t make a habit of it.”
She swung around. “Ah, but I did catch a few crooks for you before they could chop up any more bodies, didn’t I?” she inquired sweetly.
Anderson suddenly seemed to have run out of taunts. Spencer turned and started walking again, David close on her heels. He caught her arm as they neared the wall and the row of patrol cars parked next to it.
“Spencer…”
She shook off his arm. She felt as if she were on-screen, in front of all those headlights. “So I shouldn’t have been here, David. At least something happened.”
“Hell, yes, something happened. And we could have found pieces of you all over this place in the morning.”
“It’s over, David. I just want to go home. Will you please leave me alone and let me go?”
She wrenched free and started walking again. He remained right behind her. She came to the wall and realized that the gates hadn’t been opened, all the cops had jumped in the same way she had. She reached for the wall and found herself being assisted. David’s hands were on her hips, and then his palm was on her rump, pushing her up. He leaped up beside her, dropping to the sidewalk on the other side and helping her down before she could protest.
“My car is over there,” she said, pointing.
“I’ll follow you home.”
“There’s no need for—”
“Spencer, it’s past two in the morning. There’s every need.”
“I’m sure I can get home safely. There aren’t any more cemeteries
