Page 126 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

Might as well try and get a little more sleep herself. Maybe she would even dream about that poor blonde woman’s attacker again. If she did, and if she happened to hallucinate once more upon awakening, Jules would note every detail of thatpsychopath’s face so the police could figure out who he was and lock him up forever.

CHAPTER

FOUR

Dante stood over the sink,munching on the piece of toast smeared with jam that he’d made himself for breakfast. After snatching a couple of hours of sleep once he’d returned home from meeting with Jules at the station, he was headed back into work for his shift. Hopefully the sugar hit—washed down with a cup of high-octane coffee—would carry him through the day.

He swiped his hands together over the sink, and then reached for his personal phone, which he’d left on the counter to avoid being disturbed.

Three emails in his inbox—two from his eldest sisters half apologizing for interfering and setting him up with someone so clearly wrong for him and half accusing him of being too closed-minded for his own good.

Dante rolled his eyes before checking the third email. He straightened abruptly. Jules? Had she remembered something about the perpetrator? He grabbed his cup of coffee as he hit the screen with his thumb. After taking a mouthful, he scanned her words and nearly spit his coffee into the sink. The guy she’d witnessed callously strangling the life out of a woman had shown up at her house? When? Had he tried to get inside?

Dante checked the time she’d sent the message. 5:10. Almost two hours ago. Was she okay? He’d give anything to be able to call her, but he only had her email address. He dumped the rest of his coffee into the sink, dropped the mug in after it with a clatter, and then strode toward the door. In thirty seconds, he had slid behind the wheel of his car, entered her address into the GPS, and squealed out of the driveway.

Thankfully,she only lived fifteen minutes from him. Dante made it there in twelve, slamming on the brakes as he pulled to the curb. All appeared quiet in the neighborhood. Too quiet?

His stomach in tight knots, he jumped out of the car and jogged to the front door of a little bungalow with white siding and blue shutters. If everything was fine and Jules was finally getting a little sleep, it was too bad to wake her. Dante didn’t care. He had to make sure she was all right. Maybe the perpetrator was even still here.

That slowed his mad dash to get to her, and he stilled, his knuckles an inch from her light-blue door. If there was any chance this was a hostage situation, he couldn’t go barreling in without a little reconnaissance. Stepping closer to the door, he rose onto the toes of his sneakers to peer through the stained-glass window at the top. The room on the other side was slightly distorted and bathed in color, but he could make out Jules curled up on her side on a couch, wrapped in a white blanket.

No crimson splatters or anything to suggest she might have been attacked. Not that there would be, if the killer had gotten in and strangled her like he had the other woman. That thought chilled the blood in his veins. He needed to talk to her. Dante lowered his heels to the wooden porch before rapping on the door.

Then he raised himself up again to look through the window. Jules was sitting up, clutching something in her right hand. Was that a knife? If the situation wasn’t so dire, he might have grinned. Doubtless their perp would have found it harder than he’d anticipated, going after her. Something told Dante that Jules Adler would never go down without a fight.

He lifted his hand in greeting, although he had no idea if she could make out his features through the stained glass. If all she could tell was that a man stood outside her door, him raising a hand could be taken as a threatening gesture. Dante lowered it to his side.

Jules unwrapped the blanket from around her the way she had in the interrogation room. Then she shoved the knife under the couch cushion before pushing to her feet and crossing the room to the door.

When she pulled it open, she was tucking her hair behind one ear. The short, flippy style suited her. So did the color, a brown-gold he couldn’t quite put a name to. None of which was relevant to the case. He nodded curtly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jules stepped back. “Come in.”

Dante brushed by her, and she closed the door as he turned to face her. “I got your message. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Actually, I feel kind of foolish, dragging you over here.”

“Don’t. I want to know everything that happened.”

She sighed. “I need coffee before I get into it. Do you want a cup?”

Mama Mona would ground him for sure if he was late for work again, but there was no way Dante was turning down that offer. “Sure.” He slid off his jacket and tossed it onto an armchair near the door as Jules headed for the kitchen area.

Wandering over, he settled on a stool at the island, watching as she measured grounds into the filter and added water to thereservoir. Once she’d flipped the switch on the machine, Dante clasped his hands on the counter. “Want to tell me about it?”

Jules glanced down at herself. “Do you mind if I get dressed first?”

He grinned. “Actually, I like the shirt.No Coffee, No Talkeeis my motto in life as well. But sure, go ahead if you’ll be more comfortable.”

She nodded before disappearing into a hallway that had to lead to the bedrooms and bathroom. Dante tugged the work phone from his uniform shirt pocket and sent a quick message to his superintendent to let her know that he was talking to a witness in the murder investigation. No need to add that he was at said witness’s home having coffee—she would not be impressed. Even so, he’d bought himself a little time.

He tugged out his personal phone and scanned the messages. A text from his third sister—his Irish twin, since she’d been born in January and his birthday was December that same year—who was still floating in the bliss of her first year of marriage to Dante’s brother-in-law. Unfortunately for Dante, that meant she was trying the hardest of the three of them to get him matched up. Her message was definitely more on the chastising than apologetic side. He grinned as he pocketed the phone.

As much as they might drive him crazy, he adored his sisters and knew they loved him and were only looking out for him. After all he’d been through—which they understood more than anyone since they’d walked with him every step of the way, and he doubted he would have made it without them—all they wanted was for him to be happy. Something he had to remind himself over and over when they stuck their little noses into his business.

Speaking of business… Dante looked up as Jules padded into the kitchen in her bare feet. She had changed into jeans and a black T-shirt with a backdrop of flames and the wordsFireFighting is Hotscrawled across it. Well. Although he absolutely should not think of her that way, he couldn’t disagree with the sentiment.

Jules looked a little more awake than when she’d left the room. Given the damp strands of hair, she’d splashed cold water on her face. He waited as she went straight to the coffee machine and poured them both a cup.