Luca sighed. “It won’t do any good to tell her it was a dumb thing to do.”
“Wasn’t going to try.”
Luca and Tate exchanged a look, probably their first that wasn’t a hostile stare down.
“I’ll go finish with the rental car then.” Luca looked at Stephanie. “Can you just sit there until I get back?”
“I’ll try,” Stephanie said.
Tate reached over and picked a sliver of paper from her hair, smoothing the dark silky strands into place. Soft and fine, just like he remembered.
She pulled back and finger combed her hair into some semblance of order. “I’m sure I look ridiculous after rolling around the airport floor.”
“Nope. Same as always. Raindrops on roses.” As the words left his mouth, his face flushed hot. Had he really said that? His mother always maintained that the most beautiful thing she could think of was raindrops on roses, and when he and Stephanie were together, it was his favorite way to tell her in his clumsy fashion how gorgeous she was. Gorgeous, perfect, different...and not his anymore. They were strangers, now and forever. He felt her eyes searching his face as he turned away, awkward as a teen boy.
He moved aside, pretending to look over the crowd, but inside blood pounded an erratic rhythm in his veins. Go, do something, anything. He pulled out his phone to check for messages he knew weren’t there, then he strolled to the drinking fountain and sucked down some water. When he looked back again, he was relieved to see Stephanie deep in conversation with Luca. The slip hadn’t meant anything to her. Nothing at all.
The cops arrived to take her statement. She didn’t give them much. They were traveling on business; the would-be thief was a stranger. She provided a number where they could call with any follow-up questions, and that was that.
Luca and Stephanie retrieved their bags, and the three headed outside into the hot southern California air to pick up their rental car. Tate arranged to follow in the truck he’d borrowed from Gilly. After only a few paces, however, Stephanie stopped them both.
“I just figured it out.”
“What?” both men said at once.
“The guy who tried to take my laptop.”
“You said he was a stranger,” Luca said.
“He is, but I’ve seen him before.” Her dark eyes danced in thought. “I remember cutting around his van in traffic.” She looked at Tate. “When we left Bittman’s mansion, right after he flew off with Dad.”
Tate’s eyes widened. “I thought he seemed familiar.” He snapped his fingers. “The hair. It was Bittman’s pool guy. He followed you from San Francisco.”
“Who is he?” Luca grimaced in thought. “Someone Bittman hired to keep tabs on us?”
Tate shook his head. “Seems like he wouldn’t have his flunkies interfere. What good would that do? His pool guy might be working against him.”
“Why?” Stephanie’s expression was grave. “Who even knows the violin still exists?”
Luca’s face was grave. “Is it possible Bittman was right about what happened all those years ago at his father’s shop? About the arsonist?”
“Not just an arsonist,” Tate said. “Remember, the fire killed Bittman’s brother.”
“He’s returned and he’s after the violin. The person who has it might be able to finger him for murder. He wanted my laptop to see if we’d found anything that could help him.” Stephanie felt her pulse pound. “I think we’d better get moving.”
Tate was already on his way to the truck. “I think you’re right.”
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