Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11), Kristi Belcamino [ereader with dictionary .TXT] 📗

brought out a tray of drinks and everyone reached for one. Then he brought out two bottles—one of tequila and one of whiskey. We all had several shots. Once again, I thought about how different everything was in Europe. In the states, a room full of grieving friends or even possible suspects wouldn’t be served drinks.

As soon as she downed hers, Hannah immediately rushed to the bathroom. A police officer stationed at the door to the living room initially tried to stop her, but Ryder scolded him in French. The officer stepped aside, but followed her down the hall. Another officer immediately took his place. I didn’t like that.

Were we prisoners here?

I stood and headed for the study. A burly guy in a gray police-issued sweater stood there looking bored.

“I need to speak to the commissaire.”

When I was led into the study, I was pissed. “Listen, your men are following us to the bathroom? What’s up with that?”

I stood before him with my arms crossed.

I had no idea what the rules were here in France, but this was utter bullshit.

I’d been trying to be helpful, but this was too much. Not to mention, every time I walked into the kitchen, I still could see Lucas’s body by the side of the pool. All by itself.

“And what the fuck? Do you just let bodies sit there and rot in the sun?”

The detective started to roll his eyes but then said, “It’s complicated. He is not French, no?”

“No,” I said in an irritated voice.

“We have the coroner submitting a report and notifying American embassy about procedure and other details. It’s very complicated. International.”

I chewed on that for a few seconds. “Fine. But I refuse to be treated as a prisoner or a suspect in my own home.”

“Your own home?” He raised a thick black eyebrow.

“Whatever. The place I’m renting.”

I walked out.

Instead of going into the living room, where everyone was staring morosely at their phones, I went into the kitchen. Ryder was there, perched on a bar stool and typing on his laptop keyboard. I wondered what the hell he was doing all day long on his computer. I thought he was a bodyguard or something. I got a quick glance at his screen. Aha. He was writing something in a Word doc.

For some reason, I found him less annoying, knowing that.

Without a word, I reached for the tequila bottle, poured a shot, downed it, and poured another. I reached over to a cigarette pack on the counter and extracted one. Before it had barely touched my lips, Ryder put a lighter to it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“How long is this going to take?”

He turned away from the computer to face me. “It seems like they’ve done everything they can here. I’m not sure.”

I slumped on a bar stool. “I just want to be alone, but now he’s saying that they have to stay here for at least twenty-four hours. Not that I’d have the heart to kick them out anyway. What the hell? They are so young. And their friend was just killed. Maybe murdered.”

“Have they determined that?”

“The detective won’t say shit, but yeah, that’s what I think is going on. But I seriously can’t imagine one of these kids killing their friend. Is there any way someone could’ve got in? Like up the canyon behind the house.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Yes. It is possible. Very ambitious. But possible.”

“Here,” Ryder said, pushing a plate of olives and cheese toward me. “Eat something.”

I idly picked at the plate and ate one green olive and a slice of cheese and pushed the plate back at him.

“Ha!”

“I’m not hungry.”

He eyed me. “I didn’t think you were one of those ridiculous girls who don’t like to eat.”

I gave him a disparaging look. “Hell, no.”

“Then eat.”

“There’s a dead body within my view. I think that’s a pretty damn good excuse not to eat right now.”

He shrugged. “Eh? Probably.”

Just then there was a ruckus in the other room: voices and footsteps and doors opening and closing. I stood up.

Lucas’s body was no longer out by the pool.

They’d finally taken it away.

Ryder grinned at me. “Now you have no excuse not to eat.”

I made a face.

The detective poked his head into the kitchen.

“We are done here. I just told the others that they’ll need to remain here for another day or so until our investigation is complete. I have confiscated all of their passports.”

I stared at him, daring him to ask me again for mine. He didn’t.

“Was it an accident?” I said.

“No,” he said. “It appears to be a homicide.”

10

Everyone had retreated upstairs when the police had packed up and left. But as night fell, people slowly emerged from their bedrooms.

Ryder had gone home after I refused his offer to stay and provide protection.

“It is my job,” he said. “I am a highly paid private security officer. I will stay for free.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically but followed it with a grin. “I think we’ll be okay.”

He chewed on his lip for a second before replying.

He reached into a briefcase and took out a small gun.

“I’d feel better if you kept this on you and slept with it near your bed,” he said and slid it across the counter toward me. “I assume you know how to use it.”

I glanced down at it for a second and nodded.

The detective had refused to tell us the cause of death. Maybe Lucas had been shot. After all, my gun was missing along with my silencer. That might have been the sound that woke me. It had only been twelve hours. It felt like a lifetime.

I had napped in my room most of the early evening. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was. I was a loner, and simply having all these people in my space would’ve required some down time, but dealing with a dead body and trying to keep everyone consoled since I was the closest thing to a parental figure in the house? It had drained me.

It had