Page 150 of Fire and Bones

What happened next is a kaleidoscopic montage of whirling colors and figures and voices and sounds.

“Down!” A barked command.

As I dropped, Zanetti’s gun hand flew up.

“Who the fu—!”

Before hitting the floor, I caught a flash of a cylindrical object arrowing toward Zanetti’s skull. A rolling pin? A baton? It was all too fast to register. All I really understood was that Zanetti’s massive upper torso was lurching sideways.

Head covered with both arms, I listened to scuffling, cursing, gagging, and panting. The thud of flesh and bones slamming tile.

Finally, quiet.

I held in place for what seemed an eon but was probably less than a minute.

Then I mustered the courage to look up.

Zanetti was lying prone, arms above his head like a teller on a bank floor during a heist. Two uniformed cops hovered over him, one clutching his baton, both with hair in disarray and breathing hard.

A third cop stood just inside the door, weapon drawn and trained on the big man’s chest.

CHAPTER 34

ONE WEEK LATER

MIDDLEBURG, VIRGINIA

It was another warm and balmy southern night.

The distant woods had gone a deep wooly gray. Closer in, wooden fences threw looping shadows around acres of paddock and lawn.

Now and then, an owl hooted, a horse whinnied. Otherwise, the only sound was the industrious chirping of crickets.

Ryan and I were relaxing on the balcony of our suite. Sipping café au laits and watching the last rays of a butterscotch sunset yield to night.

“Recovering” might be a more accurate term than relaxing. Tennis. Horseback riding. Hiking. Swimming. Winery touring. Except for the three spa sessions, our schedule had not been leisurely.

Katy had nailed it. Given the stress of the previous weeks, the Salamander Resort was exactly what Ryan and I needed.

We’d talked frequently about the events in DC. Especially as new intel trickled in. We’d be doing something unrelated—croquet, chess, dining, reading—when one of us would make a comment or ask a question.

That happened now.

“I’ve forgotten,” Ryan said. “Who was the last DOA?”

“Raelynn Krassle.”

“Zanetti’s pierced and inked twenty-something?”

“Yes.”

“He killed her because—?”

“Krassle wanted to be more than just a sometime diversion,” I replied. “When Zanetti refused to make a bigger commitment, she threatened to phone Ivy.”

“Getting busted cheating hardly seems like a motive for murder. On the other hand, preserving the chance to marry into a fortune would be strong incentive.”

“Zanetti claims Krassle’s death was accidental. That she did it to herself.”

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