Page 28 of Fire on the Moon

Chapter Ten

Zane grabbed their suitcase and his equipment case and stepped into the hall where he put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. Once it closed behind him, he took several deep breaths. If you’d asked him what kind of mate he wanted, he would have chosen a woman who didn’t challenge every damn decision he made. In the next moment, he shook his head, silently admitting that he’d be lying to himself. He liked Francesca’s assertiveness. He’d like it better if he didn’t worry it was going to get her killed.

On the ground floor, he signed the contract for the new rental, a silver Chevy that looked nothing like their previous ride.

Once he’d finished the transactions, he called Francesca on the house phone and asked her to meet him at the registration desk.

“I’m sorry you could only spend one night with us,” the pretty blond clerk said.

“Yes. Next time we’ll stay longer.” He turned to Francesca. “Won’t we dear?”

“I hope so,” she answered, keeping up the happily married couple act.

Once in the Chevy, they headed south, toward Marco Island, with Zane looking frequently in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“Have you ever lived on a boat?” he asked, as they turned onto the coast road, then took Route 41 south.

“No, have you?”

“Once, when we were staking out some guys who were smuggling drugs into the country. They were coming in to a particular marina, and I rented a boat near their slip so I could watch their comings and goings.”

“Why weren’t the cops handling the operation?” she asked.

“Because the owner of the marina had been in trouble with the law earlier, and he didn’t want the authorities involved. Plus he didn’t want to be blamed for the smuggling operation. He just wanted the lowlifes out of there.”

“They’d just set up shop somewhere else.”

“Yeah, but we agreed to keep tabs on where they were going and turn the case over to the local PD once our marina guy was out of the picture.”

“Clever.”

He debated telling her more stories that would keep her mind off their current circumstances. Instead, he decided it was better to get as much information from her as he could.

“Have you told me everything you know about your uncle?” he asked.

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Francesca stifled the feeling that she was about to be interrogated. She had told him what she knew. Now she struggled to keep Zane’s question from ruffling her.

“Like I said, I don’t know much. I never did know much. He was just my dad’s brother who used to get together with us on holidays.”

“You only saw him at Christmas and Easter?”

“That was just a kind of shorthand answer. He was around at other times.”

“For meals, or did he have business with your dad?”

“Maybe for business. When he came over, my mother would invite him to eat with us. When we cut off all communication with the people we’d known, he disappeared from our lives like everyone else.”

“Was he married?” Zane asked.

That stopped her. “Good question. He used to bring a woman he called Aunt Marjory with him, sometimes. I don’t know if they were married or what happened to her.”

“I’d like to get a line on her. I suppose her name’s not Marjory Lucci, although it could be.”

“She might not have been his wife, but she was defiantly—intimate with him.”

His head snapped toward her. “You were eight. How did you know?”

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