The words came out in a rush. She felt her face flush and wanted to look away, but she kept her gaze steady, judging his reaction. When she didn’t see condemnation in his eyes, she went on,
“As far as I know, he never killed anyone.” She followed that observation with a nervous laugh. “I guess he beat some guys up when he was ordered to. But he was into robberies mostly. He got caught by the cops highjacking a truckload of cigarettes. Once they had him in custody, they used leverage against him. He ended up ratting out some of his friends because he didn’t want to go to prison and leave me and my mom. He got into the witness protection program and also a training program where he became a plumber. We lived a middle-class life where nobody knew his real background.”
Again Zane didn’t interrupt, and she went on. “I was only eight when Dad went straight. I really don’t even remember his old life. I just used to hear my parents talking about it, sometimes late at night when they thought I was asleep. They had to leave their whole family behind and take on new identities. Mom died a few years ago, and now Dad’s got Parkinson’s disease. It’s gradually gotten worse, and he’s in a nursing home. He’s been talking about how much he missed his brother. And I decided to come down here and see if I could arrange a visit. I mean, when Dad’s dead, he won’t be in the program anymore. What harm could it do to let him see his brother one last time?
She gulped. “That’s how I got myself into this mess.”
She had dreaded admitting her shameful family background. Instead she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Even better, Zane Marshall hadn’t told her he didn’t want to get involved, and he hadn’t thrown her out.
Still facing her, he said in a steady voice, “And shortly after you arrived, men came into the house, killed your uncle, and tried to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know why?”
“I told you, I haven’t had any contact with him since I was a little girl.”
“Was your uncle in the mob, too?”
She set the mug on the counter. “I don’t know. It wasn’t like he and dad discussed their business where I could hear them.”
“Your last name is Turner—like your dad’s?”
“Yes.”
“But before he went into the witness protection program, it was the same as your uncle’s—Lucci?”
Her head jerked up. “How do you know his name?”
“TV coverage of the fire. After the house burned, it was all over the news last night.”
She smacked her forehead. “Oh, right. It would be. Nothing like pictures of a house burned to the ground to generate interest.”
“How did you know where to find him?”
She flushed slightly. “I used one of those online services that locates people.”
He started to ask her another question, when a series of beeps interrupted him.
Cursing under his breath, he strode into the living room, opened a cabinet, and pulled out some kind of electronic device. When he flicked a switch, a monitor screen came to life. It didn’t seem to be showing any kind of program, just a static picture of some trash cans. He flicked the switch again, and the view changed. This time she saw the path that she’d come up with Zane when he’d led her off the beach. On the stepping-stones was a man creeping along the side of the house, gun in hand.
As she drew in a quick breath, Zane changed the scene again. This time she saw shrubbery and another armed man moving along at a crouch.