Page 14 of The White Picket Fence

“And then you said?” Tino asked.

“I said I’d talk to you about it. Which I now have. She does seem like a nice woman from her social media.”

“You stalked her socials?” Tino asked, not really shocked.

“Only a little. And you can’t be mad at me because I’m pregnant.”

Tino laughed. “Goodbye, Sophie. Have fun at the doc’s. If you get a new sonogram photo, I want to see it.”

“Deal.” She hesitated. “Be careful, Tino. With your heart, I mean. I don’t want this Charlotte person hurting you again.”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” Tino said. “And neither is she. We can be friends.”

The words stabbed at his chest, just as they had when she’d said them at the diner over lunch.

Vito sighed. “Do the sketch for the victim and walk away, brother.”

“I will. Bye now.” He ended the call and leaned his head back into the soft sofa, remembering the haunted look in Charlotte’s blue eyes when she’d told him about her attack. She was not okay.

He knew he wouldn’t walk away. He couldn’t. Not as long as she needed him.

Besides, they were having dinner together tonight. He was very glad he hadn’t shared that fact with his brother and Sophie.

Squaring his shoulders, he dialed Nick Lawrence’s cell phone.

“Tino! Did you see Mrs. Johnson?”

“Yeah, I did. Did you know that I knew her a long time ago?”

Nick sucked in a startled breath. “I didn’t. How?”

“She was my high school art teacher.”Rip off the Band-Aid, Ciccotelli.“And her niece was my prom date.”

Charlotte had been so much more than that, of course. She’d been his everything.Until she left you. Don’t forget that she left you.

“Well, shit.” Nick hadn’t lost his southern drawl, even after having lived in Philly for years. He still drew “shit” out to at least three syllables, sometimes four. “Is this going to impact your ability to get a sketch?”

“No. I didn’t finish this morning because Mrs. Johnson needed her pain medication, which made her sleep. I’ll go back this afternoon and try again. The reason I’m calling is, did you know that her niece was a recent victim of an assault in Memphis?”

“No. I didn’t. Neither of them mentioned it. You think it’s connected?”

“No, but I want to be sure. The guy who hurt the niece is in prison. Can you verify that he’s really still there?”

“Of course. Thanks for the lead. So, Tino, I have?—”

“No,” Tino said firmly. “If this is about the nice lady from Albuquerque, then no. For the love of all that’s holy,no.”

Nick made a grumpy sound. “Sophie narced on me.”

“She did. Let the matchmaking thing go, Nick,” he begged. “Please.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just want you to be happy.”

He sounded so wounded that Tino had to smile. “I know. I’ll be happy if you leave me alone. Let me know what you find out, okay? The niece is Charlotte Walsh. At least that was her last name when I knew her.”

He hadn’t asked if she’d changed it when she’d gotten married or after the divorce.

“Still is. I’ll make some calls. Let me know when you have that sketch. We got an image of Mrs. Johnson’s attacker from a neighbor’s security camera, but the guy wore a hoodie and we couldn’t see his face. He left no trace of himself behind. That’s why we were hoping you could get a sketch. The old lady is the only person who saw him clearly.”

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