Page 52 of Inferno

Her throat closed reflexively, and she had to swallow against the sensation. All she could think was that eventually she would be healed. The guy would be in cuffs and the case closed. The only thing left of it would be this thing between her and Julio that seemed to have flared back to life.

As they walked through the hospital lobby to the elevator, she felt his fingers brush hers, but he didn’t take her hand.

On the floor where Mitchell’s room was, Julio motioned ahead of them. “That’s her.”

The woman had dark hair and a few inches of stomach visible below her cropped T-shirt. Her slightly rounded abdomen made Samantha wonder if she was pregnant. Had she and Mitchell made a baby together?

She’d known enough about religion at the time to know what she and Julio had done was wrong. Or at least, not in the right order—not blessed by God. But all that had done was pile shame and guilt on top of the grief she’d already been forced to carry. So that her strength buckled under the load.

Instead of finding comfort in what she knew to be true, she’d fallen apart in a mess of condemnation.

Something else she was going to have to figure out as she got to know God like a close friend, or a loving Father. Somethingshe’d never quite grasped before. He always had seemed more like a distant figure in the sky, ready to smite her for the slightest infraction.

Julio said, “This is Terri.” He gestured at Sam. “This is Detective Jesse. She’s on the arson taskforce with me.”

She stuck her hand out. “You can call me Samantha.”

The other woman grasped her hand for a second, then let go. “He really wanted to talk to you, so thanks for coming.”

Julio said, “Of course.”

He went in first, and Samantha let Terri go ahead of her, closing the door behind her just in case anyone was loitering in the hallway. She’d worked a case once where a reporter snuck around behind her everywhere and tried to listen in on all kinds of conversations to get an exclusive.

Mitchell Sylvana looked a whole lot better than the last time she’d seen him. Not just because she’d thought at first glance that he was dead, and right now with his eyes open and more color in his cheeks than before, he was most definitely alive.

The other woman went to the side of the bed and placed her fingers in Mitchell’s, standing beside him.

Mitchell looked at Samantha. “Thanks for coming, both of you.”

She nodded.

Julio said, “We’re hoping you can provide us with information about the man who attacked you.”

Samantha tugged out her phone, where she had a photo of the man who had attacked her on the street. But she didn’t show it to him yet. “Do you believe you’re still in danger from him?”

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” Mitchell said. “While he beat me, he told me everything.”

TWENTY-ONE

Julio studied the man lying in the hospital bed. And the body language between him and Terri—most likely his girlfriend. That made him wonder if anyone thought the same about him and Samantha. Whether someone could tell from looking at them how they felt about each other.

He wasn’t sure anyone else could tell how much strain she was under. Samantha kept a tight lid on her true feelings, refusing to let anyone know how she really felt. But even without the bruising on her neck, he would have been confident she needed someone with her. Just for support.

Whether she really was the target of this arsonist, or someone else looking to get payback—or simply an unfortunate set of circumstances and mistaken intentions—didn’t matter.

He was here for her.

Samantha showed Mitchell the screen of her phone. “First of all, could you tell me, is this the man who attacked you?”

Probably a photo of the guy that also attacked her. Bill Morrison. The one Julio had put cuffs on, something far more satisfying than he’d expected. Then again, it wasn’t more satisfying than putting out a fire or being there to savesomeone’s life. The fact it involved Samantha and keeping her safe probably made a difference.

Mitchell shook his head. “No, that’s not him. I don’t know that guy.”

“You’re certain?” She asked. “He wasn’t wearing a mask, or some other kind of face covering?”

“I saw his face. I know exactly what he looks like, and that’s not him.” He stiffened, shifting on the bed. Whether the pain was a result of his injuries or remembering what happened to him didn’t much matter. Either way, he’d have to deal with it until it healed and the memories faded.

Samantha slid her phone back into her pocket. “He said he told you everything?”

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