Page 47 of Justice for Francesca

“But you think it’s something?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a hunch something’s hinky.”

“Ah. The technical ‘hink’ hunch.”

Francesca rolled her eyes. “Look, Cruz, I’ll call you if anything comes up, okay? Say hi to Mickie for me.” She disconnected the call, took another swig of her drink, then settled in to watch the street around the building as she simultaneously watched her computer continue to search.

No more than fifteen minutes later, a silhouette appeared out of the darkness, walking down the sidewalk from the north. She couldn’t see any features with the limited streetlights, but it looked to be a tall, athletic man. He was dressed all in black, just as described. What was odd was that he didn’t swing around to the backyard but instead approached the house and went to the front door. The man clearly had a key, which he used to go inside.

Francesca checked her weapon, shut down her laptop, then eased out of her vehicle. She approached the house quickly and quietly as a light appeared in a downstairs room. Looking in a window, she got the surprise of her life.

“Michael? What the hell?”

From her placein the doorway, Frankie called out, “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It hadn’t been difficult coming up on her brother unnoticed. He was so intent on his search through the desk, he was completely not paying attention.

“Frankie!”

“Michael. What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She sighed. “I really hate that phrase. Everyone says it when it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“I promise, Frankie. It’s not.” He stood up from the chair. “I know we should have told Tripoli about our relationship, and honestly, I didn’t care about him knowing, but I needed to keep it quiet.”

“Because you didn’t want our father and brothers to know you were dating.”

His hand went to his head, mussing up his normally perfectly styled hair, and huffed in irritation. “It was a helluva lot more than dating. Regardless, I have a key. I lived here until we… separated.”

“Jesus, Michael. What were you thinking? It’s not bad enough you followed in our family’s footsteps, but you decide to get in bed, literally, with the mob too?”

“Frankie, look, this really isn’t the time to go into this. For once, I need you to trust me. Youknowme, sis, or you used to. Thisreallyisn’t what it looks like. I swear to all the saints, I didn’t kill Mila, I didn’t kill Jessa, and I’m not…” His eyes pleaded with her. “I’m not what you think I am. It’s complicated, and I can’t explain, especially right now. You really need to leave. I’m begging you.”

“I’m not leaving, Michael. Do you not understand that breaking into this house makes you a suspect?”

“I just told you. I have a key.”

“That means exactly nothing. You could have stolen it. You could have made a copy of her key. Besides that, your name isn’t on the deed, so you have no legal claim. Technically, that’s breaking in.”

“St. Patrick, St. George, and the dragon,” he muttered. “Frankie. I. Loved. Her. My name isn’t on the house because we weren’t public. Ask the neighbors. I’m here all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t kill her. I have to call this in.”

This new wrinkle took her off the case once she reported it. She shouldn’t have even entered the house. Instead, she should have called Cruz.

She’d pleaded her case one last time with the SAIC when they’d met over Michael’s involvement, and the woman had threatened to discipline her if she brought up removing herself again. Now, though, with Michael the primary suspect, there’d be no other option but to ban her from the investigation. It would get her back home until she took another undercover assignment. Plus, she’d be away from Tripoli, which was totally messing with her head.

Why didn’t the idea of being off the case make her happy?

But if she were off the case, didn’t that solve her problem? Being off the case meant she was free to be with Tripoli. There might be some awkward questions at first, but since he’d been cleared for Mila’s murder, he wasn’t a suspect in Jessa’s. She’d be able to stay with him until she took a new assignment. If she wanted a new assignment. Maybe she should take some time off. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time coming to her.

Later, she would try to blame her lack of attention on Michael’s surprise appearance as the intruder, but eventually, she’d admit it was the thoughts of Tripoli that caused her to be less careful about her surroundings.

“Frankie!” her brother yelled.

The air shifted in the room, and she felt a heavy weight plow into her from behind. She resisted, but she couldn’t get the leverage to flip her attacker over her shoulder. When it became clear that neither individual had the advantage, the person must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and she felt a short,sharp, stabbing burn that ran through her body. She heard the knife slide out of her flesh, the blood, muscle, and skin reluctant to let go of the blade. Then she collapsed.

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