Page 64 of Suzanna's Surrender
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Lilah wiped her cheeks dry. “Max?”
“I’ll come with you.” He slipped an arm around her waist as Coco led Bianca’s daughter from the room.
“Poor little girl,” Suzanna murmured, and let her head rest on Holt’s shoulder as he drove away from The Towers. “To have seen something so horrible, to have had to live with it all of her life. I think of Jenny—”
“Don’t.” He put a firm hand over hers. “You got out. Bianca didn’t.” He waited a moment. “You knew, didn’t you? Before Colleen told us the story.”
“I knew she hadn’t committed suicide. I can’t explain how, but tonight, I knew. It was as if she was standing right behind me.”
He thought of the sensation of having a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she was. After a night like this, it’s hard for me to convince myself the picture falling off the wall was a coincidence.”
Suzanna closed her eyes. “It was beautiful, what your grandfather wrote about her. If we never find the emeralds, we have that—we’ll know she had that. To love that way,” she said on a sigh. “It hardly seems possible. I don’t want to think of the tragedy or sadness, but of the time they had together. Dancing in the wild roses.”
He’d never danced with her in the sunlight, Holt thought. Or read her poetry or promised her eternal love.
When they reached the cottage, Sadie leaped out the back window of the car to race around the yard and sniff at the flower bed Suzanna had planted for him. When Holt leaned across her, Suzanna looked down in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m opening the door for you.” He shoved it open. “If I’d gotten out to do it, you wouldn’t have waited.”
Amused, Suzanna stepped out. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When he reached the house, he unlocked the front door then held that open. Keeping her face sober, Suzanna inclined her head as she slipped past him.
“Thank you.”
Holt just let the screen slam shut. Brow lifted, Suzanna scanned the room.
“You’ve done something different.”
“I cleaned it up,” he muttered.
“Oh. It looks nice. You know, Holt, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you think Livingston is still on the island.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
His response was much too abrupt, Suzanna noted and moved casually around the room. “No, I’ve just been wondering where he may be staying, what his next move might be.” She ran a fingertip down one of the candles he’d bought. “Any ideas?”
“How should I know?”
“You’re the expert on crime.”
“And I told you to leave Livingston to me.”
“And I told you I couldn’t do that. Maybe I’ll start poking around on my own.”
“Try it, and I’ll handcuff you and lock you in a closet.”
“The urban counterpart to hog-tying,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t have to try it if you’d tell me what you know. Or what you think.”
“What brought this up now?”
She moved her shoulder. “Since we have a little time to ourselves, I thought we could talk about it.”
“Look, why don’t you just sit down?” He pulled out his lighter.
“What are you doing?”
