Page 27 of Girl Between
“How do you know where I’m staying?” she interrupted.
His dimpled grin disarmed her. “Detective, remember?”
“You’re used to that phrase getting you out of everything, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Shepard may have told me where you were staying.”
“Why?” she demanded, hands on her robed hips.
“Can I come in?” George asked.
Dana sighed, but reluctantly stepped aside, inviting George in. “Give me a minute to get dressed,” she insisted.
When she exited the oversized dressing room a few minutes later in her navy cotton pajama set, she found George seated on her sofa, a room service cart in front of him.
“Hey!” she yelled when she saw the silver domed lid had been removed from her truffle fries.
“Sorry,” he muttered around a mouthful of fries. “These are my kryptonite.”
“Mine, too,” she snapped, grabbing the plate from him. “And I hadn’t planned on sharing!”
George wiped his mouth with a white linen napkin and gestured for Dana to take a seat. Aggravation coursed through her considering he was the one imposing on her accommodations, but still, she sat.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I spoke to Jake.”
It was all Dana could do to keep her cool. “And?”
“And I asked him about your field of expertise.”
That hadn’t been what she was expecting. “What about it?”
“Shepard seems to think you’re the real deal. And that’s what I’m currently in need of.”
Dana pushed past the surge of emotion the compliment evoked. “What do you mean?”
“Today, when I stopped by your office, the mask you were examining … A case recently came across my desk,” he said. “The victim was wearing an eerily similar mask.”
Dana stilled. “A Venetian death mask?”
“That’s why I’m here,” George replied. “It seems you’re the only one who can verify that.”
She swallowed, warily eyeing the shoulder bag next to him. “Do you have it with you?”
“No. It’s evidence in an active investigation. I’d have to take you to the precinct to examine it.”
Dana shook her head. “I doubt you have the tools I’d need to authenticate it. It’d be better if you brought it to my office.”
George raised his brows. “So, you’ll help with my investigation?”
“I-I didn’t say that,” she stammered, suddenly backpedaling.
“Why not? This is what you do, isn’t it?”
“It is, or it was,” she corrected, reluctant to get pulled back into the life she was trying to escape. “My last case has made me reconsider some things.”
“Like what?”
