Page 66 of The Lost Heiress
“I normally stay in the shallow end, where I can touch,” Ana said. “Or, you know, hence the raft.”
“That doesn’t seem safe,” Ransom said.
Ana shrugged. “If you don’t leave your comfort zone every once in a while, you never really live.”
“Yes, well, if leaving your comfort zone means potentially drowning, I’d stay put, or at least wear a life preserver.”
Ana laughed.
“Jesus Christ,” Ransom said, steering them back toward the shallow end. He felt immediately relieved as soon as his feet touched the bottom of the pool again. He steered the raft over to the side of the pool.
Ana tried to lift herself out of the raft, but she had sunk so far into it that for a moment, she struggled.
“I’m stuck,” Ana laughed.
Ransom reached in and scooped her up. She was light and small in his arms. He lifted her onto the edge of the pool, where she sat, dangling her legs into the water.
“You’re so miniature,” Ransom said. “I could put you in my pocket and carry you around.”
Ana laughed. “Stop,” she said. “I’m a perfectly normal-sized person.”
She looked at him, and he held her gaze.
He reached up and tucked her wet hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch; she didn’t look away. She looked steadily back at him. He trailed his finger down her neck, traced the curve of her bare shoulder. It was not remotely the most physically intimate thing he had ever done with a girl, but for some reason, it felt that way.
“Ana,” he said, his voice thick in his throat. “I don’t think I want to just be your friend.”
She looked up at him, and something in her eyes made him believe she felt the same way.
“But we shook on it,” Ana said. “Remember?”
For once, he didn’t care who saw, or what they thought, or the things they might say. He just did the thing that he had so often denied himself—he did exactly what he wanted.
He leaned forward and kissed her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Present
There was an incessant buzzing on Church’s nightstand.
At first, he was so deep in his REM sleep he didn’t hear it, so when he finally stirred to consciousness and grappled in the dark for his phone on his bedside table, it had already stopped. When the buzzing started up again, not two seconds later, Church rubbed his eyes and answered it without looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Detective Church,” the voice said. It was male, stilted and icy, and Church’s mind struggled to place it, still half caught in the stupor of sleep. “I trust you’ve read this morning’s paper?”
Church glanced over groggily at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Who on God’s green earth would be calling him this early? It was only 6:15 a.m., and he had had a late night. He’d been in the office until nearly 11:00 p.m., reviewing case files.
“You talked so much about the integrity of this case, Detective,” the voice went on. “The last time we spoke, you went on and on about how you couldn’t share any details with us so as to protect the sanctity of the investigation, did you not? So imagine my surprise when I opened mypaper this morning to see all the things you could not tell us printed there in black and white for all to read.”
“Senator Towers?” Church said, his mind finally catching up with him. He coughed to clear his throat. “I’m sorry—I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“The paper,” the senator said, the irritation evident in his voice. “TheSan Luis Obispo Herald. They printed it this morning.”
Church sat hurriedly up in bed. He put his phone on speaker so he could see his screen and thumbed opened a browser. He quickly googledSan Luis Obispo Herald Saoirse Towers.
The headline struck him like a cold slap to the face:New Lead in Saoirse Towers Case: Was the Second Unidentified Body Staff?
