Page 11 of Red Flagged

It was, however, the best he’d been able to do at short notice, what with hiding from hardened criminals and wanting to keep Daniella alive without going into witness protection. They could still go, the offer was open, but neither of them wanted to run away to Wisconsin or Vermont.

There was truth in Daniella’s words, though. The two-bedroom rambler was nothing like the beautiful Tudor home Daniella had lived in with her mother or the condo Dante owned in Portland that was now gathering dust. He hadn’t even returned home to pack his belongings. Life was on hold until the depraved scumbags who’d murdered Simone were dead or behind bars for the rest of their lives.

“Daniella,” he began sternly, wishing the coffee maker would hurry the fuck up, “we have to be watchful. Even here in tiny Cooper Springs, someone we don’t want to might recognize you or me.”

Someonehadrecognized Dante, but he refused to let the infuriatingly sexy police chief hijack this conversation. All thoughts of André Dear, please exit stage left. It was too fucking early.

It was possible that Simone’s murderer didn’t know what Dante looked like, or even that Simone had a brother. She had been a busy prosecutor, and Dante had been working undercover. But now the killers did know that Simone had a kid.

As little as he and Dani had talked about it, Dante knew the timeline of the evening.

Not wanting to interrupt if it was one of Simone’s work colleagues, Daniella had paused on the landing. From her vantage point, she’d been able to see the two men on the other side of the threshold and had watched in horror as one of them raised a shotgun, aimed it at her mother’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

Daniella had told Dante it felt like all the oxygen was sucked out of her lungs, like she was suffocating and exploding at the same time, and that she probably couldn’t have screamed even if she had wanted to. But she must have made some sort of noise.

The man holding the gun had taken a step into the entry, his attention on Daniella frozen in the shadows. He’d probably intended to take care of loose ends, but a late-night jogger had run by on the sidewalk in front of the house. The good Samaritan must have sensed something was wrong because he stopped, came back to the end of their walkway, and then called out.

The shooter had pointed two fingers first at himself and then toward Daniella. Both men then escaped across the lawn and into the night. They were still at large. The killers’ heads had been covered with knit caps and they’d worn anonymous black clothing, but Daniella reported she had seen parts of the shooter’s face. She’d spent hours with a sketch artist, but what she remembered hadn’t led to an ID or even a suspect.

“We could be recognized anywhere!” Daniella cried, bringing Dante back to the present. “I go to school. What about someone seeing me there? I just want to hang out with friends. I can’t live in... in a jar all the time. And Romy’s nice.”

A jar? Dante side-eyed the coffee maker, wondering if there was a Fast setting he’d missed. He needed all the caffeine in his bloodstream now.

“She invited me to sit at her table during lunch, and all we’re going to do is watch TV and stuff.”

Why the hell was locking Daniella up in her room frowned upon, anyway? How did parents deal with releasing their children into the wild where anything could happen to them?

“Please?”

Those damn eyes. Dante was going to cave. He was going to say yes, she could go to her new friend’s house after school. His niece was right. It was impossible to protect her at all times. He had an obligation to his dead sister to keep her child safe, but also happy too. Daniella was the only family he had left, and he damn well wasn’t letting anything happen to her. Literally over his dead body.

Those pleading brown eyes.

“Okay.”

“Yes!” Daniella spun in a circle, ending her dance with a fist pump toward the ceiling.

“But”—he jabbed his index finger toward her—“you do not go anywhere else. You don’t pass Go. You don’t collect two hundred dollars. No car ride with someone except me. No impulse trip to the mall. No changing your mind and going to a different house. I need all Romy’s contact information and I need to talk to her parents. And you have to remember not to talk about your mom or Portland. Those are the rules.”

“Zio... there’s no mall in this town.”

“No stopping at the pizza place after school.”

That’s where a lot of high schoolers hung out after classes. Dante figured it was because the food was cheap, not because it was good. Cooper Springs needed decent pizza.

His niece eyed him. He stared back. Seeming to realize her uncle wasn’t budging on this, she sighed. “Fine. I agree. Romy’s dad is the shop teacher at school, Mr. Barone. He’s not some serial killer.”

Ah, yes. Dante recalled meeting Barone at The Steam Donkey when news had broken that a kid had found bones up on the mountains. His first impression was that Barone was an alright guy. The man hadn’t screamed criminal to him—or serial killer, for that matter. But then, serial killers often hid in plain sight.

“Have your friend text you her dad’s phone number and addressbeforeyou go over there, then forward it to me. And I’ll be picking you up promptly at nine.” That was the other drawback of this town. The cell service was terrible.

Internally, Dante rolled his eyes at himself. How the tables had turned. At her age, Dante had been out late, sometimes all night, and never bothered checking in with his family. At her age, he’d thought he was invincible and smarter than everybody else. Simone had been out of the house already. Truthfully, Dante crashing with his friends had been a survival tactic.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Thank you, Zio.” Daniella dipped her chin and did a weird shrug thing that Dante couldn’t interpret.

“Thank you for what?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

The caffeine machine continued to burble and spit but the magicit’s donelight hadn’t turned green yet. He was sorely tempted to grab the carafe and pour some into his waiting mug. But the last time he’d done that, the machine hurled hot water and coffee grounds all over the kitchen counter and floor.

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