I Love You More: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

that’s okay.” I addressed Mack. “Do me a favor, will you? Take this young lady to her bedroom and keep her company for a while. Play a game or something.” I had no idea what girls that age played with. Mack’s face wasn’t the only one that registered disapproval.
    “Fine,” the kid said. “I’ll give you a tour.” There was no mistaking her defiant tone.
    I looked through the sliding glass doors just beyond the vic’s body. The sand castle was within eyesight. It looked safe enough. “Why don’t you go on out. I’ll meet you there.”
    “Mama, I’m going down to the beach, okay? I won’t be far.” She pried her mother’s hand loose, set it gently down on her lap, rose, took a step, hesitated—
    “Don’t worry about your mama,” I said. “Detective Jones and I will take good care of her.”
    She exited through the side door, her expression blank as she passed by me. I could barely hear her footsteps on the wood deck as she rounded the house and headed down the stairs.
    “I’ll do a quick check of the rest of the house,” Mack said.
    I gave my attention back to Mrs. Butterworth. “We’ll need you to sign your statement once we get it typed up, but otherwise I think we’re done here. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” Mrs. Butterworth didn’t seem too keen on leaving.
    “Clara,” a deep, commanding voice said from behind me. So Melvin had lungs after all. “Time to go.” An order. Ex-military?
    Her body shot to attention. She extended her hand to shake mine. I didn’t take it. There’s nothing cordial about a murder scene. “Oh, well, all right then. I have your card if I think of anything.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Thank you, Detective.”
    “Thank
you
, ma’am.”
    Melvin all but dragged his wife out the door.
    Mack emerged from the hallway. “Vic’s name is Oliver Lane. Thirty-eight years old. Business card says he’s some sort of lawyer. Wife’s name is Diana.” He nodded toward the sofa. “Thirty-six. She’s carrying a passport but I couldn’t find a driver’s license. Looks like they live in a small town called Hollyville. My phone says it’s over there by Cape Fear.”
    “What about the kid?”
    “Picasso, according to this mystery book.
I Is for Innocent
. My wife loves Sue Grafton.”
    “Picasso? Like the artist?”
    “Spelled the same way.”
    “Any luck on the murder weapon?”
    “Nope. Once the CSIs have done their job and the body’s gone, we’ll get some boys in here to tear this place up.”
    “Maybe the intruder took it with him or dumped it. Make sure they search any nearby trash receptacles and bushes. There’s some high grass in that field across the street.”
    When I turned my head in her direction, Diana Lane’s eyes met mine. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten she was there, a man could never forget a woman like that was in the room, but her despondence had fooled me into thinking she wasn’t listening. Tears ran down her face. She leaned forward, put her head in her hands, started to sob. Her entire body shook. The towel fell from her shoulders. Her wet swimsuit didn’t do much to hide her curves, her breasts, her erect nipples. Goose bumps rose on her arms. I took off my suit coat, wrapped it around her shoulders. She leaned into me, closed her eyes, dipped her head slightly forward. Without thinking, as ifI’d been doing it my entire life, I sat, took her in my arms, held her while she cried. Mack’s expression was blank, controlled, but however hard he was trying to hide his disapproval, it was palpable. I released her, straightened, stood, nodded at Mack, as if to say,
I know, I know, I lost it there for a moment
.
    “Is there somebody I can call?” I handed her my handkerchief.
    She dried her eyes, blew her nose. “I don’t have family here. I don’t have family at all. Just Oliver and Picasso.”
    “Are you okay to answer a few questions?” I asked, trying to regain my business voice. “Or we can talk