Conviction of the Heart Read Free

her attention, as well as that of Mr. Wachowski. Coming up the steps from the sidewalk, almost as though he were riding a white steed, was Nick Sansone. He ascended to the step where she stood, then took one more step, so he was almost directly between them. His trained eyes flicked between her to the man on the stairs above her and back.
    “Everything all right here?” he asked.
    Where had he come from?
    Suzanne eyed Wachowski. His pale blue eyes never released her gaze, but she thought she saw doubt in them now. What did he have in his pocket? It could be a gun. It could be a wallet full of family photos. She cleared a throat that had tightened beyond speech and took a deep breath. “I think everything’s fine. I believe Mr. Wachowski was just leaving.”
    Wachowski studied Sansone, jaw working as he decided what to do. Nick wasn’t in uniform, but something about him conveyed an air of authority. Even Suzanne could feel it. Nick must be over six feet tall, those five or six inches’ difference always forcing her to look up at him, putting her at a disadvantage.
    What was he doing here—just when she needed him?
    The other man coughed and took his hand out of his pocket. It was empty. “Yeah. Yeah, I was just going home. It’s been a damned long day.” Wachowski looked at her a long moment, then turned and walked away, taking a diagonal path away from them down the steps. He didn’t look back.
    Suzanne breathed a sigh of relief. Nick didn’t miss it.
    “So there was more here than met the eye,” he said, scrutinizing her face. “What did he have in his pocket?”
    Was there any point in ignoring him? No doubt the man was an expert interrogator. He might even be better than Suzanne herself. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
    “Did he make any threats?”
    “No.” She looked down at the traffic passing by, something concrete and normal. Not like angry litigants with potential weapons. Or attractive police lieutenants.
    “I can have someone investigate if—”
    “It’s fine,” she said, an edge in her voice pitched to the end-of-discussion level. “We were in court all day. We’re both tired. Can we leave it at that?”
    He searched her face for more clues, apparently finding none. “All right. You know him, I don’t.” His alert stance relaxed, just a little, but his eyes were warm with concern for her.
    Why was he worried about her? Annoyance provoked her sharp tongue. “You’re here late,” she said.
    “So are you.” His attention moved away from her, and he watched the street below them, particularly in the direction Mr. Wachowski had gone.
    “Two people, after hours in the courthouse, at the same time. Heck of a coincidence.” She started walking down the steps.
    He followed her. “Not really. I was waiting for you.”
    An imaginary grasshopper twitched to life in her stomach. “You need a divorce lawyer?” she asked without turning around. She didn’t want him to see her expression.
    “Not at all. I was just heading down to Mama Rosa's for some lasagna,” he said. “I thought you might need dinner, too. Interested in Italian tonight?”
    “I was planning to go back to the office. So much to do.” A tiny voice in her heart berated her for putting him off. She even had a babysitter in place. What was the harm?
    “You have to walk the dog?”
    “No.”
    “Expecting more trouble?”
    “No!” She stopped and turned around to face him. “I can handle myself, Lieutenant. Thank you so much for your interest.”
    Then, as the traffic light at the corner changed, the noise level diminished for just a moment, but it was long enough for both of them to hear her stomach growl like a wild tiger on the prowl. She stared at the concrete steps, wishing she could disappear right through them.
    “Put my mind at ease, counselor. No hassles, I promise. Just dinner,” he said softly.
    She took a deep breath and surrendered to the hands of fate. “Just dinner.”

Chapter Three
    He couldn’t