The Hidden by Heather Graham Page B

forehead. If you get one again while you’re here, let me know. I’m a good migraine nurse.”
    “Thank you,” Gwen said.
    Diego drained his cup and said, “Thanks so much for the coffee and the company.” He smiled as he stood. “This is the first time I’ve been anywhere around here, so Scarlet’s going to show me around a bit.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Linda said, and the others expressed similar sentiments.
    “And nice to have you G-men—and a G-woman—around,” Charles added.
    “Thanks,” Diego said, as Scarlet got up, too, and said her goodbyes.
    His hand at her back, they walked out together. She was stunned to realize how much she’d missed that simple touch; Diego had a natural ability to simply touch her or put his arm around her in a way that was...
    Not possessive, not exactly. He didn’t push or pull. He had always just touched her gently, a way of saying they were together that made her feel warm and wanted.
    She reminded herself again that she was the one who had chosen to leave. She’d left because it had seemed clear to her that his work had come first and always would, but in hindsight she could see that so much of what had gone wrong had been her fault. She’d wanted to respect his work. She’d never wanted to become the little wife sitting at home, worried and always asking for reassurance or more of his time. She had told him that she was fine, and she’d really thought it was true.
    But in reality she hadn’t been fine at all. In trying not to be weak she’d tried too hard to be strong and lost what mattered most: the trust and emotional intimacy of a loving marriage. She’d never told him when something was really important. She’d waited for the right moment to tell him about the baby, when she realized now that the right moment would have been anytime she’d excitedly blurted out her news.
    But after losing the baby, she had simply been too hurt to see clearly and to know what to do. Escape—from both Miami and her marriage—had seemed the only way to erase the pain.
    But he was here now, and she was glad of his reassuring presence, because frankly, she was flat-out scared.
    Of a mannequin?
    Or of a murderer?
    “Curious,” he said when they were outside.
    “What’s that?”
    “Ben Kendall not wearing his hearing aids and watching some shoot-’em-up cop show at the time of the murders. And really, Gwen couldn’t hear anything but Charles?”
    “Do you really think someone at the house could be involved? Maybe the killer just used a silencer,” Scarlet suggested.
    “No silencer, that much I’m sure of,” he said, deep in thought. “So a number of people checked out after it happened, right?”
    She nodded. “I’m sure you can get a list of their names from Trisha.”
    “Good. Brett and the others can interview them. I doubt they were involved, and I don’t blame them for leaving, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be investigated anyway. But, for now, let’s go see this museum of yours.”
    Scarlet unlocked the door and they went on in. She turned on the lights and stood by the door, watching as Diego walked from one end of the room to the other, stopping to study the different figures and look in the display cases.
    “Quite a collection of guns,” he said.
    “It is,” she agreed.
    “We’ll get a locksmith in here this afternoon,” he said.
    “Pardon?”
    “A locksmith,” he told her. “I don’t know if a mannequin can move on its own or not, but no matter what, I think it will be a good idea to change the locks.”
    “Okay. But we’ll have to tell Ben. Or ask him, really. He does own the place,” Scarlet reminded him.
    “Of course,” he said.
    He had just about finished his walk-through when there was a knock at the door. She turned around to open it, but Diego was at her side before she had a chance to.
    “You don’t just do that,” he said, his tone harsh.
    “It’s broad daylight,” she protested.
    “What? You think people