Risky Business by Nora Roberts Page B

porch. She carried a baseball bat.
    â€œYou are the police.” She nodded, satisfied, when Moralas showed his identification. “I am Señora Alderez. She’s inside. I thank the Virgin we were home when she came to us.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Jonas stepped inside with Moralas and saw her. She was sitting on a patched sofa, huddled forward with a glass of wine in both hands. Jonas saw the liquid shiver back and forth as her hands trembled. She looked up slowly when they came in, her gaze passing over Moralas to lock on Jonas. She stared, with no expression in those deep, dark eyes. Just as slowly, she looked back at her glass.
    â€œMiss Palmer.” With his voice very gentle, Moralas sat down beside her. “Can you tell me what happened?”
    She took the smallest of drinks, pressed her lips together briefly, then began as though she were reciting. “I came home at sunset. I didn’t close the front door or lock it. I went straight into the bedroom. The shades were down, and I thought I’d left them up that morning. The cord wasn’t secured, so I wentover and fixed it. That’s when he grabbed me—from behind. He had his arm around my neck and a knife. He cut me a little.” In reflex, she reached up to touch the inch-long scratch her neighbor had already cleaned and fussed over. “I didn’t fight because he had the knife at my throat and I thought he would kill me. He was going to kill me.” She brought her head up to look directly into Moralas’s eyes. “I could hear it in his voice.”
    â€œWhat did he say to you, Miss Palmer?”
    â€œHe said, ‘Where is it?’ I didn’t know what he wanted. I told him he could take my purse. He was choking me and he said, ‘Where did he put it?’ He said Sharpe.” This time she looked at Jonas. When she lifted her head, he saw that bruises were already forming on her throat. “He said the deal was off and he wanted the money. If I didn’t tell him where it was he’d kill me, and I wouldn’t die quickly, the way Jerry had. He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know anything.” She spoke directly to Jonas. As she stared at him he felt the guilt rise.
    Patient, Moralas touched her arm to bring her attention back to him. “He let you go?”
    â€œNo, he was going to kill me.” She said it dully, without fear, without passion. “I knew he would whether I told him anything or not, and my daughter—she needs me. I slumped as if I’d fainted, then I hit him. I think I hit him in the throat with my elbow. And I ran.”
    â€œCan you identify the man?”
    â€œI never saw him. I never looked.”
    â€œHis voice.”
    â€œHe spoke Spanish. I think he was short because his voice was right in my ear. I don’t know anything else. I don’t know anything about money or Jerry or anything else.” She looked back into her glass, abruptly terrified she would cry. “I want to go home.”
    â€œAs soon as my men make certain it’s safe. You’ll have police protection, Miss Palmer. Rest here. I’ll come back for you and take you home.”
    She didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours since she’d fled through the front door. When Moralas took her back, it was dark with the moon just rising. An officer would remain outside in her driveway and all her doors and windows had been checked. Without a word, she went through the house into the kitchen.
    â€œShe was lucky.” Moralas gave the living room another quick check. “Whoever attacked her was careless enough to be caught off guard.”
    â€œDid the neighbors see anything?” Jonas righted a table that had been overturned in flight. There was a conch shell on the floor that had cracked.
    â€œA few people noticed a blue compact outside the house late this afternoon. Señora Alderez saw it drive off when she opened the