Homeport

graffiti, where was the glee? This had been done in rage, and with purpose. And he had a hunch it was going to circle right around on them.
    “Let’s get out of here.”
    “I have to check the other sections, see how extensive the damage is. If they got to the chem lab—”
    She broke off, shoving her way through the mess with the terrible idea of a gang of young hoods with a volatile supply of stolen chemicals.
    “You can’t fix it,” he muttered under his breath, and started after her. When he caught up, she was standing in an open doorway, staring, swaying.
    Giovanni had kept his promise, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He lay on his back, his head twisted at an odd angle and resting in a dark, glossy pool. His eyes, open and dull, were fixed on The Dark Lady, who lay with him, her graceful hands and smiling face covered with blood.
    “Sweet Jesus.” It was as much prayer as oath as Ryan jerked her back, forced her around so that she stared into his eyes instead of at what lay in the room beyond. “Is that your friend?”
    “I . . . Giovanni.” Her pupils had dilated with shock and her eyes were as black and lifeless as a doll’s.
    “Hold it together. You have to hold it together, Miranda, because we might not have much time. Our fingerprints are all over that bronze, do you understand?” And the bronze had recently graduated from forgery to murder weapon. “Those are the only ones the cops will find on it. We’ve been set up here.”
    There was a roaring in her ears—the ocean rising up to strike rock. “Giovanni’s dead.”
    “Yeah, he is—now stand right here.” For expedience sake, he propped her against the wall. He stepped into the room, breathing through his teeth so as not to absorb the smell of death. The room reeked with it, and the smell was obscenely fresh. Though it made him grimace, he picked up the bronze, stuffed it into his bag. Doing his best to stop his gaze from locking on the face staring up at him, he did a quick search of the wrecked room.
    The David had been heaved into a corner. The dent in the wall showed where it had struck.
    Very smart, he thought as he pushed it into the bag. Very tidy. Leave both pieces and tie it together. Tie it right around Miranda’s neck like a noose.
    She was exactly as he’d left her, but now she was shaking and her skin was the color of paste.
    “You can walk,” he said roughly. “You can run if you have to, because we’ve got to get out of here.”
    “We can’t—can’t leave him. In there. Like this. Giovanni. He’s dead.”
    “And there’s nothing you can do for him. We’re going.”
    “I can’t leave him.”
    Rather than wasting time arguing, he caught her up in a fireman’s carry. She didn’t struggle, only hung limply and repeated the same words over and over like a chant. “I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him.”
    He was out of breath by the time he hit the outside door. Still, he shifted her weight, opened the door only far enough to give him a view of the street. He saw nothing out of place, but the back of his neck continued to prickle as though it felt the business end of a blade.
    When they were out in the rain, he dumped her on her feet and shook her hard. “You don’t fall apart until we’re out of here. Put it on ice, Miranda, and do what needs to be done next.”
    Without waiting for her assent, he pulled her around the building and down the street. She slid on the bike behind him, held on so that he could feel the jumping skip of her heart against his back as he drove through the rain.
     
    He wanted to get her inside quickly, but forced himself to drive through the city, taking narrow side streets at random to be certain they weren’t being followed. Whoever had killed Giovanni might have been watching the building, waiting for them. He was reserving judgment on that until he managed to get the full story out of Miranda.
    Satisfied there was no tail, he parked in front of the hotel. He gathered his bags, then turned to push the wet hair out of her face. “You listen to me. Pay attention.” He held on to her face until her glazed eyes focused. “We have to cross the lobby. I want you to walk straight to the elevator. I’ll handle the clerk. You just go and stand by the elevator. Understand?”
    “Yes.” It felt as if the words came from somewhere over the top of her head rather than out of her mouth. Words floating there, meaningless and confusing.
    When she walked it was like swimming