Murder Deja Vu

stuff…not so much.”
    Lana soft-punched him, embarrassed. “Frank. What will Dana think?”
    He took Lana’s arm with one hand, a cane in the other. “With all this talk, she’ll think, where the hell is Reece?”
    Dana laughed. “You’re a bad boy, Frank Vance.”
    He winked. “I hope so.”
    They left Dana fighting off tears. She went to the window and peeked from behind the curtain, staying out of view. Frank and Lana slowly descended the stairs, searching the area in a natural manner. Dana figured Frank turned on his cop antennae, second nature to a man who’d spent most of his life either on the lookout for cops or inside prison. Lana might have been looking too, but her attention focused more on helping Frank. As they moved from the inside street to the pedestrian crosswalk, cars stopped to let them pass.
    Lana had opened the windows. Today, the air smelled like the ocean. People jogged along the promenade, the waves of high tide crashed onto the seawall. Farther down, the shoreline narrowed into a stretch of beach that led to an island. Nahant, Frank called it, attached to Lynn by a causeway. On the horizon, a rock jutted out of the ocean like a giant leviathan. Dana thought it looked like a half-submerged elephant, its trunk curled into the water.
    She didn’t see anyone suspicious. No one lurking in cars or on the walkway across the street. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. She watched as Frank and Lana strolled to a spot in front of the seawall and settled on the bench, two older people enjoying the day. Lana turned around and faced the building, shaking her head, indicating an all clear.
    Dana thought about the last year. From Robert’s nasty exposure of her affair to the accusation against Reece to the two people across the street she had grown to care about in such a short time. Some wounds had healed. Robert could no longer threaten her with exposure, and she didn’t lose her sons in the fallout. She’d met Frank and Lana, a window of opportunity that would be closed later, at least concerning Frank. But, oh, the joy of knowing him.
    And Reece. He had stolen her heart, and she’d given him hers. Still, questions remained that needed answers, mysteries that begged solutions.
    She checked her watch. Almost an hour since Reece called. She wished she’d asked where he was and how long it would take him to get back. Frank and Lana still sat on the bench along the promenade. Going that distance must have exhausted him, and he needed time to harness the strength to return. Then she noticed a dark car pull up in front of the house—the kind of unmarked car that law enforcement drove. Two dark-suited men got out. One adjusted the bulge under his jacket. Every muscle in Dana’s body tensed. They glanced up at the window while climbing the steps to the front door. Fortunately, she stepped back out of sight in time.
    She heard the buzzer. Again. Insistent. If they pressed other buzzers, someone would let them in. And then what? Should she hide in the closet? Panic filled her. She tried to listen through the drumbeat in her ears. A woman’s voice called out the window from an upstairs apartment. Dana heard her clearly.
    “Across the street, on the bench,” the woman said.
    Dana figured the other tenants must know Frank had company. Did they know who, or were they minding their own business?
    The men returned to the front stoop and pointed across the street. Dana stayed back, afraid even the slightest movement might call attention to the window. They descended the stairs and made their way across the two streets, dodging between cars whose drivers hit their horns. One screeched to a stop an inch before hitting them. The men waved their fists in the air, but it only inspired fist-waving back and one vertical digit.
    The two suits reached the other side and stood in front of Frank and Lana. The bigger of the two took something out of his jacket pocket that flashed in the setting sun. Lana stood in a protective stance; Frank didn’t move. When he did, he struggled to his feet, leaning on both the cane and Lana’s arm. He pointed to the apartment.
    What was he doing? Inviting them to search the place? Calling their bluff would be just like Frank. Dana couldn’t make out their expressions from that distance, but she saw Frank lunge into a coughing fit. Lana leaned into him and pushed one of the men away. They nodded and left, repeating the same death-defying navigation of the main road.