The Eyes of Darkness

the cemetery, circle around, and approach the place from the rear."
    "We will approach it from the rear," she said.
    "No."
    "Yes."
    "You'll wait here," he insisted.
    "No way."
    Pale light from a street lamp pierced the windshield, revealing a hard-edged determination in her face, steely resolution in her blue eyes.
    Although he realized that he was going to lose the argument, Elliot said, "Be reasonable. If there's any trouble, you might get in the way of it."
    "Now really, Elliot, talk sense. Am I the kind of woman who gets in the way?"
    "There's eight or ten inches of snow on the ground. You aren't wearing boots."
    "Neither are you."
    "If they've anticipated us, set a trap at the funeral home—"
    "Then you might need my help," she said. "And if they haven't set a trap, I've got to be there when you question Bellicosti."
    "Tina, we're just wasting time sitting here—"
    "Wasting time. Exactly. I'm glad you see it my way." She opened her door and climbed out of the car.
    He knew then, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he loved her.
    Stuffing the silencer-equipped pistol into one of his deep coat pockets, he got out of the Chevy. He didn't lock the doors, because it was possible that he and Tina would need to get into the car in a hurry when they returned.
    In the graveyard, the snow came up to the middle of Elliot's calves. It soaked his trousers, caked in his socks, and melted into his shoes.
    Tina, wearing rubber-soled sneakers with canvas tops, was surely as miserable as he was. But she kept pace with him, and she didn't complain.
    The raw, damp wind was stronger now than it had been a short while ago, when they'd landed at the airport. It swept through the graveyard, fluting between the headstones and the larger monuments, whispering a promise of more snow, much more than the meager flurries it now carried.
    A low stone wall and a line of house-high spruce separated the cemetery from Luciano Bellicosti's property. Elliot and Tina climbed over the wall and stood in the tree shadows, studying the rear approach to the funeral home.
    Tina didn't have to be told to remain silent. She waited beside him, arms folded, hands tucked into her armpits for warmth.
    Elliot was worried about her, afraid for her, but at the same time he was glad to have her company.
    The rear of Bellicosti's house was almost a hundred yards away. Even in the dim light, Elliot could see the fringe of icicles hanging from the roof of the long back porch. A few evergreen shrubs were clustered near the house, but none was of sufficient size to conceal a man. The rear windows were blank, black; a sentry might be standing behind any of them, invisible in the darkness.
    Elliot strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of movement beyond the rectangles of glass, but he saw nothing suspicious.
    There wasn't much of a chance that a trap had been set for them so soon. And if assassins were waiting here, they would expect their prey to approach the funeral home boldly, confidently. Consequently, their attention would be focused largely on the front of the house.
    In any case, he couldn't stand here all night brooding about it.
    He stepped from beneath the sheltering branches of the trees. Tina moved with him.
    The bitter wind was a lash. It skimmed crystals of snow off the ground and spun the stinging cold flecks at their reddened faces.
    Elliot felt naked as they crossed the luminescent snow field. He wished that they weren't wearing such dark clothes. If anyone did glance out a back window, he would spot the two of them instantly.
    The crunching and squeaking of the snow under their feet seemed horrendously loud to him, though they actually were making little noise. He was just jumpy.
    They reached the funeral home without incident.
    For a few seconds they paused, touching each other briefly, gathering their courage.
    Elliot took the pistol out of his coat jacket and held it in his right hand. With his left hand, he fumbled for the two safety catches, released them. His fingers were stiff from the cold. He wondered if he'd be able to handle the weapon properly if the need arose.
    They slipped around the corner of the building and moved stealthily toward the front.
    At the first window with light behind it, Elliot stopped. He motioned for Tina to stay behind him, close to the house. Cautiously he leaned forward and peeked through a narrow gap in a partly closed Venetian blind. He nearly cried out in shock and alarm at what he saw inside.
    A dead man.