Last to Know by Elizabeth Adler Read Free Book Online

thirty-six years old and good-looking and he knew it. He fastened his Italian leather jacket, buttoned his immaculate white shirt to the neck, adjusted his Hermès tie—the one with the tiny gold dragons, a gift from a woman who liked him—slicked back his already slick black hair, then, satisfied, sauntered casually into the club.
    A wall of sound blasted from gigantic speakers, enveloping the dancers still pounding off their energy even though it was late. Most of them had nowhere else to go. The Moonlightin’ Club had been Harry’s idea, financed anonymously by him in an attempt to get troubled kids off the street, give them a place to hang, a place where they knew they belonged no questions asked, though there were strict rules: no discrimination, no drugs, no weapons, and no gangs. So far, Harry’s investment had been successful: the rules were respected, kids played basketball, worked out, made amateur music videos, invented games for iPads, looked around for a life other than trouble. Harry had seen too many go the wrong way, seen too many lives ruined.
    Rossetti knew his buddy was a caring, concerned man who somehow could never get his own life into gear. Now the fiancée had had enough and ditched him. His friend was in emotional trouble and Rossetti knew he might be considering quitting the force.
    He grabbed a cup of coffee then went to check the gym. Even this late the machines were jammed. The “high” gained from working out was better than roaming the dark streets looking for the high of danger.
    He leaned against the wall, sipping coffee from the cardboard cup (Styrofoam was not allowed, everything must be recyclable, Harry had been adamant about that), watching the action, keen-eyed, always looking for tensions that might erupt into something. But all was quiet, everyone keeping to themselves, racing on treadmills, sweating over weights, feeling good.
    Rossetti was whistling his favorite tune, the Italian opera aria “Nessun Dorma,” through his perfect teeth, slicking back his already slick black hair, when his phone rang. He glanced at his Rolex Oyster Perpetual. The watch was a gift from Harry at the conclusion of a case when Rossetti had gone more than overboard and put himself in great personal danger to nail a notorious killer. He treasured that watch and always arranged his cuff so that it showed a little. Now it said almost five minutes after four. Shit.
    Unfolding himself from the wall, Rossetti removed the phone from his inner pocket where he always kept it, even though it disturbed the hang of the jacket, but he was damned if he was gonna wear it stuck on his belt where anyhow he already had his detective badge clipped. He checked the name of the caller. Wally Osborne—the Wally Osborne? Jesus! And in the middle of the night.
    He clicked on. “Yes, sir, Mr. Osborne,” he said. “How can I help you?”
    “It’s me, Rossetti,” Harry replied. “I’m on a borrowed mobile, I’m okay, but someone else is not. She’s being helicoptered, as we speak, to Mass General, probably with burns and certainly with severe shock. Her house just exploded. It’s opposite mine on the lake. I saw her run into the water with her hair on fire … I got her out of there. She’s around eighteen years old and her name is…”
    Rossetti waited. He could almost hear Harry thinking.
    Then Harry said, “Jesus, Rossetti, I don’t know what her name is. I only knew her by sight, her and her mother.”
    “So where’s the mother?” Thinking of what Harry had said about the fire Rossetti almost didn’t want to hear the answer but “God knows,” was all he got.
    “Detective,” Rossetti said, sighing, “I thought you’d gone to the lake for some peace and quiet and now look what’s happened. I swear you take it with you…”
    “Take what?”
    “Trouble, asshole, that’s what.” Rossetti groaned. “It’s the middle of the night…”
    “I know what time it is.” Harry could hear music