Dead Wrong by J. M. Griffin Page A

Giovanni’s request. I nodded and said a silent prayer. Yeah, I prayed that I would be spared any harsh and unusual punishment for my involvement in this affair. Whether God listened was another matter.
    â€œGreat, I knew you’d do it. Thanks, Vin. I appreciate it.” His smile lingered for the length of our walk back to the house.
    The inner voice that usually nagged me about dating lawmen, now nagged me because I’d just agreed to Gio’s request. Becoming involved in this could be dangerous to me and detrimental to my career. I tried to shut the voice off, but it wouldn’t go away.
    As Gio drove away, I waved and headed back into the garage. I stood at the top of the steps and glanced around the loft once again. Nothing had prepared me for the package contents that Gio had found. I rummaged through the remaining piles, in an effort to see if there was more than one painting hidden. I found two more packages with Nate’s name in one corner, addressed to Jill Esposito. Dang.
    I put the three packages together and draped an old cloth over them. Larger boxes lay strewn around and I shoved them in front of Nate’s packages. Unable to bring myself to look into the boxes heralding his name, I stood back and surveyed my attempt to hide them from prying eyes. Assured that I’d done well, I turned away from the loft. I padlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and left the garage.
    The afternoon stretched out before me and I realized there were exams to grade. I settled at the desk in my office with soft music playing and a sandwich at hand. Corrected papers to one side, I went through the grading process on my computer. The students had studied and the grading curve wasn’t as sharp as I’d foreseen. Everyone passed. I smiled at the thought of how well they’d scored.
    Once on the computer, I emailed everyone their grade and congratulated them for a job well done. I leaned back to finish my sandwich when the phone rang. Swallowing the last mouthful, I answered the summons.
    â€œVinnie speaking,” I said.
    Porter Anderson’s voice echoed in my ear. The connection was poor, and he cut in and out. I only heard half of what he said, but got the gist that he needed me to come to headquarters. Uh oh.
    â€œSure, I can do that. Will I need an attorney?” I chuckled.
    He didn’t laugh and my stomach knotted. “No Vin, you won’t need an attorney. I need an ID though.”
    â€œMy ID?” I asked, but knew the answer.
    â€œNo, I need you to identify someone.” His voice hummed across the line before it went dead.
    My jacket hung on the doorknob. I pulled it away and flung my arms into the sleeves as I hustled through the door. Speeding from the driveway, I drove to Providence, taking the exit for the police department. In the parking lot, I managed to find a narrow opening where I could park.
    The Altima fit perfectly and it was lucky for me that I was slim or I’d never have gotten out of the car. Parking at headquarters was always at a premium.
    Inside the front doors are two portals. I slung my handbag onto the conveyor belt, let it slide through the monitor, and then I walked into the portal. No alarms sounded and the officer behind the machine smiled and handed my bag to me.
    â€œCan I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
    I hate that ma’am thing, honestly, but I held that thought and smiled back.
    â€œI’m here to see Detective Porter Anderson,” I said.
    Eyebrows hiked and he stared. “Your name is?”
    â€œLavinia Esposito.” I watched for his reaction to the name, but he had none that showed, so I smiled and waited while he called Porter.
    â€œThere’s a Lavinia Esposito to see you, sir.” He mumbled into the phone. He listened for a second and then set the phone down.
    â€œGet into that elevator and go to the second floor. Detective Anderson will be waiting for you.” He pointed to the bank