Chapter Twelve
Diana looked out the window of the taxi, trying to adjust to the scenery on the other side of the glass. They’d left London in the dead of night, transferred planes in Tangier, then landed in Almeria, Spain as the sun was just beginning to lighten the sky. She’d slept most of the way, her exhaustion finally overcoming the questions and fears that had been swirling in her head since the night before. She’d woken up to find her head on Leo’s shoulder, the crisp cotton of his T-shirt soft under her cheek, his solid strength propping her up, just like always.
She still wasn’t sure what Leo planned to do or why they were in Spain, let alone Algeria, which he’d mentioned in passing as they left London. She had questions, and she wasn’t some kind of shrinking violet who wouldn’t ask them.
But she liked to have her thoughts in order when she looked for answers. It was difficult to get them in the best of situations. Starting with the right questions narrowed the odds significantly. Besides, the drawbridge was still shut tight over Leo’s face. He wasn’t ready to talk yet. She could wait. She’d been waiting for years.
They wound their way through the seaside town of Almeria as exotic music sounded from the radio in the taxi. She knew they were in Spain, but the proximity to Algeria across the Mediterranean Sea lent a Middle Eastern flavor to the town. The city was a fortress unto itself, built on sloping hills with a castle-like structure perched on a hill at its center. It would have been a difficult one to conquer with the hills at its back and the sea at its front, and she could almost imagine it being attacked by Berber pirates in the 16th century. Now the buildings were pristine and whitewashed, and a series of hotels lined the waterfront where yachts and cruise ships dotted the sapphire water.
They continued toward the water, then passed a string of lush properties, all of them backing up to the white sand beaches of Almeria. They continued past them, gradually leaving behind the more densely packed parts of the city. The land became drier and more scrubby, long stretches of rocky hills punctuated with desert-like shrubs. The sea was a jewel, glittering and stretching into the distance like a blanket of diamonds under the sun.
Finally, the car slowed around a curve, emerging onto a long paved road leading to a large house balanced on the edge of a hill. The taxi came to a stop. Leo helped her out and grabbed the backpacks they’d bought before leaving London. Then they were alone in front of the whitewashed building, watching the taxi disappear around the curve, the waves rolling onto the beach below.
“Come on,” Leo said. “You must be tired.”
Tired didn’t exactly describe the low-level lethargy that had settled into her bones since they boarded the plane in London, but it was close enough. She took in the white stucco structure as she followed him up a pathway to the house. From this side, it looked like a simple home with minimal windows, but when they stepped into the double height foyer, she saw that it had been an illusion.
The house was large and airy, with a wall of glass on the other side that provided an expansive view of the sea. She knew that Morocco and Algiers lay on the other side of it, but there was no sign of land from their perch on the cliff. The water seemed to go on forever. Leo reached for the glass, withdrawing a door she hadn’t seen and pulling it back until it disappeared into a pocket in the wall. The sound of the ocean immediately invaded the house, a rhythm of white noise that enveloped her in an immediate calm.
She walked to the window and stepped onto a large balcony, gazed out over the endless blue water. Even the smell of it — dry and salty — made her feel better. She had the sudden sense of being completely alone in the world — no one but Leo, nothing but this place and the glittering sea and the hot sun overhead.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Is it yours?”
She didn’t look at him as she asked the question. He was both her Leo and not her Leo. Someone she knew better than she knew herself, and a complete and utter stranger. Did he have the kind of money that could buy such a place? Was he the kind of person that would buy such a place?
It was only the first of many questions she would have to ask.
“No.” He hesitated. “I do own a couple of properties. Nothing this grand. Just little places to escape to when the need arises.”
She turned to face him, a new question urgent in her mind. “And do you feel the need to escape often?"
He seemed to think about it. “No. Not often.”
She wondered suddenly if he traveled alone. If another woman had stood in this place, looking out over the ocean. If another woman had slept on his shoulder as they flew across the sky. Had slept in his bed when they landed.
The idea caused a violent surge of jealousy to rage through her. She walked back into the house to distract herself. “Who owns this place?”
The living room was modest in size, though obviously well designed and furnished with high end decor. It opened directly onto a dining room, which in turn led to a large kitchen visible from the living room.
“An associate,” he said.
She looked at him. “Is that part of your… business? Keeping secrets?”
His eyes darkened. “I’ll keep no more secrets from you, Diana. You can ask me anything you like, and I’ll tell you the truth. But first you should rest.”
“What about Antonis Stavros?” she asked. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“I’m still working on it,” he said. “But it’s been a long night, and already a long day. I have some things to do before I’ll know more. Why don’t you shower and rest? We’ll have dinner later, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
She felt like she should rebel. She wasn’t used to relinquishing control of her everyday life. She lived alone. Went to work and the gym. Made decisions about her present and future. Now she was on the run for her life, and her best friend was dead. It didn’t feel like the right time to give up control, even to Leo.
But she was out of her element. She had no idea what to do next. How to find out more information about Antonis Stavros and why he’d killed Maggie.
She nodded. “All right.”
He picked up her bag, led her up a set of tile stairs to a second floor hall, and continued into the second room on the left. Like the rest of the house, it was modest in size, grand in design, another wall of windows opening to yet another balcony overlooking the ocean. Was this whole side of the house made up of windows? She resolved to walk down to the beach later and get a look for herself.
“The bathroom’s there.” He pointed to a half open door, and Diana got a glimpse of more pristine white tile. “There should be towels and everything else you need. If not, just let me know.”
“Thank you.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, a lifetime of questions weighing heavily between them. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to change his mind.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He turned and left the room, leaving Diana to wonder what he might have said. And why he hadn’t said it.