A Shot at Love. Peggy Jaeger

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СКАЧАТЬ the top of his head. His skin was a light golden brown, giving the impression he spent a great deal of time in the sun. Eyes the color of the sea at sunrise, so light green, they almost appeared crystal with the sun hitting them, were surrounded by jet-black eyelashes Gemma admitted she was jealous of. His face was angular, the jaw tapering into a rock solid V at its tip, a small crevice winking out right below his lower lip.

      All-in-all it was a face she wanted to photograph, knowing just the way she’d capture it. The fact he’d yanked her along after him like an errant child got her dander up. Coupled with the way he’d carelessly held her camera, it made her want to kick some sense into him.

      God, what a day.

      All she’d planned on doing was spending a few hours walking along the city streets, shooting interesting faces. She was almost done when the dapper-looking gentleman alighted from the restaurant, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. Gemma recognized that smile. It was the same one she always had after treating herself to some well-deserved Cherry Garcia ice cream after a tough, demanding day. She knew without a doubt the man had just eaten a pleasant meal. Satisfaction like that came only from two things: good food or great sex. Since he was walking along with two testosterone hulks in conservative suits, she figured it was the food part of the equation dancing on his face.

      In the blink of her camera shutter’s eye, the scene had changed to one of horror. Professional instinct made her continue shooting the events as they unfolded, capturing the slaying of the three men. She turned her camera when she realized the direction the shots were coming from, and through her viewfinder found the van speeding off. Pointing her lens at its retreating back, she zoomed in on the license plate. Without even thinking about the composition of the shot, she snapped as fast as she could, trying to record as much information as possible.

      After the van escaped, she ran to the victims to see if she could help in any way. It was too late for all three of them. The sound of sirens glued her to the spot. She’d located the first officers to arrive, told one of them she had footage of the incident, and then had been led away from the scene to wait. A quick call to her brother-in-law Josh was interrupted by the arrival of the arrogant FBI Agent.

      * * *

      Ky watched her pace the length of the room from the video camera mounted on the wall in the corner. “What do we know about her?”

      “Aside from the obvious?” Jon’s grin was quick. “She’s awfully easy on the eyes.”

      “Aside from the obvious,” Ky said, his own gaze never leaving the monitor.

      “Twenty-eight, single, lives alone. Her professional rep is pretty impressive.”

      “How so?”

      “Ever heard of chef Kandy Laine?”

      His eyes widened. “My mom and YiaYia love her. They have all her books, used to watch her show every time it was on. Laine? Any relation?”

      “Sister. One of seven. Owns her own photography business called GAL Photos. Pretty famous in her own right. Last month alone she shot three magazine covers. She’s what’s called in the entertainment biz ‘the go-to’ when you need a great headshot.”

      “So why was she in midtown today when our witness bought it?”

      “Seems she’s doing a coffee-table book of faces. Today she was walking around, looking for interesting ones, spotted Calafano and thought he’d make a good subject. She started snapping away and then the proverbial shit hit the fan.”

      Ky nodded.

      “Here.” Jon handed him a copy of her typed statement. “Read it for yourself.”

      Ky took it and within a few minutes had it committed to memory.

      “You don’t think there’s anything more to this, do you?” Jon asked. “I mean, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?”

      “Appears that way,” Ky answered. “I have a few more questions before we let her go, though.”

      “She’s still asking about the SD card. Wants it back, undamaged and unaltered. Now.”

      “She’ll get it back when we’re done with it,” Ky said, buttoning his jacket.

      When he entered the conference room a moment later, he thought he was prepared for the jolt seeing her in the flesh would cause again. He was wrong. The second he opened the door and saw her eyes tracking him like those of a caged animals, he realized just how wrong. A subtle, unmistakable, pang of unease sliced right into his midsection, cutting off all circulation except to his groin. With a mental and physical shake, he approached her.

      Anger percolated through her from across the room.

      “Miss Laine—”

      “Why am I still here? I gave my statement. I want my memory card and I want to go home. I have a ton of work to do.”

      Ky reached down deep to curb his temper. “I need to clarify a few things first.”

      “What things?” She leaned back against the wall, leveling him with a hard stare. “I told your partner everything I remember. In vivid detail.”

      “Yes, I read your statement. Please.” He motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

      “I’d rather stand.”

      He couldn’t tell if she was being purposefully obnoxious when her chin tilted up defiantly at him or if it was a character trait. Regardless, he pulled the facing chair from the table and sat.

      “You mentioned in your statement you were out walking when you noticed the shooting.”

      “No, that’s not correct.” She must have forgotten her reason for standing because she moved back to the chair and settled into it. “I said I was out working and noticed the trio of men coming out of the restaurant.”

      Ky knew that. He wanted to see if she’d change any of the details with time.

      “The older man had an attention-grabbing face,” she continued, resting her arms on the table. “I’m on the lookout for interesting faces.”

      “So you notice him, see his face and decide, what? To take his picture? Just like that?”

      She nodded. “It’s what I do. I’m working on a book called Faces of New York.”

      “What was so fascinating about his?”

      “It wasn’t so much his face as the expression on it,” she said. “He’d just come out of Sam’s. I figured he’d eaten lunch because he was patting his stomach and had a contented, gratified smile on his lips. So I took his picture. A series of them, in fact, as he continued walking.”

      “Why did you continue snapping away? You had your shot. Why take more?”

      Gemma blew out a breath and leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over her chest again. “Do you know anything about photography?”

      “No, not really.”

      She sliced a finger through the side of her hair and tucked the СКАЧАТЬ