The Cop. Cara Summers

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      TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Nik and Kit were studying the taped outline where Roman Oliver’s body had lain only a short time before. Nik had known when he’d called his brother that Kit would come immediately, and it had helped him to talk to Kit and to view the evidence through a second set of eyes. A glance at his brother’s face told him that Kit was thinking the same thing that he was thinking.

      There was no way around it. Roman was involved in what had gone on here. Sadie Oliver might be involved also. She hadn’t come with either Roman or her sister Juliana—J.C. would have spotted her if she had. She’d probably come in through the front entrance. Now she and the bride and groom were all missing, and her purse had been left behind.

      The best scenario Nik could come up with so far was that Roman had gotten wind of the wedding and had come to the church to talk his sister out of it. Then he’d gotten into a fight with Paulo Carlucci, and had shot the man in the sacristy, hopefully in self-defense. Then he’d followed Paulo up the stairs into the choir loft, where they’d struggled again and Roman had fallen or been pushed down the stairs.

      He didn’t have a theory about what part Sadie had played in all of this. But it wasn’t going to look good to his captain that she’d left the scene of a crime. When he’d first gotten the call, the dispatcher had mentioned two 911 calls. He’d be able to find out if one had come from Sadie.

      He shifted his gaze to the choir loft overhead. Of course, once one started theorizing about the blood on the walls of that little storeroom and the presence of J.C. Riley’s Snake Eyes, the scenario got worse because it suggested that Kit’s best friend and the man who’d once saved his sister’s life had come here with murder in mind, and he’d brought some extra firepower with him.

      Nik had a hunch that his captain was going to favor the latter scenario. Hell, he’d favor it himself if he didn’t know Roman.

      He studied the frown on Kit’s face and knew that his brother’s mind was traveling along the same path.

      There was going to be pressure to close the case as quickly as possible. No one wanted any violence to erupt between the Oliver and Carlucci families. Sure, they’d been legit for half a century now, but Mediterranean blood ran hot. He ought to know, being Greek.

      The press, once they got wind of it, was going to have a field day. The secret wedding of the children of two rival families, murder and mayhem—not to mention the disappearance of the bridal couple—was fodder for the kind of media circus that would keep the twenty-four-hour news channels going for days.

      “Mind if I take a look at that room upstairs?” Kit asked.

      Reining his thoughts in, Nik sent his brother a frown. “Of course I mind.” But wasn’t that why he’d called Kit in the first place—to fill his brother in on the evidence? He didn’t want to believe that Roman Oliver was behind this any more than Kit did. More than that, he wanted to make sure that Roman had someone working on the case who was on his side. As a cop, he had to be objective, do his job. A P.I. had a lot more leeway. “When has that ever stopped you once you set your mind on something?”

      “Never.”

      Still scowling, Nik handed Kit a pair of shoe covers. “The room’s at the top of the stairs. Don’t get in the way of my people, and don’t touch a thing.”

      “Thanks, bro. I’ll be careful.”

      Just then, the front door of the church blew open behind them, and a voice boomed, “There you are, Detective Angelis.”

      “Shit,” Nik muttered under his breath. “It’s the commissioner and my captain. Make it quick up there. There’s a second staircase from the loft that leads down to the sacristy. Use it when you leave.”