Page 77 of Lorenzo

I remove my gloves as I walk toward the elevator.

Genevieve’s public life was complete.

Her apartment is the same.

But somewhere between this closet and the Halston, another woman put on her dress, used her face, and led Alessio right to her murder.

The elevator doors open.

I step inside and press the button for the lobby.

Now I need to find out who had enough access to Genevieve’s life to dress her twin for the part.

I step out of the apartment building and turn toward my car, parked a block away.

The night air hits colder after the stale warmth upstairs. I tuck my gloves into my jacket pocket and keep walking, replaying the apartment in my head.

The missing dress. The absence of any visible connection to Rachel. The front door as the only reasonable way inside.

I am halfway down the block when my car comes into view.

A man is leaning against the driver’s-side door.

Lorenzo.

I narrow my eyes and continue toward him.

He straightens when I get closer, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as though waiting beside my car after dark is the most ordinary thing in the world.

“How did you know I was here?”

I haven't noticed anyone following me.

That alone irritates me.

“I was having the building watched,” he says.

“You were watching Genevieve’s apartment? Why?”

“Because I knew you'd be here eventually.”

I stop a few feet away. “So you're here to check on me? What? Did you think I would find Rachel sitting in the middle of Genevieve's apartment?”

“I simply like to be kept up-to-date,” he says.

“Are you tailing me?” I ask.

His lips curve slightly. “I considered it, but I thought you would notice a tail and shake them off.”

“That is an invasion of privacy.”

“So is breaking into someone's apartment.”

I look back at it. “She's dead. I don't think she minds.”

“Crude,” he says, amused.

“If you want me to be more PC, it'll cost you more,” I say. “You can afford it.”