Perfect Fling (Serendipity's Finest 2)

Cole nodded.

Mike flipped the switch, turning on the sound.

“Let’s try this again,” Sam said. “What’s your name?”

“Is he kidding?” The muscles in Cole’s arm strained from holding back his anger.

Mike placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Listen.”

“How many times do we have to go over this? No matter how often you ask me, the answer’s the same. Nicole Farnsworth.”

“Victoria’s maiden name is Farnsworth. Parents are rich. Disapproved of their daughter getting involved with a known mob guy. She ran off with him anyway,” Cole said.

But why wasn’t she owning up to who she was?

“Did you fingerprint her?” Cole asked.

“I checked when we arrived. She was printed and booked for trespassing as soon as she came in. We’re running her prints.”

Cole set his jaw. “What about the rest of the charges? Attempted murder, stalking . . .”

“We’ll get there. For now, we just need enough to hold her.”

Cole studied the woman carefully. Same dark hair, longer than he remembered, but again, time had passed. She dressed differently than Victoria. More casual. Victoria was always well-groomed, to perfection, in fact. Full face of makeup, dark lipstick, hair teased. This Victoria was . . . softer.

That was the word he’d been searching for. Softer. More gentle. And she said her name was Nicole.

Cole narrowed his gaze, then pulled out his cell and dialed. “I need information on Victoria Maroni’s siblings. ASAP,” Cole said into the phone, then hung up without waiting for a response.

“You think she’s telling the truth?” Mike asked.

Cole nodded, hating what that meant. “The woman in there with Sam? She couldn’t spend five minutes with Vincent Maroni and not get eaten alive.”

Mike swore. Cole understood, because it meant Victoria was still out there. At least Erin was with Cara, a trained police officer, which soothed him—just barely.

Mike picked up the phone in the room and dialed. “Put a rush on those prints.”

“Let’s go with my gut on this and assume she’s telling the truth. I can get more out of her than Sam, so will you let me in there now?” Cole asked.

“You can’t interrogate her like a cop.”

“I am a cop,” he reminded the other man.

“Out of your jurisdiction. But I agree. Your personal stake in this might get her talking—assuming she feels bad when she finds out what her sister’s done.”

Cole nodded. “Let’s go.”

Before they could walk in, an out-of-breath rookie burst into the room. “Prints you requested, boss.” He handed a file to Mike, who opened the folder, scanned the results, and nodded at Cole.

“Let’s do this thing.” Mike opened the door.

Sam and the woman across from him turned their way, as Mike, followed by Cole, stepped into the small room. A table, the two chairs, dingy walls, and not much else.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, rising from his chair.

“Seems she’s telling the truth.” He slapped the folder onto the table.

The other woman jumped at the loud sound. Cole would have felt sorry for her if this mess weren’t so serious.