Chapter 15

Natalie rose from the couch placing her glass of wine on the table as knocking sounded on her front door. Shaking her head in annoyance, she ran her hands through her hair, trying to compose herself since she could only guess at who was on the other side.

Opening the door to John leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, she sighed loudly. "Hey," he said simply with a slight smile that he reserved only for her.

"Hey," she said back as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep her annoyance from being too obvious.

"Wanted to see how you were doing."

"Fine," she answered stiffly. "That it?"

"You're in a mood."

"I was just convicted of a murder I didn't commit. What the hell kind of mood did you expect me to be in?" she shot back hotly.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "That. . . well, it came out wrong."

"Ya think? What are you doing here?"

"Bo asked me to be your escort to Pine Valley."

"Oh."

"Don't sound so happy about the prospect, Champ," he teased.

"Is there a reason that I should be?" she shot back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"You're the detective. You figure it out."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shook his head: "Can I come in so we can talk?"

"Fine," she answered through gritted teeth as she stepped back to allow him to enter. "Only I don't understand what we have. . ." she started as she pulled the door shut and turned to face him, only to see him staring off to the side of her. "What?"

"Nice hole," he commented.

"Isn't it through," she answered tensely as he looked towards her hands. Throwing them up and out as she realized what he was doing, she added: "as you can see, I didn't put it there."

"Who did?" he pressed, not will to apologize for his assumption.

"Does it matter?" she retorted as she pushed pass him and went back into the living room.

"It could," John answered, following her in. "Natalie, haven't you realized that not letting people know you're in trouble doesn't do anything but get you into danger?"

"I'm not in danger."

"Who put the hole in the wall?" John persisted.

Shaking her head, Natalie picked her wine glass back up. "Antonio," she muttered around the rim as she took a sip.

"I don't think I heard you right."

"Antonio," she answered again, this time more forcefully.

"Antonio put a hole in your wall?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he did."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he wanted to? What the hell do I know! I'm not in his head."

Raising an eyebrow at that, John crossed the space between them and took the glass from her hand. "That's enough for you."

"Whatever!"

"Drinking isn't going to solve anything."

"Well thank you very much, Dr. Phil, for those words of wisdom," she snapped annoyed as she went to the couch.

"Why'd he put a hole in the wall."

"He was upset."

"About what?" he pressed as she glared at him. "Come on. I'm going to find out sooner or later," he prompted walking towards her.

"He was angry at something."

"Just give it up, John."

"It could be important to your case."

"He found out. . . you know about the phone calls right?"

"Yeah. I haven't been able to nail anything down, but that's no reason to punch out a wall."

"Someone took it a step further last night. . .this. . . someone was out there. . ." she admitted shakily as she gestured towards the window. "They. . .um. . . they banged on the window. . . with a. . ." she shook her head as she shudder, her hand unconsciously rubbing up and down her arms, as if to rub warmth back into them. "He- Antonio—he umm. . . he accused me of knowing that Christian was alive. I talked him down from there, but then. . . he went from accusing the Santis of. . .he accused me of. . ." she stopped shaking her head.

"Of what?"

"Setting it up. Making it look like someone else was setting me up."

"Why would he do that? Think that?"

"Because Evangeline hinted to him that I would do anything to get off. . ."