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“I don’t want you to be angry with me, either. So maybe we shouldn’t talk.”
“There is something I’d like to hear you say. Even if it is a lie.”
“What?”
“I’d like to hear you say that Saturday night… that it had never been like that for you before.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“Not just the passion,” he added. “The… All of it.”
He saw her swallow, dislodging the drop of water he had noticed earlier. It trickled beneath the collar of her robe. Her voice was husky with emotion. “It had never been like that for me before.”
It was what he had hoped to hear, but if anything his expression became more bleak. “Whether we want to or not, we must talk.”
“We don’t have to.”
“Yes, we do. When you and I showed up at the dance pavilion at approximately the same time, it wasn’t by accident, was it?”
She hesitated for a few seconds, then shook her head no.
“How in God’s name did you know I was going to be there? I didn’t even know myself.”
“Please don’t ask me any more questions.”
“Were you with Lute Pettijohn earlier that afternoon?”
“I can’t talk to you about this.”
“Dammit, answer me.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s a simple question.”
On a humorless laugh, she shook her head. “It’s not simple at all.”
“Then answer it with an explanation.”
“If I did, I would leave myself too vulnerable.”
“ ‘Vulnerable’ is a strange word for you to use, when it would appear that I am the one who’s hanging out in the wind.”
“You’re not the one suspected of murder.”
“No, but wouldn’t you agree that I’m in an awkward situation? I’m prosecuting the murder case of our city’s best-known citizen, who also happened to be married to my best friend.”
“Your best friend?”
“Davee Burton, now Lute Pettijohn’s widow. We’ve been friends all our lives. She campaigned for me to be assigned this case. A lot of people are depending on me, people I would rather not disappoint. Can you even fathom what would happen to my reputation, career, my future, if anyone found out I was here with you tonight?”
“That’s why I left you Sunday morning.” Restlessly she began to prowl the bedroom. “I wanted to remain anonymous. I didn’t want you to feel conflicted, the way you’re feeling now.”
“By Sunday morning it was a little too late for concern and circumspection. If you were so worried about preserving my reputation, you shouldn’t have picked me up in the first place.”
She turned to stare at him with patent disbelief. “Pardon me, but your memory is slightly skewed. You picked me up.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorted.
