Because You're Mine(11)

Alanna frowned. “What about?”

“He didn’t say,” Fiona said.

Alanna glanced at her watch. Barry would be here to take her to dinner soon, and she needed time to change. “I’ve got five minutes. Let him come in.”

Fiona stepped to the door and opened it. She thrust her head out. “You can be coming in, but only for five minutes.” She stepped back and allowed the detective through the doorway.

Detective Adams ran his hand through his red hair. “So sorry to disturb you when you’re busy with final wedding preparations.” Fatigue draped his freckled face. “I’ll be brief.”

“What is it?” Alanna asked.

“Do you know for sure which man was driving the vehicle?”

Alanna shook her head. “Liam had wanted to drive it, but Jesse told him he couldn’t. Why do you ask?”

The detective pursed his lips. “Were you aware of Jesse’s state of mind the night of the bombing?”

“These are odd questions, Detective.”

“Jesse was recently fired from his job over a sexual harassment accusation. Were you aware of that?”

Alanna wasn’t, but neither was she surprised. She frowned. “As far as I could see Jesse was himself.”

“His usual envious self,” Fiona muttered under her breath.

Detective Adams turned to her. “Explain.”

Fiona blinked as if she hadn’t expected to be heard. “Oh, you know. He held Alanna special mainly because he couldn’t have her. Otherwise he never turned a pretty girl away.” Her cheeks flushed.

The detective nodded thoughtfully.

Alanna gripped the back of the chair. “Are you saying Jesse was jealous of Liam?” she asked Fiona.

“Was he?” Adams asked.

All four women just stared at him.

“You’re not saying . . . ?” Ciara didn’t finish her thought.

“Saying what?” Alanna wanted to know.

Detective Adams kept a patient eye on Ciara until she was flustered into speaking.

“You think Jesse did this?”

Ena gasped. “Like what? A murder-suicide?”

Alanna felt faint. She shook her head. It wasn’t possible.

“Do you think Jesse Hawthorne would have been capable of doing something like that?” Adams asked.

This time, no one spoke.

He glanced at his watch. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I know you have a lot to do before your wedding.”

Ciara scowled. “Unless we can talk her out of it.”

Snap, snap. Ena continued to take pictures. Alanna turned her back, not wanting her shock and horror to be caught on camera.

The detective blinked. “You don’t want her to get married?”

“It’s too soon,” Ciara said. “She’s running on fear and not thinking it through.”

“Barry Kavanagh is very much respected,” Adams said. “He’s done a lot for Charleston, donated money to help disadvantaged kids, restoration work around the buildings, all kinds of things. Every mama with an eligible daughter has been trying to catch him for years.”

Ciara’s face softened. “Don’t be minding me. I’m just jealous.” She walked the detective to the door and closed it.

Alanna hugged her when she returned. “Let’s not be talking of jealousy. There’s no reason.”

“I am afraid you’ll be drifting away from us,” Ciara said in her ear during the embrace. “Barry wants you all to himself.”

“No, he only wants to help.”

“He pushed you after Liam died until you couldn’t sing anymore.”

Alanna hid her pain with a smile. Her surgery last month had successfully dealt with the nodules, but she was seeing no signs of improvement in the way her voice had changed. “Am I hearing you say my fiddle playing is lacking?” Her smile widened to a genuine one.

“I’ll not be saying such a thing!” Ciara linked arms with her. “I fancy some American pizza. Change your clothes, and I’ll treat you.”

“The baby wouldn’t say no.” At least Ciara had left off with the attack on Barry and tomorrow’s wedding.




Pain pulsed at his eyes again. Jesse Hawthorne pressed his fingers to his eyes and willed it to go away. He put down the bodhran. The sound he got from it wasn’t nearly as good as Liam’s expert touch.

“Need a pill?” his mother asked, jumping up and hurrying toward the hall before he answered.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said. “It’s not bad.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be so strong.” She frowned.

He laid his head back against the gray velour sofa scented with cinnamon from the spray his mother used. For just a moment, in his mind’s eye he saw a different living room. One with rain slashing the windows that looked out on the sea. A place he’d never been, he was sure.

This place was alien to him. He slept in a room he didn’t remember next to a bookcase of young adult novels he was sure he’d never read. An array of football awards covered the dresser, and he had no idea what position he’d played. The doctor said his memory would likely return, but Jesse had begun to lose hope. Maybe this twilight would be his destiny. When he’d checked out his condo, he found nothing familiar there either.