Best Kept Secrets(161)

damned well pleased when she damned well felt like it, with

or without motivation. That left you, the only real innocent

in this whole goddamn affair, to place the blame on."

He drew in a deep breath. "So, with all that in mind, what

good can it possibly do anybody to know who killed her?"

"I've got to know, Reede," she said, close to tears. "The

murderer was also a thief. He robbed me. My mother would

have loved me if she had lived. I know she would have."

"For crissake, she didn't even want you, Alex," he

shouted. "No more than my mother wanted me. I didn't go

on any quests after her."

"Because you're afraid to," she yelled back.

"Afraid?"

"Afraid of being hurt by what you find out."

"Not afraid," he said. "Indifferent."

"Well, I'm not, thank God. I'm not as cold and unfeeling

as you."

"You thought I was hot enough last night," he sneered.

"Or did you stay a technical virgin this long by going down

on all your dates?"

She flinched as if he'd struck her. Hurt beyond belief, she



stared at him across the table. His expression was closed and

hostile, but her vulnerability defeated him. He muttered a

string of swear words and dug into his eye sockets with his

thumb and middle finger.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's just that you're so

goddamn aggravating when it comes to this." He lowered

his hand. His green eyes appealed to her. "Give it up, Alex.

Relent."

"I can't."

"Won't."

She reached for his hand. "Reede, we're never going to

agree on this, and I don't want to argue with you." Her face

turned soft. "Not after last night."

"Some people would think that what went on in there,"

he said, indicating the living room, "would erase the past."

"Is that why you made it happen, hoping that I'd forgive

and forget?"

He yanked his hand away. "You're dead set on pissing

me off, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not trying to provoke you. Just please understand

why I can't give up when I'm this close."

"I don't understand."

"Then just accept it. Help me."

"How? By pointing a finger at either my mentor or my

best friend?"

"Junior didn't sound like a best friend a while ago."

"That was injured pride and jealousy talking."

"He was jealous the night Celina was killed, too. She had

injured his pride. She turned down his marriage proposal

because she was still in love with you. Could that have driven

him to murder her?"

"Think about it, Alex," he said with annoyance. "If Junior

did blow his top at her, would he have had that scalpel handy

to start slashing? And do you honestly think, no matter how

enraged he was, that Junior could kill anybody?"

"Then, it was Angus," she said softly.

"I don't know." Angrily, Reede slung himself out of his



chair and began to pace. This was a familiar, haunting hypothesis.

"Angus was against Junior marrying Celina."

"Angus is more volatile than Junior," she said, almost to

herself. "I've seen him angry. I imagine that when he's

crossed, he could be capable of killing, and he certainly took

desperate measures to have the case closed before the evidence

could come around to him."

"Where are you going?" Reede jerked to attention when

she left her chair and headed toward the bedroom.

"I've got to talk to him."

"Alex!" He went after her. He rattled the knob of the

bathroom door, but she'd locked it behind herself. "I don't

want you to go over there."

"I've got to." She opened the door, already dressed, and

stuck out her hand. "Can I borrow your Blazer?"

He stared at her hard. "You'll wreck his life. Have you

thought of that?"

"Yes. And every time I feel a pang of regret, I remind

myself of the lonely, loveless childhood I spent while he

was prospering." She closed her eyes and pulled herself

together. "I don't want to destroy Angus. I'm only doing

my job, doing what's right. I actually like him. If circumstances

were different, I could grow very fond of him. But

the circumstances are what they are, and I can't change

them. When a person does something wrong, he's got to

be punished."

"All right." He grabbed her arm and drew her up close.

"What's the punishment for a prosecutor sleeping with a

suspect?"

"You're no longer a suspect."

"You didn't know that last night."