"She might have killed her aunt, Dan. Three million's a lot of reason. And she might have had someone help her. And that someone might have been here in your house this evening."

Dan sat on the end of the sofa cushion. He dropped his head onto his palms, pushed his fingers through his hair. Jamie was a methodical man. His arguments usually made sense. They made sense now, but Dan couldn't believe the scenario he was suggesting. The flipside, however, was equally as bad because it meant that Maris had been unprotected while some a.s.shole, with only G.o.d knew what on his mind, took his time in Dan's house. Whether he could remember locking the door or not when he left, Dan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he'd locked it when he came home. He'd locked the guy in with them.

"When do you think Maris might be feeling up to questioning?"

Glancing up, Dan shook his head. "Not right now. You'd have to clear it with her doctor. You could bring the alb.u.ms by tomorrow, after you and I are done with work."

Jamie studied him for a long moment. "You still want to believe it's somebody else, don't you? Doesn't it usually boil down to family? And she's it, I'll bet on it. She said there's no one else and, about that at least, I'd say she's not lying."

Dan ground his molars together. The remnants of dinner churned in his stomach. Jamie was determined to prove him wrong. Did Jamie think to get his job if Dan failed to find the truth? Of course, Dan had been successfully blocked from the investigation, so finding out anything wasn't likely. Probably much of the Chief's decision to ban him had been based on Jamie's voiced opinions.

Dan shook his head. He and Jamie had been friends, still were. Maris was right. He was too suspicious. "As soon as Maris is up to it," Dan said, "I'll bring her in. I'll question her myself, if necessary-"

"No. You won't. It's not your case, and with good reason."

Did he need that reminder? Dan dropped his hands between his knees, staring toward the kitchen where he'd been fumbling around in the dark with a prowler inches away from him. Where the h.e.l.l had the guy been hiding when Dan came in? The powder room? The coat closet? Where?

Jamie dropped a hand on his shoulder and shook it. "I think we're through here. Try to get some rest. Where...where is she sleeping?"

"The guestroom."

"Good. Lock your door."

"Oh, f.u.c.k you, Rogers."

Jamie straightened. "I'd be pleased as punch to be proven wrong, Dan. You know that. I just don't think it's gonna happen."

Dan didn't get up to see him to the door. He kept his gaze glued on the carpet between his feet as Jamie herded the last two officers outside. They had collected mud from fibers in the rug, although that likely had come from right outside Dan's house. He'd watched one of them measure and photograph the impression of a boot print on the kitchen floor. Other than that, nothing.

For ten minutes, Dan sat on the couch, unmoving. The small mantel clock began to strike the hour with a whirring of gears and the tiny ring of a bra.s.s bell. At the eleventh chime, he stood. By the twelfth, he was heading up the stairs, leaving the lights on below. By the time he'd reached his bedroom door, he had made up his mind.

But when he opened it and saw Maris asleep on his bed, all sound reason fled.

Chapter 18.

Maris studied the pearly sheen on Dan's skin, the mingling of perspiration and incandescent light from outside the window that had formed a glaze over the musculature of his chest and arms. She wanted to reach out and run a finger along any one of the shadows between his ribs, but she had learned a handful of minutes ago how ticklish he was.

"You're beautiful," she whispered.

"Hush. Don't ruin it with talking." In the silver light, his lips curved, deepening the creases on either side of his mouth. The converse shape of his closed lids hid his eyes, lashes lying in narrow spikes against his skin. "You know your doctor wouldn't approve of what we just did."

"Unless you've got him hidden under the bed, I don't think he's going to find out." At the reminder of the recent intruder, Maris sucked a breath in through her teeth.

Dan moved his hand in blind search across the sheets until he found hers. He squeezed her fingers. "I checked. Jamie stationed one of the officers in a blatant position outside the house. That guy's not coming back tonight."

Maris turned her study to the shape of their fingers together, knots of flesh and bone like lovers in miniature. "What do you think he wanted?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have any idea who he might be?"

Dan released her hand and rolled to a sitting position, feet on the floor. He planted his elbows on his thighs, dropping his head into the grip of his outstretched fingers. He pushed both hands through his hair and rose, his naked body barred by light. "Jamie thinks you might know who it is."

"What?" Maris pulled herself up against the headboard, yanking the sheet to cover herself. "Why on earth would he think that?"

"It can't all be chance, Maris. There's a puzzle here in pieces I can't get to fit together. Jamie thinks he has it, though, the picture in its entirety. He thinks you let the guy in, that he's your accomplice in the murder of your aunt. And yes," he added before she could say a word, "I could get fired for what I've told you. What Jamie says makes sense. It fits, makes the puzzle pieces fall into logical position. Something is missing, though. There's a black, gaping hole he's ignoring and I can't define. Someday soon you're going to be called in for questioning by someone who's not me. Prior to that, Jamie is going to ask you to look through photo alb.u.ms he took from Alva's attic to try to identify other family members that he might be able to track down. He's giving you a very small benefit of the doubt. If there's another relative who benefited from Alva's Will-"

Maris stretched an arm to the bedside lamp and turned it on. Dan blinked in the flare of light.

"Alva's Will? What are you talking about?"

Dan sat back down on the edge of the mattress. He pulled an edge of the sheet to cover his thigh and groin. "I can't say anything else. If there is a case to be made here, I would be compromising it."

Maris's gaze followed the sweep of Dan's tousled hair, the cowlick stiff with the earlier application of his plowing fingers. "Did they determine what type of poison?"

He shook his head. "I haven't been told."

"What about how-"

"I don't know that either. And even if I did, I...I can't now. I shouldn't. Maris, I know I asked this before, but I'm going to ask again. Did you kill Alva Mabry?"

Maris folded her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tucking the sheet tightly into the hollow of her armpits. "You would have s.e.x with someone you believed capable of murder?"

"Don't answer a question with a question. G.o.d, Maris, please give me a straight answer, in full, with words that speak of innocence, not evasion."

"Or guilt?" she said with undeniable sarcasm.

"Maris!"

She flinched. "I didn't kill Aunt Alva, Dan. I want to know who did. Whatever you need from me, I'll do."

He was still, all of him, as if he'd been converted to stone. He gazed at a place between them without blinking, a trick of the room's illumination giving his eyes the hue and transparency of bottle gla.s.s. Abruptly, he stood. "Good." He grabbed his shorts, slipped them on. "Good. We'll figure this out, I promise you." He headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a drink. You?"

Maris drew her knees up to her chest. "What are we talking? Vodka? Gin?"

He c.o.c.ked his head at her. "Are you serious? You're not supposed-"

"No." She lifted the corners of her mouth in a slow smile. "Water would be nice, though, thank you."

He stepped out, leaving the door ajar. She heard the sound of his bare feet whispering on the carpeted steps and then a soft curse as he b.u.mped into an impediment in the dark, a mild expletive only, nothing alarming in content or volume. Maris relaxed against the headboard.

Who was the intruder in Dan's house? She could understand the speculation about her involvement. Jamie was a practical man, and his theory made sense. Dan was such a man, too, except when it came to her. She would be his undoing, no doubt about that. She didn't want to be. Yet her fate and his were as bound together as the twisted strands of a rope, and the darkness clinging to him bore her imprint.

She pressed her face into her hands, whispering Dan's name, longing for answers to the confusion.

"Are you all right, Maris?"

Her head jerked upright. Dan pressed a tumbler of water into her hand. He sat on the bed beside her, drinking his own.

"I'm just thinking about us and how very bad I am for you," she said.

"Why would you say that?"

She sipped the cold water. "Because it's true." Sensing the weight of his gaze, she glanced up from her contemplation of the rippling liquid in the gla.s.s. "I am. How many poor decisions have you made since I walked into your life?"

"Believe me, I made plenty of poor decisions before you ever showed up."

"But you're going against your most basic instincts now because of...of what you feel for me."

"My most basic instinct is what I feel for you. The rest of it is just a riddle, a challenge that needs sorting out, that's all."

Maris set the water aside. Pulling the covers along with her, she climbed into his lap and burrowed her head against his chest. His heart thumped beneath her ear in steady rhythm. She curled her fingers around the taut muscles in his forearm. "Did you ever have an imaginary friend when you were a kid?"

He pressed his chin against her head. "I think I remember having one, yeah. Don't all kids?"

She toyed with the fine blond hairs on his arm, pulling them up and twisting them between thumb and forefinger. "Probably. They're the friend who is the most constant, who doesn't ridicule or run away. It would make sense to want a companion like that."

He kissed her hair. She perceived the curl of his lips across her scalp. "Yes. And...?"

"My imaginary friend had your eyes. Isn't it strange that I should meet a man after all these years with those eyes and fall in love with him, only to be his ruination?"

Dan tightened his embrace. "You're not my ruination, Maris. In fact, I think you've rescued me from myself."

Two days later, seated across the interview table from Jamie Rogers, Maris still experienced a thrill of pure joy at the remembered words. They weren't true, of course, but Dan believed them to be, and that was what mattered.

"You understand why your boyfriend can't be in here with us."

Maris nodded.

"Unfortunately," Jamie added, "he doesn't."

Maris said nothing. Dan had wanted to be present while she looked through the photo alb.u.ms, but when Jamie refused, Dan had stalked off down the hall to his office. Jamie had opted not to bring the alb.u.ms to the house, as Dan had suggested, but have her review them at the station prior to further interview.

He slid them across the table to her. He flipped one open. "I thought that was you until I noticed the dress. Even you don't wear something like that."

Maris ignored the "even you" and leaned closer to examine the photo beneath his fingertip. "That's my aunt. That's Alva Mabry. She was about twenty in that photo, I'd guess. My grandmother was still a child then. There was a difference of about ten or twelve years between them."

"Where is she now, your grandmother?"

Maris flipped through to the next page. "There's Grandma. The one on the pony. She died when she was sixty-two. Way too young." Maris lifted her head. "How did Alva die, Detective? I know it was poison, but how did somebody manage it?"

Jamie bridged his fingers, wrists flat on the table. "You tell me, Maris."

Ignoring him, Maris went back to the alb.u.m, working her way toward the back. She paused, smiling. "There's my father. Look how young he looks. Why do you think he was dressed like that?" She flipped to the next page. "Oh my G.o.d. It was his wedding day. Look, there's Mom. Isn't she beautiful?"

Maris flicked her eyes in Jamie's direction to find him stone-faced.

"Other family members?"

Maris moved on to the next alb.u.m. "Here's Morris. Uncle Morris, my father's youngest brother. He died at sea before we left Alcina Cove. Never married. Like a lot of men around here, I think he was wed to the ocean. He had a girlfriend, though. On again off again relationship for a while. I don't think she was good for him. He didn't seem happy."

"Anybody else?"

Obviously, Jamie held no enjoyment in Maris's trip down memory lane. His voice was clipped with impatience.

"Here's my other uncle. The middle boy, Andrew. He died in an auto accident, and his wife married again a few years later. They had no kids. You see, there were only the two sisters in the older generation. My grandmother, Anne, and her sister, Alva. Anne married and had three sons. Alva never did marry."

Maris considered the loneliness of almost a century without male companionship. She didn't know that was true, however. Alva had been beautiful. She might have had many men in her life, but had chosen not to marry. The only thing Maris knew for certain was there had been none in Maris's childhood years in Alcina Cove.

"So the only living blood relative in that immediate line is you."

Maris closed the alb.u.m beneath her hand and placed it on top of the pile with the others. "Correct. Will I be allowed to have these?"

"No, not...not yet."

He'd been about to say something else. Maris had caught the tail end of unspoken words like the snap of a whipping branch in the wind. She waited.

"I'm going to record what we say here." He pushed an old-fashioned Dictaphone in her direction so it sat in place between them.

"Don't you need to read me my rights, or something?"

"I'm not arresting you, Maris. I'm only questioning you."

"But if you decide to arrest me later, I've already blown my right to silence, haven't I? And you've recorded it."

He sighed, dropping his hand from the table to his lap. "Don't you want to be helpful?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No."

"Should I have a lawyer present?"

"Do you need one?"