with Aunt Kate. Let’s have her here for the summer. She can help out with Court, and maybe I can help her grow up a little.
His heart caught at the memory. I feel it more here, Lord. Is that why I had to come back?
Dinah had certainly grown up. Skin soft as a magnolia blossom, blue-black hair curling to her shoulders, those huge violet eyes. He couldn’t describe her without resorting to the classic Southern clichés. Charleston knew how to grow beautiful women.
Dinah seemed to realize how long the silence had grown. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish at this late date. The police department considers it an unsolved case. I’m sure someone looks at the file now and then, but—” The muscles in her neck worked, as if she had trouble saying those words.
“They’ve written it off, you mean. I haven’t.” He wasn’t doing this very well, maybe because he hadn’t realized what he really wanted until he’d driven down the street and pointed out the house to his son. “Court hasn’t.”
Dinah’s hands were clasped in her lap, so tightly that the skin strained over her knuckles. “There’s nothing left to find after ten years. No one left to talk to about it.”
“There’s you, Dinah. You were there.”
Her face went white with shock, and he knew he’d made a misstep. He shouldn’t have rushed things with her, assumed she’d want what he wanted.
She pushed the words away with both hands. “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. You, of all people, should know that.”
A vivid image filled his mind, fresh as if it had happened yesterday—Dinah’s small form crumpled on the staircase of the house across the street, black hair spilling around her. He’d found her when he’d come home in the early hours of the morning from a trip to track down a witness in one of his cases.
He’d rushed downstairs to the phone, shouting for Annabel, and seen the light in the parlor still burning. He’d pushed open the half-closed door—
No. He wouldn’t let his thoughts go any farther than that. It was too painful, even after all this time.
“I know that you fell, that you had a concussion. That you said you didn’t remember anything.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.” Anger flared in her face, bringing a flush to her cheeks that wiped away the pallor. “If I knew anything about who killed Annabel, don’t you think I’d have spoken up by now? I loved her!”
The words rang in the quiet room. They seemed to hold an accusation.
“I loved her, too, Dinah. Or don’t you believe that?”
She sucked in a breath, as if the room had gone airless. “Yes.” The word came out slowly, and her eyes were dark with pain. “I believe you loved her. But there’s nothing you can do for her now. She’s at peace.”
“The rest of us aren’t.” His jaw tightened until it was difficult to force the words out. “Court knows I was a suspect in his mother’s death. My son knows that, Dinah.”
“Oh, Marc.” The pity in her face was almost worse than her anger had been. “I’m sorry. Surely he doesn’t believe you did it.”
“He says he doesn’t.” He tried to look at the situation objectively, as if he were a prosecutor assessing a case again. “Most of the time I think that’s true.”
But what if there was a doubt, even a fraction of a doubt? Could he stand to see his close relationship with his son eroded day by day, month by month, until they were polite strangers?
“I’m sorry,” she said again, looking at him as if she knew all the things he didn’t say. “I wish I could help you. I really do. But I don’t know anything.”
He studied her troubled expression. Dinah certainly thought she was telling the truth, but there might be more to it than that. She’d been there, in the house, that whole summer. There far more than he had been, in fact. If there’d been any clue, any small indication of trouble in the events of that summer, Dinah could have seen.
He wouldn’t say that to her, not now. He’d shaken her enough already, and if he wanted her cooperation, he’d have to step carefully.
“I understand.” He stood, seeing the relief she tried to hide that he was leaving. He held out his hand to her. After a moment she rose, slipping her hand in his. Hers was small and cold in his grip. “But you can still be a friend, can’t you? To me and to Court?”
She hesitated for a fraction of an instant before she produced a smile. “Of course. You must know that.”
“Good.” He made his voice brisk, knowing he had to pin her down while he could. “Come and see us tomorrow. We should be settled enough by then to entertain a guest. I want you to meet Court.”
Again that slight hesitation. And then she nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start with. If Dinah knew anything, eventually he’d know it, too.
Two
“I just wish you wouldn’t go over there.” Aunt Kate followed Dinah to the front hall the next day as if she’d bar the door.
Dinah stopped, managing a smile for her great-aunt. “I wish I didn’t have to.” She hadn’t told Aunt Kate about Marcus’s intention of looking into Annabel’s death. That would only distress her more.
“Well, then—”
“I must, don’t you see?” Obviously Aunt Kate didn’t, or they wouldn’t be having this conversation again. “You’re the one who taught me about the importance of family.”
Aunt Kate’s lips pursed into a shape reminiscent of a bud on one of her rosebushes. “Marcus Devlin is not a member of our family.”
“Annabel was.” She struggled to say the words evenly.
Aunt Kate’s eyes misted. “Does he know you haven’t been in that house since Annabel died?”
“No. And you’re not to tell him.” She clutched Aunt Kate’s hand. “Promise me.”
“Of course, dear. But if it bothers you that much, it’s all the more reason not to become involved with Marcus’s visit.”
“This isn’t about Marcus. I have to go over there for Court’s sake.”
Aunt Kate gave in at that—she could see it in her eyes. It was a good thing, because Dinah couldn’t bear to argue with her.
“I suppose if you must, you must.” She touched Dinah’s hair lightly. “You’re as stubborn as I was at your age.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She bent to kiss her aunt’s cheek.
“We’ll deal with the gossip somehow, I suppose.” Her aunt tried one last volley.
“Darling, you know they’ll gossip
