of questioning, it was Grace who finally called a halt to the interrogation. “That’s enough for tonight, Zack,” she said firmly, as she rose from her chair. “Hope is exhausted. She isn’t going anywhere. If you have more questions for her, you can ask them another time.”
Zack nodded and reached over and turned off the tape recorder, then slipped the small device into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch. I guess I don’t have to tell you and Hope not to leave town.”
“Innocent people don’t leave town,” she replied vehemently.
Zack left the room and Grace leaned over her sister. “We’re going to go now, honey. We need to take care of some things. Nobody will bother you for the rest of the night. Just get some sleep and try not to worry. Charlie is going to fix all this, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Charlie nearly groaned out loud. Sure, that was easy for her to say. But he was a defense attorney turned rancher, not a miracle worker.
They left the room together, and once out in the hallway Grace slumped against the polished wall. For the first time since arriving at his ranch, she looked lost and achingly fragile.
His need to touch her—to somehow chase away that vulnerable look in her eyes—was incredibly strong. “Do you need a hug?” The ridiculous words were out of his mouth before he’d realized he was going to say them.
She released a bitter laugh and shoved off the wall. “I’d rather hug a rattlesnake,” she said thinly.
If he had any question about the depth of her dislike for him, her curt reply certainly answered it.
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look great,” he replied.
“So what happens now?” she inquired, as they continued down the hallway to the hospital’s front doors.
“Nothing for now. Questioning Hope is only the beginning. We really won’t know how much trouble she’s in until Zack’s completed his investigation into the murder.”
They stepped out into the unusually warm spring night air, and again he caught a whiff of her sweet floral scent. He wanted to ask her if she was dating anyone, if she’d found love with somebody else in the eighteen months since they’d been together.
He reminded himself he had no right to know anything about her personal life, that he’d given up any such right the night he’d gotten drunk and fallen into bed with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember.
“I don’t want to wait for Zack,” she said. “I want us to investigate this murder just as vigorously as he will.”
Charlie looked at her in surprise. “That’s a crazy idea!” he exclaimed.
“Why is it crazy? You told me once that you worked as an investigator before you became a lawyer.”
“That was a long time ago,” he reminded her.
She crossed her arms, a mutinous expression on her face. “Fine, then I’ll investigate it on my own.” She turned on her heels and walked off.
Charlie sighed in frustration. “Grace, wait,” he called after her. “I can’t let you muck around in this alone. You could potentially do more damage than good for Hope.”
“Then help me,” she said, her voice low with desperation. “I’m all that Hope has. The only way to make sure she isn’t railroaded for a crime she didn’t commit is for me to find the guilty person, and that’s exactly what I intend to do—with or without your help.” She paused, her eyes glittering darkly. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and shook his head. “I’d forgotten just how stubborn you could be.”
“I don’t think you want to start pointing out character flaws in other people,” she said pointedly.
To Charlie’s surprise, he felt the warmth of a flush heat his cheeks. “Touché,” he said. “All right, we’ll do a little digging of our own. The first thing you should do is make a list of William’s friends and business associates. We need to pick his life apart if we hope to find some answers.”
“I can have a list for you by tomorrow. Why don’t you meet me at my shop around noon, and we can decide exactly where to go from there.”
“You’re going into work?” he asked in surprise.
“I’d rather meet you at the shop than at my place,” she replied.
“All right, then, tomorrow at noon,” he agreed reluctantly. Charlie had worked extremely hard over the last six months to gain control and now felt his life was suddenly whirling back out of control.
She nodded. “Charlie, you should know that just because I came to you for help—just because I need you right now—doesn’t mean I like you. When this is all over, I don’t want to see you again.” She turned and left without waiting for a response.
Jeez, he seemed to be watching her walking away from him a lot, especially after throwing a bomb at him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of those hips beneath the suit skirt and the length of her shapely legs. A surge of familiar regret welled up inside him.
He was a man who made few excuses or apologies for the choices he made, but the mistake of throwing Grace away would haunt him until the day he died.
The morning sun was shining brightly as Grace parked in front of her dress shop on Main Street. She turned off the engine but remained seated in the car, her thoughts still on the visit she’d just had with Hope.
Hope had been no less confused about the events of the day before and didn’t seem to understand that at the moment she was the best suspect they had.
Fortunately, Dr. Dell wanted to keep her under observation for another twenty-four hours, and that was fine with Grace. The tox screen had come back showing a cocktail of drugs in Hope’s system but Hope was still vehemently denying taking anything. At the hospital, Hope was safe and getting the best care.
Grace wearily rubbed a hand across her forehead. The day was just beginning, and she was already exhausted. Her sleep had been a continuous reel of nightmares.
She’d been haunted by visions of Hope stabbing William and then taking the drugs that knocked her unconscious. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, images of Charlie also filled her dreams.
Charlie. She got out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary, as if doing so could cast out all thoughts of the man.
She focused her attention on the shop before her. Sophisticated Lady had been a dream of hers from the time she was small. She’d always loved fashion and design, and five years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday, William had loaned her the money to open the shop.
Grace had worked her tail off to stock the store with fine clothing at discount prices, and within two years she’d managed to pay back the loan and expand into accessories and shoes.
Now all she could think about was whether she’d sacrificed her sister’s
