doctor put me in bed for a week.”
“I—”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re out on a technicality. You’re still a murderer. I won’t have you around me or my baby.”
To her astonishment, Alex laughed. He laughed until a single tear rolled down his cheek, then he sat abruptly in one of the wing back chairs that flanked the stone-cold fireplace and buried his face in his hands.
Liz watched him with growing alarm until she found herself standing by his side. She shrugged off his coat and laid it aside. He apparently sensed her closeness for without looking up, he reached for her, caught the hem of her sweatshirt, pulled her onto his lap. He rested his cheek against her breasts, his chin on the curve of her belly.
While one tear did not a crying-jag make, she’d never seen Alex shed even that before. She’d always been the one to weep at the drop of a hat, not him. She wrapped her arms around him and smoothed his hair with an unsteady hand. She tried to dismiss how sitting in his lap made her feel. The way her body came alive. The way the world suddenly seemed to be okay again despite the fact that nothing was okay. It was like finally waking from a long, dreary sleep.
But where would this feeling of renewed life take her? Into heartbreak territory, that’s where. Into a new trial, the outcome of which didn’t matter because he was guilty and that was enough to destroy them. She concentrated on feeling pity. It was safer.
Eventually, he looked up. She fought the urge to touch his lips with her own. How else does a woman comfort a man she loves, even a man she knows she shouldn’t love?
His expression guarded, he said, “I found your long green scarf.”
She blinked a few times, totally at sea.
“The one I gave you for your birthday because it matched your eyes.”
“I know which scarf you mean,” she said. “But I don’t understand—”
“You left it behind. I only had a second before I heard the sirens so I did the only thing that came to me. I hid it.”
Blood pounded in her ears, making it hard to follow his words.
“Liz,” he said gently, “I passed you a few miles from your uncle’s estate. It’s a narrow road and it doesn’t go much of anywhere else. You were driving back into town.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“It was dark and my old black truck looks like half the other black trucks in the county. But you have that white sports car.”
“I don’t understand, Alex. What’s this got to do with my scarf?”
“I found your scarf in your uncle’s hands. For an eternity or two, I just stared at it, trying to make sense of it until I heard the sirens. Then I untwisted it somehow and hid it. By then, the sheriff was there. He took me into custody. I tried to call you. I tried for hours. You weren’t home.”
Liz had a hard time finding her voice. Her throat felt dry and raspy. She said, “After I talked to my uncle for the last time, I went to my office at the mall and started packing my things. I wrote a letter of resignation. I was going to give it to him the next day. I was going to quit.”
“When I couldn’t reach you, I thought it meant you were hiding,” Alex said. “The sheriff started talking about finding you. He started saying that everyone, even him, had heard you threaten your uncle. He said everyone knew you were just waiting for your uncle to die so you’d be rich. He said maybe you’d killed your uncle. I’ve had time to think about it since then. I think he was goading me. At the time I just wanted to strangle him.”
“Why would he do something like that? He was my uncle’s protégé, and while we weren’t exactly friends, he’s always been pleasant to me.”
“He wanted me to admit I killed your uncle.”
Liz found herself on her feet, trembling. “What are you saying, Alex?”
He took her hands and held them firmly. “I think your uncle came at you with that letter opener and you struggled with him. I think your fear gave you enough strength to protect yourself and our baby. I think that during the struggle, the letter opener got turned on him or he fell on it, I’m not sure which. I think it was an accident or self-defense.”
She pulled her hands away and backed up. “You think I killed my uncle?”
Brow furrowing, he nodded. “Yes. Of course I do.”
“And then allowed you to take the blame for me?”
“Well—”
She felt all the blood drain out of her face.
“Liz—”
“I didn’t kill him,” she cried, hurt beyond bearing that he could think she would betray him.
He looked as pale and stunned as she felt. He swore under his breath and stared at her.
“I didn’t kill him,” she repeated.
Chapter Two
Alex swallowed so hard she could see his throat work. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Their stares stretched on and on until Liz finally sat down on the ottoman. “I don’t understand. You confessed. Now you’re telling me you didn’t murder my uncle?”
“I didn’t murder your uncle.”
“But you thought I did?”
“Yes, I did,” he said, and closed his eyes. She could only imagine what he was thinking and feeling.
“I went to tell Devon he could give his blasted money to a flea circus for all I cared,” he added, opening his eyes and searching her face. “I wanted him to leave us alone. Don’t you think I know how hard it’s been for you to keep peace with him, to do things his way, how impossible it’s been? But telling you to divorce me, to ‘get rid’ of our baby if you ever wanted to see a dime of his money—when he said those things, he burned his bridges as far as I was concerned and I wanted him to know it.
“He was in the den, crumpled on the floor in front of his desk, your scarf tangled in his fingers. He was warm. My EMT training kicked in and I felt for a pulse, I thought maybe—but he was already dead.”
“Oh, Alex.”
“And then Sheriff Kapp showed up. He’d received a telephone tip that something was going down at Devon Hiller’s house. He asked me to come in with him, to answer questions. I still wasn’t saying much of anything, just that I’d found Devon like that but I had his blood on my sleeve and apparently I even touched the handle of the letter opener because they found my prints on it. The sheriff started insinuating things about you and all I could think about was the murder scene. I’d found the scarf but had I missed something else you left? I confessed there’d been a struggle and he’d fallen. The sheriff was anxious to wrap it all up in record time and he was absolutely sure he had his man.”
“You wouldn’t let me help you.”
“I
