Season of Secrets. Marta Perry
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believe me.”
“He didn’t kill Annabel.”
Tracey raised an eyebrow. “You sure of that?”
“Of course I am.”
“Nice to be sure.”
She swallowed irritation. “All right, Tracey. What’s this all about? Did you get me down here to talk about Marc?”
“No.” She shrugged. “But you’re here. I couldn’t help asking what you think about Marcus Devlin’s return.”
The irritation faded away. Tracey was just being Tracey. She couldn’t blame her for that.
“I was surprised.” That was honest. “I didn’t think he’d ever want to come back, because of the tragedy.”
“Why did he?”
“His house has been rented all these years. The renters recently moved out, so he came to make arrangements to put it on the market.”
“A good Realtor could have taken care of that for him.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, you know that?”
Tracey grinned. “That makes me a good detective. Why did he really come back?”
“Because of Court. His son. My cousin’s son. Court wanted to see the house before it was sold. They’re staying through the holidays. Not that it’s police business.”
“It’s an open case,” Tracey said gently. “Dinah, you must know that most often, a pregnant woman is killed by a husband or boyfriend.”
“Not even you can believe Marc would bring his thirteen-year-old son back to that house if he killed the boy’s mother. Besides—” She stopped.
“Besides what?” Tracey prompted.
“Marc wants to find out the truth.”
“I’ve heard that line before.”
“Tracey, he didn’t kill Annabel. He couldn’t have.”
“In that case, why does his return bother you so much?” Tracey held up her hand to stop a protest. “You’re not that good at hiding your feelings.”
“I was in the house that night,” she said slowly. “I suppose you know that.”
Tracey nodded. Of course she knew. She’d probably read all about the case before she’d ever agreed to work with Dinah.
“I don’t want to have to relive the pain again. I loved Annabel. I want to protect her memory.”
“Why does her memory need protecting?”
Dinah could only stare at Tracey, aghast that the words had come out of her mouth. She wasn’t even conscious of thinking them, but now that she’d spoken, she knew it was true.
She wanted to protect Annabel’s memory. And she didn’t know why.
Three
“We need to get a big tree, Dad. One that reaches the ceiling, okay?” Court leaned forward in the back seat of Marc’s car, propping his arms on the back of Dinah’s seat.
Marc didn’t take his eyes off the road, but Dinah saw the slight smile that touched his lips. She thought she knew what he felt—that it was good to see Court enjoying himself so much.
She’d like to think so, too, but this tree-buying trip could turn out to be a disaster. She eyed Marc. Did he really not know what he could be walking into?
“How exactly do you expect to get a tree that big back to the house?” Marc asked, as if it were the only concern on his mind.
“We can tie it on top.” Court twisted to look out the side window, bouncing Dinah’s seat. “Hey, is that the water over there?”
“Charleston’s a peninsula—we’re practically surrounded by water. Your dad is taking us to the Christmas tree sale via the scenic route.” As far as she was concerned, the longer it took to get there, the better. “Fort Sumter is there at the mouth of the harbor. We should take the boat trip out one day while you’re here.”
“Cool.” Court pressed his face against the glass for a better look.
His absorption in the view gave her the opportunity for a carefully worded question aimed at Marc. “Are you sure you want to go to this particular tree sale?” she said quietly. “There are several others.”
Marc’s jaw tightened until it resembled a block of stone. “The Alpha Club sale still benefits charity, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, not wanting to verbalize her concerns within Court’s hearing.
“Then that’s where we’re going.” Marc’s tone didn’t leave any room for argument.
Stubborn. He had always been stubborn, and that hadn’t changed. He’d been a member of the Alpha Club once and active in the civic and charitable activities of the group of young professionals. They’d been fellow attorneys, fellow Citadel graduates, movers and shakers in Charleston society. Did Marc think he’d find a welcome there now?
Her stomach clenched. She wanted to protect both him and Court from any unpleasantness, but she could hardly do that if he insisted on walking right into the lion’s den.
Protect. She’d told Tracey she wanted to protect Annabel’s memory. The truth probably was that she couldn’t protect any of them, including herself.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they drew up then at the parking lot that had been transformed into a Christmas tree paradise—decorated trees, garlands, lights, live trees, cut trees, trees of every shape and size. The Alpha Club did its sale in style.
“Wow.” That seemed to be Court’s favorite expression. He slid out of the car as soon as it stopped. “I’ll find just the right one.” He loped into a forest of cut trees, disappearing from sight.
Dinah got out more slowly and waited while Marc came around the car to join her. “He definitely hasn’t lost his enthusiasm, has he?”
“Not at all.” His smile was automatic, and she thought some other concern lay behind it. “He was asking me questions today about your family history,” he said abruptly. “I tried to answer him, but I’m probably not the best source for Westlake family history.”
She knew what he was looking for. “Aunt Kate is.” Aunt Kate was the repository of family stories that would be lost when she was gone unless someone cared enough to hear and remember them.
“I know she doesn’t want to see me.” The words were clipped. “Do you think she’d talk to Court about the family?”
She could only be honest. “I don’t know. I’ll ask her.”
“Thanks, Dinah. I appreciate it.”
His hand wrapped around hers in a gesture of thanks. It lasted just for an instant. It shouldn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything. So why did she feel as if the touch surged straight to her heart?
It was nothing. A hangover from the teenage crush she’d had once. She took a breath, inhaling the crisp scents of pine and fir, and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets.
“We’d better find Court, before he picks out a twenty-foot tree.”
They moved into the mass of trees. And mass of people, too. It seemed half of Charleston had chosen this evening to search for the perfect tree. Surely, in this crowd, it would be possible to find a tree and leave without encountering any of Marc’s one-time friends.
They rounded a corner of the makeshift aisle through the tree display, and she saw that she’d been indulging in a futile hope. Court, pointing at a huge fir, was deep in conversation with a salesman. The man didn’t need to turn for her to recognize him. And