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Marissa wasn’t certain if it was his teasing tone or tension that threw her into a fit of giggles. After the worst had passed, she pushed away the small, light table, scrambled up onto the couch, and sat about four feet away from Eric, suddenly nervous, her legs pressed together, her hands clenched in her lap.

“I know we had one hell of a fight the other night at Gretchen’s grave and I accused you of not standing up for her like you should have,” Eric said gently. “When I came over to your house later, I said I wanted to finish that fight. I told you I no longer blame you for anything that happened the night she died. I wanted to clear the slate with that statement and it sounded superficial. Well, it was somewhat superficial. The truth is that I blame all of us for what happened to Gretchen and I always will.”

Marissa stiffened. “All of us. Dillon, Andrew, Tonya, you, and me.”

“And my parents and their friends and Gretchen’s teachers—everybody who saw a beautiful teenage girl and treated her like she was ten because she was small, dainty, and soft-spoken. Even when she was twenty-one, she looked fifteen. Then there was her musical talent. She was a prodigy, so we all treated her like she was more fragile than crystal. We tried to keep her absolutely safe; we even tried to protect her from bad news—we might as well have wrapped her up in cotton batting and packed her away.”

“I know,” Marissa said sadly.

Eric took a deep breath and scooted closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. “I think the only person close to her who tried to tear away all that cotton batting was you,” he went on. “Sometimes I got annoyed with you because I didn’t think you were being careful enough with her. For a couple of years after her death, I kept telling myself there was something different about her that summer—something not good—and I blamed you for not finding out what it was. I was completely unreasonable. I now recognize that you tried to find out, but you had enough respect for her to give her privacy. She wasn’t obligated to tell anyone, even you, every thought and every feeling she had, and you didn’t badger her. My sister couldn’t have had a better friend than you, Marissa. I know that. I truly believe it.”

Marissa stared straight ahead, tears welling in her eyes. She was painfully aware of Eric’s closeness and every breath he drew. His earlier apology for blaming her had moved Marissa. She’d known it was a big step for him. But the things he’d said tonight touched her heart because they were so strong, so genuine. Marissa realized the amount of soul-searching he must have done to be able to tell her how he felt and she knew the pain it must have cost him.

“I don’t know what to say, Eric.” Her voice quivered, weaker than normal. “I hadn’t even talked to you for almost five years before my wreck Saturday night, and suddenly you’re telling me you feel all of us were in a way to blame for what happened to Gretchen.”

“I know. I sound like I’ve done a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn in less than a week, but I haven’t. For two years I gave in to my anger over Gretchen—a stupid, childish fury. I was irrational and foolishly enraged. I guess I must have some sense, though, because slowly it began to work its way through all that unfair anger and forced me to look at things more clearly. It wasn’t an easy process or a fast one—I fought it with everything in me, maybe because I preferred thinking we lived in a chaotic universe where no matter how hard I tried as an agent of the law, all my efforts were for nothing. Because there was no justice, no sense, in Gretchen’s death, I decided there wasn’t any justice or sense in the world.” Eric made a small, derogatory laugh. “I was very cocky, wasn’t I, thinking
I
understood the nature of the universe?”

Marissa smiled. “Don’t make so much fun of yourself. You didn’t think no justice existed in the whole world, just a small part of it. And I believe you can bring justice to that part, Eric.”

“I can’t do anything for Gretchen.”

After a few moments of silence, Marissa said, “The more we’ve talked about her the last few days, the more I’ve thought about the way she was acting that summer. I was young, I was over-the-moon about our wedding, but I still noticed it. Now that I’ve thought about it more deeply, I’m more convinced something was really bothering her—something beyond nerves over a concert tour or anger at being treated like a child.”

“What? Her breakup with Will?”

“I thought she was in love with Will. She never told me so, but her voice and the look in her eyes changed when she talked about him. You know how easily embarrassed she was, so I never asked her. She wasn’t jealous over losing you to me. She was thrilled that we’d be a real family.”

“So what was bothering her?”

Marissa sighed. “I don’t know. I do know she was secretive that summer. She always told me everything about her life—what she was doing, what she thought. Not that summer, though.” Marissa paused, trying not to sound triumphant. “Eric, I’ve arranged to have an interview with your mother tomorrow.”

When his mouth dropped open, she explained about the event sponsored by the Friends of the Library, his mother’s part in it as president, and how she’d almost bullied Susan into giving her the interview. “You and I talked about looking at the photo albums in reference to the rings, but maybe I can find out more about Gretchen in the house. Have things changed a lot there? Particularly Gretchen’s room?”

“Gretchen’s room is exactly the way she left it the night we went to Gray’s Island.”

“Knowing your mother, I guessed as much. If I get a chance to see Gretchen’s room without your mother’s presence, would you mind if I snooped around a little bit?”

Eric smiled at her kindly. “Of course not, but I’ve looked through Gretchen’s room. I haven’t seen anything unusual that would give us a clue about what was wrong with her.”

“
You
didn’t find a clue. I knew your sister’s hiding places.”

“Hiding places? Gretchen didn’t have anything to hide,” Eric said sharply.

“Everyone has a few things to hide, Eric. Certainly working in the law, you know that’s true.”

“I guess so. But Gretchen?” he asked reluctantly.

“Maybe,” Marissa said to soothe his defenses. “I have been wrong two or three times in my life.”

He looked at her and then laughed. “Okay. You know more about teenage girls than I do. Search the room if you get the chance. I just can’t believe you got the chance so soon.”

“Sometimes you have to make your chances, Eric. People don’t always like you for it, but reporters get used to pushing their noses where others think they don’t belong.”

“I’m proud of you, but Gretchen always said you had a lot of determination. She said you couldn’t be stopped once you’d set your mind to something.” Eric slid across the four inches of couch that separated them. Unnerved, Marissa loosened her hands and looked down at her watch. “I should be going. I left Catherine all alone—”

Marissa turned her head quickly, so Eric’s kiss just grazed her cheek. In a few moments, her voice cut through the silence: “What was that about?”

“We almost kissed last night and you didn’t act offended.”

“We leaned toward each other. It seemed almost out of habit.” She faced him. “Tonight seemed like a setup.”

“Oh.” She expected resentment, irritation, hauteur. Instead, Eric laughed. “I lure a beautiful woman to my swanky apartment, I ply her with Kentucky Fried Chicken and beer, and then I sweet-talk her by telling her I don’t blame her for my sister’s death. I see how that could seem like a setup.”

“Eric, it isn’t funny.”

“Yes, it is. You’re just mad and you don’t want to laugh.” His entire face changed—the brown eyes danced, the dimples appeared, the worry line between his eyebrows disappeared, and the deep, joyous sound of his laughter filled the room. His effect on Marissa was exactly the same as it had been five years ago, but she didn’t want him to know it.
She
didn’t want to know it.

“I’m sorry, Marissa. I didn’t mean for that kiss to be what it must have seemed to be. You know I…care about you. I have since you were about fifteen. And it felt so good to
really
talk to you again. Can we call it a misunderstood kiss of friendship?”

Marissa forced herself to smile while her emotions roiled. She was furious when she thought he was taking advantage of the situation, trying to lure her to his bed. She was devastated when he said he cared about her and the attempted kiss had been a “kiss of friendship.” All at once, she wanted to curse and cry at the same time.

Abruptly she stood up. “Well, now that we’ve defined our relationship—”

“Defined our relationship—”

“I really do have to go, Eric,” she rushed on as if he’d said nothing. “It gets dark so early and I don’t like to think of Catherine alone in the house at night and after Tonya’s visit last night God knows who’ll come by tonight.” She walked quickly to the closet and took out her coat. “I hope we got a few things straight. About the case, I mean. I’ll do my best to look around Gretchen’s room tomorrow. I can’t make any promises, though.”

Eric followed her to the front door and opened it to the icy December night. “I’ll follow you home,” he said.

She looked startled. “What for? I thought I answered all of your questions. And it’s late.”

“It’s not late and I didn’t intend to invite myself in once we got to your house, if that’s what you’re thinking. I want to make sure you get home safely, Marissa.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m going straight home. I’ll use the automatic garage door opener from the locked car, drive the car into the garage, close the garage door, and then rush right in the house. Just like I always do.” She gave him a quick, jittery smile that said, Don’t you dare follow me. Aloud she muttered, “Have a good night,” and hurried to her car. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Eric standing in his open doorway, watching until her red taillights turned right onto the highway. As she sped into the bitterly cold darkness, she wished she felt as confident about her safety as she pretended.

Chapter 13

1

After Marissa left, Eric took another can of beer from the refrigerator, flipped the television back on, lay down on the couch, and smiled. He’d let Marissa go so easily because he’d already arranged for surveillance at her house. She would arrive to find Deputy Randall Crane parked in front of her house.

He took a sip of beer and half of it ran down his chin. He’d never been good at drinking while lying down, and after nearly choking on the beer that had actually made it into his mouth he muttered, “Damn,” and sat up, wiping his chin with his hand. Eric hoped he hadn’t done that in front of Marissa. Marissa had seen it happen many times before, though. Marissa knew almost everything about him, even how cold and unforgiving he could be sometimes.

Eric stood up and took another sip of beer. After circling the room aimlessly, he went to the picture window and stood motionless, staring out into the dark, thinking of Christmas five years ago—Gretchen’s last. He’d had four days off and more than just trading Christmas gifts on his mind. He’d known how much Marissa loved Christmas, and along with a beautiful deep blue cashmere sweater he’d bought a one-carat engagement ring. He’d spent most of the way home practicing his proposal.

The large Montgomery home had been swathed in Christmas lights and this year his father had placed artificial reindeer in the front yard, including one with a glowing red nose. Whenever Eric came home to visit, his parents had always acted as if he’d just returned from a war. Bear hugs from Dad, kisses from Mom along with darting inspections of Eric’s face meant to ferret out pallid skin, red eyes, or the beginnings of a fever. His mother would run her hands over his midriff to see if he was losing weight because he wouldn’t eat properly. He’d always felt embarrassed and he’d always loved the attention.

Usually Gretchen had run to him and hugged him with the ferocity of a little girl, he now thought, taking another drink of beer. That visit she’d merely walked in during his parents’ greeting, smiled tenderly, and given him a gentle hug—no laughing, joking, and messing up his already-messy hair. He’d thought her gracious manner was cute—she was trying to act more mature, like Marissa, although Marissa often gave in to her own juvenile, silly side and he loved it.

He’d been mentally only half-present for the family festivities, though. The rest of the time, he’d been thinking of the perfect proposal, hoping Marissa would like the square-cut diamond set in gold, wondering if she would want to immediately pick a date for the wedding. He intended to push for mid-August, when his best friend would be back from active duty overseas in the Army. He was almost certain she’d agree.

Eric turned his back on the cold December evening and began putting away food left over from his dinner with Marissa. He smiled at the thought of this being a seduction dinner. He hadn’t meant it to be. He certainly wished he hadn’t tried to kiss her. Having her sitting next to him, listening to her animated voice and her irresistible giggle, smelling the same perfume she’d worn years ago, he hadn’t even thought before he’d acted. Kissing her had seemed the most natural act in the world and it had been damned stupid of him. He’d insulted her. Not so much that she never wanted to be alone with him again, he hoped. They’d spent a long time apart, though. He didn’t know how to act around her, now. Now, he thought. Was he kidding himself? He’d acted as bungling five years ago, the night he proposed, as he’d acted tonight.

Eric smiled at the memory of what he’d been thinking of as “the momentous event.” He’d made a reservation at the Larke Inn dining room, making certain they got a table next to the wall of windows overlooking the waterfall and that they had a special table decoration—two white and two apricot-colored roses instead of the single rose in a bud vase. He’d dressed in his best suit, and when he’d come downstairs in his home his mother had gasped, saying she’d never seen such a handsome man in her life, sending his father and Gretchen into fits of laughter.

If Gretchen had known Eric was going to propose, she hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t told her until the last minute, fearing she couldn’t keep a secret from Marissa for even twenty-four hours. Everyone had come out on the front porch to wave him off, as if he were leaving for a world tour, and he’d been self-conscious yet too excited to mind as much as usual.