LITMIR.BIZ

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brown color he remembered. He guessed the longer, darker look was part of her disguise. Little did she know, all the dye in the world couldn’t cover her high cheekbones and smooth skin. Purple or green hair, he would know her anywhere.

      “Let’s move on to a conversation I actually care about. Your missing husband,” Luke said.

      “Former.”

      Luke refused to let that distinction matter.

      “The divorce is final, but the financial settlement wasn’t signed. That’s the point of the murder, wasn’t it?” When she ducked her head, he lowered his to meet her eyes. “Right? With Phil dead and the money issues not resolved, you would inherit. With Phil alive and the agreement signed, you got whatever the prenup and final paperwork said.”

      “I see you’ve been reading the newspaper again.” She picked up a business card and tapped it end over end against the counter.

      “You would have been a very rich widow.” He watched the card twirl faster between her fingers. “You know, if you hadn’t actually been caught in the act.”

      “I was set up.”

      “Tell me again why I’m supposed to believe that.”

      “We’ve been through this. I told you the entire story twice on the way over here.”

      He folded his hand over hers. The goal was to stop the annoying clicking of card against counter before his head exploded. At the touch, he felt a shot of a different kind. The feel of her soft hand beneath his brought back a flood of memories. Skin against skin, touching her, making love to her. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to picture her sprawled naked across his white sheets.

      When the image refused to leave his mind, he shook his head to knock it out. He also pulled back his hand, because touching her skin was just plain stupid.

      “Let’s go to my office,” he said.

      “This should be interesting.”

      That was just about the last word he’d use. But rather than debate, he slid his fingers under her elbow and steered her down the short hallway to his room. Letting her peek into an area so private made him nervous, but it was better to bring her here than drag her to his house. Here he would stay focused and he could make sure she only saw what he wanted her to see.

      The conference rooms, computer rooms and most of the back half of the space were off-limits to visitors and anyone else who failed to get through the retinal scanner and other security measures in place there. That included Claire. Especially Claire.

      He swiped his key card at the second door on the left and punched in his code. When the door unlocked, he gestured for her to move inside ahead of him.

      The spare and minimalist look of the rest of the space continued in here. No dark heavy wood or oil paintings featuring somber sixteenth-century faces. He preferred clean lines, a comfortable leather chair and a desk sturdy enough to hold the stacks of documents piled on top of it.

      Not that the papers contained anything of value. Everything on his desk was there for show. The actual work files sat secured in his hidden safe along with his removable computer hard drive and every other piece of confidential information from his cases. She would see what he wanted her to see and nothing else.

      He waved at the black chair in front of his desk and took his seat behind it. With his computer switched on and his mind engaged, he was ready to hear her story one more time.

      “Again,” he said.

      “You’re going to type with one hand?”

      Her reminder made his arm ache even more. Thanks to her presence, he had to skip the heavy-duty painkillers and go with antibiotics and aspirin for the injury. The combination wasn’t working. Every nerve ending throbbed.

      “I’ll get by.” He stared across the desk right into her dark eyes. In that moment he wondered if he really would survive a second round with her. Last time she won, but he vowed to be the victor this time.

      IF HE WANTED to be some sort of martyr and plow ahead with questions when he should be in a hospital, Claire wasn’t about to argue. She needed his help. If she tried to tell him how to provide it, his testosterone would kick in and she’d never get through this uneasy alliance.

      “It was three weeks ago. Phil called and asked me to come to the house,” she explained.

      “Is that normal?”

      “I don’t understand the question.”

      Luke leaned back in his chair. Held on to his injured arm while he did it. “According to everything I’ve read, the divorce wasn’t exactly amicable.”

      She had known the accusations would come eventually. Still, the idea that Luke so readily believed the absolute worst of her stung. “You mean because Phil told everyone who would listen that I was a whore.”

      “I was trying to be tactful.”

      “Why start now?”

      “Fine.” Luke tapped his fingers against the space bar on his keyboard. “He accused you of sleeping around.”

      “I didn’t.”

      Luke hesitated before tapping again. “Okay.”

      “You believe me?” Something deep inside her chest tightened into a hard ball while waiting for the answer. It was as if every cell waited to see what he would say.

      Instead, he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s not important. Not my business.”

      Yeah, well, it mattered to her. But she refused to justify or explain. If Luke was so determined to judge her guilty on that point, let him. She knew she had damaged his ego when she walked out. A man didn’t forgive that sort of thing easily. But no matter how much he hated her, the important thing was that he believe in her story enough to help her.

      “Why did you go to the house?” he asked.

      “It was stupid.” In hindsight, the dumbest move of her life, even less intelligent than her marriage. “Phil called and said he wanted to come to a reasonable financial resolution. Asked me to come over to talk. I should have questioned the change in him, but I was so relieved. And when I got there everything was wrong.”

      The scene unfolded in her mind. The dark first floor. Music playing in the background. The strong odor of cleaner. She had called Phil’s name from the front door, but no one answered. When she heard a thump upstairs she figured he was moving stuff around and couldn’t hear her. She followed the curving stairway to the second floor. There was a light on the landing and more spilling out of the master bedroom down the hall.

      “I walked into our old bedroom. Something seemed off. My jewelry was on the bed, the same items Phil insisted I stole when I left the first time. He must have had them all along.”

      “Anything else? Was anyone there?”

      The remembered smell filled her head. It was a mix of sickening sweetness and harsh cleanser. The same wave of dizziness that hit her that night flowed through her again.

      She could hear the floor creak as Luke shifted around in his seat. She knew she was safe in his office, but she couldn’t pull her mind from the memory.

      “Just relax and tell me what you saw.”

      Luke moved his hand over hers. She didn’t even realize she had twisted a business card in her palm until Luke slipped it out from between her fingers and put it on the desk.

      As soon as the warmth of his skin came, it left again. His hand was back at his keyboard, but the touch had returned her to the present. She could finish the story. She had to finish.

      “There was blood splattered on the walls and on the floor. I remember kneeling, looking around trying to figure out what I was seeing. Then I heard the sirens.”

      “The police.”

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