Gilt Read Free Page A

could speak. I wasn't sure what to say to this stranger sitting in my car, so I settled on the banal.
    "I exercise there, too." I gestured to his T-shirt.
    He glanced at his chest as though unsure what he was wearing. "Really? I don't think I've seen you. When do you usually go?"
    "Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, early in the afternoon. I only work part-time so I go early and beat the rush."
    "I usually go at night. I guess that's why I never saw you."
    I started the car and turned down the stereo, lest Pink Floyd blast the man's ears. I switched on the air conditioner and set the vents to defrost to clear the windows. "Which way?"
    Steele pointed to the right, where the road wound past the tall Civil War general. "Around the corner there." He paused. "Would you mind if I joined you at the library? I'd like to talk about the investigation."
    I hesitated. I wasn't sure if Paul would appreciate a stranger sitting in on our impromptu discussion. "I'm going to do a little research," I murmured, driving along the narrow roadway flanked by trees. "Nothing much."
    "Arson research?" He pointed ahead. "My truck is there, around the curve."
    I pulled in behind the forest green pickup truck parked on the side of the road. I turned to him. "I wanted to see if I could find out what the procedure for an investigation is." Several other faux excuses raced through my brain but when I looked into his dark brown eyes, I knew he would see through my hesitation.
    "I know they did a thorough investigation at the time. I was kept apprised of everything they did." He put his hand on the door handle, his face set and hard.
    Good Lord. I longed to slap myself on the head. Of course he knew about the investigation. His wife was murdered and he was an ex-cop and he had friends who would keep him informed every step of the way.
    "Something must have happened to make this an active case, something new that came to light," he continued, oblivious to my embarrassment. "It's not like you see on TV. These things don't always get solved in a few hours."
    "I realize that. I just want to know what to expect."
    "The best thing I can say is to expect the unexpected." He probably saw my exasperated expression because he smiled apologetically but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. I realized that I was seeing a dispassionate, objective cop. "From what I heard, your husband was implicated in starting the fire."
    "They're lying." I met his gaze squarely.
    Steele didn't look away. "It's been two years. It's a hard thing to prove or disprove."
    "John loved his job." He loved his job more than he loved me . I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. "He hated fires. He would never do anything like that." My wedding and engagement rings, worn now on my right hand, glittered as a fickle sunbeam peeked through a hole in the clouds. I felt as though my rings were drawing energy from my temper. "They've reopened the case and I want to know why. I want to know what kind of evidence they have that could possibly implicate John."
    Steele shifted his gaze to the gravestones around us then opened the car door. As he predicted earlier, the rain had stopped, turning into a light mist hovering in the hot, muggy air. His maneuver to leave the car was almost as fast as his maneuver to get into it, including dropping the accordion folder back to the seat, almost exactly where it was before he entered my car. I admired his dexterity then silently berated myself. The man had been injured decades earlier. Of course he would be adapted to his handicap by now.
    He leaned into the car, resting one arm on the frame. "I was a cop for thirteen years. I can't tell you how many suspects had families who were surprised by what their loved one was capable of doing."
    I scooted forward and faced him over the console of the car. "Not John. He would never put anyone's life in danger. Never." I struggled to keep my voice from rising.
    Steele's tanned hands opened and closed on the handle of his cane.