My heels clicked on the hardwood floor as I walked toward the library, and I could hear voices. Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I walked in.

The look on Blane’s face would have made me laugh if the circumstances had been different. My smile was perfectly real as I greeted the two plainclothes detectives seated across from Blane and Charlotte.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said, holding out my hand to each of them in turn and ramping up the Southern belle. “Blane thinks my disposition is such that this might be too unpleasant for me, but I assured him that I’m not going to let him go through this alone.”

I sat next to Blane and took his hand in both of mine, settling it in the folds of my skirt, then dug my nails into his palm. He didn’t flinch, but his hand fisted, capturing my fingers and stilling them.

“Please continue,” I said, crossing my legs.

One of the detectives glanced at my legs, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, miss. You are—?”

“Kathleen Turner,” I replied. “Blane’s fiancée.”

Both men wrote that down in the little notebooks they held.

“And were you with Mr. Kirk the night Miss Miller was murdered?”

I frowned. “I’m so sorry about that poor woman. It was awful what happened to her.”

“Yes, it was,” the detective said. “Were you with Mr. Kirk that night?”

I took a deep breath and did something I’d thought I’d never do to a police officer—I lied. “Yes. Yes, I was.” My dad had to be turning over in his grave.

Blane’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of inflicting pain.

The detective consulted his notes again. “Miss Miller was involved with Mr. Kirk for a while. When did you and he start seeing each other?”

“Last fall,” I said. “Kandi never got over the fact that Blane chose me and not her.”

The detective seemed uncomfortable as he asked his next question, but his gaze was steady on mine and I braced myself.

“You are aware that Mr. Kirk has admitted that he and Miss Miller were having an affair for the past few weeks?”

Blane went utterly still next to me and I avoided the impulse to glance at him. His hand still held mine in a viselike grip. I was suddenly glad I’d overheard him and Kade talking last night so I was prepared, otherwise my shock would’ve given away the game.

My expression turned into one of regret and sorrow. “I’m sure you of all people, Detective, would know that every relationship has its problems. Blane and I had a disagreement that kept us at odds for a short time, but we’ve worked through our differences.”

“And why me ‘of all people’?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just that my daddy was a cop and I know from firsthand experience the toll that can take on a relationship.”

The detective gripped the notepad with his right hand, his left hand clenching in a fist. I’d noticed the faint mark of an absent wedding ring on his finger. He was recently separated or divorced and judging from the mark that was still there, I guessed the former.

“Was a cop?”

“He died in the line of duty when I was fifteen,” I explained. This time I didn’t have to fake the sadness in my voice.

“And how would your daddy feel about you marrying a man who regularly gets criminals acquitted?”

Ah. A personal ax to grind? Lovely.

I gave the detective a look my mother used to give me when I sassed her, a mix of disappointment and patience. “I think he would be proud that I’m marrying a man who spent several years serving his country in war. I think he would be grateful to Blane for risking his own life several times to help me and others. I think he would be glad I found someone with the strength of his convictions and a strong sense of justice and loyalty, a good man who loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my composure after that little speech. It was exactly how I’d felt after Blane had proposed and the memory made my heart ache.

The detective’s smile was devoid of humor. “Well, Mr. Kirk is lucky to have a woman like you standing by him at a time like this.”

I stiffened. I could tell by his tone that he was already convinced of Blane’s guilt and pitied a woman who would stand by a murderer.

The detective focused again on Blane. “So let’s just go through the events of that night one more time,” he said.

I turned to Blane and our eyes caught. His mask was firmly in place and I couldn’t read what he was thinking or feeling. I could only feel the pressure of his hand gripping mine.

Blane cleared his throat before answering. “Kandi had called me, wanted me to come by. Said she wanted to talk to me. I arrived around 9:00 P.M.”

“And you didn’t mind him going to see her?” the detective asked me.

“Kandi is… was… a longtime family friend,” I said impassively. “No, I didn’t mind.”

“What did you and she talk about?” he asked Blane.

“Our relationship, such as it was. She’d been drinking and was… highly emotional.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Kandi was angry one moment, crying the next.”

“What was she angry about?”

“That’s speculative,” Charlotte interjected.

“This is an informal questioning, Counselor,” the detective snapped. “Not a court of law.”

“It’s okay,” Blane murmured to Charlotte.

“She was angry about us,” Blane answered. “She didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. She said I was just using her.”

“Weren’t you? After all, it wasn’t as if you were planning to marry her, was it?” The detective sneered in contempt.

“That’s neither here nor there, is it, Detective?” Blane avoided the question.

“Did you have sex that night?”

“No.”

It looked like I wasn’t the only one lying to the police today.

“Did anyone see you arrive at her home?”

“A neighbor was walking their dog when I got there.”

“Anyone see you leave?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

The detective wrote that down. “Then what happened?”

Blane sighed. “That’s all. Kandi’s temper tantrums weren’t an unusual occurrence. I told her we’d talk about it when she calmed down and I left.”

“And what time was that?”

“A little after ten.”

“Did you go anywhere after that?”

“No, I came straight home.”

“And you can verify that, Miss Turner?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Kirk, you’re trained in many forms of hand-to-hand combat, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Ever strangle someone before?”

“No.”

“Ever kill someone with your bare hands?”

It took a moment for Blane to answer, and when he did, his voice was cold. “I spent five years in the Navy deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq. Yes, I’ve killed without a weapon.”

The detective turned to me again. “Have you and Mr. Kirk ever argued?”

“Of course we have,” I said stiffly.

“Has he ever hit you or injured you in any way?”

I had a flash, my memory conjuring the time Blane had smashed his fist into my jaw when he’d been having a nightmare and I’d tried to wake him. “No,” I said. “Absolutely not.” But I could tell he’d noticed my hesitation and I wanted to kick myself.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Turner,” he said, motioning to my face, “it looks like you’ve had an accident recently.”

The bruises where David had hit me had faded and I’d used makeup to cover the yellowing spots, but apparently the detective could still see them.

I smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I was clumsy.”

“It occurs to me,” the detective said, sitting back in his chair and directing his attention to Blane, “that having a governor who casually cheats on his fiancée wouldn’t be something most people would appreciate. Did Kandi threaten you, Mr. Kirk? Did she say she was going to go public with your affair and that’s why you killed her?”

“Don’t answer that,” Charlotte ordered. “Detective, you’re out of line.”

He smiled as he put his notepad into the pocket of his jacket. “It was just speculation, Ms. Page.” He stood, as did the other detective. “We’d like a DNA sample as soon as possible.”

“You’ll need a court order,” Charlotte said. “Mr. Kirk has already admitted to being present the night of the victim’s death.”

“A warrant is public record, you know,” the detective said. “The news media will likely have a field day with that.”

“My client has an alibi for the time of death,” Charlotte replied. “I’d like to see you try to get a warrant.”

Blane got to his feet but remained quiet, letting Charlotte handle it. He kept hold of my hand and I rose as well.

The detectives turned to go, but before they reached the door, the one who’d led the questioning turned. “By the way, it seems that whoever killed Miss Miller also raped her.” He paused, his eyes flicking to mine. “Postmortem.”

Nausea rose like a wave in my throat. My knees threatened to buckle and I clutched Blane’s arm for support. His arm slid around my waist, holding me up as the detectives left the room. I heard the front door open and close.

Charlotte glanced at Blane and me. “I’ll wait outside,” she said, her face carefully blank.

I barely noticed her leaving, my mind busy trying not to imagine the horrible things that someone had done to Kandi. Someone so sadistic I had trouble wrapping my head around it.

Blane coaxed me to him and I let him wrap his arms around me, resting my head against his chest. My hands fisted the fabric of his shirt. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. My anger at being locked in the bedroom had evaporated into sober grief as the reality of what Blane was facing set in.