A Second-Chance Proposal by C.J. Carmichael

Author:C.J. Carmichael
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2002-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

THE PHONE RANG THE NEXT morning as Cathleen was getting out of the shower. Quickly wrapping a towel around her body, she raced to the bedside table, her wet feet tracking on the pine flooring.

Don’t expect Dylan, she warned herself, and she was right. It was Kelly, calling to see if Cathleen had heard from him.

“No. And I’m not going to. He’s moved out. I don’t know where he’s staying.”

“Well, if you see him, phone me. And be careful.”

“Be careful of what?” She was really getting tired of this. “Kelly, you know Dylan isn’t dangerous.”

“Do I? Maybe it’s time you did a reality check. When it was only Jilly’s death, I was prepared to admit there was a possibility we were wrong. But Dylan is making a habit of hanging out at murder scenes. Besides, who else had both the motive and the opportunity to shoot Rose Strongman?”

“Her husband.”

Kelly sighed. “He was at a town council meeting, for heaven’s sake!”

“Maybe he slipped out. All it would’ve taken was fifteen minutes—”

Kelly didn’t give her a chance to discuss this theory. She interrupted, her tone gentle yet firm. “Look, it’s time you faced the facts, Cath, and let go of all this. Dylan McLean has brought you nothing but grief. I never told you at the time, but when he walked out on your wedding day, a part of me was relieved. I thought then—and I still do—that it was the most honorable thing he could’ve done.”

“Honorable?” She wondered if Kelly would have come to the same conclusion had the facts been reversed. If Cathleen had been the one accused of a crime she hadn’t committed, wouldn’t Kelly have expected Dylan to stand by her in that case? But there was no sense arguing. The two of them were never going to agree if Kelly thought backing out on a promise of marriage was honorable.

After she’d said goodbye and hung up, though, she stared at the phone for many minutes.

Was she being a fool? Shouldn’t she at least consider the possibility that Dylan was guilty? He’d come home from his visit with his mother Tuesday night absolutely exhausted and shattered, refusing to talk to her until the following morning. Perhaps he’d needed the night to collect himself before facing her….

No. It hadn’t been that way. Snapping out of her trance, she dressed quickly in her riding clothes, then went out to the stall to saddle Cascade. Besides fixing the sticky door, Dylan had cleaned several days’ worth of muck from the floor and replaced the rotting boards that separated the two stalls from each other.

What had he said again? Indispensable.

She slumped against the side of Cascade’s stall and pressed the back of her hand hard against her eyes. Do not cry, you wimp. Filling her lungs with the scent of hay and trapped animal heat, she straightened her shoulders.

“Hey, baby. Want to go for a ride?” Cathleen slapped a hand on Cascade’s flank. The quarter horse was a beauty, one of those rare paints with brown markings on a cream background.

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