Killer Investigation. Amanda Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ grinned, disarming her yet again. “Grievances are our lifeblood. But to get back on point... Yes, you’re right, we did agree to separate colleges. We were supposed to go off and sow our wild oats and then come back to Charleston, settle down, marry and have a few kids, number negotiable.”

      She gave a quick shake of her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “When did we ever talk about anything remotely like that?”

      “I thought it was understood. In my mind, that was the way it was always supposed to end.”

      “Is this the part where you tell me you’ve been pining for me all these years? That I’m the reason you never married?”

      “You never married, either,” he said. “Have you been pining for me?”

      “No, I have not.” She planted a hand on one hip as she stared him down. “As fascinating as I’m finding this conversation, I really don’t have time for a trip down memory lane. I have a lot of things to do and not much time to do them. So if you’d like to tell me why you’re really here...” She tapped a toe impatiently.

      “I was hoping we could have dinner some night and catch up.”

      The suggestion hit her like a physical blow. Dinner? With Reid Sutton? No, not a good idea, ever. The last thing she needed was more drama in her life. All she wanted these days was a little peace and quiet. A safe place where she could reflect and regroup. Her life in Atlanta hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped. Not her career, not her personal relationships, not even her friendships. There had been good times, of course, but not enough to overcome the disappointment and humiliation of failure. Not enough to ward off a dangerous discontent that had been gathering for months. None of that needed to be shared with Reid Sutton.

      She wandered over to the fireplace, running a finger along the dusty mantel before turning back to him. “What do you call this discussion if it’s not catching up?”

      “Airing grievances and catching up are two different things.” He followed her across the room. “The latter usually goes down better with a cocktail or two. The former sometimes requires a whole bottle.”

      “The liquor has all been put away,” she said. “And as tempting as you make it sound, I’m leaving tomorrow so there’s no time for dinner.”

      He turned to glance back at the foyer where she’d dropped her luggage. “That many suitcases for just one night?”

      She shrugged. “I like to be prepared. Besides, I may be going somewhere else after I leave here.”

      “Where?”

      “I haven’t decided yet.”

      He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze. “Is that the best you can do? Disappointing, Arden. You used to be a much better liar.”

      “I don’t have as much practice these days without you egging me on.”

      His demeanor remained casual, but something dark flashed in his eyes. “As if I ever had to egg you on. About anything.”

      She felt the heat of an uncharacteristic blush and turned away. “Funny. I don’t recall it that way.”

      “No? I could refresh your memory with any number of specifics, but suffice to say, you were always very good at deception and subterfuge. Better than me, in fact.”

      “No one was a better liar than you, Reid Sutton.”

      “It’s good to excel at something, I guess. Seriously, though. How long are you really here for? The truth, this time.”

      She sighed. She could string him along until they both tired of the game, but what would be the point? “I haven’t decided that, either.” She brushed off her dusty fingers. “The house needs work before I can list it and I’m not sure I trust Grandmother’s attorney to oversee even minor renovations. He’s getting on in years and wants to retire.” There. She’d owned up to Reid Sutton what she hadn’t dared to admit to herself—that she’d come back to Charleston indefinitely.

      “Ambrose Foucault still handling her affairs?”

      “Yes.”

      “He’s no spring chicken,” Reid agreed. “First I’d heard of his retirement, though.”

      “It’s not official. Please don’t go chasing after his clients.”

      He smiled slyly. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What about your job? Last I heard you were the director of some fancy art gallery in Atlanta.”

      “Not an art gallery, a private museum. And not the director, just a lowly archivist.”

      His eyes glinted. “I bet you ran things, though.”

      “I tried to, which is why I’m no longer employed there.”

      “You were fired?”

      “Not fired,” she said with a frown. “It was a mutual parting of the ways. And anyway, I was ready for a change. You should understand that. Didn’t you just leave your father’s law practice?”

      “Yes, but I was fired. Disowned, too, in fact. I’m poor now in case you hadn’t heard.”

      She was unmoved by his predicament. “By Sutton standards maybe. Seems as though I recall a fairly substantial trust fund from your grandfather. Or have you blown through that already?”

      “Oh, I’ve had a good time and then some. But no worries. Provisions have been made for our old age. Nothing on this level, of course.” He glanced around the gloomy room with the gilded portraits and priceless antiques. “But we’ll have enough for a little place on the beach or a cabin in the mountains. Which do you prefer?”

      Arden wasn’t amused. The idea that they would grow old together was ludicrous and yet, if she were honest, somehow poignant. “Go away, Reid. I have things to do.”

      “I could help you unpack,” he offered. “At least let me carry your bags upstairs.”

      “I can manage, thanks.”

      “Are you sure you want to be alone in this house tonight?”

      His tone altered subtly, sending a prickle of alarm down Arden’s spine. “Why? What aren’t you telling me?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she moved closer, peering into his eyes until he glanced away. “You didn’t come over here to clear the air, did you? What’s going on, Reid? For the last time, why are you really here?”

      He peered past her shoulder into the garden. “You haven’t heard, then.”

      “Heard what?”

      His troubled gaze came back to her. “There’s been a murder.”

       Chapter Two

      “The victim was a young female Caucasian,” Reid added as he studied Arden’s expression.

      She СКАЧАТЬ