Yet whether or not she wanted him in her life—or her bed—he wasn’t going to desert her.

“I’m sorry, Kimberly. I’ve made a total mess of everything. If I could go back and change my decisions, I would. But all I can do at this stage is tell you the truth and try to stop the evil I’ve helped perpetuate.”

“When are you going to . . . talk to the sheriff?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Will he . . . arrest you?”

The mere thought of that turned his insides to ice. “I don’t know. I imagine he’ll want to check out my story first. But no matter what happens, I’ll do everything in my power to continue helping you recover as fully as possible—if you’ll let me. If necessary, I’ll find a way to orchestrate the assistance from prison.”

She rubbed her temples. “My head is hurting . . . too much to think. I’m going to . . . lie down.”

He stood as she started to rise, but she waved him back down. “I can manage. I should be . . . more independent. I’ve been relying on you for . . . too much anyway. Good night.”

Cane in hand, she shuffled into the house.

Shoulders slumping, Dave watched her disappear from sight—and quite possibly from his life. Kimberly hadn’t cried, or asked many questions, or offered any hint she might consider forgiving him.

Perhaps she never would.

He’d done the right thing by telling her, though. And he’d do the right thing with the sheriff tomorrow too. He’d already been halfway to that decision prior to the man’s visit. Now, with the clock ticking on the thirty-day opt-out period, Lorraine was living on borrowed time. He had to move before the deadline arrived and his newest customer demanded her refund.

And once the sheriff got involved, BK wouldn’t dare touch her. If Cox agreed, he’d call BK after they talked. Share the news he’d gone to the police. That should keep Lorraine safe.

For now, he’d gather some bedding from the linen closet and make up the sleeper sofa in the family room. Not that he’d get much shut-eye tonight.

But at least he had a plan in place.

As for the old saying about confession being good for the soul?

He did feel a bit less burdened.

Yet the lightness in his soul was more than offset by the heaviness in his heart.

19

GRACE? SORRY FOR THE EARLY CALL, but we have a death scene that fits your parameters.”

At Nate’s grim greeting, Grace knuckled the sleep from her eyes, swung her feet to the floor, and peered at her watch. Six thirty in the morning wasn’t that early—unless you’d spent half the night thinking about the man on the other end of the line and a painting party that had stretched past ten o’clock Monday night.

“Give me an address.”

He recited it while she searched the nightstand in vain for a pen and piece of paper.