He saw the hesitation on her face; then her eyebrows pinched together.

“Come on,” he urged. “I have some experience myself. And I have questions. About Frank O’Toole and about your adoption—why Camille was looking into it. We’re assuming she was killed because she was pregnant, because it’s so bizarre that she broke her vows, that she got herself into that kind of mess with a priest, no less. But what if the pregnancy didn’t have anything to do with her murder?”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s likely, yes. It’s the one thing that’s so big and different, so out of whack that we think she had to be killed because of it, but that’s only an assumption.”

“But the bridal gown?”

“Yeah, what does that mean?” He inched a little closer to her. “What I’m saying is that we have to keep an open mind here, look at all the possibilities. And I think I can help with that.” She was about to argue when he added, “I’m not as emotional as you are about all this.”

“I’m not . . .” She let out a long breath. “Okay . . . fine,” she finally relented, though she didn’t seem too pleased about the prospect of working with him.

“But you have to agree that anything we find, we give to the police immediately.”

“Of course.” She closed her eyes for a second. “I just can’t believe this happened. Even though I know it does, I always thought it was something that happened to other people, you know. Not Cammie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t believe I’ll never see her again.”

God, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to hold her and whisper ridiculous platitudes into her ear. As if she knew where his thoughts were taking him, she added, “We’ll work together, but if you bring up the divorce or separation or marriage, the deal’s off. You know where I stand on that.”

He wanted to argue.

Badly.

Instead, because he knew she was still trying to work through her pain and grief, he inclined his head. “Deal.”

“Good.”

To the dog he said, “Good night, traitor,” then opened the screen door and walked across the small stoop and into the cool of the night. He didn’t look over his shoulder, didn’t even wait to hear the click of the lock behind him. He’d try to play by her rules.

For now. Until they found out what happened to Camille.

Montoya figured Abby would be pissed.

He didn’t blame her.