That feeling of weakness was something she couldn’t stand. She should just quit, give up this ridiculous quest right here and now, forget all about the past and concentrate on the present. The future, for God’s sake. But she wouldn’t. She knew that even before she had the cap off of her bottled iced tea. She had to have answers. Had to know who killed Anne Donovan. Had to know who killed her mother. Had to know if in some bizarre, insane, utterly unbelievable way they were connected to each other.

Her cell phone rang in her purse and she retrieved it, taking a seat in the back of the coffee shop so she wouldn’t disturb anyone. It was past prime lunchtime, so the shop was quiet, only a few customers working alone on laptop computers and sipping their drinks. Her Caller ID showed a Florida phone number, but not one that she recognized.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sara, how are you?”

Her stomach dropped. Just hearing his voice made her feel guilty. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m back at my place since my release. I want to see you . . . I’ve been worried about you. Are you at home? I’ll stop over with some dinner.” His voice was filled with concern.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Maybe that was an exaggeration, because God knows she could use someone to worry about her, but that wasn’t his burden.

And she felt horrible that she had been such a wreck, so completely incapable of supporting him in any way during the trial. Even when she had tried to defend Rafe on the witness stand, the prosecutor had shredded her. Every word out of her mouth had been manipulated, twisted to make it look like she and Rafe were the true lovers, that his relationship with her mother was a front, a con, until she had been so afraid they were creating a case against her as well as Rafe, she had shut down entirely.

She’d abandoned him essentially. Left him hung out to dry for a crime he didn’t commit, to protect herself, and now he wanted to feed her. He was definitely the better person than her.

“How are you, Rafe? Is the press leaving you alone?” Sara sipped her tea and rubbed at her temples. There was no running away. She needed to regroup, process, deal with all of her emotions, her guilt, her fear.

“Today hasn’t been too bad. Nobody camped out on my front lawn. The last three weeks I could have done without though.”