Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Letter to Reader
- Fatal Affair
- Dedication
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Copyright
“You sound like the department shrink,” she said with a chuckle. “And while I know you’re both right, there’s something about a dead kid that shakes you to the core even when you know you did everything right.” Sam fixated on a spot on the wall as the horror of it all came back to haunt her once again. She’d never forget the sound of Marquis Johnson’s agonized shrieks after his son was hit by gunfire.
“What happened that night?”
The sick weight of it settled over her and turned a stomach so recently satisfied by food. She’d had a hard time choking down anything for weeks after the incident. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. I have to testify at the probable cause hearing next week.”
Under the table, he took her hand, linked his fingers through hers and resisted her efforts to break free. “Stop,” he said softly. “Just stop, will you?”
“Someone might see,” she hissed.
“No one’s looking at us, and the tablecloth hides a world of sin. There’s nothing quite like a good tablecloth.”
Sam gently extricated her hand and folded her arms while pretending not to notice the wounded look that crossed his face. “I’ll bet you’ve done your share of public sinning.”
“I’ll never tell,” he said, his lips quirking with amusement. “Is it so difficult for you?”
“What?”
“Sharing the burden.”
“It’s impossible,” she confessed. “My inadequacy in that regard has caused me some major problems in my life.”
“What kind of problems?”
“The marriage kind for one.” She wished for something else to drink since her mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. Glancing at Nick, she found him watching her with the patience of a man who had nothing but time. She reached for his half-empty glass of beer and took a long drink.
“Why’d you get divorced?”
Sam mulled it over, wondering if she should have this conversation with a man she was wildly attracted to but who was off limits to her. After a long pause, she decided what the hell? Why not? “My ex-husband claimed I didn’t need him.”
“And did you?”
“No,” she snorted. “He turned out to be a total loser.”
“Since he failed to deliver a couple of critically important messages, I’d have to agree with you there.”
“I made such a big mistake with him,” she sighed. “I didn’t see him for what he really was until it was too late. I didn’t listen to people who tried to warn me.”
Nick straightened out of the slouch he’d slipped into. “Was he… I mean… He didn’t hit you, did he?”