“She told me what happened between her and Scotty Ryan,” Karly’s mother went on. “She was inconsolable over what she’d done. It was a stupid, drunken, onetime mistake and had nothing to do with how she felt about you. I hope you know that.”

“I do now.”

“Did you forgive her?”

“I never got the chance.”

“Oh, Dylan.” Susannah drank her coffee and looked away, with a teary shine in her eyes. She got up and went to the sink in the kitchen, where she washed the mug carefully and dried it with a towel. Susannah was always neat and precise. She put it away in a cabinet and then tugged her robe tighter around her body. She went to the door and opened it as if she were going to leave without saying anything more, but with the night air coming in, she hesitated. “I should tell you something. I know what you did. I understand it, even if I can’t condone it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you confronted Scotty about the affair.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Dylan, why? Why couldn’t you let it go?”

I shrugged, because I had no excuse for the assault. “I didn’t plan to see him. It was chance. He was there, I was there. I should have walked away, but I gave in to my temper. I blamed him when I should have been blaming myself. That doesn’t change what he did, though.”

“Well, the police know,” Susannah said.

“The police?”

“Yes, they called me. The house was one of our listings, so they called to see if I knew anything about it. They had a description of you, Dylan. They had a witness who saw you leaving the house. They knew about the fight. I’m sorry, I couldn’t lie to them. I told them about the affair with Karly. I’m afraid it gives you a motive on top of everything else.”

“Susannah, what are you talking about?”

“They know you killed Scotty,” she replied. “They told me you stabbed him in the heart. He’s dead.”

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

I expected to find the police waiting to arrest me when I got back to the hotel. Instead, at five in the morning, the lobby was quiet and empty. Apparently they didn’t know I was sleeping here. I was relieved, because I needed time to think, to figure out what to do and where to go. Scotty Ryan was dead. The man who’d had an affair with my wife had been murdered. I’d killed him.

Except I hadn’t.