“The night of the accident. A couple of hours before. We were in his car, in fact.”

“Oh.” His expression turned serious. “And what’d you say?”

“Just that it was a gift. He seemed suspicious for, like, three whole seconds. Then he laughed it off.” Mary Beth tried to think how best to explain Bobby Joe’s theory that a virgin couldn’t cheat, until Parr’s dubious look made her nervous. “As far as I know, he doesn’t remember it. Why should he? He didn’t care.”

“Mary Beth. I know you’re not telling me something.”

“That was the truth,” she insisted.

“Not entirely.” He straightened in his chair. “Come on. Out with it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Bobby Joe’s remembering more and more. And no, he didn’t say anything to me about the necklace. But he told me yesterday that you two had quarreled that night and that you’d suggested a separation.”

“Just my luck,” Mary Beth said bitterly. “I guess now you think I’m at least partly responsible for the accident.”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. But I do have one question.”

Parr’s intense gaze made her want to get up and go away. “Go ahead.”

“Why do you keep wearing the pendant?”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t.” She reached up a hand, but before she could touch the chain, Parr had captured her wrist.

“Don’t take it off,” he murmured. “If he doesn’t know where it came from, I’m not going to tell him. Are you?”

She hesitated. “No.”

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Parr said. He gathered up all his stuff in one hand and guided her out of the cafeteria with the other.

Mary Beth didn’t protest.

He brought her to his pickup and opened the door for her, then went around and tossed the canvas bags and other things into a storage space behind the front seats.

“Nice rig.” Mary Beth stepped up and swung herself into it as he did the same on the other side. “I assume you own this one.”

He shrugged and put the key in the ignition. The engine started with the kind of quiet roar that said expensive. “That’s right.”

Her hand rested on the seat. The upholstery was new, with a luxury feel under her hand, and the cab was spacious, with a real backseat, unlike the classic Thunderbird he’d rented when he’d first been back in Iminga. Still and all, Parr had managed to turn her brief ride in it into mind-melting intimacy.

Anything else, the gearshift would have been in the way. And bucket seats definitely kept passenger and driver separated. So much for sexy sports cars. A top-of-the-line pickup had plenty of room to get in trouble.