She’d come too far to spare either of them with a final lie. So the horrible explanation streamed out unchecked, and she let it flow. “I didn’t want to go to jail. Suddenly, I felt selfish. My tormentor was gone and a new life was possible for me and I didn’t know if I could lose it. So I hid the body. Then I ran.”

His reaction rippled through her. Unable to bear his disgust, she stood.

“Where did you go?” The question was flat. Deliberately so. Gabriel knew himself well enough to conceal the murderous rage thumping at his heart. To release it would terrify her, and he vowed he would never make her fear him.

Which meant he couldn’t touch her, because if he did, the tenuous control he was fighting for would snap.

He would rail against the parents who had abandoned her, against Sebastian, who had left her in an evil man’s clutches.

Instead, he circled around her and walked carefully over to the bar. Whiskey splashed into the bottom of a crystal snifter. He tossed the liquor down, grateful for the heat. His hands weren’t quite steady as he poured a second shot. “Erin. Where did you go after that night?”

“I went to Sebastian.” With her back to him, she didn’t see his knuckles tighten on the crystal, didn’t hear the glass stem break. Oblivious, Erin fought the urge to ask him what he thought of her. Didn’t his reaction clearly spell it out? Tenderness was for victims. Not for women who committed murder.

“Sebastian.” Repeating the name, Gabriel swept the glass into a paper towel and dumped the ruined snifter into the trash. “I thought he hated you.”

“I thought so, too. Sebastian was so angry with me, I never expected him to forgive me. But he was the only one I could call. After the storm ended, he came to California. He—” She stopped, unwilling to betray. “He helped me.”

Swiftly, wanting the interrogation finished, she described the months afterward. Ashamed, she didn’t tell him about the nightmares and the new fear of storms. “Eventually, I was able to get new papers through Sebastian. Became a different person. Identification. Passport. Therapy. Another doctorate.”

His voice was gruff as he asked, “Why did you come to New Orleans?”

She wouldn’t humiliate herself by begging for reassurance. Briskly she finished her explanation. “Mrs. Cain used to tell me about magnolias. I wanted to see some.”

“And the position at Burkeen?”

“Maggie told me.”

“Either the killer followed you here or your showing up was a lucky break.”

Erin shrugged and wished for a glass of whatever Gabriel was drinking. “Yes.”

Gabriel stepped from behind the bar. “We should get back to the police station. Sylvie will wonder what happened to us.”