Out of Turn (27 page)

“I don’t want her involved,” he said.

Damn it. That just pissed me off. Blane had risked his life to save mine too many times for me to turn my back on him now, and if saying we were back together was what it took to give him an edge with the police, then that’s what I’d do.

“Yes, actually,” I said, directing my words at Charlotte. “We’re back together.”

Her face was carefully blank as she glanced at my left hand. “You’ll need a ring.”

I looked at Blane as my stomach did a flip-flop. I hadn’t touched the ring he’d given me since I’d set it on his desk those many months ago. For all I knew, he’d returned it.

Blane’s jaw was set in steel bands as he looked at me, but his voice was calm when he said, “Charlotte? Would you please give us a moment?”

Charlotte excused herself and left the room, though neither of us looked at her—our eyes now locked in a battle of wills. Blane got up from the table and approached me. I stood my ground, tipping my head back to look him in the eye when he stopped.

“I don’t want you doing this,” he said flatly. “I know you’re trying to help and I appreciate that, but you’ve been through enough.”

“There’s no record of my flight to Vegas or my stay there,” I said. “I can be your alibi.” I set down my coffee. “You’ve saved my life too many times for me to turn my back on you now.”

Blane gripped my arms. “Kathleen, be realistic. You’re not going to lie to the police for me! I am
not
getting you involved in a
murder
investigation!” he said, giving me a shake. His voice was louder than he’d ever spoken to me. I flinched but my resolve didn’t waver, though I couldn’t say the same for my knees, which were practically knocking together. “Do you have any idea of what that entails?”

I gave a slight shake of my head, my lips pressed tightly closed.

“It means,” he said, “that the police will crawl into every aspect of your life. Your work, your friends, your finances. They’ll question your character, your motives, make you feel like you’re guilty of something you didn’t even do. And through it all will be the press, documenting and overanalyzing everything. It’ll destroy you!” His voice wasn’t as loud but was just as intense, pushing me to capitulate, to give up.

“Then what’s it going to do to you?”

Blane didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I knew as well as he did that what happened in the next few days could ruin everything he’d worked his entire life for—his career, his reputation, everything that meant anything to him.

“Where’s the ring?” I asked. His hands still had a hold of my upper arms, the grip tight but not painful.

Something flashed in his eyes and his jaw clenched. The tension between us was thick, a war between his stubbornness and my determination to help him.

“Blane.”

Both of us turned to see Mona standing in the doorway. Her eyes flicked to where Blane held me, then back to his face. “Blane, the police are here. I put them in the library with Charlotte.”

“Thank you,” Blane said politely, utterly controlled again.

Mona nodded and disappeared.

Blane released me but took my hand and led me out of the kitchen. To my surprise, we didn’t go to the library but headed upstairs, to Blane’s bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we be downstairs?”

“I thought you wanted the ring?” He let go of my hand and went to his closet.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I didn’t know if I was ready to put that ring on my finger again, even if it was just a charade.

Blane emerged from the closet, holding the same velvet box he’d given me four months ago. Walking over to me, he opened it and took out the ring.

“This was always yours,” he said, taking my hand in his. He turned it palm up and placed the ring in my palm, closing my fingers over it. “I bought it for you and want you to have it, no matter what happens between us.”

I could barely breathe, the cold metal of the ring pressing against my skin. Blane’s eyes searched mine and I
wondered what he saw in them. My feelings were so confused and conflicted, I didn’t know what to think or say.

Blane glanced at his watch. “We’d better get downstairs. Do you want to freshen up before we go?”

I nodded wordlessly, welcoming a moment to regain my composure. I brushed by Blane into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I stared at the ring for a moment before sliding it back onto my finger. I remembered when they’d taken it from me on that island, and how Blane had somehow gotten it back. He’d rescued me. Saved me. I straightened my spine. Now it was my turn to do what I could to rescue
him
.

Coming out of the bathroom, I realized Blane was no longer in the bedroom. I frowned, wondering if he’d gone downstairs without me. Then I saw the bedroom door was shut. Afraid that I already knew what he’d done, I ran to it and twisted the knob.

Locked.

He’d locked me in his fucking bedroom.

“Goddammit!” I yelled, slamming my palms against the door.

Furious, I yanked on the handle again. Why did he have a door that locked on the outside? Never mind, that wasn’t important. What
was
important was that the cops were downstairs with Blane while I was stuck up here.

Okay, I had to get a grip. Being mad and yelling wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I thought of calling Kade, but my cell wasn’t on me. Plus, I had no idea if he was still in the house or gone. Considering how he and Blane liked to keep their family ties a secret, I assumed he was making himself scarce this morning.

I bent down and studied the lock on the knob. It had been a while, but maybe…

Ten minutes and a lot of cursing later, the lock clicked and the knob turned. I wanted to squeal with satisfaction. Tossing aside the tiepin I’d used to pick the lock, I got to my feet and smoothed my dress. I’d go downstairs and do what I could to help save Blane, then I’d kill him.

My heels clicked on the hardwood floor as I walked toward the library, and I could hear voices. Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I walked in.

The look on Blane’s face would have made me laugh if the circumstances had been different. My smile was perfectly real as I greeted the two plainclothes detectives seated across from Blane and Charlotte.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said, holding out my hand to each of them in turn and ramping up the Southern belle. “Blane thinks my disposition is such that this might be too unpleasant for me, but I assured him that I’m not going to let him go through this alone.”

I sat next to Blane and took his hand in both of mine, settling it in the folds of my skirt, then dug my nails into his palm. He didn’t flinch, but his hand fisted, capturing my fingers and stilling them.

“Please continue,” I said, crossing my legs.

One of the detectives glanced at my legs, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, miss. You are—?”

“Kathleen Turner,” I replied. “Blane’s fiancée.”

Both men wrote that down in the little notebooks they held.

“And were you with Mr. Kirk the night Miss Miller was murdered?”

I frowned. “I’m so sorry about that poor woman. It was awful what happened to her.”

“Yes, it was,” the detective said. “Were you with Mr. Kirk that night?”

I took a deep breath and did something I’d thought I’d never do to a police officer—I lied. “Yes. Yes, I was.” My dad had to be turning over in his grave.

Blane’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of inflicting pain.

The detective consulted his notes again. “Miss Miller was involved with Mr. Kirk for a while. When did you and he start seeing each other?”

“Last fall,” I said. “Kandi never got over the fact that Blane chose me and not her.”

The detective seemed uncomfortable as he asked his next question, but his gaze was steady on mine and I braced myself.

“You are aware that Mr. Kirk has admitted that he and Miss Miller were having an affair for the past few weeks?”

Blane went utterly still next to me and I avoided the impulse to glance at him. His hand still held mine in a viselike grip. I was suddenly glad I’d overheard him and Kade talking last night so I was prepared, otherwise my shock would’ve given away the game.

My expression turned into one of regret and sorrow. “I’m sure you of all people, Detective, would know that every relationship has its problems. Blane and I had a disagreement that kept us at odds for a short time, but we’ve worked through our differences.”

“And why me ‘of all people’?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just that my daddy was a cop and I know from firsthand experience the toll that can take on a relationship.”

The detective gripped the notepad with his right hand, his left hand clenching in a fist. I’d noticed the faint mark of an absent wedding ring on his finger. He was recently separated or divorced and judging from the mark that was still there, I guessed the former.

“Was a cop?”

“He died in the line of duty when I was fifteen,” I explained. This time I didn’t have to fake the sadness in my voice.

“And how would your daddy feel about you marrying a man who regularly gets criminals acquitted?”

Ah. A personal ax to grind? Lovely.

I gave the detective a look my mother used to give me when I sassed her, a mix of disappointment and patience. “I think he would be proud that I’m marrying a man who spent several years serving his country in war. I think he would be grateful to Blane for risking his own life several times to help me and others. I think he would be glad I found someone with the strength of his convictions and a strong sense of justice and loyalty, a good man who loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my composure after that little speech. It was exactly how I’d felt after Blane had proposed and the memory made my heart ache.

The detective’s smile was devoid of humor. “Well, Mr. Kirk is lucky to have a woman like you standing by him at a time like this.”

I stiffened. I could tell by his tone that he was already convinced of Blane’s guilt and pitied a woman who would stand by a murderer.

The detective focused again on Blane. “So let’s just go through the events of that night one more time,” he said.

I turned to Blane and our eyes caught. His mask was firmly in place and I couldn’t read what he was thinking or feeling. I could only feel the pressure of his hand gripping mine.

Blane cleared his throat before answering. “Kandi had called me, wanted me to come by. Said she wanted to talk to me. I arrived around 9:00
P.M.
”

“And you didn’t mind him going to see her?” the detective asked me.

“Kandi is… was… a longtime family friend,” I said impassively. “No, I didn’t mind.”

“What did you and she talk about?” he asked Blane.

“Our relationship, such as it was. She’d been drinking and was… highly emotional.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Kandi was angry one moment, crying the next.”

“What was she angry about?”

“That’s speculative,” Charlotte interjected.

“This is an informal questioning, Counselor,” the detective snapped. “Not a court of law.”

“It’s okay,” Blane murmured to Charlotte.

“She was angry about us,” Blane answered. “She didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. She said I was just using her.”

“Weren’t you? After all, it wasn’t as if you were planning to marry her, was it?” The detective sneered in contempt.

“That’s neither here nor there, is it, Detective?” Blane avoided the question.

“Did you have sex that night?”

“No.”

It looked like I wasn’t the only one lying to the police today.

“Did anyone see you arrive at her home?”

“A neighbor was walking their dog when I got there.”

“Anyone see you leave?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

The detective wrote that down. “Then what happened?”

Blane sighed. “That’s all. Kandi’s temper tantrums weren’t an unusual occurrence. I told her we’d talk about it when she calmed down and I left.”

“And what time was that?”

“A little after ten.”

“Did you go anywhere after that?”

“No, I came straight home.”

“And you can verify that, Miss Turner?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Kirk, you’re trained in many forms of hand-to-hand combat, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Ever strangle someone before?”

“No.”

“Ever kill someone with your bare hands?”

It took a moment for Blane to answer, and when he did, his voice was cold. “I spent five years in the Navy deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq. Yes, I’ve killed without a weapon.”

The detective turned to me again. “Have you and Mr. Kirk ever argued?”

“Of course we have,” I said stiffly.

“Has he ever hit you or injured you in any way?”

I had a flash, my memory conjuring the time Blane had smashed his fist into my jaw when he’d been having a nightmare and I’d tried to wake him. “No,” I said. “Absolutely not.” But I could tell he’d noticed my hesitation and I wanted to kick myself.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Turner,” he said, motioning to my face, “it looks like you’ve had an accident recently.”

The bruises where David had hit me had faded and I’d used makeup to cover the yellowing spots, but apparently the detective could still see them.

I smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I was clumsy.”

“It occurs to me,” the detective said, sitting back in his chair and directing his attention to Blane, “that having a governor who casually cheats on his fiancée wouldn’t be something most people would appreciate. Did Kandi threaten you, Mr. Kirk? Did she say she was going to go public with your affair and that’s why you killed her?”

“Don’t answer that,” Charlotte ordered. “Detective, you’re out of line.”

He smiled as he put his notepad into the pocket of his jacket. “It was just speculation, Ms. Page.” He stood, as did the other detective. “We’d like a DNA sample as soon as possible.”

“You’ll need a court order,” Charlotte said. “Mr. Kirk has already admitted to being present the night of the victim’s death.”