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Except that public opinion was already stacked against him, and he never tried to change it. He was his own worst enemy.
    â€œIf I specify in my report that your hands and body show no signs of an altercation, the district attorney will be much less likely to take action.”
    â€œThere wasn’t an altercation! All I did was end the relationship.”
    It was the past that made the situation volatile. But Allie didn’t want to tell Clay that Beth Ann had claimed he’d confessed to Reverend Barker’s murder. If he wasn’t angry enough already that could do the trick. Why provoke a confrontation between them while they were in such proximity? She’d simply add Beth Ann’s statement to the file, where it’d join the plethora of other unsubstantiatedclaims Allie planned to investigate—slowly and methodically. “It’s for your own protection, Mr. Montgomery.”
    She wasn’t sure he really believed her but, with a nod that seemed incongruously boyish for such a strong man, he pulled off his shirt.
    Allie had never seen a more beautiful example of the male body. A gold medallion hung around his neck, fitting nicely in the groove between his pectoral muscles. It appeared to be a tribute to a Catholic saint, which surprised her. She didn’t think of him as particularly religious.
    Their eyes met and, for a moment, she was afraid he could read her grudging appreciation of his looks.
    â€œFor a cop, you don’t seem very comfortable with some of the stuff you have to do,” he murmured, and this time all the bullshit was gone from his voice. The “I don’t give a damn what you do to me” and the “I’m too tough to care.” He’d ditched the whole “screw the world” routine.
    â€œMy forte is dead bodies, not live ones,” she said.
    â€œSurely live ones are more fun.”
    He was flirting again, but she could tell he didn’t mean anything by it. He was probably searching for a way to keep his mind off the indignity of being inspected like an animal.
    â€œMaybe,” she said. “But they’re also a lot more threatening.”
    His good humor slipped away. “I didn’t hurt her.”
    â€œI’m not talking about that kind of threat.” She touched his arm to get him to turn around, but he wouldn’t budge.
    â€œIf I was beating a woman, and she was fending me off, the marks would be on my face, neck and chest,” he said.
    She saw no evidence of a struggle. But his reluctanceto show her his back made her curious to know the reason. “There are a few exceptions.” She gave his arm another tug.
    â€œI’ve shown you enough,” he argued. But she insisted he turn around and when he complied, she saw what he hadn’t wanted her to see: several scratches, all of them fresh.
    â€œI take it you got these tonight?” she asked.
    He shot her a sullen glance over his shoulder. “Not from fighting.”
    Right. Judging by the direction and angle of the scratches, Allie could easily guess what he and Beth Ann had been doing at the time. He’d already painted her a very vivid picture.
    Relieved to be finished, she stepped away from him. “Thank you. If you’d like to meet me down at the station after I’m done with Beth Ann, I can take a few photographs, to show that you’re in great shape.” She blushed when she realized how her words could be interpreted, and hurried to clarify. “I mean, free from any injury that would show you’ve been in a fight.”
    He didn’t acknowledge her slip. “Do you believe me?” he asked.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter what I believe. I’m just going to document the facts. The district attorney will draw his own conclusions. If you’re willing to play the odds that my notes will be enough of a defense if Beth Ann doesn’t back down from her story, there’s no need to come to the