Presumed Guilty Read Online Free PDF Page B

away.”
    Officer Snipe reached for Miranda’s arm. “Let’s go.”
    As she was led away Miranda called over her shoulder, “I didn’t kill him, Mrs. Tremain! You have to believe that—”
    “You tramp!” shouted Evelyn. “You filthy whore! You ruined my life.”
    Miranda glanced back and saw the other woman had pulled away from Chase and was now facing her like some avenging angel. Strands of blond hair had fallen free and her face, always pale, was now a stark white.
    “You ruined my life!” Evelyn screamed.
    That accusing shriek echoed in Miranda’s ears all the way down that long walk to the jail.
    Drained of resistance, she quietly entered the cell. She stood there, frozen, as the door clanged shut. Officer Snipe’s footsteps faded away. She was alone, trapped in this cage.
    Suddenly she felt as if she were suffocating, as if she would smother without fresh air. She scrambled over to the one small window and tried to pull herself up by the bars, but it was too high. She ran to the cot, dragged it across the cell and climbed on top. Even then she was barely tall enough to peek over the sill, to gulp in a tantalizing taste of freedom. Outside the sun was shining. She could see maple trees beyond the fenced yard, a few rooftops, a sea gull soaring in the sky. If she breathed in deeply, she could almost smell the sea. Oh, Lord, how sweet it all seemed! How unattainable! She gripped the window bars so tightly they dug into her palms. Pressing her face against the sill, she closed her eyes and willed herself to stay in control, to keep panic at bay.
    I am innocent. They have to believe me, she thought.
    And then, What if they don’t?
    No, damn it. Don’t think about that.
    She forced herself to concentrate on something else, anything else. She thought of the man in the hallway, the man with Evelyn Tremain. What had Evelyn called him? Chase. The name stirred a memory; Miranda had heard it before. She snatched desperately at that irrelevant strand of thought, concentrated hard on dredging up the memory, anything to crowd the fears from her mind. Chase. Chase. Someone had said it. She tried to bring back the voice, to match it to the utterance of that name.
    The memory hit her like a blow. It was Richard who’d said it. I haven’t seen my brother in years. We had a falling-out when my father died. But then, Chase was always the problem kid in the family....
    Miranda’s eyes flew open with the revelation. Was it possible? There’d been no resemblance, no hint of familial ties in that face. Richard had had blue eyes, light brown hair, a weathered face always on the verge of sunburn. This man called Chase was all darkness, all shadow. It was hard to believe they were brothers. But that would explain the man’s coldness, his look of condemnation. He thought she’d murdered Richard, and repulsion was exactly what he would feel, coming face-to-face with his brother’s killer.
    Slowly she sank onto the cot. Lying there beneath the window she could catch glimpses of blue sky and cloud. August. It would be a hot day. Already her
T-shirt was damp with sweat.
    She closed her eyes and tried to imagine soaring like a sea gull in that bright blue sky, tried to picture the island far below her.
    But all she could see were the accusing eyes of Chase Tremain.

Three
    H e truly was the ugliest dog on earth.
    Miss Lila St. John regarded her pet with a mixture of affection and pity. Sir Oscar Henry San Angelo III, otherwise known as Ozzie, was a rare breed known as a Portuguese Water Dog. Miss St. John was not quite clear as to the attributes of this particular breed. She suspected it was some sort of geneticists’ joke. Her niece had presented the dog to her—“to keep you company, Auntie”—and Miss St. John had been trying to remember ever since what that niece could hold against her. Not that Ozzie was entirely without redeeming value. He didn’t bite, didn’t bother the cat. He was a passable watchdog. But he ate