conversation. Not that one. Not the one before it. Not any of the conversations Olivia and I had. Our discussions were always about kids and jobs and what we were going to make for dinner. Mundane things that really didn’t matter much.”
“Did she seem happy here?”
“Usually. She loved her job and the twins. Sometimes, though, she seemed a little down. Like maybe she was missing home.”
“It’s not surprising that she’d be homesick sometimes.”
“I guess not, but she left Ireland after her mother died because she wanted a fresh start. Now everything she wanted, all her dreams, they’ve died with her.” Merry blinked rapidly, her eyes filling with tears, and he patted her hand, warmth seeping through him at the contact.
Face-to-face, looking straight into Merry’s deep brown eyes, he knew two things for sure. First, he was as attracted to her now as he’d been the first moment he’d seen her. Second, she hadn’t told him everything she knew.
It was his job to find out what she was hiding, to figure out if it connected to Olivia’s murder. His job. His duty. All part of the same thing, and he wouldn’t let Merry stand in the way of that. No matter how attractive and compelling he found her.
He placed his coffee cup in the deep porcelain sink. “I think that’ll do it for today. I’ll stop by again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She sounded appalled, her dark eyes wide, her freckles stark against smooth, pale skin.
“Will that be a problem?”
“No. I just…I’ve told you everything I can. What good will another meeting do?”
“Telling me everything you can is a lot different than telling me everything you know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but the shadows in her eyes said something different.
“You know, Merry—” he stepped close, cupped her jaw, her skin silky smooth beneath his hand “—you’ve lived in Fitzgerald Bay for a year. We’ve been out together, spent a couple of hours talking to each other, but I still don’t know much about you.”
She stiffened, her jaw tightening beneath his palm. “Since we’re not dating, you know enough.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Until you started lying to me.” He stepped back, watching as his meaning settled in and over her.
“I—”
“I have a lot of work to do. I’ll be back tomorrow. Sometime between now and then, you might want to decide whether continuing your lies is worth losing everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Withholding information and evidence from the police is a crime you could go to jail for, Merry.”
“You can’t be serious!” Something flashed in her eyes, a terror so deep that Douglas almost regretted the threat.
Almost.
But he had a job to do, a murderer to find. Olivia deserved justice. He planned to get it for her, and he planned to do it quickly.
He couldn’t allow the investigation to go on too long without a suspect. If he did, people might do exactly what he feared and point their fingers at Charles.
The Fitzgerald family motto had been stamped onto his heart before he was old enough to know what it meant. He lived it, breathed it, believed it.
God first.
Family second.
Duty to the community after that.
Olivia’s murder touched on all those things, and he’d push for answers until he found the person who killed her.
Push no matter how uncomfortable pushing might be.
Push no matter the terror he saw in Merry’s eyes.
Push, because he had a feeling she was the key to solving the case.
If she was, there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that could make him go away.
FOUR
H e meant it.
The coldness in Douglas’s eyes left no doubt about his intentions. He’d be back tomorrow, and he’d ask more questions. If he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d come back again and again and again.
Merry didn’t need time to decide if continuing to lie was worth going to jail over. She couldn’t go to jail. Couldn’t