Read Online The Detective's Dilemma by Kate Rothwell - Free Book Online Page A

lost his breath toward the end and hated having his mouth covered. Yet for the first years of their marriage, tastes of him could make her dizzy and panting.
    Detective Walker’s mouth was full, and she knew his lips would be soft under hers. She made the mistake of raising her gaze to his eyes—he’d seen her staring at his mouth, and he grinned, his gaze sharp with interest.
    She looked away to break the tension between them, telling herself her heart beat faster because of fear. Not the sight of his smile or those strong hands resting on his thighs.
    “Talk to me,” he said again. “I will listen.”
    If he listened to her, he’d have to help. No one who heard the truth about the Winthrops would allow them near a child.
    Years ago, she’d promised James she wouldn’t tell anyone the details. He’d been humiliated enough, he’d told her, when she begged him to go to the authorities. She’d reluctantly agreed to keep his secret. “Even after I die,” he’d told her when he fell sick. “Please.”
    She’d promised.
    Talking about it already felt as if she dishonored him. Telling more could cut deeper into her bond to James, even sever it.
    But now she had something more valuable even than the promise, or even than the memory of James: their living son.
    You understand, don’t you?
    Nothing answered as she spoke to James in her mind. Some silent moments, when she was entirely alone, James seemed to wait in the next room, or just beyond her. A scent, a noise, an inhalation, the distant, breathy laugh, as if he could still exist somewhere past her reach.
    Just now, when she’d looked down on some pages and seen his familiar handwriting…he’d been more distant than ever.
    James was gone and never coming back. In a way, that was good; he wouldn’t hear her betray his secrets.
    “I told you my husband’s story. I thought you believed me. I’m willing to tell you more details.”
     
    For a while, Walker had thought they’d finally figure out an extremely pleasant way to pass the afternoon. He’d seen her cheeks grow pink and her breasts rise and fall as if she’d been running. Her examination of him seemed fascinated rather than fearful.
    Anticipation had rushed through him like a jolt of good whiskey. He was more than ready for a chance to touch her, hold her, and explore further possibilities. This, despite the fact that the damn gun had been loaded all this time. He’d forgotten that she’d been his target and that he was under the control of the devil and a job to do.
    He saw her sweet figure and the way her teeth had bitten into that apple. It hadn’t been much of a leap in his overheated brain to see those teeth lightly nipping his mouth, his skin. Oh good God, he’d been beyond ready. He’d gone lightheaded imagining her spread out on this horrid couch, or better, in that bed, naked on the quilt. For once in his life, his imagination conjured pleasant pictures—of her naked. Those images were as vivid as the worst he usually conjured—scenes he’d actually witnessed. Most of the bodies in his imagination were dead, eviscerated, or worse. This had been a very pleasant change.
    He wished he had kissed her a minute ago and distracted them both, but now they were back to this, dreary reality.
    She waited for an answer. Right, the question she’d asked. What was it?
    She repeated. “Do you believe me?”
    “I listened to your story of your husband’s childhood and I…” He tried to think of a way to say this without annoying her. Still, no point in pussyfooting around. “I believe you weren’t lying. And maybe even he didn’t lie to you. But even if it was all true, such a thing is impossible to prove now that he’s gone. The Winthrop family is well respected. And there is only his word about what—”
    “I saw marks on his body,” she interrupted. “Marks made by a burning cigar. I demanded he tell me what had caused the scars. He didn’t want to talk about it. I had to drag the