“You can’t pour beer over ice,” he repeated. “That sounds strangely profound. Maybe you’re trying to get at something.”
She shook her head a little. “If I am, I suppose it will rise to the surface eventually. If it does, I might never make the connection.” The barest of smiles appeared on her face. “Or maybe I’m just honestly thinking that this beer is icy right now, but it’s not going to stay that way.”
“Maybe.”
He studied her, wondering at his own responses to her. Or maybe they were just normal because of the circumstances. Seeking a diversion, seeking an affirmation of life, wasn’t exactly outside his experience.
Whatever. The fact that he found her sexy wasn’t fair to her. He had a strong sense that she preferred to be judged on her other merits.
He turned his attention back to Larry, unable to dispel the feeling he’d been unwilling to acknowledge thus far: she knew something she wasn’t sharing with him.
He understood that she couldn’t tell him a lot of things. But the way she had reacted when he’d said he wanted to see Larry’s house? That had been niggling at him, despite the reasons she’d stated. How could they still be treating the house as a crime scene after all this time?
Since he hadn’t known Larry’s address here, he couldn’t even find the house. Conard County was a big, largely empty patch of earth. Look at how far out of the way Ben’s house was. Without an address of some kind, he doubted he’d have been able to find it even with GPS.
So why wouldn’t she let him see the place? When he’d argued that he’d seen a lot of horrific things during his career, her response had been to point out that those things hadn’t involved his brother.
But they had involved people who had been his friends, people with whom he’d had the close bonds that could only come about from relying on one another in life-threatening situations.
Trust. Deep brotherhood, a kind different from what he had shared with Larry.
He sipped more beer, telling himself he’d achieved what he wanted, that he didn’t need to take up more of her time. She’d promised to seek information and share what she could. However much she could share would be more than he had now.
As long as he wasn’t beating down doors or threatening anyone, or going where the cops hadn’t yet gone, he couldn’t see a serious problem.
But it was still time to leave. He’d already busted up whatever had been left of her evening. Not much of an evening, but still hers.
He started to push his chair back.
“No,” she said.
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “You can have my spare bedroom. It’s a little on the small side, and my office stuff is in there, but you’re welcome to it.”
The invitation surprised him. “Why?” he asked bluntly.
“Because.” She shrugged and offered a fugitive smile. “Because,” she said again. “You’re a stranger in a strange land, and while I’m sure you’re used to it, you still don’t need to be alone with your grief. So stay. You’re not an intruder anymore.”
Not an intruder? An interesting way of phrasing it. Deciding to accept her kindness, he slid back to the table.
“Thanks,” he said. “You must want to go to bed.”
“Not any longer. I’m wide-awake now.”
His fault, that. “I should have waited until morning.”
“Nah. I was thinking about the similar things, too. Nice to hash it out a bit. Good to know you reacted the same way to Matt that I did. I’d been considering tons of motives, most of them pretty standard for murder, but I hadn’t considered fear as a motivator. Seems like an oversight now.”
It did, Duke thought. It certainly did, given Larry’s reporting, but... “I didn’t think of it, either. It should have been the first idea that occurred to me.”
Cat frowned. “I usually think of fear when a wife kills her husband. I’m not always right, of course, but when there’s been abuse, then I think of it. Maybe it’s time to put that in my complete rucksack of reasons.”
“You might never need it again unless, like you said, there’s domestic abuse.”
She rose from the table and started pacing the small space. “It should have occurred to me sooner, given...” She trailed off.
She was concealing something. His certainty grew. “Tell me how my brother was found again.” He was sure she could tell him that much, because she had before. Maybe she would let more slip.
She stopped pacing. “Simple. Ben couldn’t reach Larry, so he called us, and we did a wellness check. And there needs to be a better term for that sometimes.”
Her face darkened in a way that unsettled him even more. What wasn’t she telling him? “And?”
“Larry had been dead approximately two days. I’m sure the medical examiner will have a more precise TOD. Time of death. Sorry. When I’m in cop mode, the abbreviations come naturally.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of my own.”
“So yeah, we went over there thinking he might have taken a fall and couldn’t get to the phone. Broken leg, cracked skull or something. I wish.”
Duke waited, hoping she might continue to talk, hoping she might let another detail slip. After a bit, he asked, “Did you respond to the call?”
“Yes,” she said tautly.
He prompted even though he could feel her rising tension. “It was bad. Finding a body after two days can be disturbing.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“So there was more.”
“Damn it, Duke! Quit trying to get me to say something I don’t know for a fact.”
That told him too much. Enough. He could see her jaw working, and now he gritted his own teeth. Damn it, Larry. Damn it.
His stomach plunged like he was on a roller coaster. He wanted to pick up his beer and smash the bottle against
