“Um—why didn’t you just have me come by your office?”
He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich, which tasted pretty good despite the restaurant’s obvious shortcomings. After swallowing, he explained, “I didn’t want you to be forced into any awkward explanations if anyone saw you being apparently interrogated in my office. And I knew I’d be hungry by this time. I’d seen this place a few times, and I thought it would be convenient for both of us, so...”
A fine cloud of dust drifted toward their table. On the other side of the room, Billy Ray wielded a broom with more vigor than skill.
Emily pushed the uneaten half of her pecan pie away. “I see. And now what?”
“Now I continue my investigation into Tammy Powell’s whereabouts.”
“I see.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Any idea how much longer this investigation might take?”
“No, but try to relax about it. I’ve found no evidence whatever linking you to this or any other crime. As I’ve told you before, I consider you a very unlikely suspect.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But I’m still forbidden to leave town until the investigation is over, right?”
He studied her thoughtfully, wondering again at her impatience to leave Honoria. And, once again, he found himself reluctant to see her go. “There’s no reason you can’t leave town for a few days, as long as you let me know where you’re going, just as a formality. I have to at least make it look like I’m investigating you thoroughly, or Sam Jennings is likely to accuse me of incompetence. Again.”
Emily scowled. “I don’t have any plans to leave town for the moment, at least until after I’ve sold the house and made arrangements for my other things. But I don’t like feeling as if I’m trapped here.”
“And have you felt trapped here, Emily?” he asked, aware of the revealing undertones in her voice.
She looked down at her plate and nodded. “Sometimes,” she murmured.
“It doesn’t seem like such a bad place to be. With a few notable exceptions, the people of Honoria seem friendly and good-hearted. Crime’s low, weather’s nice, no traffic to speak of.”
“I didn’t say Honoria was a bad place,” she reminded him, just a bit defensive now. “But I’ve lived here all my life. For the past five years or more, I’ve been unable to leave for more than a day or two at a time because there was no one to take care of my father. Now that he’s gone, and nothing else is holding me here, this comes up. It just seems...unfair.”
Feeling inexplicably contrite, Wade said, “I’m sorry.”
“And the worst part is, I’ve never been the direct subject of gossip before. They talked about my mother and my brother and Savannah, but I’ve never done anything to bring attention to me. I still haven’t, but my reputation is in danger of being trashed, anyway. I hate that.”
“Emily, your reputation is not in danger of any kind. No one who really knows you will believe a word of this,” Wade replied emphatically. “And I’ve warned Jennings again to keep his unsubstantiated suspicious to himself.”
She looked up at him. “You, um, really don’t think anyone who knows me would believe I’m guilty of this?”
If she was asking what he believed, Wade had no problem answering candidly. “No,” he said. “I don’t.”
Her lower lip quivered, just a tiny bit, as if she’d been either touched or reassured by his words. Or both. Whatever the reason, it made Wade suddenly ravenously hungry...not for the rest of his sandwich, but for a taste of Emily.
She seemed to feel the need to fill the sudden taut silence between them with small talk. “How is Clay?”
Reining in his inappropriate emotions, Wade answered evenly. “Oh, he’s doing great. He sure enjoyed that Ferris-wheel ride with you Saturday. Talked about it all afternoon. And he refused to wash his face before he went to bed that night. Didn’t want to the next day, either, but since the paint had started to peel off by then, he finally agreed.”
“I’m glad he had a good time. He’s an adorable little boy.”
“Thanks. I guess it’s obvious that I’m pretty proud of him.”
Wade was pleased to see Emily smile again. “Yes,” she said. “That was obvious.”
Shamelessly playing on her obvious soft spot for his kid, Wade boasted, “Did I mention how smart he is? He’s got all As in school. He’s in third grade at Honoria Elementary.”
“Who’s his teacher?”
“Mrs. Flaherty.”
Emily’s smile widened. “Really? She was my third-grade teacher.”
“You’re kidding.”