“Is that too ghoulish of me?”
“No, actually, I think that’s kind of you, and I think they might like that, but I just remembered something. I think Hank Smiley at the frame shop—you know, that room off the hardware store on Prince Street? I think he might have some of her watercolors. I forgot all about that. I was in there one day not long after she was found, buying some frames for photos of my grandson, and—”
“I can hardly wait to do that,” Eden said, smiling.
“Grandkids are better than you can imagine. Anyway, Hank said something to me about pictures some woman had left in the store and he didn’t know what to do with them. I was in a rush that day so I didn’t pay much attention to him. I remember wondering why he was telling me about pictures left by some woman. I thought maybe he wanted my services as a lawyer to get his money for the framing job.”
“But maybe he told you because the woman had been renting a house from you.”
“Right. I bet her family would like to have those pictures.”
“Would you mind if I went to the frame shop and asked about them? Maybe I could have Mr. Smiley call your office for verification of who I am.”
“He knows.”
“Of course,” Eden said, half glad that people knew of her, and half annoyed.
For several moments Brad said nothing, just stared up at the house in front of them (brick with a wing with huge windows). Then he sighed, as though he had decided something. “So what’s up with you and McBride?”
“He’s my—” she began but broke off at the look on Brad’s face.
“I’ve been a lawyer a long time and I know when someone’s lying. He’s good at it; you’re not.”
She took a deep breath. “How angry would you be if I told you that I can’t tell you?”
“I’m flattered that you think I have the right to be angry, but the answer is, Not at all. Something’s very wrong in your life, isn’t it?”
Eden couldn’t think what to say, and besides, she wasn’t sure that she wasn’t being taped.
“Does it have something to do with the woman who was killed?”
Eden looked down at her hands in answer.
“Long ago, I learned the true meaning of that old cliché, that anything worth having is worth waiting for. Whatever is to happen between us can wait until you’ve solved what you need to in your life. Are those watercolors important to you?” Brad asked.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I have a meeting in just a few minutes, and Drake and I have to be there, but afterward I’ll go get that poor woman’s watercolors—if that’s what Hank has—and I’ll take them out to your house.”
“Couldn’t Drake handle the meeting alone?”
“Not quite,” he said quickly, “but don’t get me started on that. The things we do for old friends, right?”
Smiling, she nodded.
“We’ll have dinner together tonight at your house, if I can invite myself, that is.”
“McBride will be there,” Eden said heavily. His strong hands on her shoulders made her feel like falling forward and putting her face against his chest. He was so strongly built and looked so warm.
“Don’t break down on me,” Brad said, dipping his head down to look into her eyes. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it. Okay? Will you trust me?”
All she could do was nod. She’d held up so well since she’d been told that the FBI was investigating her, but now she wanted to collapse against Brad and turn everything over to him. A taken-care-of woman, she thought. A luxury she’d never had.
Brad slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “Come on, let’s go back to the car. I’m sure McBride is hysterical by now, since you’ve been out of his sight for a whole fifteen minutes.”
In spite of herself, Eden smiled and Brad tightened his grip on her.
“I just want to know one thing. Is he protecting you? Is that why he’s always with you?”