Shane crossed the porch to stand near the top step, though he didn’t immediately turn to face her. The air was thick with the warmth of July, and the sun hung high in a cloudless sky. The scent of freshly cut grass drifted across the yard, and the welcoming fragrance was a sharp, green reminder of how fragile freedom could be when threatened.
She wrapped her arms around herself and scanned the street. No flash of blue and red. Not a single patrol car in sight. Just her, Shane, and the looming weight of what she faced in the next few moments.
“What are you playing at, Kin?” Shane finally demanded before slowly turning to meet her gaze. “I kept my end of the deal. I called Captain Thompson last night and explained that I had received a tip about a body in Terrapin Lake from an anonymous source. I didn’t mention your name, as we agreed.”
“Then why are you?—”
“The divers met me out there at first light.” Shane paused, studying her with an expression she couldn’t name. “I’ll ask you again, Kin. What kind of game are you playing?”
“Shane, I don’t understand what?—”
“There was no car, Kinsley. No car. No body.”
She took an involuntary step backward, her heel hitting the doorjamb. She struggled to process Shane’s words, but her mind couldn’t grasp their meaning.
No car?
No body?
“That’s not possible, Shane,” Kinsley murmured, shaking her head. “Are the divers still out there? You need to have them?—”
“Three times,” Shane told her, his anger dialed down a notch and replaced by skepticism. “I had them triple check, because for the life of me, I can’t understand why you would lie about something like that. Then again, I’m still having trouble accepting that you would kill a man in cold blood, too.”
He took a step closer and lowered his voice.
“Listen to me very carefully, Kinsley. You told me last night that you shot Calvin Gantz. You confessed to murder. I believed you, and I still do. But there is no car or body in that lake.”
She pressed her fingertips against her temples, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. If Gantz’s body wasn’t in the lake, then where was he? Had Noah moved the body without telling her? Why would he, and how could he have possibly managed it alone?
“I don’t—” Kinsley broke off, struggling to find words that wouldn’t implicate her brother while still conveying her genuine confusion. “This doesn’t make any sense, Shane. I’m not playing games. I told you the truth.”
He studied her intently, searching for any sign of deception. After a long moment, he slowly nodded his acceptance, though he couldn’t erase the disdain from his gaze.
“What happens now?” Kinsley asked in confusion, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind chimes hanging at the end of the porch.
“Without a body, without evidence, all I’ve got is your confession. And a detective claiming another detective confessed to murder without proof isn’t going to go far, is it? Especially when those detectives were once involved with one another.” Shane turned his head and stared at what seemed to be anything other than her. After a moment, he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and didn’t speak again until he dropped his arm to his side. “I’ve already informed Captain Thompson that the tip didn’t pan out. It seems as if, for the moment, you’re free to live your life. I hope you enjoy it, Kin.”
“That’s it?” Kinsley advanced toward him before he could leave. “Shane, you come here and tell me that the body?—”
She broke off her words when she realized how loud her voice had gotten. She tried not to take offense when he stepped back from her.
“That the car containing Gantz’s body isn’t at the bottom of Terrapin Lake, and you’re what? Okay with that?” Kinsley was running on hardly any sleep, but even she could comprehend the substantial issue at hand. “Shane, a body is missing, and I didn’t move it.”
She rested a hand on her stomach as the realization settled that the stress of the last twenty-one months was nothing compared to what the future might hold. She was certain that Noah wouldn’t have done anything without her knowledge, but she couldn’t say the same for the individual who had been sending her notes every single month on the anniversary of Gantz’s death. She had initially suspected a journalist by thename of Beck Serra as the so-called blackmailer, but she’d discarded that theory when no demands were ever made.
What if she’d been wrong?
What advantage would there be in moving the body?
“I’ve had all day to think about this, and you know what conclusion I came up with? I want nothing to do with you or this situation.” Shane lifted his hands to indicate he was done. He turned and descended the porch steps, but when he reached the sidewalk, he stopped and faced her once more. “No body. No crime. And I refuse to be some laughingstock of the department, accusing you of a crime that I can’t prove. I’d come across as a jilted lover, wouldn’t I? So, this is what is going to happen. I give you my word that your secret stays with me, but the bottom line is that you have to live with what you did, Kin. I’m calling it. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. It’s as simple as that.”
Kinsley parted her lips to call out to him, but she couldn’t get her voice to work. She’d spent the past eighteen hours fearing a life in prison, and she needed a minute to adjust to the opposite.
She closed the distance to the top step and slowly sank down, hugging her knees despite the warmth of the sun as she watched Shane get into his truck. He pulled away without once glancing back at her, and the truth of it settled over her like something cold and final.
She was still the same person. The same one he’d slept with, spent time with, and was on the verge of falling in love with. A woman who would go to any length to protect her family and who still believed in justice, even though she’d just skirted a life sentence. But Shane would forever view her through a different lens now, one tinted by betrayal and disgust, and no amount of pleading or explanation could alter that perception. Every moment they had shared was tainted, overshadowed by her actions and her decisions.
She would always be the woman who had crossed a line.
