Linda Turner - Nighthawk's Child

For a while, though, she could pretend, and she had to admit, she enjoyed herself. They went dancing and roller skating and had a candle-lit picnic at the town park in full view of anyone who chose to drive by. Anywhere there were people, they showed up, and everywhere they went, whispers followed them.

For a woman who considered herself an introvert, she should have been extremely uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to being on public display, and there were times when it was awkward. But they were causing a stir, which was the whole point of their going out, and she couldn’t help but be pleased. When she overheard people questioning her sanity, she knew they were making progress.

“I think she’s lost her mind.”

“Maybe it’s one of those midlife crisis things. Though come to think of it, she’s not that old, is she? Maybe she’s having a breakdown from working so hard.”

Stopping in at the Hip Hop for a quick sandwich before heading out to the reservation, Summer inadvertently stepped right into the middle of a gossip session in which she was the main topic of conversation. And not surprisingly, Lily Mae Wheeler, holding court in her booth, was leading the discussion. When she saw Summer, she did have the grace to lower her voice, but only to a hoarse whisper that carried the length and breadth of the café.

“The girl obviously needs therapy. Any woman who would voluntarily spend any time alone with that murderer after what he did to that poor Montgomery girl can’t be all there. I think she needs her head examined.”

Taking a seat at the counter instead of in one of the booths, Summer didn’t so much as wince, but Janie Austin shot Lily Mae a reproving frown as she set a glass of water and the menu in front of Summer. “I’m sorry about that, Summer,” she said quietly. “Don’t pay any attention to Lily Mae. You know how she is.”

Summer did, indeed, know how the old battle-ax was, but in this particular instance, she couldn’t take offense—not when Lily Mae’s criticism generated just the response she was hoping for.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Meg Reilly said with a frown from the booth where she sat with her soon-to-be stepdaughter, Hope Baxter Kincaid. “Maybe the girl’s just got more sense than most of the folks around here who are so quick to judge. Better yet, maybe all this time everyone’s been mistaken about Gavin. Summer’s smart and kind and nobody’s fool. She wouldn’t go near any man she thought was capable of murder.”

Surprisingly, a few more diners nodded in agreement, but Lily Mae only sniffed in disdain. “You always were a dyed-in-the-wool romantic, Meg, seeing hearts and flowers everywhere you looked. And that’s fine when you’re putting together one of your fancy weddings at your flower shop. But you need to take off the rose-colored glasses when you’re out in the real world. The man’s guilty as sin and we all know it. If Summer can’t see that, she’s the one who’ll pay. If I was one of those aunts of hers, I’d take out a big life insurance policy on her because any day now she could turn up as dead as Christina Montgomery.”

Just last week, practically everyone in the café would have agreed with Lily Mae, but there’d been a subtle shift in attitude over the last couple of days. No one other than Meg spoke up in Gavin’s defense, but more than a few people were frowning in silent disagreement with Lily Mae. Pleased, Summer quietly ordered a chicken salad sandwich.

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