Free Presumed Guilty by Tess Gerritsen

distress call. Sailboat’s taking on water. Who wants the story?”
    Annie slunk deep in her chair.
    Miles sprang to his feet. “I’ll take it.”
    “Coast Guard’s already on the way. Hire a launch if you have to. Go on, get going. You don’t want to miss the rescue.” Jill turned and looked at Annie. “Are you busy at the moment?”
    Annie shrugged. “I’m always busy.”
    Jill nodded toward Miles. “He’ll need help. Go with the kid.” She turned back to her office.
    “I can’t.”
    Jill stopped, turned to confront Annie. “Are you refusing my assignment?”
    “Yeah. Sort of.”
    “On what grounds?”
    Annie blew out a long, lazy puff of smoke. “Seasickness.”
    * * *
    “I knew she’d confuse you, Chase. I just knew it. You don’t understand her the way I do.”
    Chase looked up from the porch chair where he’d been brooding for the past hour. He saw that Evelyn had changed out of her black dress and was now wearing an obscenely bright lime green. He knew he should feel sorry for his sister-in-law, but at the moment Evelyn looked more in need of a stiff drink than of pity. He couldn’t help comparing her to Miranda Wood. Miranda, with her ill-fitting black dress and her windblown hair, so alone on that cemetery hillside. He wondered if Richard ever knew how much damage he’d done to her, or if he’d ever cared.
    “You haven’t said a word since you got home,” complained Evelyn. “What is going on with you?”
    “Just how well did you know Miranda Wood?” he asked.
    She sat down and fussily arranged the folds of her green dress. “I’ve heard things. I know she grew up in Bass Harbor. Went to some—some state university. Had to do it all on scholarship. Couldn’t afford it otherwise. Really, not a very good family.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “Mill workers.”
    “Ah. Dregs of the earth.”
    “What is the matter with you, Chase?”
    He rose to his feet. “I need to take a walk.”
    “Oh. I’ll go with you.” She jumped to her feet, instantly wreaking havoc on all those nicely arranged folds of her dress.
    “No. I’d like to be alone for a while. If you don’t mind.”
    Evelyn looked as if she minded very much, but she managed to cover it gracefully. “I understand, Chase. We all need to mourn in our own way.”
    He felt a distinct sense of relief as he walked away from that front porch. The house had started to feel oppressive, as though the weight of all those memories had crowded out the breathable air. For a half hour he walked aimlessly. Only as his feet carried him closer to town did he begin to move with a new sense of purpose.
    He headed straight for the newspaper building.
    He was greeted by Jill Vickery, the sleekly attractive managing editor. It was just like Richard to surround himself with gorgeous women. Chase had met her earlier that day, at the funeral. Then, as now, she played the part of the professional to the hilt.
    “Mr. Tremain,” she said, offering her hand. “What a pleasure to see you again. May I show you around?”
    “I was just wondering...” He glanced around the newsroom, which was currently occupied by only a bare-bones staff: the layout man arranging ads, another one staring at a computer screen, and that sloppy reporter puffing on a cigarette as she talked on the phone.
    “Yes?” asked Jill.
    “If I could go over some of my brother’s files.”
    “Business or personal files?”
    “Both.”
    She hesitated, then led him into the back office and through a door labeled Richard Tremain, Owner and Publisher. “These aren’t all his files, you understand. He kept most of them here, but some he kept at home or at the cottage.”
    “You mean Rose Hill?”
    “Yes. He liked to work out there, on occasion.” She pointed to the desk. “The key’s in the top drawer. Please let me know if you take anything.”
    “I wasn’t planning to.”
    She paused, as though uncertain whether to trust him. But what choice did she have? He was, after all,