Free Low Pressure by Sandra Brown Page A

offshoots of discussion that will produce.”
    “It was bad enough when Bellamy’s identity was revealed.” For weeks after the disclosure they’d been plagued by telephone calls asking them for comments and interviews. Several regional reporters had even shown up outside their estate and at their business offices. They’d declined all requests and eventually had handed the responsibility of fielding them over to their attorney.
    “What I hate most,” she said, “is that our lives will once again be on review in that horrible tabloid.”
    She left the bed and, clearly too agitated to sit down, paced the narrow space in front of the window. “Lyston Electronics was touted by the secretary of commerce as a model corporation. Where was Van Durbin then? Or when you instigated the profit-sharing program for every employee? None of that made headline news.”
    “Because that’s not scintillating subject matter.”
    “But the circumstances surrounding Susan’s killing are.”
    “Tragically.”
    “To us, yes. To everyone else, it’s entertainment. And from now on, the Lyston family will be remembered only for that salacious murder in Austin.” She began to cry in earnest. “I feel like the foundation of our life together is crumbling beneath me. It’s more than I can handle right now.”
    He patted the side of the bed and coaxed her to come back to it. She went to him and leaned down to rest her head on his shoulder. “You can handle it,” he said gently. “You can handle anything. And what you’ll be remembered for is having been the most loving, wonderful, beautiful wife any man could have dreamed of. Making you my wife and mother to my girls was the smartest decision I ever made.” He turned his head and kissed her hair. “This will go away. I promise.”
    For a time they clung to one another. He said all the things he knew she wanted to hear. He told her that Van Durbin and his ilk would soon be exploiting someone else’s personal tragedy, and that, until then, they would rely on each other for support as they always had.
    Eventually she sat up and blotted her eyes. “There’s something else. I hesitate to tell you because it’s almost as upsetting as the business with Van Durbin.”
    “What could be that bad?”
    “Bellamy is with Denton Carter.”
    He hadn’t seen that coming. He’d been as shocked and put off as Olivia when Bellamy informed them that she had booked a flight with him. Some situations were best left alone. But, after sensing the animosity on both sides, he’d thought yesterday’s flight would be the last they saw of him.
    “By ‘with,’ what do you mean, exactly?”
    “I shudder to think. She told me that Van Durbin had confronted her and
Dent
as they left our building. I think it was a slip of the tongue, because her voice skipped and then she went on talking in a rush and didn’t mention him again.”
    He pressed her hand reassuringly. “There could be a simple explanation for why he was there. Something about payment for yesterday’s charter, maybe. Don’t borrow trouble.”
    She gave him an odd look.
    “What?” he asked.
    “You said those very words to me when Susan started going out with him and I wanted to put a stop to it. I didn’t have to borrow trouble, Howard. He
is
trouble, and I still blame him for what happened to our daughter.”
    “That ought to hold her.” The locksmith tested the newly installed lock on the utility room door, then moved aside and invited Dent to test it for himself.
    Satisfied, he nodded. “Thanks for coming out so soon. What’s the charge?”
    Dent paid him in cash and tipped him ten bucks for treating the repair as an emergency. After seeing the locksmith on his way out the back door, he went into the living room, where Bellamy was in conversation with the two police officers who had responded to their summons.
    She was sitting on the sofa; the officers were standing amid the boxes of knickknacks and books she still hadn’t