Free White Hot by Sandra Brown

interests also mirrored Huff’s. It fed Huff’s ego to have Chris near him because he was a mini-personification of Huff himself.
    Sayre was regarded as the rather useless but decorative princess of the clan and treated accordingly. She was a brat who constantly demanded her way, and when she didn’t get it, she pitched tantrums. While her mother looked upon these fits of temper as improper behavior for a young lady, her father thought they were amusing. The more infuriated she became, the harder he laughed.
    Because Danny was self-effacing and well-behaved, he was last in line for Huff’s attention.
    Growing up, Sayre had sensed this family dynamic but lacked the intellect and insight to analyze it. Now, as an adult, she realized how hurtful it must have been for Danny always to be Huff’s afterthought, the far distant second son.
    The family had been operating under the same dynamic when Danny died. Chris was the indulged, anointed heir apparent who could do no wrong in Huff’s eyes. Sayre was the thorn in his side, the one who had rejected him. That left Danny to be the obedient child, who did as he was told and never voiced a contrary opinion, the one to be counted on but rarely acknowledged.
    Was it that feeling of invisibility that had prompted Danny to kill himself?
    If he had killed himself.
    She pinched a dying rose off one of the sprays and twirled it against her lips. A tear slid down her cheek. It was unfair that the sweetest, most harmless of them had died young and violently. And, if Wayne Scott’s intuitions proved correct, he hadn’t died voluntarily.
    “Ms. Lynch?”
    Sayre spun about to see a young woman standing not two yards away from her.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with apology. “I thought you would have heard me.”
    Sayre shook her head. Finally able to find her voice, she said, “I was lost in thought.”
    “I don’t want to disturb you. I can come back later. I wanted to come…wanted to come and say good night to him.” The woman was about her age, possibly a few years younger, and she was struggling not to cry. Sayre remembered seeing her at the wake but hadn’t had an opportunity to meet her.
    “I’m Sayre Lynch.” She extended her hand, and the young woman shook it.
    “I know who you are. I saw you at the wake. Somebody pointed you out to me, but I had already recognized you from photographs.”
    “The photographs in the house are all old. I’ve changed.”
    “Yes, but your hair is the same. And Danny had showed me a recent newspaper article about you. He was very proud of your accomplishments.” She laughed, and Sayre was impressed by the musical quality of the sound. “When I remarked on how glamorous and sophisticated you are, Danny said that looks could be deceiving and that you were actually a hellion. But he meant it affectionately.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “I’m sorry. Jessica DeBlance. I am…I was Danny’s friend.”
    “Please.” Sayre motioned toward a concrete bench beneath a tree a short distance from the grave.
    Together they walked toward it. Jessica was wearing a tastefully cut linen dress. Her hair was light and fell into soft waves to her shoulders. She was petite and wholesomely pretty.
    They sat down on the bench. By tacit agreement they shared a long moment looking toward the grave without speaking. Jessica sniffled into a tissue. Acting on instinct, Sayre placed her arm across the woman’s thin shoulders. At her touch, Jessica began to tremble with weeping.
    There were dozens of questions Sayre wanted to ask her, but she refrained from saying anything until Jessica’s crying had subsided and she mumbled a gruff apology.
    “Don’t apologize. I’m glad my younger brother had someone who cared enough to cry for him in front of a perfect stranger. Apparently you were very good friends.”
    “Actually, we were going to be married.” Jessica extended her left hand, and Sayre stared speechlessly at the round diamond