Free In Her Secret Fantasy by Marie Treanor Page B

twice of violent if not sexual crime, had been accused of raping her in her office in broad daylight while the building was fully staffed. Howard’s defence was that they’d been conducting an affair this way for weeks. She’d only accused him of rape because one of her colleagues had walked in on them, and she’d been fighting for her career. Another lowlife had come forward to say he’d had the same privileges as Howard.
    But the jury had convicted quickly and unanimously. And studying the police reports, Aidan could see why. Sickened, he looked at the bruising and the injuries she’d suffered. Not on her face, but on her body, where her colleagues wouldn’t have seen them as she’d been led out of the office. Which may have explained the lukewarm support she’d later received from some of them. No one had heard her scream due to Howard’s hand being over her mouth. There was a photograph of her bite mark on his palm to prove it. Only the sound of her shoe heels drumming constantly on the floor had finally attracted her colleagues’ attention.
    She’d done all the right things, and Howard had quite rightly gone down for it. So where had the rumours about her false allegation come from? Because mud stuck. No one had troubled to disprove the smearing of her reputation in general, because the facts of the actual attack were so obvious. And what had been said in public was never unsaid. Rumours had begun among those who hadn’t actually been involved in the case. And Chrissy was still paying for what had been done to her.
    Ignoring the glass, Aidan raised the bottle to his lips. Jesus fucking Christ.
    He’d been right to admire her spirit. She’d gone back to work and pigged it out in the teeth of those bastards. And now, even if she was no longer a parole officer, she’d risen above what must have been appalling trust issues, to look after the bunch of ex-cons up at the house. Brody’s protectiveness seemed suddenly much more understandable.
    He lowered the bottle. What if they were all healing together? The parole officer and the damaged criminals. What if he was barking up the wrong tree, just making things worse for all of them? He was damned sure Chrissy wasn’t involved in any drug deals, and he rather doubted Brody was either. They put a lot of effort into their co-operative, and one false move would get it shut down. It wasn’t as if they could avoid the scrutiny of their own parole officers, or the local cops.
    And Chrissy. Jesus…
    He took another pull from the bottle.
    Morning dragged him from heavy, whisky-soaked slumber. His phone was ringing. But at least he’d retained enough sense to keep it on the bedside table. He grabbed it, slid his finger across the screen without even opening his eyes. “’lo.”
    “Grieve?”
    His eyes flew open. Hastily, he clawed through the cobwebs of his mind. “Sir. Morning.”
    “Got a development for you. A body on the beach near Oban, shot through the head. Found first thing this morning.”
    “Who?” Aidan asked.
    “Gowan.”
    “Damn. He was our only link. Things must be moving.”
    “Possibly. We’ve managed to keep the lid on the murder for now, because of its connection to your investigation. How’s that going? Learned anything from the Ardknocken end?”
    “I’d say if there is a connection it’s not an organized one,” Aidan said carefully. “More likely to be a solo effort. But my mind’s still open. Maybe this body will tell us more.”
    “Well, you’d better get up there right away. They’re expecting you.”
    Although his parents’ bedroom door was still closed when he ran downstairs, he could hear the sounds of washing up from the kitchen. Louise was up and probably still grumpy with him. Part of him felt guilty for leaving her to deal with everything alone again, but if it encouraged her to think about what he’d said last night, it would, surely, be good for her in the long run.
    He left by the front door and walked round to