Free Blind Trust by Sandra Orchard Page A

the kitchen from the breakfast nook?
    He rapped the door again and slid it open at the same time. The foot disappeared behind the counter. A muffled sob made his heart stop. “Kate?” He rushed across the room and found her huddled against a cupboard, cradling a broken mug, tears streaking her face.
    Hunkering next to her, he gently swept back her hair. “What’s wrong?” His heart cracked at the pain in her eyes.
    â€œI don’t know what’s the matter with me. I . . .” She looked at the porcelain shard in her hand. Bold letters proclaimed, “To the World’s Greatest Friend.” “I gave this to Daisy for her last birthday.” Fresh tears sprang from her eyes. “I dropped it. How could I let her down like this?”
    He eased the mug from her hand and then folded her into his arms. “You didn’t let Daisy down. You solved a murder the rest of us didn’t even believe had been committed.” As Kate’s tears soaked through his shirt, he faced the uncomfortable truth that he was the one she should be blaming. If he’d done his job right from the beginning, they might have had the evidence to ensure Molly’s conviction. “I’m sorry you’ve lost your friend. So very sorry.”
    She lifted her cheek from his shoulder and patted the damp fabric. “It’s been almost three months. I shouldn’t still be crying like this.”
    He stroked her hair and offered an understanding smile. “You’re grieving. And right now, grief is your friend. The best thing you can do to get through this is to let it take you wherever it leads.”
    â€œI feel like I’m losing my mind.”
    â€œYeah, that’s pretty normal.”
    She tilted her head and peered at him through moisture-rimmed eyes. “Is that how you felt after your friend died?”
    The question hit him like a blow to the chest. “Yeah.” The air whooshed from his lungs. Only he had been to blame for his friend’s death. If he’d done his duty instead of letting his misguided loyalty to their friendship cloud his judgment, his friend would still be alive.
    Kate dried her tears with her sleeve and pushed to her feet. “What are you doing here anyway?”
    He took a step back and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I got worried when you didn’t show up at church.”
    She ducked her head. “I meant to come, and then . . .” She reached for the dustpan and waved it at the shattered mug. “I fell apart.”
    â€œYou’ll get through this.” He picked up the larger shards as she swept up the fragments.
    The phone rang, and she jumped so badly half of what she’d swept up bounced from the pan.
    Tom dropped his pieces into the trash bin. “Do you want me to answer that?”
    â€œWould you mind?”
    â€œNot at all.” He lifted the receiver from the hook. “Adams’ residence.”
    â€œOh,” said a surprised female voice from the other end of the line. “Is Kate there?”
    â€œShe can’t come to the phone right now. May I give her a message?”
    â€œUm, yeah. This is Patti Goodman, her research assistant. Could you tell her that the data she was going to email me didn’t come through and ask her to resend?”
    â€œWill do.” He hung up and relayed the message.
    Kate clutched her head and stalked into the living room. “I told you I was losing my mind. She was just being nice, pretending the email must have gotten lost in cyberspace. I completely forgot to send it.”
    He sat on the armchair closest to her desk. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.” Her soft floral scent clung to his shirt and made him yearn for her trust all the more. He wanted to be here for her to lean on whenever she needed him. If only . . . “You’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself.”
    Kate rummaged through a stack