Free Born Innocent by Christine Rimmer Page B

It’s all made.”
    She led him back to her living room and got him a cup. He drank the coffee Ella had made for Sheriff Dan and Wayne Leven. Once he was on his second cup, Joe asked her to tell him the whole story of the night before.
    She did, giving every last detail she could recall—until the point where she’d sent Verna home. Then she told a lie of omission, because she simply was not ready yet to tell Joe that their one night together had resulted in the most classic of consequences. She said only that she had felt cooped up in the cottage and had slipped out the back and gone for a walk in the dark, ending up at the river, where she went for a late-night swim. She told him she’d returned around one, which was the truth.
    Joe watched her as she talked, and Claire couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not. Then he asked her to tell how she’d discovered the unconscious Henson in the bungalow. Once again, she went through the whole thing in detail, from the call to Henson’s room at noon, until the ambulance arrived.
    Then he asked, “What about the gun that shot him?”
    Claire was puzzled. “What about it?”
    “ Did they find it?”
    Claire thought for a minute. “No. I didn’t see a gun when I found him. And I don’t think they found one, either.”
    Joe, who’d been sitting in one of the wing chairs, stood up. Claire jumped a little at the swiftness of the movement.
    “ Relax,” he soothed. “I just want to check something.”
    He went out through the foyer and was back in minutes. “Where’s the .38 I made you buy, Claire?”
    Claire stared up at him. A couple of years ago, there had been a rash of night robberies in the county. Joe had come in one day and insisted Claire buy a gun and learn to shoot it. He’d been so adamant that she’d done as he ordered, though she didn’t like guns at all. She kept it mounted where it was hard to see but easy to reach, beneath the counter.
    She said just that. “It’s behind the counter... isn’t it?”
    “ No.”
    Fighting off a feeling that managed to be half numbness and half panic, Claire got up and went out to the lobby with Joe, where she saw for herself that the gun was not in its place.
    “ Are you sure you didn’t move it?” he asked.
    “ Yes. I’m positive. It was there...yesterday, I think.” Claire sank to the couch in the lobby. “Oh, Lord. In all the upset lately, I’m not really sure of anything. I think it was there yesterday....”
    “ What about last night?” Joe wanted to know. “Are you sure you locked the back door when you left for your walk?”
    “ Yes,” she said firmly. She did remember that. She’d had to stick her flashlight under her arm to have both hands free to engage the deadbolt. “Yes, I’m sure I locked the back door.”
    “ And what about the front? Did you lock it before you went back to your own rooms?”
    “ Of course I did. I always lock up.”
    “ But what about last night specifically? Do you remember locking the front door last night?”
    “ Well, I...” Claire searched her memory. Locking up was a rote series of actions. She did them every night. As a result, in her mind, one night blended into another. She must have done it, mustn’t she?
    But then again, she’d been a wreck after what had happened with Henson, and the pregnancy test had been waiting. She couldn’t be absolutely sure that she hadn’t forgotten, with all that had been on her mind right then.
    Joe was standing beside her. She looked up at him. “Oh, Joe. It was... a rough night.” She shook her head slowly. “I can’t be sure. Not absolutely.” A feeling of true hopelessness washed over her.
    Joe sat down beside her, and took her hand. His touch felt warm and rough and good. She’d never in her life been so grateful for another person’s nearness.
    She was terrified of this thing that was happening to her. It was like a nightmare, the worst kind of nightmare, one that seemed to become darker and more