Free The Detective's Dilemma by Kate Rothwell

the world was black and white, good and evil. Gray was unappealing. That’s life though, all gray.”
    “Bah. There are some things that are purely evil.”
    “Let me guess; you’re talking about the Winthrops again.”
    “Yes, they’re a fine example.”
    “Did they think they had a reason?”
    “To torture a small boy? What kind of a question is that?” But her eyes shifted from his. Could she be hiding something more than that book?
    “I’m not asking if they had a good reason—I think you’re right. There is no such thing. But did they think they had a reason?”
    She jerked and blinked as if hit. “Nonsense. What they did to James, to the sweet man I loved, was awful. He did nothing to deserve that. They are monsters. There is no gray with this situation.”
    He paused and examined the apple in his hand to give himself a moment to think things over. Her strong response could mean she had some kind of secret about the whole Poor James story. He goaded a little. “The Winthrops contribute a great deal of money to worthy causes.”
    “Such as your department and you, no doubt.” She muttered it, and perhaps he wasn’t supposed to hear.
    He ignored the jibe and took a bite of the apple. “They gave life to the man you loved.” All this talking helped put off the next step and that seemed to lead to only two choices for him.
    He’d have to drag her into Gregory’s office or he’d be forced to finally fight back against his captor. God, he wasn’t ready to fight.
    Talking was good. “They raised your husband and you loved him,” he said.
    “Giving the world James was their one fine action that they then attempted to destroy. Come now, Detective, we are wandering from the point.”
    He chewed, swallowed and asked, “Which is?”
    “They can’t be trusted with Peter. You have to believe me. And if you do, you must help. I refuse to believe that the man who defied his family to aid the innocent is totally gone.”
    That needled him. “He might as well be. At any rate, what do you expect me to do?”
    “Help us escape, leave the city.”
    “And then what? Will you marry Brennan?”
    “What? No!” She sounded appalled. Then added, “I won’t marry anyone. I have no interest in getting another husband.”
    Once again he considered the idea of shaking her hand and walking away. Tempting to be done with the mess—hers and his. He ate another bite of apple.
    He had a third choice. He could run away and never be heard of again. Chances were no one would give a damn. But her plan to take off like that wouldn’t work, and she probably knew that. He pointed it out anyway. “If you ran, they’d go after you. And even if I dropped dead tomorrow, you won’t be safe. The Winthrops have enough money and resources to find you.”
    “I’ll have to find some way of fighting back.” She leaned against the uncomfortable back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Her head tilted up, and her brow furrowed as if she concentrated on forming an answer to the impossible problem.
    At least she hadn’t dropped back into the pose of cringing surrender. That had irritated and worried him. Mrs. Winthrop the fighter, he enjoyed. Mrs. Winthrop the confused was fun too. But Mrs. Winthrop broken? No. That struck him as obscene.
    Lines bracketed her mouth—had laughter or discontentment put those there? He examined her from the top of her fly-away hair to her dirty dancing slippers. If she’d followed the course set out for her at her birth, she’d be a stylish and sophisticated matron. Ladies like her changed their outfits several times a day, and she’d be about ready to change into something modish for afternoon calls before returning to put on a tea gown. No, her maid would do that for her.
    He asked, “Do you miss your old elegant life?”
    Her eyes opened, and she gave him a hostile look. “My old life? It seems to me that you’ve fallen a far greater distance than I have. Do you miss your good character?”
    He