âAnyway, you donât believe in hell.â
âFor some people Iâm prepared to waive my disbelief. Tim, Mac and I were both pretty sure that Karen killed Mark Dowling. Whether she did it purely to protect her brother from Dowlingâs bullying or whether it was also vengeance for his murder of the old lady is a moot point, but Mac was going to bring her in for questioning. He was fairly certain he could build a case.â
âDoes George know this?â
âGeorge knows, though weâve not really talked about it. I donât think George has ever been under any illusions regarding his sister; he left that folly to the rest of us. Anyway, the morning Mac went to arrest Karen, I called her.â
âYou warned her? Rina thatâs . . . Does Mac know that too?â
âI suspect that he suspects, but, again, some things are better left unsaid, even between friends. Maybe especially between friends. Anyway, Karen was gone when he arrived, and George, bless him, had put two and two together and figured out what sheâd done.â
âBut why did you warn her?â
âOh, Tim, like I said, I made the most appalling error. Ironically, I acted out of the same concerns that led Karen to do such dreadful things. I wanted to protect young George. I felt heâd gone through enough.â
âAnd you made the judgement that Mark Dowling got what he deserved,â Tim said flatly. âOh, Rina, darling, sometimes we canât make those judgements, we really canât. Those decisions are just not ours to make.â
âThere was more, Tim.â Rina seemed set on maximum self-castigation. âTo be truthful, I suppose I admired Karen. Her tenacity, her courage, her commitment to her mother and brother. I was wrong, terribly wrong, and, yes, I suspected that one day sheâd come back; I just didnât think it would be so soon and, to be honest, Tim, I didnât think Iâd be the one having to deal with her. I thought Mac would be here. I thought Mac would know what to do.â
âIf Mac had been here, sheâd probably have just sneaked a quick meeting with George and been gone again,â Tim suggested. âBut the fact is, sheâs here and Mac is gone and . . .â
âAnd Iâve got to deal with the mess Iâve made,â Rina finished.
âI didnât say that.â Tim reached out and touched her hand. âRina, itâs not entirely your mess. Circumstances created Karen. George too, for that matter. This mess started long before you interfered and the only misjudgement you made was due to some misplaced compassion. No one can think the worse of you for that.â
âCanât they? Oh Tim, Iâm not worried about it coming out that I warned Karen. Mac will be mad as hell, but he already suspects as much. Iâm worried about . . . how can I explain this? Itâs that Karen has changed. Oh, the seeds of this new Karen were already there, and youâre right, of course: circumstance created her, and maybe genetic factors as well â I really couldnât say. But itâs the woman sheâs become that worries me. Sheâs had time to harden her attitudes, to become vengeful.â
âVengeful?â Tim laughed, then stopped when he caught sight of her expression. âRina, I think . . .â
âThat maybe Iâm getting ahead of myself? Maybe I am, Tim, but sheâs changed. When we knew the old Karen, there was still something of the lost child hiding in there. With the right input, I believe that Karen could have been salvaged. But sheâs changed, Tim. I saw her, remember, and the young woman who came to Peverill Lodge yesterday was not the Karen that left here all those months ago. Sheâs had time to find herself. Whereas before she was all the people her brother and her mother needed, now sheâs just Karen. Confident, purposeful. Her own woman, Tim, and I