“I don’t pay you for advice.”

“You have made that clear many times over the years.”

“Never seems to stop you from interfering.”

“That’s why you keep paying me, sir.”

“Hmmph.”

“I hate to ask,” Bryce said, “but do you have a plan to apply this kick you seem to feel your grandson and Miss Harte require?”

Mitchell drummed his fingers on the dash, thinking furiously. “I’m working on one.”

Bryce nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

Rafe was brooding. Hannah could feel the vibes. He had been in a strange mood since he came back into the house after seeing Mitchell off. She had helped him with the dishes. There had been very little conversation. The few words that had been exchanged had been centered on speculation about what they might or might not learn from Arizona Snow.

“She’s so weird,” Hannah said. “Lord only knows what those logs of hers will look like, assuming she’ll even let us see them.”

“I think she’ll let me have a look at them.” Rafe finished drying a pan and shoved it into a cupboard. “She and I always got along pretty good in the old days.”

“I know.” Hannah glanced at him. “Why did the two of you hit it off so well, anyway?”

“I don’t know why she liked me, but I can tell you why I took to her.”

“Why?”

“She was the only one who never tried to tell me what I should do with my life.”

Hannah winced. “Okay, I can see the appeal there. Did she ever tell you anything about her past?”

“Nope.”

“Ever wonder about it?”

“Sure.” Rafe shut the cupboard door. “Everyone in town wonders about her past. Most people figure she’s just one hundred percent bonkers.”

“When I was younger,” Hannah said slowly, “I imagined that she was an ex–secret agent who was forced to retire after her mind cracked under the strain of undercover work.”

“That’s as logical as any of the other theories I’ve heard over the years.”

When they finished the dishes they wandered out into the darkened solarium. Rafe put two glasses on the table between a pair of wicker loungers and filled each with gently steaming water. He picked up a bottle of orange liqueur and splashed some into two balloon glasses. Then he cradled the bowls of the balloon glasses over the hot water to warm the liqueur.

When he was finished, he lowered himself into one of the loungers and handed one of the balloon glasses to Hannah.

She accepted the pleasantly warm glass and took a sip of the sultry liqueur. Winston stuck his head over the edge of the lounger. She stroked his ears. An air of doggy bliss emanated from him.

The darkness grew heavier. So did Rafe’s mood. Hannah resisted the urge to break the silence. She was determined that he would be the one to do that. If he wanted to brood, that was his business. It wasn’t like she was his wife or even a close friend, she reminded herself. It wasn’t her job to cheer him up when he was down or jolly him out of a bad temper. Sure, they had made love a few times, but that didn’t mean they were lovers.

Instead of rallying her, that thought lowered her own spirits.

Wonderful. Now she was brooding too.

For a while she thought Rafe might not speak at all. She was telling herself that she was getting accustomed to the silence when he finally started talking. The first words out of his mouth startled her so much that she was the one who was momentarily speechless.

“Ever since the night Kaitlin died,” he said, his voice seeming to come from a distant place, “I’ve always wondered whether or not Mitchell believed that I might have killed her.”

Hannah opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was so taken back she could not think of an appropriate response. Maybe there wasn’t one.

“He never said a word.” Rafe turned the heated glass between his palms. “But that didn’t mean anything. His first loyalty is to Gabe and me. I’ve always known that. Even when we were going toe-to-toe about everything from my lousy job prospects and the motorcycle to my choice in girlfriends, I knew that he would stand by me no matter what. He might disapprove. He might be disappointed. He might be furious. But he would be on my side in a fight. Just like Gabe.”

Hannah stared at him. “You actually thought that all these years Mitchell has been wondering what really happened that night? You weren’t sure he believed your story?”

“I was never certain.” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “And I was too damn proud to confront him and ask him straight out.”

She pondered that for a moment. “Maybe you were afraid of the answer.”

He looked out at the lights on the far side of the bay. “Maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t want him to be put in the position of having to pretend that he never doubted me. Mitchell and I have had our problems, but we’ve always been straight with each other. Didn’t want that to change.”

She thought back to what Mitchell had said about Rafe the first night they had invited him to dinner. He’s a Madison. He’s got a temper. But if he had been with Kaitlin that night and if there had been some terrible accident, he’d have gone for help and then he’d have told the flat-out truth about what happened.

“Your grandfather knows that you had nothing to do with Kaitlin’s death,” she said. “He never doubted you.”

“I know that now.”

Hannah exhaled slowly. “Well, if nothing else good comes from this situation, it sounds like you and he are working out some sort of long overdue reconciliation. That’s worth something.”

Rafe gave her a laconic, sidelong look. “Why do you care whether or not Mitchell and I patch up our differences?”

“I live to bring joy and happiness to those around me.”

“Try again.”

She made a face. “Don’t pin me down.”

“Right.” He took another swallow of the liqueur.

She gave him a few seconds. When he did not volunteer anything further in the way of conversation, she tried another tack.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to ask what happened between you and Mitchell outside on the porch a while ago, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me.”

“No surprise there.”

She ignored that. “Look, you just told me that you’re no longer worried that Mitchell might be harboring some deep, dark suspicions about what happened on the night of Kaitlin’s death. And the two of you have decided that you’ll work together on our little investigation. Heck, you’re even having your grandfather over for dinner these days. Obviously your relationship is improving rapidly. So what went wrong out there on the porch?”