Chuck's expression was solemn. He glanced around, set down his glass of bourbon, and murmured to Leanne, "Can we talk in private for a second?"
He guided her out of the bustling banquet hall to the balcony outside. The sliding glass door opened and then shut behind them, leaving the noise and festivities as if in another world, separated by the chill of the evening rain.
Chuck finally dropped his guard, adopting the tone of an elder speaking with gravity and concern, "Kid, you must stop bringing this up to others."
"Why?" Leanne asked, her gaze direct and persistent.
Chuck sighed. "It's been years. Why dredge it all up now?"
"Because I care," Leanne replied. "No one seems to care about my parents' death but me. I need to find out who did it."
"I don't know where you'd even start. I don't know anything about it, and I don't know who you could trust."
She changed her approach. "Mr. Chuck, I can tell you had some respect for my dad. If you know anything, for his sake, could you tell me?"
Chuck's expression was a mix of emotions, and he hesitated before cautioning her. "If you trust me, take my advice and stop digging. It isn't something you should get involved in."
"Just enjoy your life. Curtis loves you, so live well with him. That's the best way to honor your father's memory."
"Mr. Chuck..."
Leanne wanted to say more, but Chuck had decided, swiftly turning and striding back through the door.
He knew something but was afraid of what?
Hanley, Mary, and Chuck, what were they all hiding?
The drizzle soaked through Leanne's dress and chilled her to the bone in the mid-June air, making her shiver. After a moment, she returned inside.
The party's warmth and the guests' chatter hit her like a wave of emptiness as she saw Curtis standing at the end of the corridor.
His gaze was on her and then toward the balcony, though it was unclear how long he'd been there.
His look was too indifferent, devoid of expression and warmth as well.
He must have seen Chuck coming out.
Leanne felt a grip around her heart, wondering how to explain the ten minutes she'd spent alone with another man on the balcony.
Curtis walked toward her, asking, "Enjoying the rain on the balcony?"
He called over a server to fetch a clean towel, gently wiping the dampness from her shoulders and hair with a tenderness that belied the coldness in his eyes. Leanne opened her mouth to speak but struggled to find the right words, managing only, "You saw it?"
"Feeling guilty?" Curtis' tone was light and casual as he continued, "What were you doing behind my back that you feel you owe me an explanation for?"
Leanne couldn't read his mood or tell if he was angry and, if so, what kind of anger it was. Was it jealousy over her meeting another man, or had he sensed something else?
No.
That was Curtis, incredibly sharp. He wouldn't waste his time on such a trivial jealousy.
She was naive to think he'd be so oblivious.
She thought it through and found everything had been too coincidental since she started investigating Chuck.
"You knew all along, didn't you?"
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