Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

profile. He glanced at me, his liquid-metal eyes full of concern, before returning his attention to the road.

"I don't know," I admitted, trying and failing to hold back the tears. "I really don't know."

I turned my face to the window so he wouldn't see the tears spilling down my face. I wasn't usually a crier. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I'd cried in my adult life. Losing a brother really put a lot of things in perspective. But stress and fatigue had these rare tears streaming now. I willed myself to get it together before we got to my loft, but we were already turning into the parking lot beside the barn.

I tried to scramble out of the truck and run inside before Linc could follow, but my little chicken legs were no match for his long, muscular ones. He met me at the base of the stairs and grabbed my upper arms gently in his large warm hands.

"Alex, look at me," he coaxed.

I shook my head and kept it lowered. I tried to swipe at my face with the back of my hand but couldn't reach it with the way he held me. Could this day get any more embarrassing? First, I had to attend driving class like a speed demon; second, I insulted my best friend, then I got hauled into the police station for questioning in a murder, and now, I was crying in front of Lincoln Livestrong. So much for the independent world-traveling woman I purported to be. I was acting like the child I hated to be treated like.

"Alex?" he tried again.

When I sniffled and stood there, he gathered me in his arms in a hug. Our first hug in over a decade. That only resulted in me sobbing even harder.

"Okay. It's gonna be okay," he soothed.

I wrapped my arms around his middle and clung to him, tangling my fingers in his shirt. He held my head to his chest with one hand, gently stroking my hair, while the other spread across my back. His six-foot frame engulfed my small one. Usually this made me feel weak and childlike. Tonight, I felt protected and secure. I gave up trying to hold back the tears and let them come. He made all the right soothing noises but didn't try to stop me or tell me I was ridiculous. Which was absolutely how I felt.

When my sobs subsided, he leaned me back slightly to cup my face in one hand. He used a thumb to wipe away a lingering tear. His face held none of the annoyance and anger I'd seen there the last few days. Instead, worry lines crinkled his forehead while the rest of his expression was gentle and soft.

"Let's get you inside," he suggested. He tucked me under one arm and shuffled me toward the stairs. Somehow, we managed to get up the steps and into the loft.

"Thanks, Linc," I said between sniffles. "You don't have to stay. I'm okay now." But just saying the words brought on another onslaught of tears.

"Yeah, I can tell you're just fine," Linc said with the hint of a smile. He put his hand on the small of my back to lead me to the only piece of furniture, besides my bed, that I owned. He set me down on the couch and rummaged around in the kitchen. He came back a moment later with a glass of water and some napkins, both of which he offered to me.

"I couldn't find any tissues," he said apologetically.

I hesitated a moment before blowing my nose, then realized having snot dripping down my face was more embarrassing than the sound of it going into a napkin. I took a deep gulp of the water when I finished.

"Thanks, Linc," I said quietly, still not fully trusting my voice. "For everything."

"What are friends for," he said.

I looked up at him and took a deep breath. I was already embarrassed enough; I might as well go for broke.

"I'm so sorry, Linc. For the way I've been acting since I've been home. I'm angry at my circumstances and am taking it out on the people I care about most. I've made a mess of everything here. I'm so sorry."

He reached a hand to smooth a wayward strand of hair out of my face. "I'm sorry too. You've been under a lot of stress since you've been back. Dealing with my mood swings hasn't helped."

I couldn't quite manage a laugh, but I did muster up a small smile. "Your mood swings. What about my mood swings?"

"I haven't seen your moods swing," Linc said, catching my smile. "You've consistently been a big grouch since you've been back."

I halfheartedly smacked his chest. But I knew he wasn't wrong.

"You scared me tonight, Alex. When you came rushing out from that hallway, your face was ashen, and your eyes were as wide as saucers. I thought you were going to faint right there," Linc said. He took the cup of water from my hands when the tears welled again. I put my head back on his shoulder. "Can you tell me about it? What did Chief Duncan ask you?"

I sniffled again. "The gist of it is that I have no alibi for the time of the murder; I had access to the murder weapon, and I have a motive for killing Missy." I shuddered, and he hugged me closer.

"You and half of Piney Ridge," he commented.

"That's pretty much what Detective Spaulding said when he came in." I felt Linc tense at the mention of the detective.

"They took your fingerprints?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I let them. I am innocent. I didn't touch the locket, and I surely didn't touch any scissors," I said. "Hopefully when that is confirmed, it will throw some cold ice on