All right, so they didn't love her; that didn't mean she had no love to give. She loved Webb with every fiber in her body, something that wasn't going to change no matter how he felt about her. There was also love for Grandmother, despite her obvious preference for Jessie, because after all it had been Grandmother who had firmly said, "Roanna will live here, of course," easing the terror of a seven-year-old who had abruptly lost everything. Even though she had more often found disapproval than approval from Grandmother, she still felt enormous respect and affection for the indomitable old woman. She hoped that someday she could be as strong as Grandmother, rather than the bumbling, unwanted fool she was now.
Both of the people Roanna loved had lost someone dear to them. All right, so she herself had despised Jessie; Grandmother and Webb hadn't. It wasn't her fault that Jessie was dead, but if Webb were blamed for it, that definitely would be her fault because of that kiss. Who really had killed Jessie? The only person who readily sprang to mind was the man she had seen with Jess the day before, but she had no idea who he was and wasn't certain she could either describe him now or even identify him if he walked in the door. Her shock had been so great that she hadn't paid a great deal of attention to his face, If she had decided before to keep quiet about what she'd seen, her reasons now were even more crucial. If Sheriff Watts found out that Jessie had been having an affair, he would see that as a motive for Webb to kill her. No, Roanna decided dazedly, she would only hurt Webb by disclosing what Jessie had been doing.
A murderer would go free. Roanna thought about that,
but her reasoning was simple: telling the sheriff about it wouldn't guarantee that the murderer was caught, because she couldn't give him any more information than that, and Webb would be harmed. For Roanna, there was no question of justice or truth, and she was too young and unsophisticated for subtleties of philosophy. The only thing that mattered was protecting Webb. Right or wrong, she would keep her mouth shut.
She watched as a county car silently rolled up the long driveway and stopped. Webb and Sheriff Watts got out and walked toward the house. Roanna watched Webb; her gaze stuck to him like a magnet to steel. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn yesterday, and he looked exhausted, his hard face shadowed with both fatigue and a day's growth of beard. At least he was home, she thought, her heart leaping, and he wasn't in handcuffs. That must mean the sheriff wasn't going to arrest him.
As the two men walked up the semicircle of brick-paved sidewalk, Webb glanced up to where she sat in the big bay window, outlined by the lights behind her. Though it still wasn't full daylight, Roanna saw the way his face hardened, then he looked away from her.
She listened to the confused, awkward flurry of family members behind her when Webb entered the house. Most of them didn't speak to him, but instead made an effort to make their own conversations seem casual. Under the circumstances, the effort was ridiculous, and they merely sounded stilted. Only Yvonne and Sandra rushed to him, and were gathered into his strong arms. In her reflective window, Roanna watched him bend his dark head down to them.
He released them and turned to Sheriff Watts.
"I need to shower and shave," he said.
Chapter 5
"Upstairs is off-limits for now," the sheriff replied.
"There's a bath with a shower next to the kitchen. Would you have a deputy bring me some clean clothes?"
"Sure." The arrangements were made, and Webb left to
clean up. The voices behind her resumed a more normal rhythm. Watching them, Roanna could tell that both Aunt Yvonne and Aunt Sandra were furious with the others.
Then suddenly her view of the room was blotted out as Sheriff Watts appeared directly behind her.
"Roanna, do you feel up to answering some questions?" he asked in a tone so gentle it seemed out of place, coming from such a rough, burly man.
She clutched the blanket even tighter and silently turned around. His huge hand closed over her elbow.
"Let's go where it's quieter," he said, helping her to slide from the window seat. He wasn't quite as tall as Webb but was easily twice as wide. He was built like a wrestler, with a barrel chest and thick belly, and without any jiggle to his middle.
He led her into Webb's study, seating her on the sofa rather than in one of the big leather armchairs, and eased down beside her.
"I know it's hard for you to talk about it, but I need to know what happened tonight, and this morning."
She nodded.
"Webb and Jessie were arguing," Sheriff Watts said, watching her carefully.
"Do you know-" "It was my fault," Roanna interrupted, her voice flat and hollow and strangely raspy. Her brown eyes, usually so lively and full of golden lights, were dull and haunted.
"I was in the kitchen trying to eat when Webb came home from Nashville. I-I'd missed supper. I was upset ... Anyway, I k-kissed him, and that's when Jessie came in."
"You kissed him? He didn't kiss you?"
Miserably Roanna nodded. It didn't matter that, after a few seconds, Webb had held her tight and returned her kiss. She had initiated it.
"Has Webb ever kissed you?"
"Some. Mostly he ruffles my hair."
The sheriff's lips twitched.
"I mean on the mouth."
"No."
"Do you have a crush on him, Roanna?"
She went still, even the breath halting in her chest. Then she squared her thin shoulders and gave him a took of such naked despair that he swallowed.
"No," she said with pitiful dignity.
"I love him." She paused.
"He doesn't love me, though. Not like that."