Through it all, Richard was a rock for Kate. Unwavering in his support and sympathy, understanding. She felt closer to him than she had in months, their fight and her ugly accusations forgotten in the midst of their tragedy.

Kate was relieved when, a week to the day she had discovered the body, Tess's sometime boyfriend Matt was arrested for her murder. Witnesses had seen them together that night, arguing bitterly. Tess was last seen getting into his car. The coroner determined that she'd had intercourse shortly before her death. Preliminary lab tests revealed the semen most probably to be Matt's. Even without the final DNA test results, the police felt they had enough evidence to make an arrest.

It wasn't until Matt was in jail that Kate could bring herself to reopen The Bean. And even then, it was to a hush of grief. Everyone who knew Tess was devastated by her death. The regulars, those who hadn't disappeared like Steve Byrd and Mr. Military, expressed their condolences, each commented on the tragic loss of the vibrant and funny young woman.

All except Nick Winters.

He ambled in a couple of days after Kate reopened. He ordered his double espresso, then stood at the counter sipping it. "Business is slow," he commented.

"It's been that way," Marilyn murmured, "ever since…you know."

He lifted his eyebrows. "The murder."

"Yes." Marilyn's eyes filled with tears, and she looked apologetically at Kate. "Excuse me a minute."

Kate watched her hurry off, then turned back to Nick Winters, expecting some comment, some expression of remorse or condolence. Instead, he brought his espresso to his lips, then set it down and met her eyes. Something in his gaze chilled her. "Do you feel violated, Kate?"

"Excuse me?"

"By the destruction of your work? It's such a personal, intimate part of yourself."

"I've barely thought about my glass work," she said stiffly, offended.

"How could you not? It looks naked in here now. Colorless."

"Compared to Tess's death, the loss of my work means nothing."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Kate. We're like souls. I know you." He brought the coffee to his lips once more, then sighed. "I'm certainly glad I bought mine when I did. If I hadn't, it'd be garbage now."

She stared at him disbelievingly. He returned her stare, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come now," he said, reproach in his voice. "Tess was a pretty girl, but she wasn't like us."

"What do you mean, not like us?"

"She didn't understand loyalty or commitment. She didn't understand fidelity. We both know that." He leaned toward her-Kate instinctively shrank back. "She had the loyalty of a whore."

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. "How can you say these things? She liked you. She was nice to you."

He lifted a shoulder. "Because they're true. You know they are, Kate. You can admit it to me."

"I don't know any such thing." She backed away from the counter, sickened by him. "This conversation is over, Nick. I suggest you take a seat at one of the tables like everyone else."

He reached across the counter and caught her hand. "What would you do, Kate? If you discovered your husband was cheating on you? Could you forgive him? Would you? I'd really like to know."

Emotion choked her, his words striking uncomfortably close to her heart. "Let me go, Nick."

He tightened his fingers instead. "I admire you. You're strong. And honest. Most people aren't, you know. Tess wasn't."

His words, their tone, crawled over her like maggots. She shuddered and tugged against his hand. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Marilyn emerge through the louvered door and stop dead. "I said, let me go."

"You're too good for him, Katherine McDowell Ryan." He released her hand. "It's too damn bad. It's all too damn bad."

Kate sat at her desk, staring at the drawing on the far wall. Done in pastels-it depicted her and Richard's house in the springtime, the gardens in full bloom. She had commissioned a local artist to do it in celebration of their first anniversary in their dream home.

She brought a hand to her temple and rubbed at the knot of tension that had settled there. Several hours had passed since her disturbing conversation with Nick Winters, and try as she might, she had been unable to put the things he'd said out of her mind. She hadn't been able to shake the way they had made her feel. Disquieted and on edge. Suspicious.

And angry. At him for saying them-at herself for letting him get to her.

Kate dragged her gaze from the drawing, turning her attention instead to the portable crib where Emma slept. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Richard had been away from home a lot lately. Every weekend. Several evenings a week.

The question was, had he been gone more than at other busy times during their marriage? She thought back, trying to recall. It had never been this bad, she decided, even right before the Gary Seneca trial, and that one had been a doozy. High profile, lots of witnesses and complicated medical evidence.

But, she assured herself, he had never been preparing a political campaign before.

She frowned. But the election was still a year off. And he had already secured considerable support, including the Times Picayune and the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff's Department. How much more could he and Julianna have to do?

Hating herself for her suspicions, she grabbed her purse, checked on Emma, then headed out front. She would put her mind to rest once and for all.

"Marilyn, Blake, there's something I have to do. Can you watch Emma until I get back? It's important."

"No problem," Marilyn said, meeting her eyes. "What's up?"

"I can't…there's something I need to check out, and I have to do it now." Marilyn frowned, and Kate ignored the question in her eyes. "She's asleep and should be for a while. There are two bottles in the refrigerator and diapers in the bag beside the crib." She set the baby monitor on the counter. "I'll be back as quick as I can."

Leaving before either employee could question her, Kate hurried home to retrieve her car, then drove to Richard's firm, reassuring herself the entire way. Richard would be there, chin-high in paperwork, just as he had said he would be. She would feel like a fool, make some excuse for being there, and head back to The Bean, promising herself she would never distrust her husband again.

But Richard wasn't there. Several associates were, and Kate asked but no one had seen him. Using his office phone, she called home. The recorder picked up. She tried his car, then the club. Both without luck.

Hands shaking, she hung up the phone. She would run home; perhaps he was napping. Or in the yard. His car hadn't been there when she'd retrieved hers, but they could have passed each other on the way.

Kate darted into the hallway and ran smack-dab into one of the secretaries, her arms piled high with copies. The papers flew.

Kate made a sound of dismay, squatted down and began helping the young woman collect the papers. "I'm so sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's okay, Mrs. Ryan. It happens."

"Do I know you?"

The woman flushed. "We met last year. At the firm's Christmas party. Sandy Derricks. Mr. Bedico's assistant."

Kate smiled. "Of course, Sandy. It's good to see you again." She scooped up the last of the papers and handed them to Sandy, her expression apologetic. "It's not bad enough having to work on a Saturday, but now I've gone and made your job more difficult."

"Don't think anything of it, really. I work every Saturday." She drew her eyebrows together. "Can I help you in some way?"

Kate laughed. "Actually, maybe you can. I'm looking for my husband. Have you seen him today? It's rather urgent that I speak with him."