Season of Secrets by Marta Perry

go by until Court’s ready. Court, we’ll be right nearby, so come and find us.”
    He nodded, and while Court hurried into the booth, he and Dinah walked down the path to the nearest bench.
    It was surprisingly private, screened by azalea bushes, even though it was just a few feet away from the booths. Dinah sat down with a little sigh and sipped at the chocolate.
    â€œYou look wiped out,” he said bluntly. “Don’t tell me to mind my own business, Dinah. Is our being here upsetting you that much?”
    She looked at him, eyes wide and startled. “It’s not you and Court. It’s the case.” She shrugged, lips curving in a rueful smile. “Was I rude earlier? I’m sorry. Aunt Kate fusses over me so, and Alice—you remember Alice Jones, her housekeeper?”
    â€œRound, comfortable, the best pies I ever ate. She’s still there?”
    She nodded. “A little rounder, probably. She keeps offering me chamomile tea. Says it’s good for the nerves.”
    He propped his arm along the back of the bench, leaning toward her. “Okay. I promise not to offer you any chamomile tea. Can you tell me about the case, or is that a breach of protocol?”
    â€œProbably, but there’s not much to tell. She broke the interview off today before we could get what we need.” Dinah seemed to be looking back, probably weighing whether she’d handled the girl right. “I guess I’m disappointed not to come away with a lead.”
    â€œIt’s more than that, isn’t it?” He touched her shoulder lightly. “You identify with this girl. Her experience is too similar to yours.”
    Dinah stared out across the park, as if mesmerized by the thousands of twinkling white lights draped from the trees. “I feel empathy for her, I suppose. But there’s one big difference. We’re sure she must have seen something, if she can just let herself remember it. I didn’t see anything.”
    He knew better than to question that. It was what Dinah believed, and arguing wouldn’t change that.
    â€œStill, a case like this, with a young girl, must be especially painful.”
    She nodded, still not looking at him. Talk to me, Dinah. Please, talk to me.
    She tilted her head back, dark hair flowing across the collar of her cream wool jacket. “I guess that’s part of it. Her mother doesn’t know what to do to help her, any more than Aunt Kate knew.”
    â€œYour aunt sent you away.”
    â€œTo her cousins in New Orleans. Bless their hearts, they didn’t know what to do with me, either.” She smiled faintly at the memory.
    â€œStill, you got through it somehow.” She should have had more help. Professional help. He should have insisted, though he’d had no right or say.
    â€œGoing to art school was the best thing that could have happened to me. In a way, I painted out all my grief and anger. I think I started to find my way once I’d done that.”
    Have you found your way, Dinah? Or are you still hurting?
    He didn’t dare to ask the question, but he probably already knew the answer. She was hurting, and his presence made that pain worse. He couldn’t even comfort himself with the idea that it would be best for her to face the past, because that wasn’t his motive. He was using her, and that was an ugly thing to find in himself.
    â€œDinah—” He wasn’t sure how to put his feelings into words. “Court and I can’t leave here with so many questions unanswered. But maybe you should back away.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I wanted to say to you, but you’re forcing me to be honest. And maybe what’s honestly best for you is to stay away from us.”
    She turned toward him, her cheek brushing his fingers with a touch soft as a snowflake. She gave him a grave, sweet look. “A few days ago I might have agreed. But now—it’s too