In a little over half an hour, this woman was going to walk down the aisle with a man who, in Joseph’s estimation, was both cunning and amoral, and who would dearly love to come into possession of Erin’s millions. She had only his word that she’d agreed to marry him.
He gripped his notepad. Erin wasn’t his problem. As far as this town was concerned, he had no business getting anywhere near her.
Not only weren’t the Lowerys in the same league as the Marshalls, they’d been virtual outcasts since his father, a former policeman, was arrested and convicted of murder eleven years ago. The fallout had destroyed his relationship with Erin. It had destroyed his father, too.
Although Joseph and his mother had stood by him, very few people shared their belief that Lewis Lowery had been framed. After he died in prison and the years ticked by without new evidence emerging, the chances of clearing his father’s name had become negligible.
Erin was another matter. If she’d just become engaged, surely she had confided the happy news to someone. There was no reason to rely on Chet’s testimony.
“Is there a friend you might have talked to that day?” he asked.
“My boss, Bea,” Erin said. “We were working together at the carnival.”
“Do you know her phone number?”
“It’s in my organizer.”
He retrieved her purse from a chair. “May I?” It might take her a while to get those gloves off.
“Go ahead. It’s in the side pocket.”
He found the number and dialed her cell phone. While it was ringing, Joseph handed it to Erin.
After a moment, she exchanged pleasantries with her boss. He heard her ask if, before the accident, she’d mentioned her engagement.
“I don’t understand,” Erin said. “What do you mean you didn’t know I was engaged?… Well, to Chet, of course. You received the invitation, didn’t you?… What?”
He’d thought she was pale before, but some previously unsuspected color drained from her cheeks. “Oh, my gosh,” she said. “Oh, Bea. You won’t believe—well, I don’t have time to explain. Thank you. Yes. This helps a lot. I’ll be in touch.” She clicked off.
“Well?” Joseph said.
She swallowed hard. “I didn’t promise to marry Chet. I told Bea I was going to turn him down.”
Much as he welcomed the news, Joseph had to make sure it was valid. “Could there be a misunderstanding?”
“She talked to me that afternoon, right before I got hit.” Erin spoke in a dull, shocked tone. “I said the whole thing with Chet was a mistake. I planned to give him the bad news in person the next day.”
Joseph couldn’t believe Dever had lied so baldly. “Maybe you accepted him and then had a change of heart.”
“I don’t see how that could have happened,” Erin said. “Chet described how overjoyed I was when I called. He said I could hardly wait to walk down the aisle. I’m not the kind of person who would say that and then change my mind a few hours later.”
“When he told you, didn’t you wonder why you’d agreed? I mean, you ought to know whether you love him or not.” He knew he was being rough on her, but it was nothing compared to the storm that would sweep over Sundown Valley if Erin Marshall left Chet Dever at the altar.
“I believed everything I was told. I couldn’t rely on my memory or my feelings.” She sounded dazed. “I didn’t trust my perceptions.”
What a violation! What Dever had done might not be a crime, but it ought to be. “You can’t marry him.”
Erin dropped her cell phone into her purse. “What a mess! Everyone’s going to be so upset. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with them.”
“The only person you have to deal with is your fake fiancé,” he said.
“No.” Tears welled in her eyes. “There’s my mom. And all those people out there.” She started to shake. “I’m sorry. I know I ought to be able to take care of myself, but I can’t think straight.”
Joseph couldn’t help it. He knew he was compromising his investigation, but he wrapped his arms around Erin and pulled her against him.
She needed him. He’d never believed such a thing could happen, in view of their past and their relative situations in this community. Regardless of whether he crushed his career along with her wedding dress, he refused to let her down.
“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll help you sort it out.”
“You don’t have to.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “This isn’t your problem.”
“Tell me how many people you trust right now, besides me.”
“My mom,” she said.
“Even if she’s under Lance’s influence?”
“No.”
“So there’s just me,” Joseph pointed out. “That makes it my problem.”
Soon enough, she’d have all the support she needed—from lawyers, security guards, accountants, whatever. But for this small, precious space of time, she needed a friend and she’d turned to him. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”
“Thank you.” Erin’s eyes looked huge as she peered up at him. “I can’t tell you how much this means.”
“Cops are the modern equivalent of knights in shining armor, aren’t we?” he teased, and reached for the door.
Eerily, the knob turned just before he touched it, and someone in the hall pulled it open.
Chapter Three
Erin stared in dismay at the man standing in the doorway. In his tuxedo, Chet loomed larger than life, his chiseled face set in an unaccustomed scowl.
He was a big man, several inches taller than Joseph although less tightly knit, with anchorman-perfect dark blond hair and an air of authority that swept people before him. Until now, Erin hadn’t dreamed of standing up to him—at least, not lately.
Since she’d awakened in the hospital, Chet had taken command of her life the way her father used to do. Bruised and aching, uncertain about what had happened, she’d been grateful for his strength.
She wasn’t ready for this confrontation. She hadn’t weighed her plans or gathered her courage. On the other hand, that might take days, and she needed to stop this wedding in its tracks.
Behind Chet in the hallway, Tina hovered uncertainly. Whatever she’d told the groom, the news had annoyed him. His guilty conscience had to be pricking, Erin thought with a trace of her old resilience.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “I do not want my bride harassed.”
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Joseph thrust out his hand. “I’m Detective Lowery.”
Chet ignored his hand. “I know who you are.” It was unusually churlish of him, Erin thought.
“Everyone knows who you are.” This last came from Tina’s brother, Gene. Thin-faced and sharp-featured, he, too, wore a tuxedo, since he was Chet’s best man as well as his campaign manager. He and Joseph had disliked each other in high school, she recalled.
Joseph’s eyes flicked over Gene with the barest of recognition and returned to Chet. His air of quiet watchfulness impressed Erin. “Miss Marshall is assisting with an investigation.”
“Well, Detective, your time is up,” Chet said. “We’re having a wedding here