*Olivia*
I stagger to a stop and stare at him. I can’t possibly have heard correctly.
He gives me an indulgent smile. “You mentioned it while you were fevered.”
I suddenly feel nauseous. “Who heard?”
“Only me.”
The garden spins around me. I’m not moving, but somehow I stumble. He grabs my elbow.
“Here. Sit down over there,” he orders, and leads me to the wrought-iron bench that I have put in this area of the garden because it normally brings me a measure of peace and contentment to sit there.
I sink onto the bench. It’s small and, as insane as it might be, I want him to sit beside me and hold me. Instead, he crouches in front of me just as Inspector Swindler had done, as though that particular position would somehow elicit a confession.
“Were you delirious when you sa
