She didn’t answer right away. Then she said, “I thought we came for our honeymoon.”
He waved an abstracted hand. “We’ll take care of that later.”
She knew then, knew what she had been fighting to keep from knowing all through the sleepless hours of the early morning. Con was working with Barjon Garth. Con was getting into danger. Panic was in her voice. She couldn’t quell it. Nor could she keep from asking stupidly, “Con, you didn’t kill her?”
“Kill her?” He came out of his fog on that. “Kill Shelley Huffaker? God, no.” He put his arm around her. “Are you going nuts, baby?”
Her cheek touched his sleeve. “I knew you didn’t. But who did? Why was she killed?”
“I don’t know the answer to either of those. I’m going to find out.” He took his arm away, went over, and poured another. “Don’t t
