Dead Secret

in her stomach, making her nauseated. She thought about calling Gerald back and asking him to tell them. But instead, she dialed her parents’ number.

Chapter 38
    Diane sat alone at her desk, her head down on her arms, sobbing.
    “Diane?”
    She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Mike’s voice. She didn’t remember him ever using her first name. Surprised and embarrassed, she lifted her head. She was still holding the telephone receiver tight in her hand. She put it back in its cradle.
    “Mike. Sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”
    Diane grabbed a Kleenex and wiped her eyes. Mike stood in front of her desk, a deep crease between his brows, his light brown eyes filled with puzzled concern.
    At least he can see me off my pedestal, she thought as she blotted her eyes again.
    “Can I help? Is it Frank?”
    Diane tried to smile as she met his gaze. “No. It’s my parents. I had to tell them that what happened to Mother was my fault.”
    “How was it your fault?”
    “Did Neva tell you about any of this?”
    “A little. Something about identity theft and someone’s hacking into police records causing her to be put in prison for a week.”
    “It was really much worse for her than that. It was done to get me out of town, away from the crime scene evidence. Mike, I shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m sorry. Did you need something?”
    He shook his head and sat down in the stuffed chair across from her desk. “No. I just dropped by. Andie wasn’t at her desk, so I just came in—I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
    “It’s all right, really. You look better. How is your recovery?”
    “Better. The doctor put me on an exercise program that Neva and I can both live with,” he said flashing a brief smile.
    “She’s just looking out for you.”
    “I know, and she’s doing a good job of it. I’m a lousy patient. My mother used to say that when I was sick as a kid, she got me well in self-defense.”
    “It sounds like you have nice, caring parents.”
    “They are. They live way out in the country on a farm. Dad grows grapes, muscadines and scuppernongs. Dad’s always been a farmer. Mother’s always been a housewife. They’re just plain folk.”
    Mike’s small talk sounded awkward, not like his usual confident, glib self. She’d made him uncomfortable. Tears leaked from her eyes again. She imagined his parents loved their son very much. She envied him.
    “What happened couldn’t have been your fault,” he said.
    “Look at everything, Mike—my daughter is murdered, Frank is shot, you are shot and stabbed, my poor, naive mother is thrown in a hellhole of a prison.” And now the museum, she thought. “The common denominator is me. Hell, the break-in at Neva’s probably has something to do with me.”
    “No. None of it.” He leaned forward. “I certainly don’t hold you responsible, and if I remember right, what happened to Frank wasn’t because of you at all; it was to stop him and his investigation.”
    Mike reached out and took her hand. His touch was warm and safe-feeling, and right now human contact felt good. She squeezed back. After a moment, Diane slipped her hand from his.
    “My mother told me she hates me for what I did—for what I am.”
    Diane didn’t mean to blurt it out that way. After complaining about information leaks, she was becoming a faucet.
    “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
    In his world he probably couldn’t imagine a parent hating her child. But her mother had suffered horribly, and Diane could see her mother’s point of view. If she had been the daughter they wanted, if she weren’t involved in solving crimes, all that happened wouldn’t have happened. And in that, her mother was right. The small headway she had made with her family was now irreparably damaged. Even Susan was angry with her again. She had been with her parents when Diane called and she couldn’t resist weighing in with her opinion of Diane’s guilt.
    “Diane—” he whispered.
    “I’m fine.” She cut him off, stopped him from saying anything further.
    Frank was right; she could see it in Mike’s eyes. He cared very much for her. Diane had no doubt he cared for Neva, too. But right now Diane was vulnerable, and she could see that Mike was ready to step in and try to fix whatever was wrong. She stood up.
    “There are some things I need to do.”
    “Sure. Let me know if I can help.”
    “I will. I’m going to be closing the museum . . . only for a few days, I hope.”
    Mike