Dead Secret

because he was fired from the firm where he worked before.”
    Actually, Diane didn’t think Alan was a good lawyer. She had just been trying to soften her remark about Alan’s not being a criminal lawyer. “Fired? I thought he would have been a partner,” she said.
    “No. We all thought it was a raw deal . . . jealousy, infighting. Mother and Dad think the world of him, so Dad got him a job with the firm that Fallon and Abernathy use. Alan’s made some mistakes with their accounts. He told the partners that Gerald is the one who gave him the information and told him how he wanted things handled. Gerald found out this morning and called him. They had a row, and that’s when Alan told him. Now Gerald thinks we . . . that we had an affair. I swear we didn’t. That’s why we sent the children to his sister’s. We didn’t want them to witness us sorting this out.”
    “I’ll tell Gerald that I believe you, if you think that will help.”
    “Do you?”
    “Believe you? Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “I have experience with people who lie.” Diane didn’t say that one of the people she had experience with was Susan herself when they were children, and that Diane knew exactly when Susan lied and when she was telling the truth.
    “Gerald is a good man, and I don’t want a divorce.”
    “Is that what Gerald is threatening?”
    “He hasn’t come out and said it, but . . . Alan really rubbed his nose in it.”
    “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
    “I appreciate it, Diane. I’d better get back. I don’t want Gerald to think that I’m . . .” She left the rest unfinished.
    Susan kissed Diane’s cheek as she left for home. Her family got downright affectionate during times of stress. She realized that she hardly knew them. Perhaps that was her fault. She could be as stubborn and intransigent as they in her opinions. On the other hand, they had never understood how much Diane loved her daughter. That lack of empathy was hard for Diane to forgive.
    Diane undressed and tossed her clothes over the back of a chair. She put on her nightgown, fished a paperback of Foucault’s Pendulum out of her duffel bag and crawled into bed. Her eyelids were heavy, but she was looking forward to continuing what she started on the plane—and getting her mind away from current events.
    Something caused her to jerk awake. The book had fallen to the floor. That was probably what woke her up. She picked up her cell and looked at the display. After eleven. She got out of bed, retrieved the book and turned out the bedside lamp.
    She had one knee back up on the bed when she heard soft footfalls in the hallway. On the carpeted floor the sound was only a whisper, but Diane had a good ear for faint rhythm. Her father, probably. He was the only other person in the huge house. And when she and Susan were little, he would look in on them before going to bed. She started to call out, but instead she picked up her cell phone, moved away from the bed and secreted herself in the closet, looking out through the space between the louvers.
    Okay, now what was she going to say to her father— I’ve been personally attacked so many times that I automatically run for cover at the sound of footsteps? She put a hand on the door to push it open, but stopped when she saw a shadow come into the room. Her father would have knocked—unless he was just checking. The shadowed form passed through rays of moonlight from the window. It was Alan.

Chapter 24
    Diane held her breath for several seconds and slowly let it out. A sick knot formed in her stomach. What was he up to? Her father was downstairs and too far away to call. She could dial 911. She started to, holding her hand over the phone display to hide the light, but she hesitated. She knew instinctively that Alan would say she had invited him to her room, and her father would probably believe him. She would have caused an uproar at one of the worst times in their lives. She stayed her finger, but held the open phone.
    “Diane,” Alan whispered in the darkness.
    Diane watched as he approached her bed and stood looking down at the crumpled sheets. He glanced for a few seconds toward the open bathroom door. Diane readied herself for an approach to her hiding place. But his gaze didn’t linger on the closet. He turned around and retraced his steps, stopping at the chair where she had thrown off her clothes. Picking up her camisole, he held it to his face and breathed in. Diane raised her eyebrows and her