Love Can Be Murder

conflicting emotions—how did she feel about Gary...before, and now that he was gone?
    Betrayed, mostly, on so many levels. She had genuinely believed that he cared for her, although she had sensed that Gary himself had been surprised by his feelings for her. It was almost as if he'd gone out with her on a lark—the handsome, eligible man about town who dates a quiet, spindly girl—with no pedigree or particular promise as a socialite—and becomes enchanted by her lack of pretense. At times she wondered if her conservative sensibility had attracted him because it helped to keep him grounded, or if he simply liked the idea that she would never compete with him. Regardless, she was beginning to think she loved the idea of Gary loving her more than she actually loved him . Had she mistaken flattery on her part for love?
    And on those occasions when he'd looked at her with contrite eyes—when she'd thought that he was silently apologizing for underestimating her—had he instead been trying to think of a way to reveal the underhanded side of his life? She had sensed that he was struggling with something, but she hadn't asked.
    Hadn't cared enough to ask. If she had, maybe he would've confessed the truth and she could have persuaded him to go to the police.
    She pursed her mouth. On the other hand, she could have wound up as fish food in the Chattahoochee River.
    She dressed quickly and opted for a few makeup basics to perk up her complexion while pondering Beck's interest in her feelings for Gary. Maybe he was feeling guilty over kissing her at Sammy's party. Or maybe if she admitted that Gary had been the love of her life, he could bow out with no pressure, no strings.
    Jolie opened the bedroom door and walked into the living room quietly because Beck was still on the phone, his back to her.
    "...Jolie doesn't know," he was saying.
    Her stomach plunged—at his words and at the guarded tone of his voice. She stepped back out of sight and strained to hear him, her heart hammering.
    "You should be thinking of a story. Yes, I got it from her and I have it with me...I shouldn't be here much longer."
    She tried to make sense of the words—a story, the photo he'd gotten from her...
    The answer hit her so clearly that she almost laughed out loud at her stupidity—she'd just given an exclusive interview to a man who had his own news organization! Of course he was going to use it to his advantage. A part of her didn't even mind. Beck had saved her life, after all, and provided her with an attorney. But she felt so damn foolish, thinking he was helping her for altruistic reasons or maybe simply because he liked her.
    She shook her head, blinking back tears. Then, it was as if something inside of her switched to "on." She straightened and inhaled deeply, filling her chest with resolve. She was almost relieved Beck was using the information she'd given him; it put their relationship on a professional plane. Neither of them would have emotional ties to the situation. She would no longer feel guilty about involving him, and she would no longer entertain fantasies about the man. Her head would be clear to navigate through the mess that Gary had left behind.
    "Right," he said. "I'll take care of everything."
    Jolie fumbled with her bedroom door to make noise, then acted as if she were just walking out.
    Beck looked up and had the grace to blush. "Yeah," he said into the phone, his voice louder, "I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay." He closed the phone and looked apologetic. "I assumed you weren't exactly in the mood to take me house hunting today as we'd planned."
    She nodded carefully, surprised that he'd remembered, then gestured to the computer. "How about if I print some listings to take with you? It'll only take a few minutes."
    He glanced toward the door as if he were eager to leave, but nodded. "Sure."
    She booted up the machine, trying to school her emotions as he walked over to stand behind her chair. She sensed the invisible barrier between them in the physical distance he maintained and in the rigid posture she maintained.
    In her most professional tone, Jolie explained the search criteria—address, price range, amenities—then fed the program several scenarios of his responses and printed the results.
    "See?" she said cheerfully, handing him the printouts. "That didn't take long."
    He took the papers, but he averted his gaze. "Thanks."
    "Beck," she said softly, "I will certainly understand if you decide to