The Chase: A Novel by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

statements, here for you. They’re yours to keep.”
    “Great,” Claire said, the smile plastered on her face. She must not unravel now. After all, this was a low blow, but it was nothing compared to finding David on her terrace with his throat slashed about thirty-six hours ago.
    “I can find my way out,” Jack said.
    “I’ll walk you to the door.” Claire smiled firmly and marched him to the front door of the big house. Paintings of various sizes and value, representing hundreds of different schools, covered every inch of space in every room. Claire shook his hand and let him out. Suddenly she was aware of the art that surrounded her. She had never really paid attention to its value; now, she wondered if Jean-Léon had really meant for her to own the Courbet.
    Then she turned and walked back into the living room. She could never sell it. She refused to cry. Crying would not solve anything. But she couldn’t help wondering if her financial straits were, somehow, her just deserts for failing David in his time of need.
    It was cold and windy at the beach where the mourners had gathered to scatter David’s ashes. Claire stood between her father and the Dukes, foremost among the crowd. A cleric was speaking. Claire did not hear a word he said.
    Claire had worked hard to gather up her last reserves of strength. In the past few days, she had hired a broker, and as soon as word of David’s murder died down, the broker would put the house up for sale. Her entire life had changed, or at least it felt that way. It was as if she had stepped unknowingly across a huge divide—and there was no way back. David was gone. She would sell the house and move. Although she would continue to devote herself to her work at the Humane Society, Claire somehow felt as if she had changed fundamentally inside. She did not feel like the same person. She wondered if she would walk through the rest of her life carrying the huge burden of her guilt while hiding the little, intrusive knot of fear.
    And David’s killer still had to be brought to justice.
    If the police had any suspects, they were not revealing anything.
    A hundred somberly clad people—everyone bundled up in coats due to the weather—were listening to the cleric drone on about David’s exemplary life and God’s will. Most of the mourners had been at David’s birthday party, and the detective, Murphy, had also come to the service. David’s family had appeared—they lived in Atlanta—but his parents remained dry-eyed and aloof on the other side of the crowd. Occasionally one of his sisters dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Claire wondered if the murderer was actually present now.
    It was a horrible thought. Claire tried to tune in to the cleric, but again, it was so hard to understand what he was saying. He kept saying how wonderful David had been. A wonderful husband, a wonderful son, a wonderful partner to his associates.
    Claire closed her eyes. Clearly the cleric had not known David at all. He had been a decent husband, but he hadn’t had anything to do with his own family. Or maybe he hadn’t even been a decent husband—he had somehow lost almost all their savings, most of which had been inherited from Claire’s mother.
    She realized she had stiffened and her fists were clenched. The anger was trying to take her over again. She must not blame David. He hadn’t intended to lose their money. But she could be angry with the killer for what he had done.
    Claire tuned out the droning voice of the cleric. Elizabeth took her hand and whispered, “Just a few more minutes, dear.” Claire managed to smile at her.
    Elizabeth smiled back, but concern was reflected in her reddened eyes. She had also been crying. She had loved David, too.
    In spite of the wind, the day was blindingly bright. Claire wore sunglasses because she did not want anyone to see into her eyes and past her facade. That facade felt so incredibly fragile now, yet Claire was determined to cling to it with all