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His hazel eyes crinkled around the edges with concern,
and she sighed. It was so terribly important to him to help
her, to find the bad men and punish them. He still wanted
to unearth her imaginary attacker and bring him to justice
somehow, and he was growing increasingly baffled by
Rebekah’s reluctance to help.
“Perhaps.” She had to force the words out past her teeth,
and she wished she could take them back as soon as she did.
“These are your suspects?”
If she wanted to keep suspicion off herself, she knew, she
had to at least pretend to help. But how could she, without
revealing her secrets? She knew from experience that lies
acquired lives of their own and one lie always led to more.
“They are, Madame,” Eric confirmed, his sun-weathered
face looking annoyingly satisfied. “We arrested a number of
troublemakers well before your arrival, but four more have
been brought in since the attack on you and your husband.”
“But if you believe that we were set upon by . . . by some
unnatural fiend,” she countered, grasping for a way to avoid
this pointless charade, “could you not simply eliminate the
mortal men as suspects?”
“You saw them in action and still believed them to be
living,” he pointed out, his eyes searching hers.
“Well, then,” she offered brightly, a solution to her entire
problem taking shape in her mind, “let me get a good look
at them.”
After all, what was one human’s life—a troublemaker