The Butler's Daughter by Joyce Sullivan

knees. “We can’t hide that kind of information from the police—not without facing charges for hindering a criminal investigation. And it’s critical to the case. Investigator Bradshaw understands the sensitivity of the information. I have several retired BCI investigators on my payroll and they tell me I can trust Bradshaw.”
    Juliana’s stomach rolled. Hunter could trust a trooper on a word-of-mouth recommendation, but not the woman he was going to marry. She would dearly love to know if he distrusted her specifically or just relationships. “Does he know about our arrangement, too?”
    â€œHe knows that Ross and Lexi appointed me the guardian of their living children, and I have assured him that I am instigating measures to protect Cort’s identity. And yours. Just answer the questions, you may know more than you realize.”
    She leaned against the leather seat back not the least bitappeased. She had a sick feeling that Hunter was very interested in her answers to the investigator’s questions, as well.
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    I NVESTIGATOR B RADSHAW was a compact man in his late forties with a long sharp nose and somber gray eyes. He greeted Juliana with a handshake that seemed both sincere and compassionate and asked after her father as he escorted them to a back room of the police installation reserved for interviews.
    â€œWe’d like to interview your father as soon as possible, Ms. Goodhew.” The investigator indicated that Juliana and Hunter take a chair at the table in the center of the room. “We may be able to piece together how someone else found out the location of the rendezvous in Severance. Did he reveal any details to you in your phone conversations?”
    Juliana shook her head. “I’m sorry. All I know is that my father handled the arrangements himself and booked the house under his own name.”
    â€œWould those arrangements include ordering flowers to be delivered to the house?”
    Juliana glanced at Hunter uncertainly. He shrugged his shoulders, indicating the significance of the question was unknown to him. She wet her lips. “It’s possible. That would be the kind of thing he might do to ensure the Collingwoods were comfortable in their surroundings. Lexi loved freshly cut flowers. But my father didn’t mention anything about ordering flowers. Why do you ask?”
    â€œBecause we’ve interviewed the property owners who claim that a floral delivery was made to the house Thursday morning—three large arrangements designated for the living room, dining room and master bedroom. The delivery person insisted on placing the arrangements himself andmaking finishing touches per Mr. Goodhew’s request. The owners didn’t object.”
    Investigator Bradshaw’s inquisitive gaze shifted from Juliana to Hunter and back. “A large basket arrangement was carried into the master bedroom and placed on a table near where we believe the explosion originated.”
    Juliana grew absolutely still as the horror of the investigator’s insinuation sank into her fogged mind. The room seemed to be closing in on her. She glanced at Hunter, unconsciously seeking his support as her fingers dug into her palms. This was insane. Her father would never hurt Ross and Lexi. He’d die for them. And a part of Juliana feared that her father’s slow recovery might be a subliminal reluctance to face life without Ross. Beneath the table she felt Hunter’s leg surreptitiously nudge hers as if reassuring her that he was close by and she wasn’t alone. She took a calming breath, drawing strength from this unexpected show of support and felt the walls starting to recede. She had to stay calm. Be as cooperative as possible. “You think my father was involved, Investigator?”
    Bradshaw locked his fingers on the table. “It’s early in the investigation, Ms. Goodhew. We’re following every lead. That includes