Quillan sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I was. But every man can be redeemed if he’s willing. Don’t you believe that?”
Carina watched the newsman search for an answer. Mr. Pierce seemed nonplussed, and she was certain Quillan had intended that.
“I . . . well, I suppose. If he’s willing.”
“Are you willing, Mr. Pierce? Do you serve God with your pen?” Quillan made his face innocently curious. Knowing him as she did, Carina recognized his effort.
The newsman flushed. “Well, I certainly don’t thwart him.”
“Fence-sitter, are you?” Quillan seemed to enjoy turning the tables on Mr. Roderick Pierce, even phrasing the question in the tone and manner of the other man’s speech.
“My experience hasn’t led me one way or another. I’m a reporter. I depend on my eyes and ears. So far they’ve not seen or heard God. Which doesn’t mean I discount him completely. Too much starch in my early spine for that. Only I’m lacking sufficient evidence to make a secure declaration.”
Quillan nodded. “Well, my experience is, the longer you resist, the harder it gets. Best make your peace before the going gets rough.”
Pierce eyed him. “And I imagine you’d be one to know.”
Carina glanced at Quillan, who didn’t answer, leaving Pierce to his imaginings.
Pierce said, “Care to illuminate your relationship with Dennison?”
Quillan shook his head. “No.”
“Off the record?”
Quillan smiled, but still said nothing.
“Waltzed a while with the wicked, did you?” Pierce said it conspiratorially. Quillan glanced to the window and back. “Mr. Pierce . . .”
“Oh, I understand the lure, Quillan. I’ve raised some dust myself. Were you one of the gang?”
Quillan narrowed his eyes. Carina saw the hooding that made them flat as pewter plates, revealing nothing. She didn’t know what the newsman was trying to do, but Quillan suspected something. He said, “Bittering put you up to this?”
Mr. Pierce sat back abruptly. “I don’t quite follow.”
“Did he put the bird in your ear to feel me out, make sure he didn’t misfire when he let me walk away?”
Carina felt Quillan’s fury, tightly contained, yet evidenced in the taut tendons of his neck.
Pierce spread his hands. “Bittering?”
“Or are you just a dog on a scent?”
Mr. Pierce frowned. “No need to get testy. Curious, is all.”
“Mr. Pierce, this book is closed. Write your story and color it any way you like. I’ll never read it anyway.”
“I’ll send you a copy. Staying in San Francisco, are you?”
Carina said, “Sonoma. Send it to the DiGratias of Sonoma, California.”
When Quillan said nothing, Mr. Pierce turned to her. “Your family, ma’am?”
“That’s right. I’ll read your story, Mr. Pierce. So tell it right. My husband is a hero.”
“Carina.” Quillan’s voice was tight.
“Three times he saved my life, not counting the risk he took today.”
Mr. Pierce smiled, sizing her up with his eyes. “Well, I wish I had more than a column or two, Mrs. Shepard, to truly do it justice.”
“Just tell the truth, Mr. Pierce. Tales have a way of growing on their own.”
He laughed. “That they have. Thank you for the reminder.”
“You’re welcome.”
The newsman stood, bowed slightly to Carina, then held out a hand to Quillan. “No hard feelings?”
Quillan shook his hand. Carina watched him as Mr. Pierce left. He was no longer coiled like a snake ready to spring, but neither did he seem reposed. He turned to her. “Carina, I don’t need you to defend me. I can speak for myself.”
“Well, you don’t.”
“If I want to crow, I’ll crow. If not, I would appreciate your not doing it in my stead.”
“Why don’t you defend yourself? Tell him you had nothing to do with that bank robbery?”
Quillan winced. Too late she saw Mr. Pierce on his way back through the car. She brought her hand to her lips as he descended once again.
“Mrs. Shepard, you cannot refuse me now. It would be nothing short of cruel, the like of which I might not survive.”
Carina frowned. “You should be ashamed of eavesdropping.”
He flashed a smile. “Ashamed? It’s how I earn my bread. Everywhere there’s a story if you just have ears to catch it. Now tell me about this bank robbery.” He glanced at Quillan, realized that was not his best chance, and turned back to her.
“I’ll tell you nothing except that my husband was in no way responsible. Even the judge pardoned him.”
“Went before the judge, did he?”
“Well, he had to, to get out of jail, didn’t he?”
Again she saw Quillan wince.
“Of course. Was he jailed long?”
“I don’t know. He was fourteen. I only met him last year.”
Mr. Pierce turned to Quillan. “That’s what you meant about Dennison leaving men behind? Let you take the fall, did he?”
Quillan scowled. “It’s not your business.”
“But you’d better give it to me right, or as Mrs. Shepard says, the tale might grow.”
“Is that a threat?” Quillan’s voice stayed flat.
“Mr. Shepard, I’m trying to be fair.”
“You’re trying to get what I don’t want to give.”
Mr. Pierce sat back. “All right, so I am. I’m nothing if not thorough. But given that, I am fair. Tell me your story.”
Quillan shook his head. “I don’t want it in the papers.”
“Dennison bamboozled you, continued a life in crime while you went straight, and here, fifteen years later, you have your reward. Why, there might even be a reward if your efforts lead to his capture. He’s been a thorn to the railroad for two years.”
Quillan shook his head. “I didn’t do it for any reward. I didn’t even know it was Shane until I heard and saw him.”
“What went through your head when you knew?”
Carina looked at Quillan. His throat worked, and she thought he would refuse to answer. Then he said, “Disgust that I could ever have looked up to him.”
Mr. Pierce sat quiet a moment. “May I quote you on that?”
Quillan hesitated. “Mr. Pierce, I’d prefer none of it found print, but it seems you’re set on putting it down. Quote me if you like.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor making your acquaintance.” Again he stood.
Quillan cracked a wry smile. “Dare I hope this departure permanent? Or need I muzzle my wife?”
Roderick Pierce laughed heartily. “I could never be the cause of your covering any one of your wife’s features. As I said, I’ve only a column or two. Though I guess there’d be more to print if I looked.”
Quillan didn’t answer. With another laugh, Mr. Pierce took his leave, and Carina met Quillan’s sardonic stare.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell.”
“You never do. But somehow the whole world learns my business anyway.”
He was right. Through her, Crystal had rekindled the story of Wolf and Rose and suspected Quillan of the brutal murder of William Evans by family association alone. Now Mr. Pierce knew one of Quillan’s secrets, which every reader would soon know, too.
“I’m sorry.”
Quillan smiled darkly, his eyes searching over her face.
“What are you doing?”
He cocked his head. “Picturing you with a muzzle.”
“Oh!” She threw up her hands. “I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”