The disapproval on Joel’s face told her he was far from pleased. He took a seat on the bed.
“On my return, and after a brief interlude with Mr. Foggerty, who walked away in the opposite direction,” she continued in spite of his stern expression, “I saw movement in the woods. A man of medium build and height. He started toward me and I ran. I just ran.”
Ivy swiped at her dripping hair and flipped it over her shoulder.
Joel’s nostrils flared from the compressed fury that radiated from his eyes. “Did he speak to you? Was it Foggerty?”
“I told you, I didn’t recognize him. It was hard to see through the rain.” Ivy blinked rapidly. Tears threatened to fall but she never cried, and she wouldn’t start now in front of Joel. “But he said, ‘None to hear you. None to care.’”
Joel gave her an uncomprehending look. Ivy curled her fingers into her soaking wet dress. “It’s what my attacker said before he threw me down the stairs at Foster Hill House.”
With a muttered curse, Joel reached for the pistol. He stuck it into the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back.
“What are you doing?” Ivy caught the coverlet he snatched from the end of the bed and tossed toward her.
“I’m going out to look for him.” Joel marched across the room and pulled open the doors of a large wardrobe.
“He won’t be there.” Ivy wrapped the coverlet over her shoulders. She was shivering now.
Joel yanked a slicker from the wardrobe and shoved his arm into a sleeve. Ivy launched to her feet.
“Please, Joel.” She cared. God help her, she cared. Ivy had visions of Joel charging through the rain and confronting the killer with the pistol. Ivy put her hand on his forearm.
Joel stilled. He looked at her hand.
“It’s not worth going out in the rain when the man has most certainly vanished by now,” Ivy said, trying to reason with him.
His eyes flashed. “Ivy, if he dared touch you again . . .”
She dropped her hand. That was why. She was the reason Joel wasn’t acting rationally. The realization sent an unwelcome thrill through her.
Joel strode to the window and looked through the panes of glass as rain pelted against it. Ivy waited.
He took a deep breath and spun around. “Why did you visit the orphanage in the first place?”
Ivy faltered under his accusing glare. “It doesn’t matter why I was there, but—”
“It does matter, Ivy.”
“You and Sheriff Dunst were so preoccupied with organizing the search for Gabriella’s baby, I thought I’d look at the orphanage. If it was as simple as she’d left it—”
Joel stared down his nose at her. “You think I didn’t already ask there?”
Ivy swallowed and looked up at him.
If it were possible, Joel’s blue eyes turned into ice. “That was the first place I went after we found out she’d even had a baby. Before you were attacked even.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Blast it all, Ivy! I know you don’t trust me, don’t even like me anymore, but don’t discredit me. Or Sheriff Dunst. We are as worried about this baby and the killer as you are.”
Ivy swiped at a drop of water that ran from her hairline down her cheek. She realized her hand was shaking. “I just—Gabriella deserves justice, and her baby deserves life. I can’t just sit by and not do anything.”
Joel dropped the slicker to the floor and positioned his hands on the top of his head, his elbows sticking out. “Then care for someone living. Gabriella is dead and very possibly her child too. They’re not worth your life.”
Maybe he said it in the passion of his own fright for her safety, but his words revived her offense against him. Ivy turned her back on Joel and moved toward the door. She said over her shoulder, “If there’s a chance that baby is alive, it is worth my life.” Ivy whirled back to face him. “Just like Andrew was worth yours! But you didn’t give it for him, did you? You let him die and then you left me alone. You never show passion for anyone, so how was I supposed to know you’d already been to the orphanage? I wouldn’t think you’d ever want to go back there.”
Furious, she reached for the door. Joel chased after her in a few long strides and grabbed her upper arm. “You really don’t want to inquire about my passion for anything, Ivy Thorpe.” He pulled her closer until Ivy’s shoulder pressed against his chest.
She wriggled her arm to free herself.
“Don’t discount my own investigation. Don’t assume I don’t care or that I didn’t just get back to my room after twenty-four hours without sleep looking for the baby, wishing I could bring justice for Gabriella, and wanting to protect you.”
His breath was warm on her face. Ivy turned away.
“And you know I tried to save Andrew.” Joel’s voice dropped. “You’re an intelligent, beautiful woman, Ivy. Use that intelligence and stay home. Stay safe. I don’t want to lose you again.”
They searched each other’s eyes. Lose her? He had left her! Ivy wondered if Joel could read her agony. Yet something pulled them together, even now, and the space between them lessened. She could sense Joel’s face not far from hers, and the look in his eyes deepened. Unreadable but tumultuous.
Panic gripped her. The emotion that boiled inside needed sorting out, and she couldn’t do that when he was too close, too intimate. Ivy pulled away and Joel let her go. She’d find an escort home. Someone, anyone other than Joel. Ivy twisted the doorknob and pulled, but the door slammed shut just as fast. Joel’s hand spread on the door above her head, his arm stretching alongside her shoulder.
“Let me out,” Ivy said.
Joel’s breath moved a tendril of hair by her ear. She stiffened and stared at the door.
“Why do you do this to me, Ivy?”
She didn’t answer.
“You assume the worst of me. Ever since Andrew died.”
Ivy spoke at the door, her words ricocheting off the wood. “It’s not an assumption when it’s the truth.” The quiver in her voice was evident.
Joel moved closer, the warmth from his body against her back, his hand still splayed across the door.
“But truth isn’t based on theories. You must have all the facts, Ivy.”
She stilled.
Joel’s lips pressed against the back of her jaw just below her ear. Ivy shivered.
He whispered, “And assumptions can kill more than friendship.” He kissed her jawline. Firm, brief, impactful. “I don’t want to bury you too.”
Chapter 18