Page 4 of Chill Factor

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She added the bag of toiletries to her suitcase, which lay open on the bed, then closed it just as Dutch rejoined her.

Without preamble of any kind, he said, “If it hadn’t been for Amy, we’d still be married.”

Lilly looked down and slowly shook her head. “Dutch, please, let’s not—”

“If not for that, we’d have lasted forever.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do.” He reached for her hands. They felt cold in his hot clutch. “I take full responsibility for everything. Our failure was my fault. If I’d have handled things differently, you wouldn’t have left me. I see that now, Lilly. I acknowledge the mistakes I made, and they were huge. Stupid. I admit that. But, please, give me another chance. Please.”

“We could never go back to the way we were before, Dutch. We’re not the same people as when we met. Don’t you realize that? No one can change what happened. But it changed us.”

He seized on that. “You’re right. People change. I’ve changed since the divorce. Moving up here. Taking this job. It’s all been good for me, Lilly. I realize that Cleary is a far cry from Atlanta, but I’ve got something to build on here. A solid foundation. It’s my home, and the people here know me and all my kinfolk. They like me. Respect me.”

“That’s wonderful, Dutch. I want you to succeed here. I wish that for you with all my heart.”

She did indeed want him to succeed, not only for his sake but for hers. Until Dutch had reaffirmed himself as a good cop, especially in his own mind, she would never be entirely free of him. He would remain dependent on her for his self-esteem until he was once again confident about his work and himself. The small community of Cleary afforded him that opportunity. She hoped to God it worked out well.

“My career, my life,” he said in a rush, “have been given fresh starts. But that won’t mean anything if you’re not part of it.”

Before she could stop him, he put his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. He spoke urgently, directly into her ear. “Say you’ll give us another chance.” He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head aside.

“Dutch, let go of me.”

“Remember how good we used to be together? If you’d ever let down your guard, we’d be right back where we started. We could forget all the bad stuff and return to the way we were. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, remember?” He tried again to kiss her, this time grinding his lips insistently against hers.

“Stop it!” She pushed him away.

He fell back a step. His breathing was loud in the room. “You still won’t let me touch you.”

She crossed her arms over her middle, hugging herself. “You’re not my husband anymore.”

“You’ll never forgive me, will you?” he shouted angrily. “You used what happened with Amy as an excuse to divorce me, but that’s not what it was about at all, was it?”

“Go, Dutch. Leave before—”

“Before I lose control?” He sneered.

“Before you disgrace yourself.”

She held her ground against his mean glare. Then, turning away quickly, he stamped from the room. He grabbed the envelope on the coffee table and snatched his coat and hat off the pegs near the door. Without taking time to put them on, he slammed the door behind himself hard enough to rattle the windowpanes. Seconds later she heard his Bronco’s engine start and the scattering of gravel beneath its oversize tires as he peeled away.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands. They were cold and trembling. Now that it was over, she realized that she’d been not only angry and repulsed but afraid.

This Dutch with the hair-trigger temper was not the disarming man she had married. Despite his claims to have made a fresh start, he looked desperate. That desperation translated into frightening, mercurial mood shifts.

She was almost ashamed of the relief that washed over her from knowing that she never had to see him again. It was finally over. Dutch Burton was out of her life.

Exhausted by the encounter, she lay back on the bed and placed her forearm across her eyes.

• • •

She was awakened by the sound of sleet pellets striking the tin roof.

Go-rounds with Dutch always had left her exhausted. The tense encounters they’d had during the past week, while she was in Cleary to finalize the sale of the cabin, must have taken more of a toll on her than even she had realized. After this last one, her body had kindly shut down her mind for a while and allowed her to sleep.

She sat up, rubbing her arms against the chill. The cabin bedroom had grown dark, too dark for her even to read her wristwatch. She got up, went to the window, and pulled back the edge of the drapery. It let in very little light but enough for her to see her watch.


Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery