“How are you, Jocelyn?” he asked softly, once they were out of earshot of anyone else.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. “I am doing as well as can be expected, I suppose,” she replied, her voice strained. “Today has been very hard.”
He nodded, wanting so badly to once again take her in his arms. “I’m sorry that my questions the other day hurt you. That was never my intention.”
“I know.” She swiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek, sniffling miserably. “You want to get to the bottom of this, and so do I. That doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult to hear the details of what happened to her. It hurt me when you didn’t believe me when I told you that she did not sneak around with men.”
“If you’ll allow me to come and see you one more time, I promise that I will be very careful and respectful with the questions that I ask. But there are a few more things that only you would know the answer to.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” she whispered.
“What time shall I come?” he asked.
A little hesitant, she said, “All morning, there will be people paying their respects, and there are so many reporters outside my front door at all hours of the day. I will come by your office tomorrow afternoon, if that’s convenient.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling as though she’d granted him a boon he was far from worthy of, even though he wished that she’d have allowed him to come to her house again. But he understood why she wanted to keep it professional. They’d crossed far too many lines already, and the reporters were still circling like buzzards, waiting for any chance of more salacious information. He could see a few now, kept at bay by common decency but still trying to get a scoop on what had happened. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then.”