Chapter 12: Dahlia Under the Lights

Rhona's POV

Pia opened the gate at dusk with a baseball bat on her shoulder.

"There's a man out here," she said. "He says he knows he's an idiot. He wants to know if he's allowed to say so."

Rhett stood in the dust with his hat in his hand.

He had never taken his hat off for me before.

In his other hand was a stiff canvas jacket, and he held it out toward me.

"I found the hook," he said.

I didn't take it.

"I found the cabin and the beam with your height," Rhett said. "I found the cigarette I never smoked."

"Morton drove up to the cabin while I was there," Rhett said. "I never told him or anyone where I was going. I said I'd gone for a ride."

"Then how did he find you?"

"I don't know yet." He turned the hat in his hand. "So tonight I say nothing about it."

"Rhett."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm asking you to let me say it where it counts."

"Where?"

"Church. Tonight. In front of all of them."

Pia leaned on her bat.

"If he does it, I want a front-row seat," she said.

The clubhouse was packed by eight.

Rhett had called every patch in the county, and the biggest room in the building was full of black leather and cold stares.

I walked in beside him with my hands empty.

Dahlia sat at the long table by Morton with her hands folded.

She looked up, and her eyes found mine, and she lowered them again.

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