Chapter 5: The Green Dress

On Thursday morning Mason came back from town with a long garment bag over his shoulder.

"Try it on," he said. "Behind the screen."

"What is it?"

"The reason a dead woman gets through a wedding gate."

I unzipped the bag.

It was a deep green silk dress, cut loose over the middle with a high waist, the kind a mother would wear to a christening.

The tag had been cut off.

"How did you know my size?" I asked.

"I lifted you over my rail."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one you get."

I took the dress behind the screen and shut my mouth.

One of his three rules was no questions about himself, and I had just broken it.

The silk was cool on my skin.

When I reached back for the zipper, it caught halfway up my spine.

I pulled, and it would not move.

"Mason."

"What?"

"It's stuck."

He did not answer for a moment.

Then I heard his boots cross the boards and stop on the other side of the screen.

"Come out."

I stepped out with my arms crossed over my front and my back to him.

He stood very close.

His fingers found the zipper and tugged, and I felt his knuckles press against my skin.

They were rough and warm and slightly cold at the tips.

"Hold still."

"I am."

"Your shoulder."

His thumb stopped.

I had forgotten the bruise.

Wesley's hands had left a wide purple print on my back, one under each shoulder blade, where he had shoved.

Mason put his thumb gently on the edge of one mark, and his breath went out slowly through his nose.

"Does it hurt?"

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