Chapter 22: The Aisle

Conal's POV

They had put me in the middle chair on the stage, beside the association's president.

The seat on my other side was empty, with a name card that said Priscilla Dane.

I sat with my hands on my knees and kept them there.

I had promised.

Below me, three thousand people filled the old civic hall to the balcony.

Every face in it was turned politely toward the podium.

It was the same hall as four and a half years ago, with the same gold curtain.

I knew exactly where I had stood when I said it.

The president tapped the microphone.

"Friends, before the awards, a short announcement from one of our oldest families."

The hall applauded.

Mr. Dane rose from the front row with one white carnation in his coat and his daughter on his arm.

She wore a pale blue dress and her warm face.

She crossed the stage and took the empty chair beside me without looking at me once.

I had known her since she was nineteen.

I did not know her at all.

I looked past her to the back doors, where the sheriff's deputies stood in their good uniforms.

Two men in dark jackets had been standing near the doors since the lights went down.

I knew them from Dane's gate.

One had a scar through his eyebrow.

Both of them were looking at the front row.

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