He could not seem to concentrate on his work; his mind was on more complicated matters. He was more sure than ever that he had made a blunder where Caroline was concerned. She was not the cold-hearted killer her brother-in-law had portrayed. She was innocent in every way. Or was she? He was never quite sure. He swiveled his chair around, propped a booted foot on a stool, and closed his eyes. “How long?” he whispered aloud. How long would this uncertainty nag at him? He had always been in command of his own thoughts and feelings, but not anymore. One moment he thought Caroline was innocent, and the next minute he could almost see her shooting her husband. He broodingly stared out the window at the passing scenery as the train gathered speed and rocked over the rails. He thought back on the search that had led him to Caroline. She had left a trail that an amateur could have followed. He wondered why it had taken Brace Duncan three years to send someone to find her. Or had he sent someone before, someone who had returned empty-handed?
