"Ah, good, you're home." Big John greeted Shelby as she walked into the living room. "Your mother has gotten it into her head that we're having a family dinner this evening. We were just about to sit down."

Shelby nodded. "Let me run upstairs and clean up a little then I'll be right down."

Once in the bathroom, she washed her face and hands and ran a brush through her hair. As she stared into the mirror, it wasn't her reflection she saw. The vision of Billy holding his son remained etched in her mind.

He was a man of many facets, a wealthy man living in a small shanty, a suspected murderer cradling a child in his arms.

She'd left while he was still in the bedroom with Parker. Whispering to him that she'd see him tomorrow after the funeral, she'd left the shanty. She wished she'd had an opportunity to ask him where he thought Tyler's computer might be, where he intended to take her to find it. But in that moment of seeing Billy vulnerable, his love for his son shining so intensely from his eyes, she'd felt the need to escape... run before she fell beneath the bewitching allure of him.

Taking one last look at her reflection, she shoved away thoughts of Billy, focusing instead on the family dinner ahead. She hoped Michael would be in attendance. His presence would certainly make the event more enjoyable.

When she went back down to the living room, Olivia and her husband, Roger, were seated on the sofa. Roger stood as Shelby entered, his smooth, tanned features curving into a smile as he reached out a hand to greet her. "Shelby, good to have you home where you belong."

"Thank you, Roger." Shelby released his hand and stifled the impulse to wipe her palm down the side of her skirt. Suellen had been right. Yes, Roger was smooth as snake oil, but Shelby knew it was a politician's smoothness. She wondered if Olivia had consciously set out to marry a younger image of their father or if it had been a subconscious choice.

"Can I get you a drink before dinner?" Roger asked as he walked over to the bar.

"Saint Shelby rarely drinks," Olivia said. "In fact, I don't think Shelby has any vices at all, unless you consider being the champion to underdogs a vice."

Shelby sank onto the sofa next to her sister and gave her a wry grin. "It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it."

"Are you sure it's wise for you to get involved in this mess of Tyler and that woman's murder?" Roger asked. "The whole town is in an uproar. A messy business, what with your brother campaigning for a seat in Congress. I've thrown my hat into the ring for the state legislature and I'd hate for this to turn away votes."

"You think my defending Billy Royce will hurt your and John junior's chances?" She looked at him incredulously. "I hardly think that's going to happen."

"What's going to happen?" Michael asked as he entered the room.

"Roger is just speculating that my defending Billy Royce might harm the political aspirations of this family," Shelby answered.

"Somebody needs to defend him," Michael observed as he eased down into one of the chairs. "I understand he was officially charged this morning." Shelby nodded. Michael sighed and rubbed his forehead. "There are times I think the swamp serpent is performing an act of mercy. At least the victims are put out of the misery of their lives."

"Personally, I think the serpent should be given a medal for ridding us all of those people," Roger replied.

Shelby gasped, surprised by the ugly sentiments being expressed. "I find the whole subject boring and tedious," Olivia said before Shelby could speak. "I'd much rather talk about the Whalens' party this weekend. I heard Madge Whalen is flying in caterers from Europe."

"It's going to take more than caterers from Europe for Madge to catch a husband for that horse-face daughter of hers," Roger said, causing Olivia to laugh appreciatively.

At that moment Big John and John junior came into the room and the talk, as usual, turned to politics. Shelby was grateful when Suellen announced that dinner was ready and they all seated themselves at the big table in the dining room.

With Big John at one end of the table and Celia at the other, it was like dinners from years past. Shelby had forgotten how entertaining her family could be despite all their problems. Big John roared his laughter at Olivia's acerbic humor. Even Celia seemed to enjoy herself, smiling often like a mother hen proud of her brood.

As the dinner progressed, Shelby found herself studying her sister and her brother-in-law, wondering what it was that had drawn the two together in marriage. Certainly they didn't seem overly affectionate with one another, and Shelby had gathered from Michael's comments on the night she'd arrived that Olivia wasn't faithful to her husband.

If Shelby was to guess, the marriage was based on several things. For Roger, marrying into the Longsford family could only help him in his political aspirations. She looked at her sister thoughtfully, wondering what Olivia might gain from a marriage to the older, ambitious man. It was obvious Big John liked Roger, apparently approved of the marriage.

Was this another pathetic attempt on Olivia's part to gain favor with Big John? The thought saddened Shelby, who knew Olivia would never be able to get the love she so desperately needed from her father. Big John was simply incapable of connecting with his daughters in a positive manner, a fact Shelby had accepted long ago.

Over dessert, the talk once again turned to the murders. "Heard you got Billy Royce out on bail this morning," her father commented as he finished the last of his apple dumpling.

Tension welled up inside Shelby. "That's right. His court date is less than a month away. We've got lots of work to do before then."

"You better talk to brother Michael here. He's the resident Longsford in charge of miracles," Olivia said. "And if you think you're going to convince a jury Billy is innocent, you'd better be looking for a miracle."

Michael touched his collar and smiled at Shelby. "I'm afraid those kinds of miracles are far beyond me."

"I'm not looking for a miracle. I simply want justice," Shelby answered. "Besides, I'm checking into the possibility that the deaths had nothing to do with Fayrene and Billy, but perhaps were the result of a story Tyler might have been working on." She bit her lip, instantly realizing she'd made a mistake. "Of course, that's just one possibility. There are certainly many more," she said, trying to cover herself.

Big John snorted. "What kind of story would that boy have been working on that would have made somebody kill him?"

"Maybe he wrote an article about how horrid the food was at the Jeffries gala last month and the caterers retaliated," Olivia said. "Perhaps the knife that killed Fayrene and Tyler was the same one that sliced up fruit in pretty little designs."

Celia frowned and shoved her dessert away. "Must we talk about this over our meal? It's been years since we've had a dinner where we've all been together. Can't we talk about something more pleasant?"

For the rest of their time at the table the discussion revolved around neighbors, parties and upcoming social events. Shelby sat quietly, as always fascinated by the dynamics of her family. Her mother deferred to her father, John junior emulated Big John and Olivia entertained, obviously preening each time she drew a smile from her father. For as long as Shelby could remember, the world had revolved around Big John, and that was something that hadn't changed in the years she'd been gone.

Only Michael seemed relatively inured to Big John's presence, and he and Shelby exchanged several warm, supportive looks.

Finally the meal ended and the family members parted for different directions of the house. Shelby went up to her room, wanting to review her notes and work on the case looming ahead.

Before sitting down at the small desk, she walked over to the window and stared out at the thick, dark jungle of the distant swamp. The sun had set and twilight reigned, casting a gloomy cloak over the area. Billy had been raised in the darkness of the swamp, and that darkness had invaded his pores, making it difficult to separate the darkness from the man.

Yet in that single instant of seeing Billy with his son Shelby had realized Billy was more than darkness, had a core of love in his heart that shone through despite his attempts to hide it.

Up until this moment she hadn't been sure of her motives for defending Billy. There had been a small piece of her that hadn't been sure her motives weren't ign.o.ble. There had been a tiny part that wondered if she'd come back to seek revenge against the man who had pa.s.sionately made love to her, then callously cast her aside.

She no longer worried about that. She intended to defend Billy wholeheartedly, with all the skill and pa.s.sion she could muster. He deserved nothing less, and she could give nothing less.

She started to turn away from the window, then paused, something catching her attention at the edges of the swamp. A figure walking toward the darkness. Squinting, she cursed the encroaching night as she tried to identify the person. Michael? Or it could be Roger. Both were approximately the same build and both had worn dark slacks and a white shirt at dinner.

The figure disappeared from view and Shelby left the window. Sinking down at the desk, she wondered what on earth either man would be doing entering the swamp as night approached.

SHELBY LOOKED at her watch as she hurried to the courthouse, hoping the appointment with Abe wouldn't last long. She didn't intend to miss Tyler's funeral.

She'd been surprised when Abe had called and asked her to meet him for an early-morning appointment. Her stomach knotted in apprehension as she entered the courthouse and looked for the room where Abe had said he'd meet her. She hoped Abe didn't have more surprises for her where Billy was concerned. She'd had more than enough bombsh.e.l.ls in this case.

She found the antechamber where Abe had said he'd be, and knocked briskly. A deep, gruff voice bade her enter. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door to see Abe sitting at a table. "Shelby." Abe stood with the courtliness of a true Southern gentleman and gestured her to the chair opposite the table from his.

"Good morning, Abe." She set her briefcase on the tabletop, then slid into the folding chair and looked at him expectantly, wondering what had prompted his phone call.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks." She looked at her watch again. "I don't have a lot of time this morning. What's up?"

Abe sat back down and leaned back in his chair, his pale eyes gazing at her in bemus.e.m.e.nt. "I still remember you as a ragam.u.f.fin, running the swamp in spite of your parents' admonitions. It's hard to believe you're all grown up and now my adversary."

"We don't have to be on opposite sides. Drop the charges against Billy and find the real killer."

Abe laughed and swept a hand through his thin white hair. "Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to discuss with you."

"You're dropping the charges against Billy?"

"With all the circ.u.mstantial evidence against him I'd be a fool to do that. However, since the case is looking so bad for you, I thought you might be interested in a plea bargain. Instead of murder in the first degree...manslaughter."

Shelby restrained her snort of derision. "Why would an innocent man plea-bargain and agree to a charge of manslaughter?"

"We could save the taxpayers a lot of money by agreeing to a plea," he continued.

Shelby's snort escaped. "Since when has saving taxpayers money been a priority of yours?"

He flushed, his features tightening in frustration. "I take it you aren't interested in my offer?"

Shelby stood and grabbed her briefcase. "I'll take it to my client, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

Abe stood as well, a challenging light in his eyes. "I'll destroy both you and Billy in court. I'm one of the best at what I do."

Shelby flashed him a quick smile. "So am I," she retorted, then turned and left the office.

TYLER LAJUNE'S FUNERAL was attended by nearly everyone in the town of Black Bayou. The sun shone brightly and the humidity was as heavy as the grief that etched Jonathon and Laura LaJune's faces.

Billy arrived at the end of the service, standing in the back of the crowd of mourners gathered around the elegant, flower-bedecked casket.

As the minister intoned his eulogy, Shelby worked her way through the throng of people to where he stood. "Is it wise for you to be here?" she asked, aware of the venomous glares he drew from the others.

"Probably not." A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. "But I have as much right as anyone to mourn the pa.s.sing of a friend." His eyes darkened. "And G.o.d help the person who tries to stop me."

Shelby fought the impulse to touch his arm, offer support, knowing he would rebuke a gesture that implied sympathy or pity. "I heard Fayrene was buried earlier this morning. I would have come had I known."

The muscle in his jaw worked again. "It was well attended by the swamp community, a simple, small ceremony." He shoved his hands in his pockets, seeming unaffected by the hostile frowns he garnered.

Shelby looked around the crowd, recognizing neighbors and townspeople she hadn't seen since coming back to Black Bayou. Was one of them the murderer of Fayrene and Tyler? Was it possible that one of them might be the swamp serpent?

Black Bayou had always been a town of secrets and sins, of prejudice and intolerance. Had Tyler uncovered a secret? Had his quest for a good story led him to his death? Or had the intended victim indeed been Fayrene, as most of the town seemed to believe?

Her gaze lingered on a young woman standing some distance from the rest of the crowd. Obviously pregnant, she displayed strength and pride in her posture despite the tears that ran freely down her face. Shelby moved closer to Billy. "Who's that?" she asked softly, gesturing with a tilt of her head toward the young woman.

"That's Sissy LaJune. Tyler's wife."

"Tyler's wife?" Shelby exclaimed.

"Shh," Billy hissed, and pulled her farther away from the crowd of mourners. "She and Tyler were secretly married months ago. That's where I was going to take you this afternoon. That's where I suspect Tyler's laptop computer is."

Shelby stared at him, shocked by the information she'd just received. Tyler had secretly married? And from the appearance of Sissy, Tyler LaJune had married himself a swamp girl.

The thought opened up a whole new area of speculation. Had his father found out? Had Jonathon LaJune discovered his son's secret marriage to Sissy and exploded? Or had somebody else killed Tyler because of his marriage? With each new piece of information that revealed itself, things got more and more complicated.

One thing was certain-if Tyler was married and loved his wife, there was no way he'd compromise that love by having a fling with Fayrene. This new information destroyed the prosecution's scenario of an affair between Tyler and Fayrene. A surge of hope filled her at this thought. Finally she had something substantial to use to poke holes in the crime-of-pa.s.sion theory.

The minister conducting the solemn ceremony finally finished, and Shelby touched Billy's arm. "I don't think it's a smart idea for you to linger here." She looked to where the young widow had been standing. She was gone. "Take me to Sissy's place."

"You can't use this," Billy said when they were in his truck and headed toward the swamp.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't tell anyone that Tyler and Sissy were married."

Shelby stared at him. "You've got to be kidding. That information is dynamite. It blows apart the prosecution's whole case."

Billy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I served as Tyler's best man, and I made a promise to keep the ceremony quiet until he was ready to let people know."

"But Tyler's dead," Shelby protested.

Billy cast her a heavy-lidded gaze. "But my word to him isn't."

Shelby settled back in the seat. "I didn't give my word to anyone and this information is vital to your case."

Billy didn't answer. He pulled the truck off to the side of the road and parked it, then turned to her. "It's a vital piece of information you won't use because I won't allow it. How long do you think the LaJunes will allow Sissy to keep the baby she's carrying once they discover it is Tyler's? And that's the end of this particular discussion." He opened the truck door. "Come on, we walk from here."

Frustrated, Shelby got out of the truck and slammed the door. d.a.m.n him and his particular code of ethics. A promise to a dead man was more important than his defense against a murder charge. Surely she could talk sense into the LaJunes if she decided to use the fact that Tyler was married. She swallowed hard against a lump of doubt. In honesty, she wasn't sure she could talk sense into them. Jonathon LaJune was a difficult man, and she wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing she'd been responsible for Sissy losing her baby to the LaJunes.

They left the gravel road and followed a nearly imperceptible narrow path. "Abe asked to meet with me this morning. He offered us a plea bargain," Shelby said as she followed close behind Billy.

"A plea bargain?" He stopped and turned back to look at her.

She nodded. "He said he'll drop the first-degree charges if you'll cop to manslaughter."

"Not in this lifetime." Once again he started down the path, with Shelby following.

As they walked deeper into the tangled growth the sunlight disappeared, unable to filter through the thick brush and trees around them.

Insects buzzed and clicked a cacophony of sound, a reminder to Shelby that she was an intruder in this world of dark coolness and mystery. She used to pretend that she had been born in the swamp. In her childish fantasies Billy's grandmother had been her mother and the swamp shanty had been her home. There had been a sense of belonging there she hadn't found within the bosom of her own family.

She hurried to catch up with Billy, whose long legs strode with confidence through the thick brush. As they entered the dark heart of the swamp, Shelby's throat tightened convulsively as haunting visions filled her head. What was it? What dreams plagued her? Or were they half memories trying to be retrieved from the bottom of her subconscious?

Her steps faltered and her heart pounded faster, fighting beneath the burden of claustrophobia that tightened her chest. Moonlight on still waters, two figures dancing in the shadows...a grunt followed by a m.u.f.fled cry...evil in the swamp.

"Shelby? Are you all right?"

She gasped, the visions disappearing as she focused on Billy, his forehead furrowed with concern. "Yes...I'm fine." She swiped a hand across her forehead, realized her skin was sticky with a sheen of perspiration. "Can we rest just a moment?"

He nodded and she leaned against the trunk of a cypress tree, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. But as Billy stepped closer and gently touched a strand of her hair, her heart resumed its frantic beat. Where before it had been the rhythm of fear, this was something different. Evoked by the touch of his fingers, elicited by the intimate nearness of his body next to hers, the heat of desire pumped her blood in hot, heavy waves.

He stood so close to her his scent surrounded her, infused her with its wicked wildness. His fingertips left her hair and trailed down the side of her cheek across the vulnerable hollow of her throat.

She fought the impulse to lean her head back, give him full access so he could place his lips against her flesh. She knew how easy it was to get lost in him, to forget everything but the heat of his touch, the pleasure of his hardmuscled body against her own.

She pushed off the tree and stepped away from him. "How much farther is it to Sissy's?" she asked, wishing her voice didn't sound so breathless.

"Not far." He smiled, the confident smile of a man who knew what his touch did to her, who enjoyed making her heart pound frantically.