The Stolen Bride. Jacqueline Diamond

down the aisle at Chet’s side with an appropriate smile on her face.

      Tina ushered in a man. When his eyes met Erin’s, emotions pricked and stung like blood flooding through a sleeping limb.

      The gray vagueness she’d known since the accident lifted. This was Joseph, her Joseph. She’d missed him terribly, even if she’d refused to acknowledge it.

      The years had broadened his shoulders and given him an air of authority, but if she buried her nose in his chest, she knew how he would smell. If she smiled up at him, she knew how his face would glow with warmth. Or perhaps she was imagining it.

      His dark blue eyes riveted Erin with their intensity. He hadn’t forgotten anything that had passed between them, she was sure of it, yet she saw no sign of tenderness or welcome. This muscular man wearing a navy sports jacket and tan pants had changed in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

      Joseph glanced toward Tina. “This will only take a few minutes.” It was a polite dismissal.

      With an apologetic shrug, the bridesmaid left the two of them alone.

      “Thank you for seeing me.” Remaining where he stood halfway across the room from her, he took out a notepad. “I need to run over a few details with you.”

      “Your timing leaves something to be desired.” She hoped for a wry smile.

      “I’m afraid I had no choice. I wasn’t allowed to see you sooner.” No smile. No eye contact, either.

      “This is awkward. I’m getting married, you know.” Realizing what she’d blurted, Erin felt spectacularly foolish. As if the fact that she was standing here in her wedding dress didn’t give him a hint! “Is it that urgent?”

      “You nearly got killed recently and so did your mother.” Although Joseph kept his voice level, she noted his tightly coiled tension. “I’d say that’s one heck of a coincidence.” The look he slanted her suited his tone: edgy and challenging.

      “They were accidents,” Erin responded. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

      “Were they?”

      “Were they what?”

      “Accidents.” He tapped his pen against the pad and waited.

      “I don’t know.” She gripped the arm of the nearest chair, expecting to get light-headed again. It was the way she’d reacted all month when Chet and Lance and her mother told her things that didn’t match her distorted perceptions.

      They’d said Alice was fine, even though to Erin she seemed gaunt and nervous. They’d said it made sense to go ahead with the wedding even in her befuddled state.

      But her mind stayed clear. This hard-faced policeman wasn’t arguing with her perceptions. Instead, he’d implied that someone had deliberately attacked her and her mother.

      It was the first thing Erin had heard in the past six weeks that made sense. And it scared the wits out of her.

      JOSEPH HAD BEEN prepared to confront a wealthy young woman subtly dismissive of the man she’d once been foolish enough to date. He hadn’t expected to care whether she respected him, let alone liked him. No one knew better than he did the uselessness of holding on to the past.

      After spending five years among police officers who worked high-stress jobs on rotating shifts, Joseph had seen relationships crumble right and left. People who’d once believed their hearts irretrievably shattered simply picked up the pieces and got over it, and so had he.

      Or so he’d believed. Right now, he wasn’t sure.

      Seeing Erin took him back to the innocent, hope-filled days of high school before his world fell apart. He wanted to cup her heart-shaped face and to smooth those quizzical eyebrows. He wanted her to melt into his arms and help him find the trusting young man he used to be.

      Yeah, sure, she’d been pining for him all these years. That was why she was marrying Chet Dever, big-shot candidate for Congress and a superslick operator, judging by the way he came across in television interviews. That was why she sported a diamond necklace and crown that probably cost more than a policeman earned in a year. Or ten.

      Still, it bothered Joseph to see her hanging on to a chair for support. What was the darn hurry to get married so soon after a major accident? If he were Chet—well, he’d be in just as big a hurry, he supposed.

      “I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Marshall,” he said. “Please bear with me and I’ll make this as brief as possible.”

      “My name’s still Erin. And please tell me why you think that van hit me.” Despite the pallor of her complexion, she released her grip on the chair and held herself straight. Her late father would have approved.

      Joseph forced his attention to the task at hand. He’d better make the best of these few minutes because, after Erin became Mrs. Chet Dever, he’d never get a chance to talk to her again unless this whole case blew wide open. By then, it might be too late.

      “I don’t know the motive,” he said. “I don’t even know for sure that a crime’s been committed. Call me naturally suspicious.”

      “The Tustin police called it an accident,” she said.

      “The witnesses said they thought it might have been accidental. The police aren’t so sure.” He’d spoken at length with the investigating officer.

      Her brown eyes widened. “Chet told me he read the report himself.”

      “He probably read the cover sheet.” Joseph knew better than to call a man a liar without hard evidence. “Basically, no one saw the van hit you, only the aftermath, and there are several unexplained issues.”

      “What…” Erin broke off, swaying a little.

      Joseph caught her arm. “You okay?”

      “I get dizzy.” She took a couple of deep breaths. In the formfitting gown, the movement made him uncomfortably aware of her bosom, and as soon as she looked steadier, he let go. “What do you mean by unexplained issues?”

      Joseph referred to his notebook. “For one thing, the van had been stolen. It was recovered, stripped, twenty-five miles away in Los Angeles.”

      “If it was a stolen van, that could explain why the driver didn’t stop to help me,” Erin replied. “What else?”

      “Here’s the puzzler,” Joseph said. “You were carrying two thousand three hundred and forty-seven dollars in a cash box, which you left on the pavement about a hundred feet from where you got hit.”

      “I did? Why?”

      “You got me,” he said. “It was sitting there neatly with no sign of damage. It doesn’t look as if you dropped it. Why did you set it down?”

      “I don’t know.” Erin’s blank expression confirmed that, as she’d told the Tustin detective, she didn’t recall the circumstances surrounding the hit-and-run. Crime and accident victims often blacked out the event, even if they didn’t suffer from head injuries. Sometimes the memories returned, sometimes not.

      “Tustin PD finds that odd and so do I,” he said. “It’s possible you believed someone was trying to rob you and left it there so he’d leave you alone. But no one took the money. That might indicate some other motive.”

      “Nobody told me that before.”

      He had to ask a hard question, even if it upset her further. “Can you think of anyone who might want to kill you?”

      Her horrified look went straight through him. “Of course not!”

      She was being naïve, of course. The Marshall Company, of which Erin was half owner, wielded tremendous power in this town. It had developed major parcels of property and owned the mall, the hospital and several office complexes. There had to be people with grudges, from competitors to former leaseholders to outright