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Destiny fought the images of barrels that bobbed into her head, not to finger the back of her neck either. Why did Lyon want to put her on the spot as if he knew damn fine who put these barrels there and that person was not Divers O’Roarke? She had thought there would be nothing to this. She had thought wrongly. But if she swept out of here now, what if Lyon swept after her in order to sweep her to jail? She must be patient. Rome was not built in a day. By God it would have been had she been a builder. She sat forward.
“Well, if you’re not going to listen, I should at least like it noted that I came here in good faith, to save my skin should you discover that at the end of the day Divers—”
“I would need proof, Miss Rhodes.”
“Proof?” At least she hoped she was being patient. “Isn’t the fact these barrels were found in my summerhouse proof enough that you can hang him at the Penvellyn crossroads, a warning to any who cross the law here?”
“And let the crows peck his bones eh?” Lyon chuckled. Despite the fact the sound was not unlike these same rattling bones, she nodded.
“Yes. Why not if he broke the law and put these barrels there?”
“Oh, I’d like to hang the perpetrator, believe me.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Well here’s the thing, Miss Rhodes. He said it was you.”
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