Mrs. Fix It Mysteries

Books 1-15

Belle Knudson

Copyright © 2016

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

HAMMERED

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Twelve

SCREWED DOWN MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

A VENEER OF MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

DRILLED IN MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

CHISELED

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

NAILED DOWN MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

PAINT IT DEAD

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

CLAMPED ON MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

TOOL KIT CLUES

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

WRENCHED IN MURDER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

KILLER FOUNDATION

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

DEAD AS A DOORNAIL

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

BODY ON THE BALCONY

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

ROOFTOP KILLER

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

MURDER AT THE MANSION

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

HAMMERED

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty pulled her secondhand truck into the parking spot in front of Grayson’s Hardware Store on Main Street. The store had been there so long that no one even remembered who Grayson was. Perhaps he’d been one of the original founders of Rock Ridge, her hometown in central Pennsylvania.

Those from out of town asked for Mr. Grayson when they wanted to see the manager. Kate had never given it a thought; having grown up here, she’d just taken the name for granted.

Kate always began her day here. Today, she was scheduled to fix a hole in some drywall. That meant buying spackle and a new piece of Sheetrock. She hoped the job would be simple. Part of her wanted to know how the hole happened. She was always curious about these things, but most of the time customers were not forthcoming with the information.

What she wasn’t looking forward to was running into her customer. The new police chief in town, Scott York, was a nice enough man. At least he had been in high school when they’d had a bit of a romance. But then he’d left for college and never called her again.

She should be past it. She’d clearly moved on; she married and raised two boys who were currently in college. No, what bothered her was that she had been left alone. She had remained unattached until she met Greg Flaherty, the man who would become her husband. But then he had suddenly disappeared five years ago, leaving her alone once more.

Until she knew where he was and what had happened, her love life was on hold.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Scott might have different ideas. Still, she’d agreed over the phone to fix the hole in his wall. She didn’t ask how his wall came to have a hole in it. Sometimes the less she knew the better.

Since she was the only handywoman in town, she learned things about people that she didn’t necessarily want to know. Kate could be the soul of discretion, but most of the time she went out of her way to forget what she knew.

Everyone had secrets, and those were tough to keep in a small town.

The usual hardware-store flies were buzzing around the cash register talking about baseball—hardware-store flies were like barflies, but sober. Usually, they only hung out at the hardware store during weekdays. When Kate first started her business, they had been full of unnecessary advice. Trying to help out the lady carpenter, she supposed. But Kate’s father had taught her everything she ever needed to know about the business before he moved away.

Several of the guys were retired and one was out of work. They’d learned to accept her, so her presence in the store these days was barely a blip on their radar. Once in a while they even greeted her.

She knew what she needed and where it was, so she didn’t bother Clark Stadt, the owner. He was busy recounting his latest fishing trip. The men were enthralled. Ah, life in a small Pennsylvania town.

As she walked past, he held his hands out three feet apart, earning the nodding admiration of his audience. She smiled and kept on her way. When she’d gathered the necessary items, she waved a hand at Clark.

“On my tab?”

“Sure sweetie,” he said.

After this job, she thought. I will pay down my tab a little. A little. Her savings were beginning to run out and the boys had another tuition payment due soon. Otherwise, she might have paid it off in full.

She knew that Clark hoped that she would be his daughter-in-law someday, but nothing was happening until she found her husband. That hole in her life couldn’t be filled until she knew what had happened to him.

As much as she tried to blot it out, the memory of that Monday afternoon continued to haunt her. Greg had called her before he left the office to let her know he’d be home soon. Then he never arrived. No trace of him or his car was found. Shaking off the memory, she braced herself for the job ahead.

She parked in Scott’s driveway and noticed that his car wasn’t there. She was relieved he wouldn’t be home to make her time there awkward. His house sat in the middle of a block of ranch-style houses. His had a porch on the front where he’d placed two rocking chairs. How quaint. As if he’d have time to just sit on his porch, passing the time.

Prior to his appointment, Rock Ridge had been without a police chief for six months. Scott would have to catch up on paperwork, and that alone would have him at the station until late at night.

A wreath hung on the door which seemed to Kate like a feminine touch. She had heard that he’d divorced his wife, and that was why he was back here taking the open spot at the police department.

Not her problem. Kate just wanted to do what she’d come to do and leave. She kept her head down and her nose clean. No need to get into anybody’s business.

At least that was her intention these days.

Did Scott leave a key?

She glanced at her phone and realized he’d sent her a text.

Called into work for a traffic accident. The key is under the fake rock to the left of the door.

“Not very creative,” she murmured.

But then there wasn’t a lot of crime in Rock Ridge. There wasn’t a lot of anything in Rock Ridge, but that suited her fine.

She retrieved the key, and then opened the door with trepidation. He’d just moved back to Rock Ridge and Kate wondered if he’d had time to make the house his own yet. In a way, she felt she was invading his personal space.

“Stop, Kate. That was a long time ago,” she whispered to herself.

They’d been high school sweethearts until he’d broken her heart by going off to college and not looking back. She’d attended the local community college where she met her husband, Greg Flaherty, a professor of Middle Eastern studies. Both she and Scott had lived their lives and were in different circumstances now.

The hole in the wall was as obvious as Scott had said. She cut a larger square around the damaged area then measured it. This would be a two-day job because of the spackling.

She patched the hole with a new piece of drywall and then put the spackle onto the edges. It would take all day to dry, so she packed up her tools.

She headed down the hallway toward the kitchen in search of the bathroom. As she washed her hands in the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror. She studied the wrinkles on her face.

Don’t be so vain, Kate. He isn’t back for you.

Her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw it was Scott.

“Hello?”

“Kate.”

The deep voice of Chief Scott York boomed out of her phone and echoed in the small bathroom. He was a big man with a big ego. But you always knew exactly where you stood with Scott.

“I patched the hole and spackled it. I’ll have to sand it tomorrow and, if necessary, spackle again. You need me to paint it?”

He chuckled. “Right down to business, I see.”

“Well, this is business. You needed repairs done, that’s why you called me.”

She hoped she didn’t sound as petulant to him as she sounded to herself. “Oh, Kate. Always a spitfire.”

Must be the red hair. At least that’s what her mother had told her time and time again. For a moment she missed her mother dearly. She’d died not long after Kate first married Greg. Her father had moved to Florida a few years ago. He’d hated the Pennsylvania winters and now Kate only saw him once a year at Christmas.

He was busy with his new life.

“Kate?”

Darn. He must have asked her something. “Sorry. What?”

She left the bathroom and stood in the hallway, hoping this conversation wouldn’t take long. She had to fix an outside faucet at Old Man Evans’ house. He’d made it a point to remind her that he couldn’t water his petunias until she did.

“Can I buy you dinner?”

“Uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said. She was still married even if she didn’t have a clue where her husband was.

“We’re old friends.”

He’s going to use that line? They hadn’t been friends. They’d been teenage lovers. And boy had she fallen hard for him. It had been a stupid move that reflected her immaturity at the time—a mistake that she was not going to repeat now.

“We were more than friends, Scott. I’m a married woman.”

“I see. So a dinner between two old friends can’t happen? Just two friends, catching up?”

The Rock Ridge grapevine would not see it that way, and all of those people were her customers or her potential customers. She couldn’t afford to alienate anyone.

He was flirting, and as much as she was flattered, she was uncomfortable. She paced away from the bathroom into the kitchen. That’s when she saw a foot.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hold on.”

She walked around the kitchen table to see a blonde woman on the floor. She didn’t move, and her lifeless eyes stared up at Kate. A chill ran through her.

“There’s a woman on your kitchen floor, Scott.”

“Is she alive?”

Kate knelt down to feel for a pulse. Nothing moved underneath her fingers. The body felt cold. “No.”

“Get out of the house.”

“Why? No one’s here. I’ve been here for an hour,” she said. It was a knee-jerk response to being given orders. But she quickly realized this wasn’t a point she cared to argue further.

She rose to her feet and backed out of the kitchen. She couldn’t do it fast enough. Having raised boys, she wasn’t squeamish, but a dead body was more than she could handle.

“Go sit on the front porch until I get there, Kate. Do you recognize the person?”

“No, I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

***

Kate rocked on one of the chairs on Scott’s porch. Various vehicles occupied the street and driveway along with her truck. Hers was the only one without a light bar. She couldn’t have left if she tried since the police cars and ambulance had her blocked in. Lucky me. They’d probably need to question her anyway.

Scott had arrived minutes after their conversation. He’d immediately entered his house and he hadn’t come out yet.

She couldn’t help but notice that he looked good—better than she’d have imagined even—with his snow-white hair and light brown eyes. He’d glanced at her briefly, and asked her to stay put.

He probably didn’t mean to be so brusque, but she had the sense that she was a dog that had just been asked to stay. As if. But since the vehicles weren’t to be moved any time soon, she opted to do as he asked.

Half an hour after she’d settled on the porch, a neighbor, who introduced himself as Charlie, brought her some lemonade. The day wasn’t yet hot, but warm. The summer humidity hadn’t settled in yet. But it would, and then there’d be no porch sitting. She gratefully sipped the beverage, and Kate had the distinct feeling that Charlie was being so kind because he wanted to know what happened.

Despite his hospitality, she didn’t reveal what was going on. It wasn’t her concern. She’d called Old Man Evans to tell him that she might be late getting his faucet done. As far as she was concerned, her obligations ended there.

Another car careened onto the cul-de-sac. It was too early in the day for people coming home from work. Who could this be?

Crime scene tape stopped anyone from entering the house, but no one stood guard on the property. She watched a young girl stride up the driveway with a camera and tablet in hand.

Beth Chance, reporter for the local weekly rag, stopped on the top step. The cop that was standing just inside the door shook his head. “You aren’t getting in, Beth. It’s a crime scene.”

“At least tell me what happened.”

“You’ll get an official release from the chief,” the officer said.

The problem with living in a small town was that everyone knew everyone. Beth had been two years ahead of Kate’s twin boys in school. Kate remembered meeting the girl when she was little and picking a book out at the elementary school book fair.

My, how time flies.

Beth turned to Kate, but Kate put up her hand. “I have nothing to say.”

Beth’s face fell and she sat on the top step of the porch. She must have just graduated and gotten a job at the Rock Ridge Sentinel. Kate felt sorry for her, but she didn’t want to get involved with the press.

The Sentinel had not been kind when her husband first went missing. They’d intimated that he’d met foul play and that she’d had something to do with it. This was when Beth was probably still in high school so it wasn’t her fault, but still, Kate had no fondness for reporters.

In fact, she didn’t even advertise in the local newspaper for her small business. That’s how far her dislike of the newspaper went. Kate advertised on bulletin boards, and most of her jobs came via word of mouth.

Even so, she was shaken up about finding a dead body and not in the mood to be nice. She wished there was someone for her to call and talk to. Someone to calm her down. Her boys were at college and she didn’t want to bother them.

“You sure you can’t tell me what is going on?” Beth said.

“Yep.”

Kate rocked a little more in the chair, her head filled with visions of the dead woman on the kitchen floor. She wasn’t in any hurry to go back into Scott’s house, but she’d have to return eventually to finish the repair.

She probably wouldn’t get back in until they were finished with the crime scene. Even if that was days from now, the woman’s eyes were going to haunt her.

“What are you doing here?” Beth asked.

“I’m not answering any questions.”

The officer at the door came out onto the porch. “You have to go, Beth.”

“I’m not leaving. The public has a right to know.”

Kate wanted to roll her eyes—the idealism of youth. The officer led Beth off the property and told her she could stand on the sidewalk. When he returned, he looked at Kate. “The chief will be out in a few minutes to talk to you. FYI, they are bringing the body out, but it will be in a bag.”

Kate shuddered. “Can I go sit in my truck?”

“Sure.”

She unclipped her keys from her belt and climbed into her truck, still parked in the driveway. She turned on the air conditioning since the truck had heated up as it sat in the sun. She also turned on the radio and looked down at her phone. The body would come right by her, and she had no need to see it.

She heard noises and saw people in her peripheral vision as they made their way to the ambulance. Then Scott was standing outside her truck. He knocked on the window and she rolled it down.

“She’s gone.”

“Good. I didn’t want to see that.”

His eyes didn’t hold their usual sparkle. Kate would have thought that being a homicide detective in Philadelphia, as Scott had been, would have vaccinated him against feeling too much. Instead, he looked a little hollowed out.

“You okay?” he asked.

“As good as one can be having seen a dead body,” Kate said.

It was a sight she didn’t want to see again. At funerals, people were made up. They looked serene. She’d stick to that.

In fact, she suddenly decided that she wanted a closed casket when she died so no one would have to look at her.

Scott nodded. He still had that strong presence that she remembered. She’d always had the sense that he could take care of everything. In a way it was surprising that she ended up marrying someone so different from him—an academic.

Greg had made her feel emotionally safe. She’d never needed to feel physically safe because her father had taught her to fight. Still, it might have been nice to know that her husband could defend her if needed. He certainly couldn’t now from wherever he was.

“We need to take your statement, but the detective on the case wants to do it at the station.”

She looked around. “I can’t get out. Can we move some of these vehicles?”

“I’ll move them for you.”

“Am I a suspect?”

“Kate, everyone is a suspect. Until we know time of death, I’m a suspect. I’m just not in handcuffs out of professional courtesy.”

Handcuffs? Yes, it happened in his house, but surely he’s being melodramatic.

She waited as he moved vehicles so she could get out. Meanwhile, she turned off the radio. It was just too strange listening to happy songs after the morning she’d just had.

How had that person gotten into Scott’s house? The door was locked. Her inquisitive mind wanted to know it all, though she doubted that Scott would tell her anything.

She started her truck when the driveway behind her was empty. The truck backfired and threatened to stall. She made a mental note to get it to the shop. She’d been counting on part of this job’s pay to do just that. She tried to calculate what bill she could put off to get it in sooner rather than later.

“Sounds like you need a new truck,” Scott said, standing beside her vehicle.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized he’d returned. She jumped and put a hand on her heart in surprise.

“I can’t afford one.”

Then she had a thought. “Did you know that woman?”

That would explain the look on his face. No matter how jaded you were from working homicide, if you knew the person, then you’d be affected by it. Scott must have recognized her, because Kate didn’t think the woman was from Rock Ridge.

“Yes.”

“Who was it?”

Scott stared back at her, not blinking. “That was my ex-wife.”

Chapter Two

The Rock Ridge Police Department was part of the municipal complex in town. All the government offices were in a building next to it, along with a community center. The fire department, a paid operation, and the first-aid squad (strictly volunteer) had a building nearby.

The noise hit Kate when she walked in. Phones rang. People talked. A few people yelled. They were all behind a glass partition, but the cacophony seeped out into the lobby. A petite blonde sat behind the partition, not smiling but waiting. She wore a uniform and had a large belly that made it hard for her to reach the phone on the desk. When Kate first entered the lobby, she’d watched the officer answer it, and it had been a struggle.

She must have been on light duty; she looked ready to deliver that kid any minute. Kate shuddered, remembering how large she’d been with the twins.

“Can I help you?” the young woman said.

Kate realized she had no idea who she was supposed to see. “I guess I’m here to see the chief.”

“He’s still out. You can wait in the lobby.”

“I’m supposed to make a statement about the thing he’s at.”

The woman nodded. “I’ll see if someone else is here that can do that. Just have a seat.”

Kate sat on a bench that was as comfortable as being stretched on a rack. Despite the bench looking like wood, she was sure it was made out of concrete. It held the chill of the air conditioning. She had her work overalls on, but they weren’t thick at all, so she felt the coolness on her butt. She was tempted to stand, but she’d been instructed to sit.

Not that she couldn’t be a rebel, but she was off her game today. Discovering a body will do that.

“Miss?” the woman said finally.

Kate stood and moved to the glass. “Yes?”

“Detective Johnson will see you. When you hear the buzzing, push the door to your right open.”

Kate heard an anemic buzzing sound and she pushed the door open. Inside, the noise was even louder. How does anyone work here? She was usually alone in her tasks, so she didn’t have office mates to shoot the breeze with. If there was noise, she was the one making it with a power tool.

She enjoyed the solitude. After years of having two boys in the house, she liked the peace and quiet of working alone. This environment would never do. More than once, the drone of a busy building had convinced her that she hadn’t been cut out for an office job.

Detective Johnson, or Ken as she knew him, loped toward her. He was a long man. Long limbs, long neck, long body. Making the transition from calling him Mr. Johnson to Ken had taken her years because she and his daughter, Carly, had been best friends since high school.

He had brown hair and dull, brown eyes, which belied a quick mind. More than once, Kate and Carly thought they were getting something past her father, but it hadn’t happened once. Most people underestimated him.

Kate wondered if he was close to retirement—or did he never plan to leave the job? He’d been up for the chief of police job, but Scott had been given that. Does he hold any resentment? She hoped not.

“Hi, Ken.”

He didn’t hug or kiss her. He was obviously in cop mode. “Hello, Kate. Follow me.”

She did as he asked, and he led her past a maze of desks. She hadn’t realized that the Rock Ridge Police Department was that big. There were at least eight desks in the small room. Each had at least one inhabitant.

Ken led her to the back of the office to a smaller room. Probably for interrogation purposes since there was a mirror on one wall just like in the cop shows.

“Have a seat. You need coffee?”

“Yes.”

She could drink coffee all day, even right before bed. She didn’t hold out hope that this cup would have much taste. It might have been in the pot all morning for all she knew. Ken grunted, and then left her in the room as he went to the kitchenette.

A chill went up her spine as she sat there alone. Do I need a lawyer? She hoped not. She couldn’t afford one. If her business had been doing better, she might have been able to, but she’d only started up six months prior.

It had taken two months after the boys left for college for her to figure out what she was good at.

Ken came back in with the coffee.

“Thank you. Do I need a lawyer?”

“If you want one, we can wait.”

“No, I’ll answer your questions. I’m not a suspect.”

“Everyone’s a suspect until we know time of death. Can you account for your time before you found the deceased?”

“I stopped at Grayson’s for supplies first thing, and then I went to Scott’s to do repairs. You can talk to Chuck if you—”

“We’ll worry about that when the ME tells us the time of death.”

That reassured Kate. The woman would have had to have been killed before she arrived at the chief’s house or she would’ve heard someone else there. And people could verify seeing her in town before that.

“Tell me about finding Jackie York.”

Kate told him everything she could remember up to and including finding Scott’s ex-wife on his kitchen floor. She wondered how long they’d been married. Jackie York was probably a beautiful woman in her day—the kind that turned heads.

She was probably the opposite of tomboyish Kate. Kate had long ago learned to be comfortable with herself in most situations, but once in a while a gorgeous woman did intimidate her. She’d bet that Scott’s ex-wife would have been one of those women.

Jackie would have sported the latest trends in clothing with some person’s name on the tag that Kate had never heard of. If LL Bean or Carhartt didn’t make it, then Kate had no idea what it was.

“So, you fixed the hole, used the restroom, and then Chief York called you? Do you often wander around your clients’ houses?”

“I’m not going to answer that. It’s none of your business what I do on a job. I’m not a suspect and don’t have to explain myself.”

Scott took that moment to stop in the room. “Are you antagonizing Mrs. Flaherty?”

He looked a little better than he had at the house. He’d straightened his tie and rolled down his sleeves.

“I’m just doing my job,” Ken said.

“Well wrap it up. She’s not a suspect.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She didn’t even know my ex-wife. Right, Kate?”

Kate shook her head. That was the truth. “Never met her.”

Ken frowned. “Okay. I’ll print this out and you need to sign it.”

“Fine,” Kate said.

She was ready to move on to her next job. She turned to Scott and asked, “Will I be able to get back into your house tomorrow? I need to sand and paint.”

“No. I can’t even get into my house at this point.”

Even though it was none of her business, she asked anyway. “Where will you stay?”

“I have a couch in my office.”

“Comfy.”

He shrugged. “I’m hoping it’s only one night.”

Ken left and quickly returned with a piece of paper. Kate read it and it was exactly what she’d said. She signed it.

“You’re free to go.”

As she was leaving the interrogation room, she heard her name. She looked up to see Larry Stadt, chief of the Rock Ridge Fire Department. Larry had been interested in Kate for years.

***

She wanted the floor to swallow her up as Larry strode across the room. This was not going to be good: two alpha males in one room—both unnecessarily vying for her attention.

Larry had taken it upon himself to be Kate’s protector. She suspected that he had ulterior motives, but she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t date—him or anyone else.

She didn’t like her life being in limbo, but until there was a definitive answer about the whereabouts of her husband, she was still married.

Larry always skated to the edge of understanding that. He stopped in front of her and put his hands on her arms. Marking his territory much?

She didn’t want to embarrass him but she gently stepped away, out of his reach.

Larry had brown hair, parted on the side, and soft, puppy-brown eyes. He was one of the sweetest men that Kate had ever known.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Larry. I just needed to make a statement.”

“You aren’t being charged, are you? I can call a lawyer for you.”

His taking over like this rankled her. She was an independent woman, and she didn’t need him to do that. “No, I’m fine. I’m on my way home.”

Scott stepped closer to them. Of course. There was so much testosterone in the room that she’d bet she could pee standing up next time.

He held out his hand. “I’m Scott York, the new chief of police.”

Larry looked at the man’s hand then up at his face. He clasped Scott’s hand. “I’m Larry Stadt, chief of Rock Ridge Fire Department.”

Kate wanted to laugh. Or break out a ruler, so they could all see once and for all whose was bigger. Instead, she walked away and let them play their male games.

She had work to do.

Larry caught up with her at her truck. “There something going on between you and that cop?”

He spit out the last words as if they hurt him to say them. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Not that it is any of your business, but no. We knew each other in high school.”

Larry’s face relaxed. “You free for lunch?”

“No, sorry. I have to fix someone’s steps this afternoon. I’m late, but I’m sure they’ve heard that I was at the police station.”

“Nothing goes unnoticed in a small town.”

“That’s for sure,” Kate said. “I really have to go.”

She looked past Larry. Ken was putting Scott in the back of a squad car. He was handcuffed. “What’s going on?”

Larry turned in the direction she was looking. “Guess the chief is getting arrested.”

She didn’t like the glee in his voice. She brushed past Larry to talk to Scott before the back door closed. “Scott? What’s going on?”

“ME gave us a preliminary time of death. I have no alibi for my location, so Ken here arrested me.”

Ken nudged Kate out of the way. “I’m taking him to the county jail out on twenty-two.”

Kate knew the place. It was a fortress right next to the county college where her husband had taught. She hadn’t been out that way since the school had asked her to clean out Greg’s office. The trip had taken a lot out of her, and she still hadn’t looked in the box she’d packed.

“But he didn’t kill her. He’d divorced her already. Ken, this doesn’t make any sense.”

Larry came up behind her. “Best let the cops deal with this, Kate.”

He might as well have patted her on the head and told her not to worry her pretty little head. If she could have, she might have jabbed him in the ribs. Not in front of two police officers, though.

“I’ll be out when my lawyer springs me, Kate. Couple of hours tops.”

He didn’t look worried, but Kate couldn’t say the same. How could they accuse Scott of killing his ex-wife? If he’d wanted to do that, being a cop, he could have covered his tracks much better than this. Besides, unless he’d changed in the last decades, she knew he’d never hurt anyone intentionally.

From what the Rock Ridge Town Council had said when hiring him, he had a spotless law enforcement record. He’d come highly recommended. Even so, the mayor had wanted to hire from within, but he’d been outvoted.

If Scott had not originally been from Rock Ridge, Kate suspected that Ken would be chief of police. But Scott had that hometown connection on top of his exemplary record.

Scott’s gaze bore into her. His light brown eyes darkened for a moment. He seemed to be making sure that she looked at him. “I didn’t kill her, Kate.”

She would have touched his shoulder, but there was a barrier in the patrol car. Of course she believed him. “I know, but what was she doing there?”

Larry tugged her away. He was beginning to get on her nerves. He wasn’t her keeper. As much as she appreciated that he’d taken her boys under his wing as their scoutmaster, she didn’t think she owed him anything else.

“I think this is none of our business, Kate.”

She shrugged off his hands. Why was Ken so sure that Scott did it? Couldn’t he extend a professional courtesy to Scott? Didn’t cops do that? Or was a murder too serious? “Call me when you get out. There’s something not right here.”

“Katydid, leave this to the cops. They’ll sort it out,” Scott said before Ken pulled away.

Katydid? No one else had ever called her that. For a moment, she was back in high school. She remembered being young and in love; when the world had been laid out in front of her.

Then her mother died and she’d stayed in Rock Ridge instead of going away to college. Scott had left for university and never made it back. His parents had moved to Florida not long after his departure, and she apparently hadn’t been reason enough for him to return.

The anticipation of his return to town after all these years had set her nerves on edge. Now he was being charged with murder? She couldn’t stand by. Even though they had no future, she couldn’t just let him go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.

That didn’t sit right with her.

Scott York was not a killer, Kate was sure of it. She would just have to make sure that she found the person who was. Being a handywoman, she had access to all sorts of people. She could talk to them. Maybe someone knew something.

He’d called her Katydid. She’d never let anyone else, thinking it was too babyish. Now it sounded like music to her ears.

Chapter Three

Kate’s next job was a house three doors down from the chief’s. She’d postponed the Evans project. She had to repair steps on Marla Zook’s house. Marla was a single mother whose husband had died in Iraq. Everyone pitched in when they could, and Kate would only charge her for materials.

She surveyed the steps. Marla worked from home while taking care of her two daughters. Maybe she’d seen something. Not that a single mother of two kids had much time to stare out the window, but a single mom at home might be more aware of her surroundings than, say, a man. Women had to do more to protect themselves, and part of that was being cognizant of what was going on around them. She may have seen something that she didn’t think significant.

The sun was high in the sky and warm. Marla came around from the front of the house. It was a one-story cottage, painted sky blue. The shutters were yellow. Not Kate’s style, but cute nonetheless.

Marla’s two daughters moved closer to her when they saw Kate. She smiled at them, but knew from past work she’d done on the house that they were shy. Their lives had been turned upside down by the loss of their father.

Marla had two glasses of lemonade in her hands. Kate hoped one was for her.

“I brought you a drink,” Marla said.

She was still young, probably in her late twenties. She’d married young from what Kate remembered and had left Rock Ridge to follow her husband’s military career. She returned here when he’d died to be close to her mother.

Her mother had died last year. Marla had never known her father.

“Go play, girls,” Marla said.

The two girls went to the swing set at the end of the yard. It sat in the shade of the neighbor’s oak tree. Marla set Kate’s glass down on the picnic table situated by the house. Kate took a sip then put it back down.

Rather than joining her girls, Marla sat. Kate guessed she wanted to talk, which was perfect. Kate wanted to talk, too. She began to demolish the damaged stairs as they chatted.

“I’m so freaked out about that murder. In this neighborhood…” Marla said. “You must be too, since you found the body.”

“It wasn’t the highlight of my day. Did you see anyone suspicious?”

“No one suspicious. Only the usual.”

“I don’t live in this neighborhood. What is ‘usual’?”

“I saw the fire chief’s truck.”

“He does inspections. Not odd. There are a few houses for sale here, and they need a certificate that says their smoke detectors work,” Kate said.

She stacked the boards she pulled off the risers. She’d haul them away to use later since there wasn’t anything wrong with them. The steps were being replaced because someone hadn’t built them properly. The rise and run ratio wasn’t right, and Marla’s oldest daughter had tripped on them.

Kate had put Marla’s job on the top of her priority list. The only reason she’d been at Scott’s house was because he’d begged her. And she was curious to see what he’d done with the place. She knew she shouldn’t have been. Sniffing around an old boyfriend was not acceptable.

“I never knew what he was doing, but had seen his truck here often. Now it makes sense, since it was usually in front of houses for sale or recently sold,” Marla said.

She gazed over at her children for a moment.

“Who else?” Kate prodded.

“Jessica Stuart was out planting some flowers.”

“You can see their house from here?”

The mayor and his wife lived in a big house, larger than any other in the neighborhood. Being mayor was a part-time position, and he ran a trucking company for his full-time job. He’d done well and had added on to his house as his company grew.

Kate always thought that they’d never get the right resale on it because it was too big compared to the rest of the houses nearby. There would be no comps to figure out the correct price.

Not that she expected them to sell anytime soon. The mayor had held his position for ages. She didn’t suspect anyone would run against him.

“I can see it out my side window.”

She’d have to talk to Jessica to see if she’d seen anything suspicious.

“I’m going to make some noise. Will that bother the girls?”

“No, they just are shy around people.”

Kate used a Sawzall to disconnect the risers from the house. She had a prefabricated piece to replace it and new boards for the treads. She hadn’t had to do much building on this project, and she’d negotiated the price down from Grayson’s because it was for Marla.

Dropping the risers on top of the used boards, she unplugged her tool. She stretched after she put it aside, and then she sipped more lemonade. The day wasn’t scorching, but working in the sun made her sweat.

She sat for a moment drinking some more. The sweet and tart liquid cooled her thirst.

“Who else did you see?” she said finally.

Marla tapped her chin. “I did see Celia out on her walk.”

Of course Celia would be out. Since retiring from Hershey Medical Center, she walked the town every day. Not that Rock Ridge was large, but the woman probably covered a few miles in her trek. She only walked the populated part of the town, not the country lanes.

Celia might need to be her next stop. She saw everything. She was Kate’s best friend’s mother, but she was the town gossip. If anything untoward was going on in the town, she would know. Her eagle eyes didn’t miss anything.

“Will you be able to finish these today?” Marla asked.

“I’ll be done in half an hour, including cleanup,” Kate said.

“Good. The kids keep forgetting and going out this door.”

“Next time they do, it will be safe.”

Kate could hear the kids next door splashing around in a pool. Not summer yet, but they were enjoying a day off because the schools hadn’t used all of their snow days.

“I heard that Scott was arrested,” Marla said. “Do you think he did it?”

She had to get used to that. Everyone was going to ask her if she thought Scott had done it. As if they’d kept in touch or something all of these years. She wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone thought that they were already an item. “I don’t think he did it, but I haven’t talked to Scott in years until he came back recently.”

“He was a cop in Philly? I heard he was shot and quit.”

That’s also what Kate had heard, but she hadn’t brought it up with Scott. It was one of the stories, at least. There’d been more that hadn’t been so complimentary. Maybe he’d tell her, but ultimately it was none of her business. “I heard the same thing, but we haven’t talked about it. Really, none of my business.”

“Someone told me you two dated?”

“In high school. A lifetime ago.”

Though seeing him again brought it all back—the good and the bad. She’d agreed to do the job at his house only because she refused to give into her desire to isolate herself from him. She was a married woman and needed to act that way.

No matter that her heart said something different.

She attached the risers and then screwed the boards onto them. “You need me to paint them?”

Marla waved her hand. “No, I’ll do it. Gives me a project.”

“I would think you have one big project with your two daughters.”

Having raised two boys, Kate knew how much time and energy children took. She hadn’t remembered being too productive when the twins were little. Later on, she’d been able to include them in projects despite Greg’s hesitance. He’d insisted that they could afford to pay someone to stay with them. She didn’t know where he thought the money was going to come from.

“They certainly keep me busy.”

After she finished up, Marla wrote her a check for the supplies. Then Kate left to talk to Celia.

***

Celia Johnson lived in a brick two-story home on the other side of town from Marla’s neighborhood. Having no other pressing jobs, Kate drove to her place. The day was getting behind her, and she was just about ready for dinner.

A teenage boy mowed Celia’s lawn. He looked bored, and had his shirt off and tucked into the back pocket of his jeans and his ear buds on. His phone was tucked into the other back pocket. She didn’t recognize him, but everyone waved to everyone else in Rock Ridge, so she waved.

He gave her a look that said he couldn’t be bothered waving back. Nice. If one of her boys had acted like that, she’d have had words with him. For a moment, she found herself missing them.

Both were freshman, and she was still getting used to the empty nest even though this was the end of the school year. At least she had her business to keep her busy. With the economy getting stronger, more people were selling houses. That meant more people doing renovations or fixing things they had previously let fall by the wayside.

And that meant more money for her business. This was very good for Kate because tuition for two was expensive, even with the money her husband had put away. He’d gone missing, but he hadn’t taken any money with him.

The forensic accountants hadn’t found any irregularities in her account, so she had no idea what he was living on—if he was alive. She gulped. “Don’t think of him as dead.”

She climbed out of her truck and walked up to Celia’s front door. She rang the doorbell and heard the notes reminiscent of a classical song. Kate never listened to much classical, so she couldn’t be sure.

The front door had been painted red and a lion knocker stared back at her. A little pretentious for a small town, in Kate’s opinion, but whatever floated her boat. Celia always behaved as though she were royalty, but the woman had been kind and caring when Kate’s mother had died, so she couldn’t be too critical of her.

The Johnson household had been a refuge when she was overwhelmed with taking care of her mother. Celia and Ken had also been good to her right after Greg had disappeared. They’d been the only ones.

A few minutes later, Celia appeared in the doorway.

“Hello, Kate. What brings you here?”

Celia was older than Kate was, but looked the same age. She’d had her daughter Carly at a young age. Kate had heard the rumors that she and Ken had to get married, and then after they did, they’d lost that baby.

She guessed they were in love since they had Carly a few years later.

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about what you might have seen out on your walk this morning.”

She pushed open the screen door. “Come in. Is this about Scott’s wife’s death?”

The grapevine in Rock Ridge had a speed that rivaled social media. Of course Celia would know about the murder.

“Ex-wife,” Kate said when she settled on Celia’s couch. She wasn’t sure why she’d needed to clarify that. Scott’s relationships were none of her business.

“Why are you asking questions? Didn’t Ken arrest Scott?”

“Yes, but Scott didn’t do it.”

“Is that your brain speaking or your heart? Good thing we found out he was a killer now before he was entrenched in the community. That would have been a harder blow.”

Kate had forgotten that Celia didn’t like Scott. She hadn’t even back when Kate and Carly were in high school. Carly had had a crush on Scott, and he hadn’t asked her out. Instead, he’d asked out Kate who had no idea that Carly liked Scott. That was a million years ago.

Kate was pretty sure that Carly was over it. Her mother should be, too.

“I don’t believe that he did it. He’d already divorced her. He had no reason to kill her,” Kate said. “What I was wondering was if you saw anything suspicious on your walk this morning.”

Celia pondered that for a moment. “No. I saw the usual people out and about.”

Yes, got that. “Who is that?”

“Well, the fire chief’s truck and Carly’s were there. I guess she had some flowers to deliver. I didn’t see her, otherwise I would have chatted with her,” Celia said. “She’s my daughter, so you’d think we see each other all the time. That’s not the case, even though we live in the same town.”

Kate knew why Carly didn’t visit her mother much, but that had no bearing on the case. Kate suspected she wasn’t going to get much out of Celia. She’d already made up her mind that Scott was guilty because of something petty he’d done close to thirty years ago.

Nothing like living in the past. The bad part of living in a small town was that everyone knew your business. They know every butthead thing you did as a teenager and won’t let you forget it. Scott hadn’t been a bad kid, but he’d also not been a completely good kid. Part of Kate’s attraction toward him at the time was his motorcycle. Her mother had almost had a cow the first time he showed up to take her on a date.

In true Scott fashion, he’d charmed her mother. Her father had been more skeptical, but he hadn’t interfered with her dating Scott. She would have fought back anyway. She was sixteen at the time and finding her way in the world.

“So you saw the chief’s truck and Carly’s truck.”

“Yes, that was it.” Celia nodded. “I heard that Scott’s wife cheated on him. Or is that the story he’s giving out?”

Man, this woman does not like Scott. “I don’t know why the marriage broke up. Not my business.”

Not that she wasn’t curious. She was, but that would imply a level of intimacy with Scott that she didn’t want to encourage. She’d talked to him on the phone twice, and he’d flirted with her both times.

Seeing that Celia wasn’t going to enlighten her any further, Kate said her goodbyes. She had to get rid of the wood at the scrap yard, and then she could go home. Or should she go visit Scott in jail? Tell him what she knew so far?

Except that all she knew was that Celia Johnson didn’t like him. She was not a good person to have against you, but mostly she was harmless. But then, Scott probably knew that already.

Kate’s phone rang as she climbed back in the truck at the scrap yard.

“Hello?”

“Kate, it’s Scott.”

“Don’t tell me that I’m your one phone call,” she said.

He knew other people in town. He must. He’d grown up here. Besides, she had no access to a lawyer.

“No, I’m out. I’ve been released on my own recognizance. I’m starving and wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner.”

He wants to go out when he’s been accused of murder? That takes big brass ones.

“You just get out of jail after being accused of murder and you’re asking me on a date.”

“Not a date, just dinner.”

Dinner could mean so much. She should go to prove to herself that there was nothing between them. No spark. No quickening of her heart when he so much as called her. Nope.

But she wouldn’t. She was chicken.

“Dinner sounds too much like a date. I’ll have to pass.”

“I’ll get takeout and bring it to your house,” he said.

She had to admit there was some appeal to that; it would save her from cooking or getting takeout herself. If she did do takeout, she needed to drive back into the center of town, past her house, and then back to her house. The idea tired her.

The day in the sun was beginning to catch up to her. Her bones ached and she could feel the hitch in the ankle that she sprained when she’d tripped over one of the boys’ toys years ago. She’d probably done too much today, but she had bills to pay. She could go home and soak in the tub and feel better.

“No, Scott. I just want to go home and put on my pajamas.”

“You can wear pajamas. I’ll wear mine, too.”

She had a feeling he didn’t wear them. And that was the point.

Chapter Four

Kate went home after fending of Scott’s invitation, ate, and then went to bed. The next morning dawned cloudy, breezy and a little warm. Her first stop would be Carly’s Florist. Her best friend had found her calling before even going to college. She’d worked afternoons at Sunshine Florist.

When the woman who owned it retired, Carly bought it and renamed it. Kate needed to put up a shelf for Carly, so this morning that’s what she’d do. She could also talk to her and ask if she saw anything odd when she was delivering flowers yesterday.

The shop sat on a corner on Main Street and had the usual storefront windows with a door in the middle. Carly was standing in the window display, one hand on her hip, when Kate pulled up.

Carly had blonde hair that had stayed light for years. Now she colored it to keep it that way. It was a soft color, one which redheaded Kate often envied. She also envied Carly’s curvy figure and how she always managed to look feminine in the least girly clothes.

Today, she sported a frilly blouse and a long, flowered skirt.

Kate had already stopped at the hardware store for supplies. Carly’s shop smelled of flowers and the cinnamon coffee she had brewing. Kate snagged a cup and watched Carly work her magic in the window.

“I’ll never understand how you do what you do,” Kate said.

Carly shrugged. “I can’t hammer a nail or hang Sheetrock, so we’re even. I can’t even paint,” Carly said, hopping down from the window ledge. She wiped her hands on her green apron.

The coffee was warm and Kate hugged the mug. The day wasn’t cold, but she felt a coolness in her bones from yesterday’s events. Scott was home and she’d go see him at some point to finish his project.

His house had been cleared. He was making arrangements for his ex-wife to be buried here. Why had she come to Rock Ridge? What business did she have? Was she on a mission to get Scott back? Kate knew all too well that he could leave a hole in your life when he was gone.

She refused to contemplate that Scott’s leaving had left just as large a hole as her husband’s departure. No need to think about that.

“You are so deep in thought,” Carly said.

Kate poured herself a second cup of coffee. She ran on caffeine most days, not always stopping for lunch. Her father had instilled his work ethic in her. She didn’t mind downtime, but when she knew there were things to do she couldn’t sit.

“This murder is on my mind. Oh, by the way, you were over that way yesterday morning?”

“I was delivering flowers to Janice Gabe. She had twins.”

“Did you see anything suspicious?”

“I saw a woman at Scott’s house. She was very much alive. She wore a tank top, tight skirt and impossible heels. She was walking up the driveway to Scott’s house.”

Tight skirt? Carly hadn’t examined the woman’s wardrobe, but that sounded like the woman she’d found.

“Did she knock or go right in?”

Carly mulled that over. “Knocked, and then went in.”

As if she belonged. She must have been that kind of woman. Scott would need a strong woman to balance him out, to fend off his own strong personality. A woman could get run over by Scott and find herself lost.

“The door wasn’t unlocked for me, so I’m surprised she could walk in,” Kate said.

Someone locked it after they left. The killer? She shuddered to think that the killer had been there right before her.

“You didn’t see anyone else that didn’t belong in that neighborhood?”

“I saw Larry’s truck, but he’s often parked everywhere when he does inspections.”

It was not odd that Larry’s truck was there, but something about it struck her as odd. She couldn’t get a handle on it. Hopefully it would come to her. “Whose house was he parked in front of?”

“I don’t know the name, but catty-corner to Scott’s.”

The Olsens. Kate had repaired a hole in their ceiling that had happened when the tub on the second floor sprung a slow leak in the drain. Water hadn’t built up, but over time, the leak became bigger. Once it had been fixed, they called Kate to make it look nice.

Being short, ceilings were not her favorite. Working on a ladder with her hands in the air was not her idea of a good time.

The Olsens’ house was not for sale, but that didn’t mean one near theirs wasn’t. She didn’t remember seeing any “For Sale” signs, and Scott had already closed on his house, so that inspection was done.

She’d have to talk to Larry about that.

“What time did you deliver those flowers?”

“I’d say seven.”

“That was early,” Kate said.

“Yes, they were deliveries from yesterday. That teen I hired didn’t show up again. I was left with flowers to deliver, and I was too exhausted the night before. Today I have a wedding to prep for and I think Larry’s coming in to get centerpieces for a firehouse banquet.”

Larry had asked her to attend with him, but she said if she did go, she’d go stag. It was a fundraiser for a child with cancer. Hershey Medical gave a list to the fire company and they chose a recipient. The fire company had raised thousands of dollars to cover the medical expenses of several different children.

That banquet was that coming weekend, and Kate hadn’t decided to attend or not. This year it would be a square dance and she wasn’t a good dancer. Larry could really cut a rug, but her days of doing that were over. Greg hadn’t been a dancer, and they hadn’t attended the fundraiser at all during their marriage.

Greg hadn’t originally been from Rock Ridge and didn’t necessarily embrace the small-town life.

“You going?” Carly asked.

“Not sure.”

“I’m sure you have a date,” she said.

Kate shook her head. Everyone in town pushed her and Larry together. They all seemed to forget that she had a husband.

That included Larry. She wished he’d moved on. It might be a few years before she could declare Greg legally dead…if she chose to.

Then there would be a mourning period, so he should just find someone else to go out with. He wanted to marry, and he might not get the chance if he waited for her. He’d been married, but his wife had died. He’d liked being married, he’d always told her. For her part, Kate wasn’t sure she would get married again.

The silver lining in this situation was that Kate enjoyed her independence.

No one questioned her decisions. She’d loved her husband, but sometimes he could be overbearing. She didn’t like being told what to do when she was perfectly capable of making a decision. She’d disliked that her husband had questioned her every move. Thankfully, she had a strong enough personality not to take it to heart, but it had been wearing on her.

She had begun to wonder if she still loved her husband. If he were dead, she could forgive him. If he had just run off, however, then she had every right to be mad. Only time would tell.

“Why are you asking questions? Didn’t they arrest Scott for the murder?” Carly asked.

Like mother, like daughter. She would probably get mad if Kate voiced those thoughts. Carly insisted she was nothing like her mother. The apple had not fallen from that tree. “Why is everyone so quick to think Scott did it?”

Carly eyed her with a shocked look on her face. “You don’t know why he left the Philly PD?”

“No, and it isn’t my business.”

“You might want to make it your business. He was in a fight with another cop—a violent fight.”

There were as many stories about Scott leaving the Philly PD as there were people in this town. She wouldn’t believe anything until she heard it straight from Scott. Not that she was going to ask him outright. She maintained that it was none of her business.

“Where did you hear that?”

“That’s what everyone’s been talking about.”

Kate shook her head. She guessed that she hadn’t yet talked to whoever constituted “everyone” because that was one story she hadn’t heard.

“I better get that shelf started. Show me again where you want it,” Kate said.

“Back here in the storage room.”

Kate brought her coffee with her as Carly described what she wanted. Part of Kate’s mind was listening. The other part was puzzling over why Scott’s ex-wife had come to town. That might be the key to her murder.

***

Just as she finished up at Carly’s Florist, Kate’s phone rang. Scott. Again.

“Hello, Scott. No, I’m not joining you for any meal.”

He chuckled. “I guess I’m persistent. No, actually I just wondered if you had my house on your list of chores for today.”

She mentally went through her schedule. She could do it and put one or two things that weren’t dire off until tomorrow. It might be better to get his repair over with. Then she wouldn’t have to spend so much time with him.

“I can be there in ten minutes.”

When Kate arrived at Scott’s house, he was standing behind the screen door as if he’d been waiting for her. He pushed it open to let her in.

“I can unload your truck,” he said.

He looked a little worse for wear after being in jail. She wondered if it was the first time. “I’ve got everything. All I’m doing is sanding and painting. It’ll be a mess.”

He nodded. “Mind if I sit and watch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

She didn’t want him to watch. She wanted him in another room because he was making her nervous. She knew he shouldn’t. He was just Scott, and she was a married woman. Maybe repeating that in her head would remind her. Scott was just Scott except that he looked even better now with his snow-white hair than he had in high school.

Not fair. She was sporting some extra pounds and wasn’t dressed to look nice. She was dressed for work in overalls. Not that she had any real fashion sense anyway.

She began to sand the spackling she’d done before she found the dead body.

“Does Ken still think you did it?”

Scott settled himself on the third step of his hall stairs. He leaned his forearms on his thighs. He was tan and must have just come back from vacation. Maybe he’d taken time off before he arrived in Rock Ridge.

She had decided she wasn’t going to ask. It was too personal, too intimate, but his presence had her nerves on edge.

“I’m getting the impression that Ken doesn’t like me,” Scott said.

“Probably not. He was up for your job, but didn’t get it.”

Scott nodded. “That happens.”

“The mayor wanted Ken also.”

Might as well give him the lay of the land.

“Good to know. I probably don’t have an ally in him,” Scott said.

“No, you don’t. Sorry to say. It’ll make your job harder,” she said.

She sat back and admired her handiwork. She ran a hand over the wall. It was as smooth as she could make it. Her father had told her she had the right touch for spackling. He’d had her help him when he needed to do it in their house.

“No harder than the Philly PD.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Corruption. Bad cops. This is a much gentler place to have obstacles.”

He surprised her with that statement. Scott hadn’t been able to get out of Rock Ridge fast enough. He must have gone through a rough time in Philadelphia to want to come back here.

“I’ll take your word for it. I never made it to the big, bad city.”

He smiled sardonically. “You could have come with me.”

She sighed. They’d had that argument more than once. Then he’d left and not looked back. She had no desire to rehash this. “Do we need to do this right now? I’m working.”

“And I’m going out of my skull. Hopefully, tomorrow we’ll have an exact time of death on Jackie and I can be cleared.”

“No one reports anyone suspicious here during the time she might have been here. In fact, Carly saw someone that looked like her alive earlier that morning.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder. The look on his face could scare the dead. Not that it scared her.

“Are you sticking your nose into this case?”

“Just asking some questions. Ken already had you convicted. I don’t want to see you railroaded.”

He laughed. “So you do care.”

She turned back to her work, shaking up the quart of paint in her hands. “I don’t want to see anyone railroaded.”

Scott’s ego was the size of Pennsylvania. It hadn’t been dimmed by whatever had happened in the City of Brotherly Love.

“Are you going to tell me about your husband?” She’d expected it to come up sooner or later. Scott, the cop, would be curious. Scott, the man, would wonder if Greg was competition even in his absence. “You have access to the police reports.”

“I do, but I want to hear it from you, first.”

She sighed. The last two days hadn’t been fun. She didn’t want to rehash old news about Greg right now. She opened the paint can on the drop cloth she’d spread out. She took her favorite paintbrush out of her toolkit. She was stalling.

“Katydid.”

Again, there was that nickname that used to make her melt. Some part of her melted a little now, but she wasn’t going to let Scott know that. She didn’t need him to have a hold over her.

“Scott.”

“Tell me. It’s just two old friends catching up.”

She laughed as she stroked paint onto the wall she’d sanded and put primer on. The paint would blend well. Hard to do when the walls were white. “We weren’t friends, Scott.”

“No? I didn’t tell you all my hopes and dreams?”

“We were lovers, and that brings with it more baggage than being friends.”

She had to get them back on the right footing or she wouldn’t be able to do this. She wouldn’t be able to run into him at the grocery store and be okay with it. That she wasn’t okay with it spoke to her loneliness, not any lingering feelings about an old boyfriend.

Her painting finished, she packed up her things.

“I don’t want you investigating or getting involved in this investigation, Katie,” Scott said finally. “Leave it to the experts. It’s Ken’s job, and even though Ken isn’t a fan, he’d have to prove a whole lot to prove that I killed my ex-wife.”

“How long were you married?”

Damn. That slipped out before she could run it through a filter. She grimaced.

“Eight years.”

“No kids?”

“No kids. Jackie didn’t want to ruin her figure.”

“Are you sad she’s dead?” That was a deeply personal question. She held up her hands. “Don’t answer that. None of my business.”

He spread his arms out to his side. “My life is an open book, Katie. Ask me what you really want to know.”

“And what is that?”

Can he read my mind?

“You want to know why I’ve come back. You want to know what happened in Philly that has me back in the hometown I swore I’d never come back to.”

She cleared her throat. “I have some other jobs today. I can’t shoot the breeze with you all morning.”

He laughed. “Running away? That’s not like you, Katydid. You always stood up to me. Toe-to-toe. You did that with any man, no matter the size.”

She wasn’t that woman anymore. Her husband’s disappearance had taken something out of her. Something she thought was lost forever. It didn’t matter. She had a murder to solve and some more jobs today before she could hang up her tool belt.

She ran through the rest of her day, prioritizing based on who she needed to talk to. “I have to make a living, Scott.”

“What do I owe you?”

“I’ll write up a bill.”

Kate loaded her truck and then wrote up the invoice. She needed a moment to get away from the tension and Scott’s overwhelming presence. No matter what happened to him in Philly, he still had that aura of power about him.

It would suit him well in leading the Rock Ridge Police Department. The power was no longer raw as it was when they were in high school. Instead, it had a greater intensity and focus to it. She got the impression that it would be directed at her for a while. Hopefully he’d find more productive pursuits and leave her alone.

She strode back into his house. He hadn’t moved; he seemed to be lost in thought, waiting on the steps. She handed him the bill.

“I’ll write you a check. I promise it won’t bounce.”

Chapter Five

Kate moved her truck several houses down to Mayor Dudley Stuart’s house. It was by far the largest home on the street—quite possibly the biggest house in Rock Ridge. Dudley considered himself a celebrity, having been elected by a landslide four elections in a row.

Each time he’d won, he added on to the house. The latest addition was just about done, and Dudley had asked Kate to do the final painting. She had a good hand at it and some of her jobs were just for painting, not fixing anything.

Kate found painting therapeutic. The steady brush strokes soothed her. And today she was in need of soothing. Her talk with Scott had unnerved her, and she got the impression that he watched from his front window as she drove to the mayor’s place.

Hopefully he’d be back at his job in no time and they’d both be busy with work. That was what she needed.

The mayor’s wife, Jessica, answered the door when Kate rang the doorbell. She resisted the urge to glance back at Scott’s house. He would be stealthy if he were observing her.

Kate smiled at Jessica.

“Hello, Kate. Come in. Dudley is working from home today, and his office is next to the new addition. I hope he doesn’t mind you working in there.”

“If he does, I can come back tomorrow. My schedule is usually flexible.”

“Well, come in and we’ll talk to him.”

Jessica led her past some of the most garishly decorated rooms she’d ever seen. It was true what they say, money did not buy class. A real estate agent would have a nightmare trying to sell this house. Everything would have to be repainted.

This reminded her that she had to stop in and see some of the town’s real estate agents to remind them that she was available for painting and repairs of their rental properties. Hopefully, she would have time for that after this painting job.

Dudley sat behind a large wooden desk that looked like it had been stolen from the set of a movie. She couldn’t imagine that he’d purchased it from the local furniture store. No, he’d probably had it custom-made. The bottom had woodcarvings in it as if someone had taken a trunk of a tree and made it a square before etching out animals.

Kate tried not to grimace as she looked at it.

“Dudley? Kate is here to paint the addition. Will that disturb you?”

“Not at all,” Dudley said, smiling from under his thin moustache.

He had thinning brown hair and he’d always struck Kate as someone who would be bothered by that. He wore a button-down shirt but no tie and no suit jacket.

“Thanks, Mayor,” Kate said.

Jessica disappeared as Kate unloaded her supplies. The color they’d chosen was a lime green. She wasn’t sure what the room was going to be used for, but it reminded her of a hospital.

She was glad she didn’t have to live with it; she just needed to apply it to the walls.

With drop cloths down, she put tape up around the windows and doorframes. She heard the mayor talking on the phone. She could only hear a muffled voice, not that she was interested in listening. She imagined running a trucking company wasn’t that interesting.

She had forgotten her radio, so she worked in silence punctuated occasionally by the mayor’s phone ringing.

She’d completed one wall with the roller and knew she would have to do a second coat. This job would help her replenish her truck fund. It was too bad she’d have to use the cash for repairs and not to buy a new one.

However, she spent less on repairs than she would on a new car payment, that freed up funds for more important things, like tuition. She would rue the day her truck finally died.

Kate reached a good stopping point and was about to head out to her truck for more paint. Just then, the mayor, whose office door was open, began to talk louder.

“I don’t care what she said before she died. Jackie York was a liar.”

Kate stopped in her tracks. She glanced out the door of the new room, but didn’t see Jessica anywhere. Maybe Kate could listen for a minute undetected.

“I know. I know, but she is no longer a complication now that she’s dead. We can go ahead with things.”

What things? Kate stood very still so the mayor wouldn’t know she was just outside his office door.

“It’s a bonus that Ken thinks the new chief did it. I want Ken in that job. He could be useful to us.”

Useful? In what way? Ken was a good guy. She didn’t see him doing anything but the best job he could for the town. What plans would the mayor have for him?

“Anyway, she’s gone. We might even be getting rid of the new chief and his straight-up ways. Two birds, one stone, you know? Sometimes things work out, and then we’ll all be rich.”

Kate needed to sneeze. Damn. She gripped her nose and the feeling passed, but it was only a matter of time before it came back. She couldn’t listen anymore without being discovered. She strode out of the room as if she hadn’t been standing by the door.

She waved at the mayor as she went by. If she hadn’t heard his conversation, she wouldn’t have noticed that he’d gone a little pale. Not pausing, she kept going. He’d think nothing of it when she came back in with paint cans.

His door was closed when she returned and his voice had quieted. It looked like she wouldn’t get any more information out of him. She couldn’t deny that he’d piqued her curiosity. Mayor Stuart had known Jackie York. In what capacity? Perhaps she had invested money for him.

Maybe Kate needed to do some research on Jackie York and her connections to Rock Ridge. Kate didn’t remember ever meeting her, but if she’d gone to the private school outside of town, they probably never would have crossed paths.

St. Pius was a boarding school for wayward girls. The sign didn’t mention it, but Kate knew it to be that way. Some were pregnant, some had just gone afoul of the law. Though if Jackie had gone to St. Pius, Kate couldn’t imagine what had a cop like Scott would have seen in such a woman.

Kate shrugged.

Truthfully, Scott and his past lovers had nothing to do with her future. She had to stick to the case at hand and leave those thoughts behind. They only served to distract her.

Back to painting, Kate had time to mull over what the mayor had said. Whom had he been talking to? He hadn’t said a name. He’d referred to them all making money. How many people were involved? she wondered.

The conversation brought up more questions than it answered. Finally, Kate finished for the morning. She would let the paint dry overnight. Maybe she’d get to snoop in the mayor’s office if he wasn’t working from home tomorrow.

If Jessica left her alone, she’d get the painting done, and then see if she could find something that revealed the mayor’s relationship to Jackie.

That was a task for tomorrow.

***

Before Kate could leave, Jessica appeared out of nowhere. Even when the woman was at home, she dressed well. Kate always looked like a slob next to her, even with her best dress on.

“I just made a pot of coffee. You want some?”

Maybe Jessica could shine some light on how the mayor knew Jackie. Besides, she had a few minutes before her next job. “Sure, sounds good.”

They sat in a bright kitchen at the back of Jessica’s house. Kate looked around and estimated that they’d easily spent six-figures on their renovations. Granite countertops sat on custom cherry cabinets. It was the only tastefully decorated room she’d seen, and Kate suspected that Jessica had good taste, but her husband did not. He must make the choices since he made the money.

Kate sat at an eight-foot duel-level island. One side was a preparation area. The other side was for eating. The Stuarts didn’t have any kids, and she guessed they rarely ate in the formal dining room.

The coffee smelled almost as good as the cup she’d had at Carly’s shop. This one had come from one of those coffee makers that made only one cup at a time. She sipped from a stoneware mug as Jessica put out a plate of muffins.

“I baked them this morning.”

“They smell delicious.”

Breakfast had been hours ago, and she still had to complete another job before lunch, so Kate dug into it. Moist and fruity. Jessica had a real talent for baking.

“You like?”

“I do. You should go into business.”

Jessica frowned then shook her head. “I don’t think that would work.” She didn’t say anything more on that subject. “So sad about Scott’s wife. Do you think he did it?”

“No, I don’t. Scott’s always been an honest person.”

Despite his bad-boy persona in high school, he never actually broke any rules that she knew of. He’d gone to class and graduated before going off to a state university.

“Of course you wouldn’t think that. You and Scott had a thing in high school.”

If Jessica knew about it, the town must have been talking about it since Scott had returned. Nice to know she’d been part of the gossip. Didn’t anyone realize that had been decades ago? Old news.

“I forget sometimes how small this town is, and that everyone remembers everything you’ve ever done.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a sore subject. I’m not from here, remember?”

“It isn’t a sore subject. I just don’t understand everyone’s fascination with Scott and me. That was high school. We’ve both been married, so I would think people would know we’ve moved on.”

“Right. Still, Jackie did kind of bring trouble onto herself.”

Here was her opening. “Did you know her?”

Jessica blinked and then looked away. “Uh, yeah. I did.”

Despite her obvious discomfort, Kate couldn’t let it go. “How?”

Jessica looked down at her mug, a finger running along the rim. “I went to St. Pius at the same time she did.”

“I thought you weren’t from here?”

“I’m not. My parents sent me to St. Pius when I got pregnant. It was far enough away that no one would know.”

Kate reached out and put a hand on hers. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

She’d forgotten how easily people talked to her. Jessica might open up more if she prompted her.

“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen door. “Greg was helping me look for the son I gave up for adoption.”

“Greg? As in my Greg?”

What expertise did her husband, a professor at the local community college, have to help her find her son?

“Uh, yes. I guess he didn’t mention it. Never mind… I haven’t found him yet, but I’m afraid that Dudley doesn’t want me to look.”

“My husband was helping?”

Greg hadn’t mentioned it, but he might have been sparing Jessica’s feelings. She thought that they’d shared everything. Why would Greg have taken on that task? What did teaching Middle Eastern Studies have to do with finding children given up for adoption?

“Yes, Kate. I happened to run into him at the college’s library. He just pointed me in the right direction. He gave me pointers on doing research.”

Hmm. There was something that Jessica wasn’t telling her, but she chose not to press it. None of it would bring Greg back. Instead, she needed to focus on Jackie.

“So you knew Jackie from St. Pius. You stayed here after high school?” Kate asked.

“Yes, I liked this area and I attend the community college. I met Dudley not long after. We fell in love and the rest is history.”

She smiled then, but it didn’t reach her eyes. How sad it must be not to know where her child was. Kate had been having a hard enough time adjusting to her twins being away from home. She couldn’t imagine…

Back to Jackie. Stay focused.

“Did your husband know Jackie?”

“Yes, he did. Not well, I don’t think. Some business deal of his.”

“What did she do for a living?”

That might be key to her murder.

“She was a real estate developer, I think. She’d made a good living, and from what I heard, Scott didn’t pay her alimony. She refused it.”

How interesting. Yet another reason why Scott would not have killed her. Each time Kate talked to someone, she had more questions than answers.

“That rich?”

“Yes, that rich,” Jessica said. “She was pretty high-powered in the Philadelphia circles. We didn’t hear about her out in the sticks. I haven’t really kept in touch with her other than maybe a political gathering with Dudley. We crossed paths at those.”

Kate wondered if politics might have been involved. After all, this was Pennsylvania. The corruption and lawlessness in the state made the Sopranos of New Jersey look like a glee club. Or so she’d been led to believe.

“I didn’t know Dudley was that connected.”

“He’s trying to be, but I’m not sure why. He doesn’t always share everything with me.”

She put a hand over her mouth as if she said too much. Kate chose to ignore it and put her out of her discomfort.

If Dudley was connected to the state political machine, Kate reckoned, perhaps he had higher aspirations than being a small-town mayor. On the other hand, maybe those connections were just useful for his business. Not that she knew how those connections would benefit a trucking company.

“Was that how he met Jackie?”

“Yes. When he found out that I had known her, he had me introduce them at a party. I wasn’t privy to their conversation, but he had begun arranging deals with her lately. I guess real estate deals. I let Dudley handle the financials.”

Hopefully, for Jessica’s sake, Dudley wasn’t involved in anything shady. The wife was the last to know.

Kate thought that might explain Greg’s disappearance. And she’d be the last to know the truth about his life. She hadn’t thought anything sinister at the time, but the more years that passed the more she assumed he’d met a bad end at the hands of someone else.

“Several people in town have done deals with Jackie. Ken, from the police department, did also.” Jessica added.

Interesting, thought Kate.

Chapter Six

Kate had to stop by the Rock Ridge Municipal Complex to check on a permit to do some work. She didn’t expect it to be done, but she could hope. Rock Ridge was notoriously slow with issuing permits in a failed attempt to slow down growth of the town.

Maybe someone needed to rein in the planning and zoning boards. They kept approving developments and the building department did their best to stall the actual building of them. Several developers had brought lawsuits again the town.

Knowing what her tax bill was, Kate didn’t think that the town was spending its money wisely.

The building bustled with kids coming out of the library. They were all fresh-faced and eager to run around outside. The town had built a playground outside for that purpose.

Once past the library, Kate took a right down the hallway for the building department. She would get her permit, and then talk to Ken about Jackie. He wouldn’t be happy, but she wanted him to know that he wasn’t going to just accuse Scott and get away with it.

Kate waited for one customer in front of her who was trying to build a deck on her property. A job someone else had gotten. Oh well, I can’t fix the whole town. Besides, she had plenty of work to keep her busy without running herself ragged.

She began planning her lunch break to kill time. Finally, it was Kate’s turn.

She smiled because a little good will went a long way. Bobbie Hamden gave her a harried smile in return. Bobbie had been two grades ahead of her boys. She’d attended the community college then snagged a job working for the city. It was a coveted position with good benefits and paid holidays.

“Your permit still isn’t ready. Not sure what the holdup is,” Bobbie said.

“That’s not good. I’d like to get started on that project. It’ll bring in some good money.”

“I know. I promise I’ll put it at the top of the pile, today.”

“Thanks, Bobbie.”

Kate walked away, hoping the permit would be there tomorrow. She didn’t want to begin work until she had it in her hands. It was difficult to say what was causing the snag. Sometimes they wanted different plans than she sketched up. Other times she’d planned on replacing a structure that was there with the same thing, but in the interval between when the item had first been installed and the upgrade, the code had changed.

Most of the services she performed didn’t require a permit, thankfully. It made her job easier.

The police station connected to the Municipal Building via a glass corridor. The sun was out now and the clouds had gone away. Coincidentally, Ken walked out of the police station into the hallway as she entered. She figured he had parked his car out this way, and she was thankful to run into him.

“Ken.”

“Kate.”

He eyed her suspiciously. Perhaps someone told him that she was asking around about the murder. He might be mad, but she hadn’t done anything illegal.

“Just the man I wanted to talk to.”

“I have no news. The coroner’s office is backed up and won’t get to the autopsy until tomorrow. Not that this is any of your business.”

He looked harried and his hair was out of place. He didn’t hold his usual casual posture. Maybe the investigation was a strain on him already. Or perhaps he was feeling guilty for arresting Scott.

Either way, he didn’t look good.

That wasn’t going to stop Kate from asking questions. She wasn’t going to let anything stand between her and the truth.

“I heard, Ken, that you knew the deceased.”

He flinched. If she hadn’t been watching him, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything. I also fail to see what business it is of yours.”

He was angry now. For some reason, Jackie York was a sore spot. For not living in Rock Ridge, she’d known a lot of people here. Maybe her deals with the mayor had connected her to the rest of the town.

“I heard something about a deal gone bad?”

His eyes fell closed momentarily. He sighed. “It’s none of your business, Kate. I can arrest you for obstructing justice.”

“How am I obstructing justice? I’m asking you some questions.”

He frowned at her. “I don’t like your tone.”

“Tough. You may be following a path that will put the wrong person in jail. And I have to say, I don’t like that.”

He stood a little straighter. “First off, I’m following all of the leads. Secondly, I don’t have any reason to falsely accuse the chief.”

“No? Didn’t he get the job you wanted?”

Ken frowned. She’d held her breath thinking she might have pushed him too far.

His tone didn’t have any anger in it. “I’m acting chief and I’ll be glad to give it up. I should be retiring anyway.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because my 401K says I can’t yet.”

It made sense, but he should have a police pension. His financial matters were not her concern, it was true. Except if they impacted this case.

“How did you know Jackie?”

Ken frowned and crossed his arms. “You aren’t going to let this go?”

“Nope.”

“You were always that way. Sometimes Carly complained about it.”

Kate had no doubt that Carly had complained about her tenacity. She’d been jealous, and Carly didn’t like to be badgered any more than her father did. Kate could be like a Chihuahua that hung on to something out of pure stubbornness.

“So just tell me. You know I have other ways of finding out. I know your whole family.”

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone? Stop playing Nancy Drew?”

“I prefer to think of myself as Stephanie Plum, but no, I won’t stop.”

He sighed. “A couple of us invested in some property with Jackie. It turned out to be a bad investment as the economy tanked. I lost a lot of my retirement money.”

“That would make you want to kill her, wouldn’t it?”

“I was pissed, and so was Celia, but I wouldn’t kill anyone over it.”

“Who else was involved?”

“That is none of your business, Kate. I’ve told you enough already.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not going to let this go.”

“You still have a thing for Scott? Didn’t he break your heart?”

“Holy moly. That was high school. We were kids. No, I don’t have a thing for Scott. I just don’t want to see anyone falsely accused.”

Ken snorted as if he didn’t believe her. Whatever. She wasn’t going to explain her relationship with Scott to anyone because there wasn’t one. She worked on his house, and that’s where it ended since he paid her today.

“The deal with Jackie was a few years ago. It didn’t set me back too many years. I’ll just have to work longer until retirement.”

“You aren’t upset about that?”

“No, and I have an alibi. None of which is your business. Now, I need to go, Kate. Is the interrogation done?”

“Done for now.”

He gave her a stern, fatherly look. Once upon a time she’d have been scared of that look. No longer. She was an adult now. Not a teenager who had done something wrong.

“Make it done for good. You need to keep out of this. It is a police investigation.”

“People talk to me, Ken. I’m like a bartender.”

“If they say something about the case, you need to tell me.”

She pondered that. “Yes, I guess I do. You are the lead investigating officer, correct?”

“Yes, I am. We’re overextended because there hasn’t been a murder in Rock Ridge in decades.”

“You calling in help?”

How ironic that the one person that could help them is the person that stands accused. Homicide had been Scott’s department in Philadelphia.

“None of your business. I’m going now, Kate. Goodbye.”

He left her standing in the hall. Still, Kate had a little more information, and now she wanted to know who had lost money because of Jackie’s deal. Maybe Scott knew. Was he married to her then?

The list of suspects just got longer. Too bad she didn’t know exactly who was on that list. She would ask Scott. She did need to put another coat on that wall. It hadn’t been dry when she left.

Even if he did know, would he tell her? She frowned. She drove to the bank pondering what Ken had said. If people had lost savings because of Jackie, they would be mad. But who would have access to Scott’s house that was on that list?

Ken might. Who else? Kate had to admit she was more puzzled than ever. If she got that list, she’d have some idea who to talk to. Maybe the mayor had invested, but he just put that addition on his house. He couldn’t be hurting for money.

It made sense to plant Jackie’s body in Scott’s house, but Kate didn’t know if Jackie had actually been killed where she’d been found. That was another question for Scott.

Once at the bank, she deposited the check Scott had given her earlier. She debated seeing Scott again so soon. He might try to talk her into dinner.

Maybe she should eat with him to pick his brain. That decided, she climbed into her truck.

***

Kate paused in front of Scott’s door. She heard the chords of an electric guitar. Guess he’s been jamming. For a moment, she was transported back to high school. Besides his souped-up car and black leather jacket, Kate had also been drawn to Scott because he had played guitar. His cool factor was high, and as an awkward high schooler, that had appealed to her. She’d always wondered what it was about her that had attracted him.

She listened for a moment. She wasn’t musical. She couldn’t sing or play an instrument, so Kate was always impressed when someone could do either or both. Putting a hand on his door, she took in the passion with which he played.

It came through even though she stood outside. She absorbed the notes even if she didn’t recognize the song. Some part of her had missed that sort of passion—that sort of connection to someone else.

Her husband hadn’t been musical, either. He could play guitar, but not with the same mastery. Damn.

She had to stop waxing sentimental whenever Scott was around. She had a job to finish.

She rang the doorbell and the music cut off abruptly. A moment later, Scott opened the door. He wore cutoffs, a T-shirt and a broad grin. His feet were bare. How did he dress so casually and look so good? Damn him.

“Hey.”

“Hi, I just wanted to check on that spot to see if it needed a second coat.”

He stepped back, letting her in.

She eyed her handiwork. She couldn’t even tell where she’d done the patch. “No second coat needed.”

“You want to stay for dinner?”

She looked up at him, his soft brown eyes pleading with her. This was a gentler side of him. As a teen he’d been in command. Not that she’d let him roll over her, but if she didn’t care, then he would choose. He’d been in charge in bed, but he was good at it so she let him.

She sighed. “Only because I know my cupboard is bare will I agree.”

The twinkle returned to his eyes as another grin broke out on his face. “Not my sparkling personality?”

“Sorry, it’s your full refrigerator. And I have some questions.”

“I’ll take it. Follow me.”

He led her back to the kitchen where she’d found the body. For a moment, she hesitated on the threshold. She could still see the woman’s dead eyes staring up at her.

“Why don’t you go out on the deck? I’ll bring you a beer.”

She nodded. When she was settled into a lawn chair, Scott brought her a beer. He touched his bottle to hers. She sipped the amber liquid. It cut the dust in her throat.

Scott sat on a chair next to her. His yard was wild, with random shrubs growing and weeds in all of the beds.

“I haven’t figured out what I want to do with the yard. Didn’t think I’d have time once I started the job,” he said.

“It takes time to get a new house in order. I bet your office is in order, because that was more important,” she said.

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer. She watched him swallow then looked away. No mooning over Scott. This is business.

“How long were you and Jackie divorced?”

“Five years.”

“Did you even know she was in Rock Ridge?”

“No. We haven’t really communicated since we signed the papers. I had no reason to talk to her. We no longer had a connection: no kids to quibble over; the property she had brought to the marriage.”

“So you lived on your own the past five years?”

He smiled. “Yes, on my own. It was refreshing after life with Jackie. She was high-powered and successful. Always on the phone. Always looking for the next big deal.”

“Which leads me to the fact that several people in town made a deal with her that went south. It was around the time of your divorce it would seem. Do you think that deal might have led to her death.”

Scott’s smile dimmed. “Here I thought you were asking me about Jackie because you were making sure I had no feelings for her. Instead, you’re investigating this murder even though I warned you to stay away.”

“I can’t. I have it in my brain that I need to do this. It gives me something to occupy my mind.”

“I’ve offered to be what occupies you, and your brain,” Scott said. He looked her over. “And your body.”

She pointed to the white line where her wedding ring usually sat. “I don’t wear it when I’m working for safety reasons, but I’m still married, Scott.”

“To a man who left you with no note? Fell off the face of the earth one day?”

So he had read the report. She wasn’t surprised. She leaned her head on the back of the chair. “I’ve received no divorce papers. No sightings of him anywhere. No body either. Until one of those things happens, I am still married.”

“You can declare him legally dead.”

“That takes seven years. It’s only been five.”

“So you’re going to wait for the seven years and live your life as if you’re married, instead of petitioning the court to do it sooner?” Scott said.

She waved a hand. “You have made it clear you have a personal interest in this case. You don’t have any credibility in this matter.”

“Then let me look for him.”

She glanced over at him. He was so cocky. “Why do you think that you can find him when everyone else has failed thus far?”

And she did mean everyone. She’d looked. The cops had looked. The FBI had looked. She’d even hired a professional investigator who found nothing. Greg Flaherty might as well have never existed. He no longer had a footprint on this planet.

“Because I have that personal interest.”

“I don’t get it, Scott. We were together years ago. Why am I so important?”

He glanced down at his beer, the first sign of insecurity he’d shown her. “You just are. Let me look for him.”

“Fine. Do what you want. I won’t stand in your way. What will you do if you find him alive?”

“I think the bigger question is: what will you do?”

She snorted. “You won’t find him.”

“We’ll see about that. What will I do? Make him give you a proper divorce so you can move on.”

“Doesn’t guarantee that I’ll move on with you,” she said.

He sipped his beer, and then said, “I’ll take my chances.”

Not to be distracted, she went back to the topic she wanted to discuss. “Back to Jackie. Do you know who went in on that deal with her?”

He sighed. “You really aren’t going to let this go.”

“Nope, so you might as well help me.”

“I can’t as long as I am chief. But you should tell me about anything you find out.”

“Of course, I will.”

She might tell Scott but she probably wouldn’t tell Ken. He had his mind set already.

“I can probably find out who was in on that deal, but I wasn’t part of it. She did that deal when we were in the midst of the divorce.”

“Did she lose a lot of money?” Kate asked.

Kate was sure that the key to Jackie’s murder was a bad business deal. If someone had lost their savings, they’d be livid. That might have been the first opportunity the murderer had to be with her alone. And they could have been taking advantage of a small town police force that had little experience with investigating a murder.

In the big city, they would have a greater risk of being discovered, but not in Rock Ridge—a town that usually brought in the state police for the bigger crimes, and by the time they arrived, the scene could be compromised. This led Kate to the matter of why Ken hadn’t brought them in. Or maybe he had, and he just hadn’t told her.

“Probably, but Jackie was like a cat. She always landed on her feet,” Scott answered.

Kate mulled that over. Maybe Jackie had in the past, but she’d pissed someone off enough to kill her.

Her nine lives had run out.

Chapter Seven

Kate’s first job of the day was to return to the mayor’s house. She had to put a second coat on the new addition. She also wanted to snoop in his office to see if she could find out who had lost money in that bad deal with Jackie.

She was convinced that was the reason for Jackie’s murder. Since she was having no luck figuring out who could have had opportunity, she chose to focus on who had motive and then work backwards.

Jessica was dressed in slacks and a blouse when Kate arrived. The mayor’s wife was visible and involved in many things, so Kate assumed she had to look good. Her appearance and behavior reflected on the mayor.

It seemed to be working as he kept getting reelected. Jessica had the perfect temperament for a politician’s wife. She was lovely, but not enticing, congenial, but not a pushover. She could make anyone feel at ease.

“Oh, you’re here today?” Jessica said, letting her in. “I have a meeting for my charity association in half an hour. If I gave you the key, would you lock the door when you go out? You can leave the key in the mailbox.”

Not safe, but whatever Jessica wanted. “Sure, I’ll just need payment before I go.”

“Do you take credit cards?”

That was next on her business agenda. “Not yet. I’m working on that swiping thing for my phone, but it hasn’t come through yet.”

Jessica bit her lip. “Okay, I’ll write you a check before I go.”

Kate unloaded her truck and set to work painting. With Jessica out of the house, she could snoop in Dudley’s office. It went against her ethics as a tradesperson entering a home, but she considered these desperate times. Ken probably hadn’t even interviewed the mayor since they were buddies from way back.

Kate poured the lime-green paint into a tray with a liner. It meant easier cleanup at the end. The color still made her cringe, but this wasn’t her house. She used a small roller around the edges then the big roller to fill in. She’d opened a window and a breeze blew in, meaning the paint would dry quickly.

She never liked painting in the summer unless the client had air conditioning. Otherwise, the humidity in the outside air slowed down the drying process.

Jessica showed up when Kate was halfway through the first wall. She had a pen and a check in her hand. “How much do I owe you?”

Kate rested the roller in the pan, wiped her hands, and then fished into her toolbox for the invoice she’d written up. She handed it to Jessica and the woman studied it then wrote the check, leaning against one of the unpainted walls.

Kate jammed the check into her back pocket, mentally calculating how the check would be divided to meet her growing expenses. Some would go to repair her truck. She’d get one thing done on it and hopefully that would help her poor vehicle limp along for another few months.

“I’m going out. The key is on the table by the front door. Thanks for locking up after yourself.”

Kate nodded then went back to work. She heard the garage door open, then close. She finished the rest of the walls. She expected they wouldn’t need a third coat.

The painting done, she left her stuff in the room in case there was any question of why she was still in the house.

The mayor’s office wasn’t locked. Kate’s heart fluttered. She’d always been the good girl: she rarely went over the speed limit, she hadn’t cheated on her husband, and she didn’t even pull the tag off her mattress until it had passed the warranty period.

The craziest thing she’d done in her life was have sex in Scott’s car when they were teens. Even then she’d felt a little remorse about it.

Standing in that office, Kate knew she was crossing a line, but this was important. She’d taught her sons that the end didn’t justify the means, and she was now glad they couldn’t see where she was.

Enough remorse. She could beat herself up later. She opened all the drawers in the mayor’s desk and didn’t find anything. She then turned to the file cabinet behind her. Most of the files were for his business, but one, way in the back, had a familiar name on it.

She tugged out the folder marked” Jackie York.” Before she could open it, however, she heard the garage door again. “Crap.”

She closed up the folder and only debated for a second. She left the office with it, closing the door behind her. She tucked it into her toolbox, and then began her clean-up procedures. She was pouring paint back into the can when Jessica swung by.

“Forgot something,” she said, breezing past the room.

Kate hoped Jessica would be gone before she had to leave, so she could peruse the file and put it back. No such luck.

Kate left the mayor’s house with the folder in her toolbox. Her gaze darted around as she drove to her next job. She was becoming paranoid that someone knew she had stolen something. She drove slower than usual, careful not to break any laws.

All she wanted to do was read the file and then return it. She bit her lip as she drove down Main Street, worrying about how she was going to return it. She had no reason to get back into the mayor’s house.

She parked her truck at her next job, a shutter repair. It had fallen off the house in a recent storm. Kate would go around and make sure all of the shutters were secure before she left.

The homeowner, Hazel Millhouse, knocked on her window. She was a sweet older lady whose husband had passed away a year before. He’d been handy, but had been getting up in years when he died.

Kate figured Hazel had her on speed dial. It seemed as if she fixed something at Hazel’s house once a week. The woman was probably her best customer.

“You okay?” Hazel said.

Kate opened her door as Hazel’s little dog yipped at their feet. She bent down to scratch the dog under the chin. “I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Right, what with Scott being accused of murder and all.”

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why is everyone so sure Scott and I are an item?

“Something like that.”

The folder called to her, but this woman was a priority. She might even have Kate change a light bulb or two while she was here. A visit to Hazel’s house was never a quick one.

“Let me get to that shutter.”

“It’s around front.”

The shutters were painted a dark green and probably could use a fresh coat or two of paint. Hazel had a fixed income, so Kate didn’t suggest it. She wasn’t going to gouge the sweet old woman.

This was a good karma job. She never charged her much, and in fact, Kate would lose money on this transaction, but she gained good karma points for helping out an old lady. It all balanced out in the end.

The shutter only needed some new screws. Kate had just bought some that wouldn’t rust, so she replaced the screws on all of the shutters as Hazel talked about her hip that needed to be replaced.

“What is wrong with Rock Ridge that we have a murder? I locked my house last night. Haven’t done that in years. Not since there had been a string of burglaries on the street. Ended up being kids.”

“I remember that. Yes, Greg had put another lock on our door, too.”

Well, actually she’d done it, but Greg had insisted that it be done.

“Oh. I’m so sorry about your husband, Kate. Any news?”

Most of the town skirted around the issue with her. Hazel wasn’t that way. “Nothing. No trace of him.”

“You need to move on with your life, Kate. You deserve to be happy.”

“That’s sweet, Hazel. Thank you.”

For the rest of the conversation, Kate murmured at the appropriate times, but her mind was on that file. Of all the people the mayor dealt with in his jobs, why would he have a specific file only for her?

It would probably make sense when she read it.

***

Kate had just pulled into her driveway when Scott called. Her house sat at the end of a winding driveway in a clearing among trees. Since she didn’t like to talk as she drove, she stopped the truck at the foot of the drive.

Kate had wanted to live closer to town so the boys had playmates in the neighborhood. Greg had insisted he liked being out in the country. He wanted the boys to be able to hike and fish with no one to bother them. Greg had won that argument in the end.

As it turned out, her boys never cared for hiking or fishing, but they’d never moved out of this house. Kate wasn’t ready to move from the home she had made for them. She didn’t want Greg to come back and find them gone.

“Hello.”

What flirting will he try tonight? Kate worried that fatigue might cause her to fall for his charms even though she’d made it clear the other night that they were friends and nothing more.

“Kate, good news.”

“You’ve found the love of your life and you’re going to stop flirting with me?”

He chuckled. Any other man would be insulted. Not Scott. He was too sure of himself. “Funny. No, the autopsy came back. I have an alibi for the time of death. Not only do I have an alibi, but those who saw me were cops.”

“It doesn’t get any better than that. So you go back to work tomorrow?”

“Yep, and I can stop climbing the walls. You want to come by and help me celebrate?”

“No can do. I have a date with a bathtub and a glass of wine.”

“I could join you in both of those things,” he said.

She sighed. He was incorrigible. “We talked about this, Scott. We agreed.”

“You talked. I listened. I never agreed.”

Now that she thought about the conversation, he hadn’t agreed. Damn him. He’d made it sound like he was agreeing, but he wasn’t.

Then she had a thought. Carly was probably the last person to see Jackie alive. She might have information that she had no idea was important.

“I have to go, Scott.”

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I can try.”

He was chuckling as she hung up. She drove her truck the rest of the way down her driveway, getting that warm, safe feeling once her house came into view. It wasn’t a big house. It had two stories and four bedrooms. The first floor had a kitchen that she and Greg had renovated not long before he disappeared. They both liked to cook so they’d splurged.

Still sitting in the truck, Kate called Carly.

“Hey, girl,” Carly said. “I was just thinking about you.”

“How would you like to come over for dinner?”

If she plied Carly with wine, she might remember something.

“That sounds great. I’m ready to get out of this apartment. I’d love to come over. I’ll bring dessert.”

“Sounds good. I need an hour.”

An hour later, Kate had showered and had a salad made when Carly knocked and then entered. They had that kind of friendship. They each knew the layout of the other’s kitchen and could just walk into each other’s places.

Kate pulled a chilled bottle of chardonnay out of the refrigerator and poured two glasses.

“I heard Scott’s off the hook,” Carly said.

“The grapevine in this town never ceases to amaze me.”

Carly laughed as she took a sip of some wine. “I’m surprised you aren’t celebrating with Scott.”

“He asked.”

She leaned on her granite countertop. All she had to do was grill some chicken to top the salad and they’d have dinner. She’d picked up some fresh vegetables the day before from the farmer’s market.

“Then why are you here with me? That man wants you so badly.”

“How do you know?”

Carly sighed. “When he sees you on the street, he stares at you as if the sun rose and set with you.”

“When?”

“Oh, Kate. He is usually on his way to work when you’re coming out of the hardware store. I have a great view of that part of Main Street.”

“He hasn’t been in town that long.”

“Still.”

Kate waved a hand. “I’m still a married woman.”

“You know my theory on where Greg is, and he’s not keeping his wedding vows.”

Kate didn’t want to go down that road. She’d invited Carly over to talk about Jackie, not Scott.

“So since Scott is cleared and I’m cleared, you were the last person to see her alive. Have you remembered anything else about that day?”

“I’m not a suspect, am I?”

“Did you have a reason to kill someone who is a perfect stranger to you?”

“Not perfect. I hadn’t met her, but my dad had some dealings with her. He wasn’t a fan, but you know my dad. He doesn’t really get mad. He probably had more reason to kill her than I did. What he lost in her deal had no effect on me. I turned down the opportunity. Glad I did.”

“In hindsight, it was a good decision.”

“The shop wasn’t doing well at that moment, so I didn’t have any cash to spare,” Carly said.

“You said you saw Larry’s chief’s truck there?”

“Yes.”

Celia had said the same thing. Kate couldn’t figure out if that was significant, but she’d ask Larry next time she saw him. He’d been absent from her life for a few days. Odd for him, but with Scott badgering her, she welcomed the relief of not fending off two men.

First world problems, for sure.

“I don’t remember any houses for sale near Scott’s.”

“Maybe he was just checking something for someone. You know Larry. He’s a good guy. Takes his work as fire chief seriously.”

“That might be.”

That explanation didn’t sit right with Kate. She didn’t know why, though. She couldn’t imagine Larry hurting a fly. He’d been sweet and patient with her. He wasn’t pushy and demanding like Scott. He was nothing like Scott.

Where Scott was all ego and charm, Larry was gentle and loving. If she had to make a choice, it should be Larry. He’d treat her like a queen, no doubt.

Sadly, Larry didn’t get her motor running.

But it didn’t matter. She was still married. She couldn’t forget that. She had two sons to be a role model for. Sons that she’d raised to do the right thing, which was what she was doing.

“So, Jackie looked okay when you saw her?”

“She wasn’t staggering, just walking on those impossibly high heels that some women can maneuver on.”

“I’m not one of them,” Kate said. A kitten heel was enough for her.

Carly sipped her wine. “Why don’t you let the cops figure all of this out?”

“Spoken like a cop’s daughter,” Kate said.

“Well, if my dad said it to you, then he had a point.”

“Did he bring in the state cops?”

“He did. I wonder if Scott is going to send them away since he was a homicide detective in Philly.”

I really couldn’t say; I’m doing my best to avoid Scott,” Kate said.

Carly laughed. “How is that working for you?”

“Not so well, I’m afraid.”

Chapter Eight

Kate and Carly had eaten in silence for a few minutes—the silence of a long friendship.

“Do you have feelings for Scott?” Carly said finally.

“I don’t. I still love Greg.”

Or do I? She didn’t really know. She’d gone through the stages of grief since he’d left, but she wasn’t sure she’d completely gotten over him.

“Even though he left you? Even though you have no idea where he is? Aren’t you mad at him? He should have been here to raise your boys with you.”

They’d had this conversation more than once, and Kate was too tired for it tonight. “Carly, he’s my husband. I vowed to love and honor him.”

“He isn’t loving and honoring you.”

“Maybe he died somewhere, and his body hasn’t been found.”

“This part of Pennsylvania isn’t that remote.”

That was a good point, and as far as Kate knew, Greg had been on his way home from work when he disappeared. He had to pass through town and not on any country roads until right before the house. His car had not been found.

On the other hand, there were game lands on the edge of town. Someone could die out there and never be found. How would she feel if she found out that Greg had been nearby all this time? She didn’t know.

“I’m really not up for this conversation tonight, Carls”—a nickname she’d used for her friend when they were kids.

Carly sighed. “Fine, but I think you have two fine men after you, and you should take advantage of the opportunities. I can’t get one man to look at me and I’m single.”

Carly left, and Kate was finally able to look at the folder she’d taken from the mayor’s file cabinet. No one had shown up on her doorstep demanding it back, so Dudley wasn’t aware it was gone yet.

Or he was, but he wasn’t willing to admit that he had such a file.

She poured herself some more wine and sat out on her back deck. The light was waning; she lit a candle so she could see the folder. It worked, sort of.

That only lasted a few minutes before she had to go inside. The mosquitos were eating her alive.

Sitting on her large chair in the living room, she curled her legs under her and set out to read what notes the mayor had taken.

It appeared that he’d been doing business with Jackie for some time. He must have mistrusted her; otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept this file. If you thought the person you did business with was honest, you had no reason to keep such a detailed file on that person.

He had names and dates. And he had transaction records, but no account numbers.

She’d made him a lot of money over the years.

Jackie York was worth more to the mayor alive than she was dead. He was no longer a suspect in her mind. Still, she had the folder. She might as well look at it. Maybe she’d get some tips on investing money if she ever had any extra cash.

She snorted at that idea. Her profits went either to her sons or back into her business. They’d bought the house for cash. She’d questioned how they had that kind of money, but Greg explained that he’d been saving it up since college.

A professor didn’t make that much money, even a single one living frugally. She should have questioned him. Now, everything he did and said to her was suspect. She began to wonder if he’d even loved her.

She shook off those morose thoughts. She had to concentrate on finding a killer. Let Scott try to find her lost husband. Not that she expected the police chief to make any more progress than anyone else—even if he did have a personal reason for wanting to find Greg.

Her thoughts veered to Scott, but she didn’t want to go there. He was a fly in her ointment. His persistence was unnerving. There was nothing special about her, she wasn’t some supermodel—she was just Kate.

She sighed. The mayor had noted lots of dollar amounts, but none of them meant much to Kate. Still, she read on.

Then she discovered that Clark Stadt, owner of Grayson’s hardware, had once been an investment banker in Philadelphia. Hmm.

Kate booted up her laptop, waiting for the cranky machine to start. She needed to replace that, too, but there were tuition bills to deal with first. And truck repairs.

Finally, she was able to open a search engine and put in Clark Stadt’s name. He had been a banker as Dudley’s file had indicated. He worked with investors, and he had worked closely with Jackie York. Kate stopped on the picture of Jackie. She was very attractive and didn’t dress conservatively at all.

What had Scott seen in her? Perhaps he was attracted by her beauty, or maybe her business success. Such an odd combination they must have been. A cop and someone as high-powered as Jackie seemed to be.

Oh well.

She’d never figure out men. Ever. Two men were pursuing her and she was unavailable, while no one seemed to want Carly who was available and not bitter from her divorce.

As she read on and found more articles, she realized that Clark’s career had crashed and burned. He’d given advice to many of his clients to invest in a project of Jackie’s. It must have been the one that failed.

Many people invested their life savings and that was never a good idea. Nothing was a sure thing.

Clark had been forced out of his position with the bank as a result.

“Not only had he lost money, but he lost other people’s money. And he lost his career as well. That must have made him bitter.”

In all of her dealings with Clark, he’d never come across as anything but affable and likeable. He had great knowledge of his hardware store and had taught her many things to help her with her business.

She never would have guessed that he’d had such a spectacular downfall before he came to Rock Ridge. He probably moved here because of Larry, who had settled here with his wife years ago.

Larry’s wife had died and his father stayed.

Now the two bachelors lived in a townhouse not far from here.

Clark would have a very good reason to kill Jackie for revenge, but that had happened years ago. Why kill her now? Had he just not had a chance?

It seemed strange and at odds with the man who had been so good to her when she started her business. He’d been kind and had extended her credit. She couldn’t see him hurting a fly. He was an older version of Larry.

She pondered this as she brushed her teeth. Was it important enough to tell Scott? She wouldn’t bother him now—maybe in the morning.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and had a very rare pity party. She knew she wasn’t the beauty she’d once been, but had she not been enough for her husband? Had she changed so much that he had to run away?

If that were the case, he could have just divorced her. She thought back to those days and weeks before he disappeared. She hadn’t seen any sign that he was cheating. In fact, he seemed to have a renewed interest in her.

They’d made love more. He would call her during the day once in a while. He’d been more affectionate than usual. In fact, it might have been one of the best years of their marriage.

And then he was gone…without a trace. No note. No phone call. He’d texted her that he was leaving the campus late. That was the last time he’d gotten in touch with her. His phone had been disconnected later that night.

She sighed. Maybe she just needed to go to bed and start fresh in the morning.

***

When Kate woke the next morning she was refreshed. Her pity party of the night prior was gone from her mind. The birds sang as she lay in her queen-sized bed. If only they did housework.

She didn’t have a job until later in the morning, so she put some laundry in to wash. She wiped down her kitchen and vacuumed what little carpeting she had. Feeling energized, she left the house. She whistled as she walked to her truck.

Before she climbed in, she saw a piece of paper on her windshield. Odd.

She took it off and read it:

Stop investigating or you’ll be sorry.

She looked around. Like the person would still be here.

She dragged out her phone and called Scott.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he answered.

“I walked outside this morning to find a note on my truck.”

“A love letter from another man?”

Of course he’d think that. Not that he would be jealous or worried or any such thing. He was too confident in his abilities. “No, one telling me to drop my investigation.”

“Get back in the house. Lock the doors. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I have a job to go to.”

“Postpone it. I don’t want you to do anything until I get there,” he said.

He disconnected. Great, a knight in shining armor. She glanced around one more time, feeling more creeped out after Scott’s reaction. She raced into the house and locked all of her doors. Something she rarely did.

Scott arrived a few minutes later. He must have been on his way to work and not at home. He knocked on her door and she opened it. He wore a suit jacket, but his tie was untied and resting around his neck.

He came in and locked the door behind him. “Show me the note.”

She did as he asked. “Do you have a paper bag?”

She retrieved one from the kitchen. He slid the note into it.

“You didn’t hear anything last night? Nothing unusual?”

“No. I sleep soundly. I don’t often have trouble sleeping. I work pretty hard during the day.”

“Did you notice anything strange when you were out and about yesterday?”

She went through her day, but she couldn’t recall anything. It was as routine a day as she’d ever had. “No, I didn’t, but I’ve never had the need to be that observant.”

He sighed. “I think you’re in danger because of your snooping, Katydid. This might be nothing, or it might be something real. I don’t want you to be out here by yourself.”

She crossed her arms. “You volunteering to move in? How convenient.”

He held her arms. “Kate, this is serious. Jackie was murdered. You might be getting close. Too close for someone’s comfort.”

“I have a security system.”

“It didn’t work last night.”

She looked away before she said, “It wasn’t on.”

He stared at her for a moment. He was going to scold her. Then he sighed. “You have a security system and you don’t use it?

She waved her hand. “I forget to turn it on. Greg had it put in when we moved here. Seemed like overkill. We live in Central PA.”

He looked at her as if he had to explain something to a child. “There are gangs in York. There are gangs in Hazelton. There are drugs throughout the state. And that doesn’t even include our corrupt politicians. This place isn’t as safe as you think. Show me the system.”

She led him to the panel in the kitchen. It was just inside the door to the garage. She searched her brain to see if she remembered the code. Greg had made it something obscure so she’d taken some time to memorize it. He’d insisted that any date that was significant shouldn’t be used as someone could figure it out.

“Why here? You don’t park your truck in the garage.”

How does he know that? A question for later. “When the system was installed, I used a car only. My kids were little. The truck is a recent addition to my vehicle lineup.”

He pulled out his phone. He dialed the number on the side of the panel that connected him to the company that monitored her security system.

“This is Chief Scott York of the Rock Ridge Police Department. I need the specs of the security system with this serial number.” He gave the man the number on the panel. “Okay, okay, there’s no need for a warrant? Please just send the information to the e-mail of the homeowner that you have on file.”

He nodded. “Okay. I don’t have it. You should have it in her file.” He murmured a few more times then hung up. “Go look in your e-mail. Can you print me out the specs?”

God, he is demanding. Overbearing even. This was Scott in cop mode and he wasn’t charming at all. She’d just wanted him to take the note and let her get to work.

She had her computer off, so they had to wait until it booted up. “Coffee while we wait?”

“You need a new computer.”

“I need a new truck, too. But tuition has to happen before that.”

She sat in her big chair, and he sat on the arm. Her computer was balanced on her lap.

He looked over her shoulder. “I don’t need any coffee, thanks,” he said.

She could smell his masculine scent. It unnerved her how good he smelled. Finally, the computer was ready. She checked her e-mail and, sure enough, she had one from the security company. She had three e-mails in her inbox. Two of them pertained to work.

“Can you print that out?”

“No. My printer is out of ink.”

“You’re killing me here, Katydid. At least open the PDF so I can look at it.”

She did and he took the computer from her. His eyes went back and forth scanning the words. He grunted a few times.

“Does it meet with your approval?”

“Well, Kate, I don’t know what your husband was into, but you have a state-of-the-art security system. One that the average homeowner wouldn’t need or use. No, this one shows that your husband was pretty paranoid.”

She hadn’t paid attention when it was being installed. In fact, Greg had taken the day off to supervise. She’d thought it odd at the time. Now it seemed even odder than she originally thought. “Really? I thought we just had the windows and doors wired.”

What had Greg done? What had Greg been involved with?

“You have that part. On top of that, you have motion sensors and webcams. I wonder where the feed goes to. Did Greg have his own laptop?”

“He did, but that went off to college with the boys.”

“Damn. I bet he had the feed to his laptop. Can you ask your sons if they found anything odd?”

“I had the laptop wiped before they got it. Just in case Greg had anything important on it. The only reason it was home was that he’d forgotten to take it that day.”

Looking back, Kate wondered if that had been on purpose.

Scott handed her the laptop back. “I forwarded that e-mail to my address. I want to look at those specs more carefully and map out your system. I also want you to stay put and turn on the system so it does its job.”

“I can’t afford to stay home, Scott. All my jobs are outside today. I can’t imagine someone is going to try to harm me in broad daylight. How about I work, but let you know my movements. It’s the best I can do.”

Scott had truly spooked her. Maybe the security system had too. He gazed down at her. “I’ll let you go if you promise me that you’ll check in with me whenever you change location and that you’ll turn on this security system worthy of a spy.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Nine

“Before I leave, tell me more about your husband,” Scott said.

Kate’s head was reeling from the discovery of the extent of the security system. Maybe she didn’t know her husband very well. “What specifically?”

“What did he do?”

“You read the report. He was a professor at the community college.”

She’d called her first customer and postponed the repair until the afternoon. It meant she’d work in the hot sun, but she needed some time to grasp it all. Her husband had set up a security system worthy of an international spy—or a doomsday prepper.

She didn’t know which bothered her more. Either way, she’d been living a lie. She had to reconcile herself with the fact that her loving husband had lied to her. Repeatedly.

“Seems innocuous. How did you meet?”

“We met there. I took his class.”

“Isn’t that against the rules? To date a student?”

Kate sat curled up in her big chair. Scott sat on her coffee table facing her. He was definitely in cop mode. His posture was rigid and he studied her while she answered. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he shone a light in her face.

He was more intense than usual. She had to acknowledge that she was turned on a little. But how could she be when she was still trying to sort out what she’d learned about her husband? Scott had been her first: her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first lover. He hadn’t fumbled through the sex. No, he’d known what he was doing.

She swallowed and pushed away those days. “We didn’t date until after I graduated with my associate’s degree. He tracked me down and asked me out.”

“You didn’t go on to a four year college.”

“No, my mother was sick at that point. I stayed here to help take care of her.”

“And Professor Flaherty looked like a knight in shining armor,” he said.

She didn’t sense any bitterness in his voice. “No, it wasn’t that simple. He was quietly persistent. I fell in love. I’m not going to apologize for my life, Scott.”

“I’m not asking you to. Did he take trips?”

“He was asked to lecture all over the world.”

“You didn’t ever wonder why a man so sought after was teaching at a community college in Pennsylvania?”

Now that he said it that way, it did seem odd. “I guess I never thought about it. I knew he’d never leave me. He wasn’t interested in fame or fortune, and he loved Rock Ridge.”

“Guess the whole idea that he wouldn’t leave was wrong.”

She pressed her lips together. “You’re presuming you know what happened to him.”

“I am, but I have a better knowledge of these things than you do. So much more goes on that the average person doesn’t know. It’s not anyone’s fault. We go through life seeing what we want to see. I did it with Jackie.”

She couldn’t get mad at him. He was still hurting a little from his divorce—and from her discovery of his ex in his kitchen. What a strange few days. Her life had been going along pretty well. The worst she’d had to deal with before was Scott’s return.

That seems like a strange thing to worry about now.

“I was young—twenty-three when we got married.”

“Do you have anything left of his? Any personal items you might not have looked at?”

“I do. I have a box of items from his office at the college. I threw things into the box and never looked at them.”

“Can you get it for me? I’ll drop it off at my house on my way to work.”

She stood, and their knees bumped. “Sorry.”

Her leg tingled where they touched. Damn him. Why did he have to come back? Perhaps the real question was she so lonely that just a nudge had her turned on. She retrieved the box of Greg’s things from the basement. She was tempted to open it, but it felt like Pandora’s box in her hands.

She set it on the coffee table by Scott, who hadn’t moved. He glanced at it. “Do I have your permission to look into it?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t give it to you otherwise.”

“No one has looked at this?”

“Some cops searched his office, and I didn’t get this box from the department secretary until months later, so maybe. They needed the room for the person they’d hired to replace Greg. They couldn’t hold his position forever.”

“So no one knows you have this?”

“No, I guess not. I never thought to tell anyone. At that point, most people were ducking my calls. I was pretty persistent in the first six months. I wanted to know where my husband was.”

“Did you hire a detective?”

“Briefly. I couldn’t afford one for too long.”

“Did he give you a final report?”

“Yes. I think I jammed it into that box when I decided I needed to get on with my life. I had two teen boys to prepare for life on their own,” Kate said.

Her only saving grace had been her sons. They’d needed her, and she had to be there for them.

“Understandable. Don’t mention this box to anyone. I’ll take it to my house on my way into the office.”

“Why not take it to work? Isn’t a police department more secure than your house?”

“I want to keep it under wraps that I am working on this. I think your husband was into something, and who knows what happened. I don’t want to bring attention to you or that I’m looking into his disappearance.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re scaring me. What could Greg have been involved in?”

Maybe she didn’t want to know, but she had to. She owed it to herself to know the truth.

“It could have been something illegal or something for the government. There are all sorts of people who work for the government doing odd jobs.”

She blinked at him. Just a week ago she was a handywoman. Trucking along through the life she’d built since her husband had disappeared. Now she might have been married to a spy, or worse, a criminal. How had a small town girl like her gotten involved in this?

“I guess he took advantage of my naiveté,” Kate said.

She heard the bitterness in her own voice. Scott stood, putting his hands on her arms. “We don’t know anything yet.”

“No, we really don’t. I appreciate your looking into this,” Kate said.

She may not trust this man with her heart, but she trusted him to find out about her husband. Scott was determined, and he’d ferret out details that others had missed. Of that she was sure.

“Are you ready to go? I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”

“I am. I already had my truck packed when I walked out to it.”

“Good. Where will you be?”

“I have to go back to Hazel’s house. She wants me to replace an outside faucet that’s been leaking.”

“You’ll be visible then. Good. No one should bother you in broad daylight. Just let me know where you are next. Then meet me for lunch.”

“As much as I appreciate what you are doing, we aren’t going to be dating.”

“It isn’t a date, as much as I would like it to be, but if we begin to spend time together, then whoever is threatening you will back off. Besides, half the town thinks we’re going to be an item anyway.”

She snorted. He wasn’t wrong there.

***

Hazel’s dog yipped as Kate climbed out of her truck. She leaned down to pet the dog. He licked her hand.

She straightened, and then had the distinct sensation that someone was watching her. She glanced around but saw no one.

“Just paranoid.”

The dog trotted beside her as she walked to Hazel’s front door. She liked to let the woman know that she was there before she began work. She thought it odd that the dog was out and about without her.

Something had to be wrong. Kate knocked on the door. She heard a moan. Yanking the door open, she entered Hazel’s house. The woman was on the floor.

“Oh, Kate, I fell. Help me up.”

“I think I should call an ambulance.”

She flipped out her phone and dialed 911. Then she went to get a pillow for Hazel to put her head on.

“Oh, Kate. Don’t go to any trouble.”

“Hazel, it’s okay.” She sat on the floor next to the old woman. “Are you in pain?”

“A little.”

“Is there anyone I can call?”

“My cell phone is on the kitchen table. Can you bring it to me?”

Kate did as she asked. She thought Hazel was pretty calm for having fallen while home all alone. The woman called someone then hung up.

“I called my son. He’s going to insist that I move in with him. He’s been badgering me for months.”

“Might not be a bad idea, Hazel,” Kate said.

Someone knocked on the door, and Kate yelled for them to come in.

The EMTs had arrived. She moved out of their way and let them work. They had Hazel on the cot and out in the ambulance in no time.

“You want me to come to the hospital?” Kate said.

“No, honey. My son is meeting me there. Thank you for staying with me,” Hazel said.

“No problem. I’ll have that faucet fixed in to time.”

“Oh, thank you.”

They put her in the ambulance and drove away. Kate returned to her truck, gathering the materials she needed to replace the faucet. She still had the sense that someone was watching her.

She did the job at Hazel’s, and then texted Scott with her next location. She had to stop by Grayson’s to rent a power washer. As she drove, her mind filled with thoughts of Greg. She had stopped thinking about him every day long ago. He only entered her thoughts once in a while until recently.

Now he was all she could think about. What had he been involved in?

She shooed away those thoughts and pondered what she’d seen in the mayor’s folder. That was something she might be able to solve. Greg’s whereabouts might always remain a mystery.

Kate was sure that Jackie’s death had something to do with the deal gone wrong. Didn’t that happen once in a while? No one had a perfect track record. Why would people be mad unless Jackie had done something wrong?

She must have done something underhanded in the investing. Kate wondered if Jackie had make money, while everyone else lost everything. If she asked Scott, he’d admonish her to stop investigating. Especially now that she’d been threatened.

Nor could she tell him about the folder. He wouldn’t appreciate that she’d stolen it.

Grayson’s was full of the usual guys talking about home improvement. Clark stood behind the counter listening. He smiled at Kate as she arrived.

“I need a power washer.”

“I have one in the back you can rent.”

She gave him her credit card, hoping it wasn’t yet maxed out. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was accepted and she signed the slip.

“Drive the truck around to the back. I’ll load it into your truck. You going to be able to unload it?”

“Let’s see it first.”

The hard part of being a woman in the handyman world was that a lot of equipment was too heavy or not built with a woman in mind. She’d often had to figure out creative ways to get the job done.

She parked her car in the alley behind Grayson’s. Clark was waiting for her, the power washer on the ground at his feet. She hopped out and opened her tailgate.

“You might want to invest in ramps to get this stuff in and out of your truck,” Clark said. “I have some you can borrow.”

“Thanks, Clark.”

He showed Kate how to set them up, and then she was able to wheel the power washer into the bed. She secured it with bungee cords.

“If you bring it back before I close, I can knock some off the price,” Clark said.

“I appreciate that. I’ll do my best.”

“Remember, I close early today. Fishing trip.”

“Right.”

She left him standing in the alley. At the new site, she was able to set up the washer in minutes. Before she began, she had that sensation again. Someone was watching her. This time he didn’t hide.

He was a man, probably in his thirties. She wondered why he would be staring at her. She wasn’t hot, and she sure didn’t cut a sexy figure in her overalls. She pretended to go back to her truck, but detoured toward the man standing across the street. He stood by a tree. She memorized details about him: he had black hair and black jeans, his T-shirt sported some character from a video game that Kate had seen her sons play.

He had glanced down at his phone so he didn’t see her. She was halfway across the street when he ran in the opposite direction. She wasn’t in any shape to chase him.

She watched him go, and then turned back to her job. Turning on the water, she fired up the power washer. The house she was cleaning had a lot of mold on it. She’d brought bleach just in case the washer alone wouldn’t remove it. The green stuff was tenacious, but Kate was more so.

She kept glancing in the direction of the street, but the man didn’t reappear. Her mind turned over the facts of the case in her mind. Someone had entered Scott’s house. They had to have known that Jackie was in there or else they moved her there. She had forgotten to ask Scott if he knew.

Was she meeting someone? Given her vast investments, it could have been a former client, a current client or, as it turned out, someone out to kill her. Who would be mad enough to follow her and kill her?

And who was this mysterious man who had been staring at her? Was he the killer? Or did he have nothing to do with it? Maybe he had something to do with Greg’s disappearance. Someone could have been following her all of these years and she’d never noticed. She found it ironic that it had taken a dead body to wake her up to her surroundings. How many things around her had she missed?

She packed up the washer when she was done. Glancing at her phone, she wasn’t sure if she had time to return it to Grayson’s before she had to meet Scott. She drove by the hardware store, but the place was packed. She signaled to Clark that she’d come back later.

He nodded his understanding. She took out her phone to call Scott and tell him she was ready for lunch. They would keep up the charade of spending time together. Like lovers. She was sure there would be tongues wagging as she was still married.

She hadn’t filed for divorce yet. Perhaps, given what she now knew, she might reconsider. Maybe she would wait until Scott found out more about Greg’s disappearance.

That settled in her mind, she dialed his number.

Chapter Ten

Kate met Scott at the Time to Eat Diner at one end of Main Street. People occupied most of the tables, but Scott was already there holding a booth. He was wearing the same suit jacket, but he’d since tied the necktie that Kate had seen earlier.

“You would think they were giving something away here,” Scott said as she slid onto the seat across from him.

The diner was the usual type with a counter that ran through the center. The kitchen lay behind that. The seats in each booth were made with red vinyl that Kate remembered sticking to in her shorts when Scott would bring her here after a movie when they were in high school.

Before they’d go fool around. That had been their Friday night ritual. Kate wished she hadn’t thought of that right now. She’d eaten in this place many times since then, and not once had it provoked those memories.

Nope, sitting across from Scott did that.

Sigh.

“The special today is meatloaf and macaroni and cheese bites,” Kate said.

“Macaroni and cheese bites?”

“Those haven’t made it out to the big city? They are practically a delicacy here.”

“Sounds like a cholesterol nightmare. Does it come with a defibrillator on the side?” Scott said.

Kate laughed. “It’s good.”

She didn’t even pick up her menu. She knew she was having the special—maybe even some pie for desert. She’d been good all week.

“You having the special?” he said.

“Of course.”

He closed his menu and put it on top of hers. “I will, too.”

“You’re going to risk a heart attack?”

“I’ll run an extra mile tonight.”

She laughed. So that’s how he kept in shape. Her work kept her from gaining too much weight. If she had an office job, she would be the size of a house.

A harried waitress came by.

“Hey, Mrs. Flaherty.”

“Hello, Caitlin.”

Caitlin attended community college and waitressed part-time here. Kate knew her because she’d been dating her son Jared before he left for college. She didn’t know if they’d kept in touch, but they’d both agreed there wasn’t any reason to do the long distance thing. Kate had liked Caitlin very much after that.

“How’s Jared?”

Kate tried not to chuckle. “He’s good.”

“Tell him I said ‘hey’ next time you talk to him.”

“I will,” Kate said.

She took their orders, gathered the menus and left.

“A friend of your son’s?” Scott said.

“Ex-girlfriend. She was always sweet, but I think she liked Jared more than he liked her. He let her down as easily as he could. He didn’t just run off to college,” she said.

Scott put a hand on his heart. “Ouch. I resent that remark.”

She laughed. “Ancient history.”

“Clearly not or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it really is. I’m just busting your chops.”

He nodded, but she didn’t think that he believed her.

“Tell me about your sons,” Scott said.

“They are both freshmen at Penn State. Jared wants to major in forensic science. Jason is going for computer science.”

“Both good majors.”

“Yes, they can both get jobs. As long as they can support themselves, I’m happy.”

“Guess that’s what a parent’s job is.”

“Yes it is.” She put hand on his. “Before we go any further, I need to tell you about the strange thing that happened to me today.”

He glanced down at her hand on his. She pulled it back.

“I’m listening.”

“I had the sense that someone was watching me. I didn’t see anyone when I was at Hazel’s.”

“By the way, Hazel broke her hip, but she’s going to be fine,” Scott said.

“Good. Anyway, when I went to my next stop, I felt it again. This time I saw a man in his thirties watching me. He was goth-looking, which I thought was odd for someone that age.”

“Did he look like a rocker? Have guyliner on?”

“You know what guyliner is?”

Scott chuckled. “Yes, I did spend some time patrolling South Street.”

“Right. Yes, I think he did have guyliner on.”

“He sounds like Dean Wentworth.”

“Who is that?”

“The guy that I caught Jackie with.”

Kate sat back with her mouth open. “How old was Jackie that she was with this guy?”

“She was in her early forties. Dean is older than he looks, but she had a decade on him.”

“Yikes. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“No problem. Ancient history.”

So that’s what had happened. Sad. Scott didn’t deserve that.

“I tried to confront him, but he ran away,” Kate said.

“Don’t, Katydid. Don’t put yourself in danger,” Scott said.

“Is he dangerous?”

“He could be the killer. I’ll let Ken know the guy’s in town.”

“You guys kiss and make up?”

Scott laughed. “We’ve come to a truce. For now. We’ll work it out. We—men—do that.”

“Right.”

“Other than your stalker, how was your day?”

He was asking about her day? How boyfriend-like. “You know about most of my day already.”

“That’s true. Mine has consisted of catching up on paperwork.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Caitlyn brought their meals and drinks.

“These are macaroni and cheese bites?” He eyed them as if they would nip at him.

“Yes, try one. It won’t kill you.”

“No, but a steady diet wouldn’t either.”

“Probably.”

He tried one and his eyes fell closed. She remembered that look. It was one of ecstasy. “Wow. You were right. They are good.”

“Hence this place is packed when the cook makes them. Word spreads around the town.”

“Yes, I’m getting acquainted with the local grapevine.”

“Better than social media. The vine will be abuzz after our lunch. We will be the topic, I’m sure.”

“I’ve had no less than ten people ask me if you and I are going to date,” Scott said. “As if high school were only a few years ago.”

“Long memories in small towns.”

“So what should I tell them next time they ask? Should I say we are dating?”

She almost choked on her meatloaf. “I’ve taken the tack that I’m still married. No one would believe that I’m suddenly going against that.”

He smiled. “But you just couldn’t resist my charm, so you agreed to date me.”

“You think people will believe that?”

“Why not? My charm is still legendary in this town. I’ve had no less than four pies on my desk from eligible women. Might be your last chance to get me. I’m pretty hot property,” Scott said.

“Modest, too.”

Celia Johnson chose that moment to stop at their table. “Eating the special, I see. Nice to have you back, Scott. You plan on sticking around?”

“Yes, I do, Mrs. Johnson.”

She glanced at Kate then back at Scott. She left shaking her head.

“I always got the impression that she didn’t like me,” Scott said.

“You chose me over Carly. That never sat well with her.”

“These people need to get a life and better things to talk about.”

“Get used to it if you intend to stick around. There isn’t the anonymity of a big city. They’ll know your shoe size, what ailments you have and who you’ve taken to bed.”

“Would you be surprised that I haven’t taken anyone to bed since I’ve been here?”

She put a hand up. “None of my business.”

***

At the end of lunch, Kate received a text from a neighbor of her last customer asking if she could come and power wash their house. She sends a text to Clark, asking him if she can keep the washer until tomorrow since he is closing early.

He agrees.

“Where to now?” Scott said. He’d paid the bill and met her outside.

“I have another power-washing customer. That’s good. I didn’t have any jobs this afternoon,” she said.

He kissed her on the cheek. “Where?”

She gave him the address. “Out in the open again.”

“If you see that guy again, text me. Also, call me before you go home. I’ll have a patrol car meet you out there.”

“Isn’t that an unofficial use of municipal property?”

“No. We’re merely serving and protecting.”

She laughed as he walked away. She watched him go for a moment. He walked as if he owned the place. Long strides with his head high and his eyes forward. He did cut an attractive figure. He was so striking with his white hair that even some of the younger women looked his way.

The next house she cleaned was bigger than the last and had more windows she had to avoid. She hadn’t broken any in her short career, but she had to admit she was more distracted today than usual.

The day was hot and she appreciated the moisture from the washer. Sure, she got a little wet but that cooled her down. She was packing up the washer when she saw the man again. She immediately sent a text to Scott.

Dean, if that was who he was, started to walk away. She loaded the power washer into her truck, and then climbed in to follow him. He walked straight down Main Street. Kate parked her truck and watched him go in between Grayson’s and the consignment shop next to it. That led to the alley. She parked her truck in front of Grayson’s and followed him on foot into the alley.

Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but she wasn’t going to lose sight of him. If Scott wanted to question him, she needed to stick with him.

She heard voices as she arrived at the end of the walkway. She stopped, and then peeked around the corner. The man, Dean, was talking with Clark.

She could hear them clearly, so there was no need to step out of the walkway. She pulled out her phone so that if anyone walked past, they would think she was checking her e-mails. She sent another text to Scott updating him on her position.

“I want to know why you wanted to talk to Jackie,” Dean said.

“That’s none of your business. You should just go back to Philly and stay there. Someone might think you killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her. I loved her. I was going to marry her.”

“You think she was going to marry you?”

“We were happy together for years. You know what I do think? I think you killed her. She said you were unhappy with what happened in Philly.”

Kate’s ears perked up. This guy knew about the deal.

“That’s the past,” Clark said.

“You threatened her. I know you did. She told me.”

His voice was heart wrenching. This man had really loved Jackie. This was the first person who had anything positive to say about her. Every villain is a hero in his own story. It’s all about perspective.

She leaned against the wall, holding her phone to her chest. Where was Scott? She was surprised he wasn’t there yet since he wanted to speak to this guy. Nor did she see a patrol car. She didn’t want to confront him herself, since he might be dangerous.

“I loved her and I think you killed her. I’m going to the cops,” the man said. “I’m sure they’ll be interested in hearing what I have to say.”

“Then I’ll tell them what you’ve been doing for me. You aren’t clean in all of this,” Clark said.

“All I did was put a note on a car.”

Note? Had he been the one to threaten her? Or had Clark? Why would Clark threaten her?

Jackie had ruined him. He now owned a hardware store in a small town. He lived with his bachelor son. That’s a mighty fall for someone who had probably rubbed elbows with the elite in the best restaurants in Philadelphia.

He’d be bitter.

On the other hand, Jackie had cheated on Scott with Dean and they had still been together when she’d been killed. Maybe she had cheated on Dean. Had he killed her out of fury?

Kate was more confused now than ever.

“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back,” the man said.

“Don’t come back. I’m done with you.”

“I’ll be back, but no more dirty work. I’m not doing it. They’ll read Jackie’s will and I’ll be rich.”

“Not if you’re in jail for killing her,” Clark said.

So Clark thinks this guy killed Jackie. The more they talked, the more complicated this case was becoming. Where is Scott?

Then she saw his car in the alley. He stepped out, not acknowledging her in the walkway.

“Dean,” Scott said.

“Scott, long time, no see. Chief of police, huh?”

“Better than a dirty cop like you.”

Kate gasped. This guy was a cop? Had they worked together in Philly?

“I wasn’t dirty.”

“Close enough.”

This was beginning to get personal, so Kate slinked away. She didn’t want to know anymore. She had to return the power washer and hope that Clark hadn’t seen her truck parked out front the last few minutes.

Chapter Eleven

When Kate wheeled the power washer into the hardware store, Clark was back at the register. He was waiting on a customer. Kate wheeled the equipment to the back of the store. She didn’t know where it belonged, so she left it there.

When she returned with the ramps, Clark was by himself.

“Glad you made it back. I was about to close up. Sadly, not for fishing. I need to do inventory.”

“Then let’s get this transaction over with, though I bet you are in no hurry to get to that task,” Kate said.

His mood was light as if he hadn’t just had the conversation she knew about. She leaned on the counter as he figured out her discount and credited her card.

“So, who was that guy that was out back?” She couldn’t find a subtler way to do it. “It looked like you were arguing with him.”

Clark shrugged. “Someone who wasn’t happy with my service. How did you see him?”

“He was watching me as I power washed the Wilsons’ house. Unnerving, for sure.”

“He’s probably harmless,” Clark said.

“Didn’t sound it. Didn’t he threaten you?”

“You misheard. He was just unhappy about his service.”

“Haven’t seen him around.”

Clark eyed her. “You don’t know everyone in town.”

The bell over the front door jangled and they both turned. Larry sauntered in through the door.

“Hey, Kate. Saw your truck. You up for a drink?”

She could use one, but not with Larry. Unfortunately, they had been friends for long enough that she couldn’t turn him down.

“Sure thing, but nothing fancy.” She indicated her clothes. “Unless you need me to change.”

“Nah. We’ll go to The Rail. No one cares what you look like there.”

“Good.”

The Rail was a blue-collar bar and sat three doors away from the hardware store. Greg wouldn’t have ever had a drink there, but Kate liked the lack of pretension.

“Let me send a text and then we can go.”

She sent one to Scott. Having drink with Larry at The Rail.

He immediately replied: Should I be jealous?

You have no right to be jealous.

She tucked the phone in her pocket then smiled at Larry.

He motioned her out the front door, waving at his father. “You’ve been busy.”

“Yes, it’s been nice to have jobs. Things are picking up.”

They found a spot in a booth then ordered beers.

Larry wasn’t in uniform, so he must have had the day off.

“How has your day been?” Larry asked.

He’d been a good guy and a good friend after Greg disappeared. He’d only been making romantic overtures in the last year. She wanted to feel that way about him, but he just didn’t give her the zings like Scott could.

“My day was busy, like you said. What about yours?”

“Other than a trash can fire, nothing exciting. I knocked off early, then I saw your truck and figured it was fate. We haven’t just sat and talked for a long time.”

“I know, Larry. I’m glad you walked in. I would have just gone home.”

“That would have been a shame.”

The waitress brought their beers. Kate poured some of the amber liquid down her throat.

“So, Scott ended up having an alibi for his wife’s murder.”

She bit her tongue before she corrected him and said ex. “Yes. Have you heard anything?”

“No, no one’s talking.”

“By the way, you were in that neighborhood around that time. You didn’t see anything?”

“I don’t remember being there that morning.”

“Several people saw your truck.”

“Then I guess I’m remembering the wrong day.”

“There are no houses for sale on that block. I know you do inspections when there are. I was wondering what you were doing there.”

“I guess if I was there, I might have been checking someone’s fireplace. I really don’t remember what day I was there.”

He seemed adamant, but Carly and Celia had seen his truck. But it wasn’t like Larry to lie. The hair on the back of Kate’s neck went up.

He’d raised his voice a little, so she dropped the subject. Clearly, it was a sore subject for him. Her phone buzzed. She slipped it out of her pocket.

It was from Scott. He’d sent a text that he was waiting at her house. He sent a picture of himself on her front porch. She smiled.

“Funny text?” Larry said.

“Yes, but it’s an inside joke or I’d show it to you,” she said.

Scott would just have to wait, but the idea that Larry was hiding something couldn’t be shaken. She didn’t want to tip him off and ask more questions, but she had many.

What did it matter that he was in the neighborhood at that time unless he was the killer? But she doubted that Larry would advertise his presence if he was planning on offing Jackie.

“I saw your dad talking to a guy from Philadelphia. They seemed to be arguing.”

Larry frowned. “Dad knows a lot of people from there. Some he never wants to see again.”

“Maybe you saw him around. Goth-looking, in his thirties.”

Larry shook his head. “No, doesn’t sound familiar, but I’ve been in my office most of the day. Paperwork.”

“The bane of everyone. I have to write up invoices for two customers who weren’t home when I came by today.”

“I would imagine that you have plenty of paperwork, too. I just got backed up because we’ve been running to field fires this week.”

“The dry weather and all, I bet.”

She wondered what would make a man want to run into burning buildings. She’d never understand it, but she admired his commitment. During Fire Prevention Week he talked in the school. He held an open house each year so the residents of Rock Ridge could see what their tax dollars bought for the fire company.

She should like him. She should fall in love with him. He’d be safe and secure. Of course, her heart wanted her husband back, and if not, it wanted Scott.

Her phone buzzed again. She wished Scott would just leave her alone for a while.

But it wasn’t Scott. It was Clark.

There’s something wrong with the power washer. Can you meet me back at the hardware store?

Okay, she texted back.

What could be wrong? Nothing had been broken. Not when she left it there. She would have said something.

“Problem?” Larry asked.

“A little, but I can clear it up.”

She finished her beer in another gulp.

“You going?”

“I better. I’m tired and I have a stop to make on the way home.”

“I’m going to hang out and have dinner,” Larry said.

She stood, kissed him on the cheek, and then left him in the bar.

***

Kate called Scott when she reached the sidewalk.

“Hey,” he said as if she called him all the time. “You should put your security system on when you’re gone. Anybody could’ve been sitting on your porch when you arrived home.”

Kate chuckled. “I’m going to be a few minutes more. I have to check on something with Clark at the hardware store.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Never. He’s been great about supporting me in my new business. No, he says there’s something wrong with the power washer I borrowed from him. I’m sure this won’t take long. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.”

“I have dinner. It’s smelling really good.”

“What did you get?”

Her stomach rumbled.

“Potpies from the Amish Market,” he said.

“Yum. We can reheat them in the oven. They are almost better that way.”

“If you say so. I have to say, I’ve missed them since I’ve been gone, and I had a hankering for them,” Scott said. “I may have to eat one while I wait for you.”

“How many did you get?”

“Five.”

Kate shook her head. “I only need one, so go ahead if you’re starving.”

She disconnected and walked the half a block to the hardware store. It was dark inside and the front door was locked. She tapped on it, but no one answered.

Guess I better go around back.

She traipsed down the walkway and into the alley. The back door to Grayson’s Hardware Store was unlocked. When she opened it, everything was dark. Her instincts screamed not to go inside, but what if something was wrong with Clark?

“Clark?”

She stuck her head in. “Clark?”

She didn’t hear anything at first. No moaning. Nothing. She should call the cops and not be inside here. Someone could be lurking. Before she could do anything, someone grabbed her from the side. She couldn’t see, and the person put a hand over her mouth.

She jammed her foot down on his instep, but the person had steel-toed work boots on, so her foot barely grazed him. She assumed it was a male from the strength.

She bit down on the hand that was over her mouth. He knocked her in the back of her head with his other hand. The dark room spun a little. She tried to clear her head, but she couldn’t shake it with his hand on it.

She wiggled and made noises, but not enough for anyone to hear. He kicked the door closed, so now no one could hear her.

The shops on either side of the hardware store were closed. Damn. Her thoughts went to her kids. Would she ever see them again?

She couldn’t imagine them spending the rest of their lives without her. Her father would have to come back from Florida. They’d need someone familiar to come home to when the semester was over.

She kept squirming, but the person had a good grip on her. He knocked into her head again. This time her world went a little fuzzy. She couldn’t clear it, and the person hoisted her over his shoulder.

She wanted to throw up from the change in latitude. She recognized the boots. Clark? This didn’t make sense. She tried to kick, but he had a good hold of her legs.

He dropped her on a chair. The dizziness became worse, and Kate fought to remain conscious. She couldn’t fight back if she passed out. She gritted her teeth and tried to move her limbs—she couldn’t get control of them.

The person tied her hands behind her and to the chair. When she finally had her senses back, she tugged at the ropes.

“Don’t bother, Kate. You’ll never get them loose.”

Chapter Twelve

Kate froze at the sound of the voice. It was Clark. Has he gone mad? What is he doing?

He switched on a lamp. She realized they were in a stock room at the back of the hardware store. Clark looked weary. As if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Then it all fell into place for Kate. “You killed Jackie, but why?”

“It was an accident.”

“She had blunt force trauma to her head. How did you accidentally bludgeon her?”

She couldn’t imagine any scenario where that would be an accident.

Clark rubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll make my confession to you since you’re going to have an accident anyway.”

That chilled Kate. She thought of Scott, sitting on her porch eating potpie with no reason to come looking for her. Would hers be the next dead body on his watch? She tugged at the ropes again.

“I’d hoped you would be my daughter-in-law, but you have this loyalty to that husband of yours. I don’t get it. He left you high and dry to care for adolescent boys.”

“He left the money,” she said, wanting to defend her husband.

“He still left, and I’m sure for no good reason.”

“Tell me what happened with Jackie. Why were you there?”

“My car was in the shop. I took Larry’s truck because he was using his car. He’s a good kid. You should’ve loved him, Kate. He loves you so much.”

That made Kate uncomfortable. She didn’t want Larry to love her because she didn’t think she’d ever love him back. Scott’s return had illustrated that for her. If she got out of here alive, she would have to make it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in anything more than a friendship. He deserved to know the truth and be free to find someone to love him the way he deserved.

“That’s why Larry didn’t remember being there that day. He wasn’t.”

“No, he wasn’t. I saw Jackie in town and followed her to Scott’s house. She walked in the place like she owned it. That was Jackie. I don’t know what she was doing in town, but I needed to see her. I needed her to give me back that money she owed me.”

Clark truly looked repentant. Less like a killer than someone who’d made a bad decision. Now he was regretting it. Nevertheless, his bad decision had cost a woman her life. Even if that person wasn’t a good person, she didn’t deserve to be killed.

Kate tried to reach her phone in her back pocket, but she couldn’t. She wanted to call Scott so he’d hear this.

The way he’d tied her arms behind her, the phone was just out of reach. He must have been a Boy Scout. Those knots were tight.

“The money you lost in that deal?”

“That deal? Dudley is a charismatic and savvy salesman. He had told us it had been a sure thing. And even as a successful banker and investor, I didn’t see the financial collapse coming. Not to that degree. I sank a lot of my savings into that deal. I figured I could sell Grayson’s, which I’d bought to stay occupied after retirement, and maybe buy a nicer boat and spend my time fishing. Maybe go on exotic fishing expeditions. Seemed like a nice idea.”

“Did the mayor invest some?”

“He did, but a smaller amount. His loss wasn’t as bad as that of the rest of us.”

“Who else?”

“Ken, and even Larry, invested. Larry was smart. He wasn’t so quick to throw so much money in the pot. Guess he gets that from his mother, not me.”

Kate strained to hear anyone outside. No one came by. Dinnertime. Most people were home with their families enjoying a meal. Even Larry was tucked into food at The Rail.

She figured there was no hope of him stopping by. Clark had probably told him he’d be doing inventory all night.

“There’s no one to save you, Kate. I’m sorry to have to kill you, but you were going to figure it out. Larry asked me if I’d borrowed his truck. I did lie, but he knew the mileage was different. He didn’t know that I’d done anything wrong and I can’t risk you putting the idea in his head.”

“Did you plan on killing Jackie?”

“No, I didn’t. We got into a struggle and she fell. She hit her head on Scott’s table, and then I panicked and didn’t know what to do. She was lifeless. I couldn’t explain what I was doing there, so I left.”

“You left her there?”

That was cold. She wouldn’t have thought Clark would have been capable of being that unfeeling. He’d been so good to her. He’d given her advice when she wasn’t sure how to fix something. He’d been a second father to her when her dad moved out of state. How could she reconcile that man with the one in front of her telling her he’d killed a woman?

“What if she’d been alive? What if someone could have saved her? You could have called an ambulance anonymously,” Kate said.

“I was afraid, Kate. I shouldn’t have been there. She shouldn’t have been there.”

“So you killed her and ran.”

“That’s it; it’s over and done with now, I can’t think about what-ifs. Now, we’re going out to my truck, and because I love you like a daughter, I’m going to make this quick. I’ll take you out on the state game lands.”

“My kids aren’t going to know what happened to me.”

“Probably not. That’s a shame given that husband of yours ran off, but they’ll get over it. You raised them to be strong.”

She struggled harder now. She couldn’t let him kill her.

There was a sudden crack as the door broke loose from the jamb. A body flew through the back door and slammed Clark into the opposite wall. Scott and Clark struggled as another officer tried to help in the cramped space.

And then it was over. Clark was in handcuffs, his face down as they led him out. Scott took a knife out of his pocket and cut her ties. She went into his arms, her heart just now beginning to flutter. She’d been so calm until Clark had said he was going to kill her and leave her in a remote area.

She had to call her kids. She wouldn’t tell them what happened, but she needed to hear their voices. But first she needed to calm down. Scott wrapped his arms around her, murmuring that it was all okay.

“How’d you know to come here?”

“Instinct. It just didn’t feel right to me.”

“Did you know he was the killer?”

He tucked her next to him and walked her out to his car. “Not until I heard him talking to you.”

“I hadn’t figured it out yet, either.”

“Enough detecting, Katydid. No more. My heart was in my throat thinking that you could be in real danger.”

“Walk me to my truck.”

“You’re going to drive home?”

“How else am I getting there?”

“You okay to drive?”

“I’m a pretty tough lady, Scott.”

“I know. You’re so much stronger than you were in high school. I’m kind of proud of the woman you’ve become. I think you became that way because I wasn’t in your life.”

They reached her truck. “Maybe. Do I need to make a statement?”

“It can wait until the morning.”

“Who’s going to tell Larry?” she said.

“I think he’s still in The Rail. I’ll talk to him. I left the potpies on your porch.”

“You still joining me for dinner?”

“Sadly, I have hours of interviewing and paperwork to do. Make sure you turn on your security system.”

“Promise.”

***

Kate stood next to Scott as Jackie’s casket was lowered into the ground. The ceremony had been as nice as a funeral could be. Most of the town had turned out. Now they had all gone for pie and coffee at the Rock Ridge Community Center.

Only Scott, Dean and Kate were left. Dean was on the other side of the grave. His eyes were red from crying. When her casket hit the bottom, they took turns throwing  handfuls of dirt on it.

Dean skirted around the grave and held out his hand to Scott. “Thanks for providing her with a decent burial.”

Scott shook the man’s hand. What had transpired between them years ago no longer mattered in the face of a murder.

Clark had confessed to the police and signed over his hardware store to his son. Larry wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He could retire as fire chief and run the place; he was doing inventory there now. He hadn’t felt right about attending the funeral of the woman his father killed.

The two men stared at each other for a moment. They’d been friends as far as Kate knew. Jackie had come between them. Sad. Suddenly, the two men did that one-arm embrace, and then let go.

“You heading back to the city?” Scott said.

“Yes. I’m not interested in coffee and pie. I need to clean up our apartment. Her will is going to be read tomorrow.”

“You quitting the force? She had a lot of property she probably left for you.”

Dean smiled sardonically. “I’d live in a cardboard box to have her back.”

Scott nodded. “She was quite a woman.”

Dean walked away without saying anything else. Scott turned to Kate and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here. I have to say this bothered me more than I thought it would.”

“You were married to her. You probably still felt something for her.”

“I would have said it was anger, but I just feel as if it was such a waste. She didn’t deserve to die. No one so vibrant should die alone.”

“That isn’t your fault. You didn’t have a hand in killing her.”

“I wonder if he’d called the ambulance, if she would have lived.”

“Don’t beat yourself up like that. Let’s go get some pie and coffee,” Kate said.

It had been an hour since her last coffee, and she needed a caffeine jolt. She’d called her boys yesterday, not letting on why. They’d be home in two weeks, and she looked forward to the noise in her house again.

“I need another minute,” Scott said.

“You want me to leave you?”

He took her hands in his. “No, I need you here. Life is short, Katydid.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You need to know that Greg is probably not coming back.”

She knew that Scott wanted her to be free. She wasn’t able to be free. “Let’s not talk about this. If you make progress on finding him, let me know. Otherwise, we are no more than friends.”

He brushed a hair out of her face. “A guy can hope. And I’ll keep hoping and keep searching for him. I promise you that.”

“Fair enough. I need coffee, Scott.”

“That always was your favorite addiction.”

“You remember?”

“I remember many things about you Kate.”

~~~

SCREWED DOWN MURDER

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty, Rock Ridge’s resident handywoman, parked her work truck in front of the coffee shop. She liked her truck. It was gray and had the words Mrs. Fix It on it. The idea was that women were more comfortable letting a woman into their house to fix things than they would be with a man. The wives of the house usually were the ones to call for repairs.

None of the big chain coffee shops had seen fit to put one of their stores in the small town in Central Pennsylvania. Kate liked that idea. She would rather support a local person with her business than a corporation. Even if a Starbucks café moved in, she would still frequent this shop.

She’d been out of coffee at home and hadn’t been to the grocery store in days. With her sons off at college, Kate didn’t cook as much as she used to. It was no fun cooking for one, though once in a while she had a dinner companion in the form of Police Chief Scott York.

He had made it clear that he had romantic designs on her, but she was having none of it. Until she found her missing husband, in her mind she was still married. The chief would just have to get used to that idea.

Today Kate had to fix some shelves in the mayor’s office. The Department of Public Works, who should have made the repair, was backed up so Mayor Dudley Stuart opted to pay for the repair himself.

But first Kate needed coffee; she lived on coffee some days.

The day was dawning warm and the humidity of the summer was in full swing. She could see it in the trees on her property, like smoke hanging on the leaves. When she walked out the door that morning, it felt like she was walking into a wet towel. It took away her breath.

Summer was not her favorite season. No, she preferred the coolness of fall.

At least most of what she had to do was inside today. Everywhere she had to work had air conditioning. It would be cranking in the mayor’s office—he always kept it cold.

The bell above the door in the coffee shop jangled as Kate entered.

“Hey, Kate,” said Clara, the young barista behind the counter.

She was young, but she owned the place. Instead of going to college, she’d opened Bean There. Having contracted with the local baker, Cookie, Clara also served baked goods in the morning. They were probably the best baked goods in the whole county. Kate could rarely resist one if she hadn’t had breakfast.

“Hi, Clara. I need a plain coffee,” Kate said.

She pulled her red hair up into a ponytail as she ordered. The hot day meant she needed her hair out of her way.

“Coming right up.”

“Hello, Kate,” Dean Wentworth said.

Dean had been a cop in Philadelphia when Scott was on the force there. He gave that up to become a contractor and had moved out to Rock Ridge after his girlfriend was found dead. He did the big jobs and Kate did the little jobs. They often recommended each other to customers, and Kate had seen her business grow in the months that Dean had been in town.

He was a young man. Up until recently, he’d been wearing only black, but had toned down his dress to fit into the small, conservative town. He even stopped wearing guyliner. Now he looked more like a respectable businessman.

She found him to be smart and a good entrepreneur. She had learned a thing or two from him about running her business.

Kate admired his ability to adapt after having come from Philadelphia. Dean sat at a table with a half-eaten cinnamon bun. Kate slid onto the chair opposite him to wait for her coffee.

“Hi, Dean. I hear you put a bid in on renovating the community center.”

He frowned. “I did, but I’m up against the mayor’s brother from what I understand.”

Clara handed Kate her to-go cup of coffee then left them alone.

“The lowest bid is what they have to take. That’s how government works out here in the sticks,” Kate said. She’d like to think that little Rock Ridge didn’t have the corruption of a big city like Philadelphia. Then again, this was still Pennsylvania.

Dean looked concerned about getting the project. She knew he did good work, but she understood that sometimes nepotism occurred. She hoped not in this case. She didn’t trust the mayor’s brother. She’d heard rumors, and when she’d met him, she’d gotten a bad vibe from him.

“I saw your plans. They were top-notch.”

Dean shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Good luck,” she said.

Kate had a special place in her heart for the community center after having taken her sons to classes there when they were small. Now the twins were soon-to-be sophomores in college, spending their summer with AmeriCorps, and she figured the center was probably ready for a redo. Dean would do a great job.

She’d seen what he’d done to a vacant strip mall that was now thriving.

“I’m sure Dudley will do the right thing,” Kate said.

“You have more faith in him than I do.”

That Dean was worried about this one job made Kate wonder about the stability of his fledgling company. She couldn’t imagine that he’d been having any trouble getting business.

She sipped her coffee while studying him. He had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. She didn’t know him well enough to ask any personal questions. Then there was the fact that she had been the one to discover his girlfriend’s dead body.

For a time she’d been a suspect simply because she had stumbled upon the body. But she had been cleared that same day because she had an alibi for the time of death. She had no idea what Dean thought of her, but he’d always been nothing but professional in her presence.

As if wanting to change the subject, he said, “Did you see that new office building I just completed?”

“Yes, I was wondering why it was so far out of town.”

The building had been constructed to house all types of offices, including medical doctors.

He shrugged. “I have no idea either, but a bunch of the bigwigs in town own it, so they must have a reason.”

She’d thought it odd that the mayor, among others, had bought the land out there. It was as if they knew that the town would eventually grow in that direction. Rock Ridge hadn’t made any leaps in growth like that in years. She also didn’t want it to grow in that direction because her house was there.

When her husband, Greg, had wanted to raise their sons in the country, Kate had been opposed to the idea. But since then, she had grown to love her little piece of heaven outside the town.

“Whatever they were thinking, the building looks nice. Your work is always good. The mayor should know that,” she said.

He didn’t seem to want to be mollified, and it wasn’t Kate’s job to be his cheerleader. She had her own business to worry about.

She stood. “I need to be on my way. The mayor is waiting for me.”

“What are you doing for him?”

“Some shelves the DPW can’t seem to get to. He’d rather pay me than wait for them to come around and do it.”

“Isn’t the mayor’s other brother head of that department?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

Dean ran a hand through his black hair. It stuck up at odd angles, and the mother in Kate resisted the urge to brush it back into place. He was a grown man, even if he was a young one.

“Is everyone related to everyone else in this town?”

Kate understood how it could feel that way to an outsider. Her husband had not been born here, and he’d remarked on many occasions that everyone was related to at least one other person in town.

“Seems that way sometimes. I’m not related to anyone else. My dad moved away a few years ago. My sons are away. It’s just me.”

Dean laughed, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. Part of Kate wanted to reach out to him, but part of her wanted to mind her own business. She’d been involved in finding his girlfriend’s killer, but she’d hung up her detective hat after that.

Now she wanted to build her business and get on with her life in the wake of her husband’s disappearance. She had to support herself since there would be no life insurance until she could either find him or declare him dead.

“Maybe that’s why I like you, Kate.”

Another woman might have read into that statement, but he was practically young enough to be her son. “No nepotism?”

“None with you. Have a good day, Kate.”

“You, too, Dean. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you get that job.”

“Thanks.”

She left him to finish his cinnamon bun, though he never left her thoughts as she climbed into her truck. She tried to start it, but it balked. She’d had it in the shop just a month ago. What now? She was calculating what she could afford to fix on it when it finally caught.

“I thought you weren’t going to get her going,” Scott said, his hand on her open window.

“You scared me,” she said.

For a big guy with such a presence, he could be quiet when he wanted to be. Guess that came from patrolling the mean streets of the City of Brotherly Love. He didn’t need to do that in the not-so-mean streets of Rock Ridge.

“Sorry. Beginning your day?”

“Yes, at the mayor’s office. You want a ride to work?”

The mayor’s office was in the same building as the Rock Ridge Police Department.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but it’s hot today.”

“I’ll even turn on the air conditioning.”

Not that she was sure it was going to work. It had begun to be persnickety lately. Just another item she had to get fixed on this truck, but it was still cheaper than buying a new one.

“Riding in style,” Scott said as he climbed into her truck.

***

Kate wanted to park by the Rock Ridge Police Department since it was the quickest way to the mayor’s office. The complex was a maze, each part having been added on as an afterthought.

The parking space was blocked by a utility truck that was working on a downed pole.

“Guess I have no power to work by,” Scott said.

“No generator?”

“Only for the 911 Communications Center. The rest of us have to muddle along without computers,” Scott said. “I’m hoping that I can get another generator put in next year’s budget.”

“You stepped into a mess, didn’t you?”

“Sort of. Coming in halfway through the year means I have to live with someone else’s idea of a budget. And that person had clearly been coasting.”

She thought about the last chief. He probably had been. He’d been chief for a decade and was two years past retirement when he finally gave his notice. After his last day, he’d immediately moved to North Carolina. Kate wondered if the man had something to hide.

“You like a challenge, right?”

He turned his light brown-and-gold-flecked eyes to her. He ran a hand through his snow-white hair. “I do, but I was hoping for a little less of a challenge.”

As if this man couldn’t take on anything that came his way. Having been a star quarterback, he’d led the Rock Ridge High School football team to the state finals three times.

“Oh well. You got what you got,” she said.

She parked her truck by the front door of the complex. The employees were outside, but Kate didn’t see the mayor.

“Why would they be outside?” she said.

“Probably too hot. With no air conditioning inside, it gets steamy. The only thing wrong with building a square building is that some offices don’t have outside windows.”

“Right. The square had been the cheapest option,” she said, remembering the debates that went on with the town council. The original offices had been in two different historic buildings. Both of them should have been knocked down. One fell before anyone could bid on renovating it. So someone was awarded the bid to clean up the site. A soccer field stood there now—a better use of the space, in Kate’s mind.

She climbed out of her truck, but she didn’t want to gather any equipment until she knew exactly what she was fixing. She hadn’t given the mayor an estimate. He’d just hired her because he knew her work was good. She’d painted many rooms in his house and repaired other things. He was probably her best customer.

She needed more customers like Dudley and his wife, Jessica. That would be her dream. If she had customers like that, she wouldn’t have to hustle quite as much to get new work.

She shook herself. She should just be happy she made money doing something she loved, something that allowed her to keep her house and her bills paid. The money for some of her kids’ college tuition came from a savings plan that Greg had opened the day the two boys were born. The rest of the money came from loans that the boys would be responsible for upon graduation.

“You free for lunch?”

She sighed. Scott asked her just about every day to have lunch. No matter how many times she’d made it clear that nothing romantic was going to happen, he still asked. She admired his persistence.

“Uh, I don’t know. We’ll see,” Kate said.

She and Scott had been together in high school. Then he’d left for college and she had been forced to move on with her life. She married Greg Flaherty, a professor at the local community college where she had earned her associate’s degree.

Now that Scott was back in town, he made no attempt to hide the feelings he had for her. Kate only wished he was less forward about his intentions. She had to look at herself in the mirror every morning. She still had to be an example for her kids.

“I guess I’ll wait out here with everyone else. Can’t imagine Dudley’s inside in this heat,” she said.

She pondered staying in the air-conditioned truck. Wearing overalls for work made her too hot to be outside.

“I’ll keep you company,” Scott said.

“Have you made any progress on finding Greg?” she asked to put some distance between them.

He smiled as if he knew what she was doing and that it wouldn’t work. If she didn’t know he was a good guy, she’d be unnerved by him.

“I haven’t. You know that I’d update you if I had something.”

She did know that. No one wanted to find Greg as much as she did, except for Scott. She knew that he had a personal stake in finding out what happened to her husband. Scott wanted to find Greg so she could officially file for divorce. Or find his body, so that Kate could lay him to rest and move on.

She had no idea why he was so persistent. She was just Kate: a middle-aged woman with two college-aged kids. She wasn’t a supermodel. She had a few extra pounds on her, and she didn’t wear anything but overalls most days.

Having seen Scott’s ex-wife, Kate had no idea what he saw in her. The late Jackie York had been sex on a stick.

“This delay is going to make me late to my next appointment.”

Kate pulled out her phone then sent a text to Jessica that she would be delayed. Jessica sent a text back that it was okay. She wasn’t home at the moment anyway.

Tucking her phone back into her pocket, Kate eyed the building. Hopefully the power would be back on soon. Time was money. If she could get to Jessica’s house and be done, she might fit in another job before dinner. Since she lived alone, she didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s schedule. She could eat when she wanted. Sleep when she wanted.

Or do neither, which lately seemed to be happening more.

Scott reached out and rubbed a thumb down the middle of her forehead. “You worry too much. You’ll get inside eventually.”

“I would love to just switch the jobs, but Jessica isn’t home, so I can’t even start on her thing until I’m done here,” Kate said.

“It will all be fine.”

Scott had always been an optimistic. Like Winnie the Pooh, he saw everything in the best light. How could he do that after what he’d seen as a homicide detective in Philadelphia? And his wife had cheated on him. He still had a good heart, and Kate wished things were different—that she could love him.

The lights in the building went on and a cheer went up from the crowd. Finally, she could get to work.

The mayor was probably waiting for her, or would be now that the power had been restored.

“Off to the salt mines,” Scott said, a grin on his face.

“You have a good day.”

He stopped then turned fully to her. “You, too, Katydid.”

She wished he wouldn’t call her that. It had been his nickname for her in high school, and it implied an intimacy that wasn’t there. Thankfully, he didn’t do it often.

Yet part of her was thrilled, even if she didn’t want to be. He’d remembered things about her. Things only a lover could know.

She rolled her eyes at him, and then walked in the opposite direction to the mayor’s office. She tugged on her shirt. The air was stifling in the building. She hoped it would cool down soon. Wishing for shorts, she strode to the mayor’s office.

Chapter Two

Mayor Dudley Stuart had a secretary that he shared with the rest of the town council. She didn’t work full time and she wasn’t at her desk today. The older woman who had been secretary had retired a few months ago, and so Celia Johnson, the mother of Kate’s best friend, Carly, had taken the position for something to do since she’d retired as a nurse. Kate suspected she took the position because she wanted to know everything that was going on in the town. A lot of people had been surprised when the mayor hired her, given her propensity for gossiping.

With Celia not at her desk, Kate wondered if it was okay to just knock on the mayor’s door. She couldn’t hear anyone moving inside, but that could mean he might not have returned to the building.

A DPW guy walked past. Kate stuck her head out into the hallway. “Hey.”

The young man stopped. “Yes?”

“Have you seen the mayor?”

“Not today. He wasn’t outside with us.”

The man kept going. Kate frowned. She knocked on the door to the mayor’s inner office. No one answered. She pondered that for a moment, and then she walked toward another outside door. Maybe the mayor was out there. She poked her head out, but there was no one in that parking lot.

With the power back on, everyone was back in the building.

She sent a text to Jessica. I’m supposed to meet Dudley here. Is he with you?

No, he should be at work. I think.

Jessica Stuart was Dudley’s wife. Kate wondered if he had even contacted her about the power outage.

I’ll wait a little longer, Kate texted back.

She went back to the mayor’s office, and something told her to knock again. She did. There was still no answer. She wondered if she could spot what needed repair even without Dudley’s instruction.

Kate wanted to begin her day. Her first coffee was long gone. She wanted her second after this repair. Her day was not going as planned.

She looked down the hall, but no one was coming, so she decided to peek into his office. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then opened the door to see if she could find the repair he needed.

She did. It was a set of shelves that were empty, and one of the brackets had fallen off. That’s easy to fix.

She had brought brackets with her and would replace all of them. If one went, the others wouldn’t be far behind. Returning to her truck, she hoped Dudley would be back before she began her work.

When he wasn’t, she opened the door fully so no one would question her presence there. That’s when she saw him. On the floor.

“Dudley?”

She knelt down to find a pulse, but there wasn’t one. Not again, she thought. The mayor was dead on the floor, his hand clutching his chest. She picked up the phone on his desk and called the police.

She waited in the outer office, doubting the job would get done today. Or at all. She paced, trying to rid her mind of the sight of Dudley on the floor. He was pale and lifeless.

Scott was the first one in with EMTs right behind him. He glanced in, and then looked at Kate with a grim face. “He’s dead.”

She sighed. Another body that she had been the one to find.

“I’ll need to get a statement,” Scott said.

“Can I load my truck before we do? Clearly, I’m not getting in to make the repair.”

“No, this might be crime scene,” Scott said. “You can load up your truck then meet me in the PD. I’ll have someone take your statement.”

“Thanks.”

She carried what she was holding back to her truck. Her day really wasn’t going as planned. She entered the police department, but the same woman from last time was not at the desk. She must have had her baby already.

Today it was a man with a cast on his arm. He let her in since he knew her; he’d gone to school with her sons.

“Tell Jason and Jared I said hello,” Officer Gunther said.

“Not a problem.”

She passed through the door and found Detective Ken Johnson, the father of her best friend, waiting for her. “You’re like Jessica in that old television show. She found dead bodies everywhere.”

She appreciated his attempt at humor, but it fell short. “I guess.”

He led her back to the same room he’d taken her statement in when she’d found Jackie York dead in Scott’s kitchen. She shuddered at the memory of being held against her will by the murderer.

As she sat down, Ken brought her a much-needed cup of coffee. Kate couldn’t imagine what had happened to the mayor, but making a statement to the police meant it was being considered as a homicide. Ken took her statement then sent her into Scott’s office.

“He wants to talk to you,” Ken said.

She was going to get a scolding probably. He wouldn’t want her to interfere with the investigation.

“I have no reason to have anything to do with this murder. If it is one.”

“We have reason to believe it is, but I’m not telling you why. Stay out of it.”

She put up her hands. “Of course. I only investigated last time because you were involved. I didn’t want you to get railroaded.”

Scott smiled. “I know you care about me, Kate. One of these days you’re going to have to admit it.”

“What feelings I may or may not have for you are irrelevant until I know what happened to Greg.”

“Fine. Lunch?”

She glanced at her phone. “If I stop for lunch, it won’t be until closer to one.”

“Text me. I’ll meet you wherever.”

She thought about sending a text to Jessica then decided to go see her anyway. Even if she didn’t fix the item today, she wanted to give her condolences to the woman. Her husband had just died.

Apparently word had already gotten out about Dudley, and several cars were parked in Jessica’s driveway. Kate contemplated just calling Jessica to see if she still wanted Kate to come by.

So she called.

“Hello.”

Jessica sounded distraught.

“It’s Kate. Do you want to postpone my repair today?”

“No, please come over. It’ll be nice to have a friendly face.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

Kate disconnected. She looked around at the cars and wondered what Jessica had meant by a friendly face. It looked to Kate like she was surrounded by people.

Kate knew she had to fix a window in Dudley’s office. She brought the necessary tools with her when she rang Jessica’s doorbell. The woman answered, letting Kate in.

“Dudley’s business associates are here. I’ve never met most of them. Please do what you need to do then come and have coffee with me.”

Kate nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you Kate.”

***

Kate followed Jessica inside. The living room sported several men in suits with coffee cups in their hands. Kate wanted to say something to them, but she didn’t know what. It didn’t seem right to her that strangers had descended on Jessica’s house in her time of grief. She should be surrounded by family and friends.

Kate didn’t think Jessica’s family was close, but she must have friends. She was involved in so many things in the community. She wanted to shout at these men for invading her home.

At least she had been invited in.

“I’ll get that window fixed in no time.”

Jessica smiled a feeble smile and Kate squeezed the woman’s arm.

Upon entering Dudley’s office, Kate watched two men look up at her with guilty expressions on their faces.

“Can I help you?” one said.

She didn’t recognize either of them, but assumed they worked at Dudley’s trucking company.

“I’m here to fix the window.”

“Can you come back later?”

“Mrs. Stuart has asked that I do this right now.”

Kate wasn’t leaving. The men looked at each other and frowned. “Okay. We’ll come back.”

They’d clearly been looking for something. Kate would have to mention it to Jessica. It was such rude behavior to be searching Dudley’s office. What could they possibly need to have right now? She put it out of her mind until she was done with the repair.

The window had gotten stuck in the open position. It made things tough when you wanted to put on the air conditioning. She tugged on it and lubricated it with some grease. Finally it budged. A little. She wished for some more upper body strength to shove it back on track. She went out to her truck for a rubber mallet and a small board.

With that, she was able to put the window back in its place. Jessica came in as she closed it.

“You fixed it.”

“I did, but I want to put a thin piece of wood here so it can’t jump the track again.”

“We’re due to replace the windows on the back of the house in a month or so. I’ve already made the appointment, so no need.”

“Okay, then I just need to pack up my tools and I’m done.”

“You want some coffee?”

“I’d love some coffee.”

Jessica smiled that wan smile. After loading her truck, Kate returned to the house. The men in the living room were gone. Inside the kitchen, Jessica was pouring two mugs of coffee.

“You alone?” Kate asked.

“Finally.”

“Who were they? Two of them were going through Dudley’s desk.”

Jessica sat at the counter. “I don’t know exactly. They kind of forced their way in here. I didn’t know what to do.”

Kate sat down and reached out to Jessica. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be.”

“Was Dudley sick?”

“No. I don’t know what could have happened,” Jessica said.

“Is there anyone I can call?”

“My parents are on their way here. My sister, too. Will you stay for a little while?”

Kate would have liked to get a third job in today since her first was a bust and the second hadn’t taken long, but she couldn’t leave Jessica in this state. “Yes, of course.”

There would be no lunch with Scott, which was okay. She should keep more distance between them anyway, but he was persistent. That’s probably what made him a good cop though.

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Scott.

Can’t make lunch. Case is more complicated than we thought.

Okay, she texted back.

She wondered if they’d learned something new about Dudley’s death since she’d left the police station. She decided not to ask.

“I’m sorry. Do you have another job?” Jessica asked.

“Not until the morning. My afternoon is yours,” Kate said. “When do you expect people to get here?”

“In about an hour.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get that. You sit tight. You up for visitors?”

Jessica shook her head.

Kate wished she could have talked to Jessica alone more. The woman looked like she could use a good cry. She was holding herself together remarkably well. Her husband had just died, and she was making coffee for her visitors.

Kate had been a mess when she’d discovered Greg was gone—inconsolable, although she’d had to pull herself together for her kids.

Two women Kate recognized from one of the local committees that Jessica was on were standing on the doorstep with casseroles in hand. “Hello.”

“Hi, we’re from Daughters of Rock Ridge. We have some food for Jessica,” the woman with black hair said.

“Jessica isn’t up for visitors, but I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

The women handed Kate the casseroles then left with no argument. That had gone easily. She brought the dishes into the kitchen.

“Probably the first of many,” Kate said. “This is how Rock Ridge is when a tragedy happens.”

“Just put them in the freezer.”

Kate did as the woman asked and then sat back down. She sipped her coffee. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No, please, just sit here for a few minutes.”

“I can stay until someone in your family gets here.”

“Thank you.”

The doorbell rang again. Kate answered it and was surprised when Ken and Scott were on the doorstep. She guessed it was to pay their respects, but both looked grim. Not that she expected them to look any different given the mayor was dead.

“Jessica isn’t up for visitors.”

“We aren’t visitors,” Ken said.

Kate looked from one to the other. “What are you then?”

“We’re here to talk to Jessica. A police matter,” Ken said.

“Let us in, Kate,” Scott said.

She stood out of the way so they could enter and then led them back to the kitchen. Jessica looked up at them, surprised. “Hello.”

“Jessica Stuart, we are here to arrest you for the murder of Dudley Stuart,” Ken said.

He began to put cuffs on Jessica as Kate gasped. She reached out to Scott. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“We have reason to believe that Dudley was murdered and Jessica is responsible.”

How could they think that? Jessica loved her husband. They seemed pretty solid.

“On what grounds?” Kate asked.

“That is none of your business. Why are you here anyway, Kate? Are you investigating this thing already?” Scott said.

Kate straightened, indignation running through her. “I was here to fix a window. How would I know to investigate? When I left you weren’t sure it was a murder.”

Not that she had to justify her presence anywhere to Scott.

“Fine. We’re taking Jessica in.”

Jessica began to cry as Ken read her the Miranda rights. Finally she looked up at Kate. “I didn’t kill my husband, Kate. I promise I didn’t. Please don’t let them think I did.”

Crap. She couldn’t let Jessica be falsely accused. Scott got in her face before she could say anything.

“Stay out of it.”

As they walked out, Jessica’s eyes pleaded with Kate.

“I’ll do what I can, Jessica. You know I can’t let an innocent person go to jail for something like this,” Kate said.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll close up your house and leave your parents a note.”

Jessica nodded and let herself be led out by Ken.

Chapter Three

Kate locked up the house, put the key back in its hiding spot that she knew from doing so much work there, and then left. She debated going to the police station. Scott would be pissed if she became involved, but Jessica had asked her for help. She couldn’t turn the woman down. She’d just lost her husband.

Kate hadn’t gotten a chance to finish her coffee at Jessica’s, so she stopped at the coffee shop again. It was almost closing time. She got the last of the regular coffee that was left. Clara didn’t charge her for it.

She took the cup with her to headquarters. The utility trucks were gone, so Kate could park by the police department. The same young man sat at the front desk. He merely buzzed Kate in without her having to explain why she was there.

For all he knew, she could have a bomb on her. Just because she knew the chief didn’t mean she couldn’t be up to nefarious purposes. But she did have that honest face. Everyone had told her that her whole life.

She stood in the doorway to Scott’s office. He was on the phone, but he waved her in. She’d been there more than once, but not because of her proclivity to commit crimes. If she was in the municipal complex, she stopped in to see him. More than she should, she knew, but he was a friend. The only male one she had.

The rest of the middle-aged single men in Rock Ridge seemed to be determined to get her to date them, but for some reason, she wasn’t put off as much by Scott’s attempts. At one point in their lives, before they had dated, they had been friends.

Kate appreciated his candor and his quick mind. If she was sorting out a problem, Scott could usually help her get to the answer. That’s why she would come to see him.

It was the only reason, or so she told herself.

Scott hung up and put his hands flat on his desk. He had large hands.

She sat in her usual seat.

“I knew you’d be here.”

“Is that why Officer Gunther out front let me in without a second glance?”

“Yes.”

Scott didn’t appear to be unhappy about her presence, but he didn’t seem overjoyed, either. He had his “cop” face on. He wasn’t revealing anything to her.

It didn’t matter. She was a big girl and would do what she wanted, despite the lecture she was about to receive. She braced herself for it.

“I was there when Jessica asked you to investigate. I’m here to tell you that you should stay out of it. Don’t get in Ken’s way.”

“Ken has the case?”

“He does. He is our best detective.”

She cocked her head at him. “Better than you?”

“I’m the chief now. I have other duties.”

“So what makes you think that Jessica did it?”

“You think I can talk about it?”

“No, but you know I’m going to ask anyway,” she said.

She wasn’t a busybody, but she couldn’t let someone be charge falsely, either.

He sighed. “Let’s just say we have a witness to the fact that the mayor and Jessica argued and the mayor stormed off. Then Jessica left the house.”

“A witness?”

“Yes.”

“So they argued. Married couples argue,” she said.

“Yes, but one of them doesn’t usually end up dead afterwards. At least not often in Rock Ridge,” he said.

She frowned. The little town was fast becoming a murder hotbed after years of nothing happening other than the occasional burglary. She and Greg and chosen to stay in Rock Ridge because it was a good place to raise kids—a safe place. Now it was beginning to resemble a big city with the amount of crime she was encountering.

“Who?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“It’s you.”

His facial expression didn’t waver, so if she hadn’t been looking, she wouldn’t have noticed the quick flicker in his eyes.

“Okay, so you saw them argue. Dudley left the house. Didn’t you have fights with your wife where you had to get out?”

Scott frowned. “Yes, I guess we did.”

“You didn’t kill her?”

“No, I didn’t. I divorced her instead. Look, I’ve said too much already. You have lunch yet?”

“No, and I don’t want any. I’ll have an early dinner.”

She knew she wasn’t going to get much more out of him. She’d learned enough to know that she wanted to help Jessica. Scott was a good witness and a credible one. She would have to have an alibi.

“Is it okay if I go talk to Jessica?”

“Her lawyer is with her now. You can talk to her after that, if she’ll consent to it,” Scott said.

“I’m sure she will. She wants me to help her.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t happy. The “cop” face had left.

“Did your husband go out of town on business much?” Scott asked.

Kate’s head spun with the rapid change of subject. “Uh, yes. He was often asked to lecture at conferences.”

“Do you have his credit card bills?”

“Probably. He had one for business besides our personal one,” she said.

What is he getting at?

“Can you give me the last six months’ bills?”

“If I can find them. I didn’t have anything to do with them. He expensed things to the college or he paid them himself, although he would let me know before he transferred money.”

Scott nodded. “When you get a chance.”

“I’ll look for them tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you onto something?”

“Not sure. I don’t want to say anything until I know what’s going on.”

“Fair enough.”

She’d never given up hope that Greg would be found. Lately she was sure he’d be found dead. If he weren’t, she might have to kill him for putting her and the boys through this. She hadn’t had a husband in five years. The twins hadn’t had a father.

No amount of explaining could change that. She had no idea what he could say to get her to forgive him if he were still alive.

***

Jessica agreed to meet with Kate. They occupied an interrogation room at the back of the police department. The door was locked from the outside since Jessica was still a prisoner.

Jessica looked harried and her eyes were red, probably from crying. Kate’s heart went out to her.

“My lawyer says he can get me out if I surrender my passport.”

“Will you?”

“Of course, Kate. I want to be in my own home.”

“Has your family arrived?”

“Yes. My mother is getting my passport and bringing it here. I should be out within the hour.”

“Have they told you what they have against you?” Kate asked.

“Someone witnessed Dudley and me fighting. He stormed out.”

“Can I ask what you fought about?”

“I’d rather not say. It doesn’t make me look any less like a criminal.”

Interesting. Maybe there had been trouble in paradise. One never knows what goes on in someone else’s marriage. To a lot of people, she and Greg had looked perfect.

“Do you have an alibi?”

“Yes.”

“Then give it to the cops,” Kate said.

This whole thing could be wrapped up today. Then Kate could go back to fixing things. Jessica could go back to her own home. Everyone would be happy. Well, everyone except for Ken, who would have to find another suspect.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if anyone knew that I was with this person, he’d have a lot of grief in this town,” Jessica said.

Kate was getting the impression that Jessica had been having an affair. Who can it be? Who would be harmed if the town knew he’d been with Jessica?

“You’re sure you have an alibi?”

“Yes.”

“Who would want Dudley dead, then?” Kate said.

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it, Jessica. Had there been anyone he’d been talking about lately that was bothering him? Anyone blackmailing him?”

“No. He didn’t talk much about his business to me. He always thought I wouldn’t understand,” Jessica said.

How nice to have your husband convinced that you are an idiot. No wonder Jessica turned to another man.

“He didn’t think you were smart?”

“No, he didn’t. I didn’t go to college. I married him instead.”

“College isn’t a measure of intelligence. It’s only a measure of good grades and maybe determination.”

Jessica smiled. “You are one of the nicest people on this earth, Kate.”

Kate didn’t know about that, but she was glad she could make Jessica feel better. The woman was facing an uphill battle if she wasn’t going to give up her alibi.

“Thank you. Now back to Dudley.”

“Okay.”

“Did you look at anything in his office before those men descended on your house?”

“No, and the cops have a search warrant, so they’ve already been through it.”

Kate frowned. She should have snooped while she was there today.

“Do you know what they found?”

“Nothing to prove my innocence or I wouldn’t be here.”

Kate nodded. She wasn’t sure where to go next. If she knew the man Jessica had been with, she could convince him to talk to the cops. Was he reluctant or was it Jessica that refused to let him help her?

As far as Kate knew, Dudley had his hands in many things in the town. He’d even had investments in Philadelphia. Who knew what parts of those investments had gone bad? At one point, Kate had thought Dudley had killed the last person that was murdered in Rock Ridge.

Scott’s ex had invested money for several of the town heads, including Dudley. The deal had gone badly, and they all lost some money. Some more than others. Dudley had fared okay because he had money in all sorts of things.

“Think about it, Jessica. Had Dudley made any enemies lately?”

“He’d run unopposed for all of his terms as mayor. Not everyone liked the decisions he made, but there’d been no threats to him, as far as I know.”

“Have the cops looked at his company office yet?”

“Probably. They had a search warrant for that too.”

Kate would have liked to have been the first to get a crack at that. She’d bet anything that Dudley’s death had to do with his business dealings. Something had gone wrong.

She couldn’t remember anyone in town having a reversal of fortune lately, so she didn’t think that the suspect was someone in town. Then again, she’d have to ask around. Maybe someone wasn’t doing well, and she hadn’t heard about it yet.

She wasn’t part of the grapevine, but usually she heard things anyway, even if she didn’t want to. In a small town, everyone knew your business. Sometimes before you did. Kate could see the benefit of big city living, but she’d never want to give up her home. She’d lived her whole life in Rock Ridge. Moving now would be too much of an upheaval.

Besides, her boys wanted to come home to the house they grew up in. She couldn’t deny them that. They had specifically asked her not to move until they were out of college. She could only make an argument for moving if she found Greg.

“Did you have any strange phone calls recently?”

Jessica frowned then looked at the ceiling. “No, other than a few hang-ups.”

“Did Dudley seem more secretive than usual?”

Jessica cocked her head. “I thought it was my imagination. I felt as if he were hiding something from me.”

“Could it have been an affair?”

“I doubt it. Dudley was pretty straitlaced.”

“Did you question him about it?”

“I did, but he turned it around on me. I think he knew about what I’d been doing behind his back.”

“You want to tell me?”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t want to, but you’re going to figure it out. I was having an affair. I’m not telling you with whom.”

Her tone said that she wasn’t going to budge on revealing his identity. Kate knew that it was a dead end. It was frustrating knowing Jessica could be released today if she just told the cops who she was with.

“Why are you protecting him?” Kate asked.

“Because I love him, and I want him to do well in town.”

“Is he new to town?”

She covered her mouth then shook her head. She wasn’t going to say anymore, so Kate bade her good-bye.

Chapter Four

With her dinner done, Kate felt a little restless. The town council was meeting tonight, so she decided to go to it. She parked her truck in the parking lot outside of the main entrance to the complex. The lot was half-full.

Unless there was a huge issue up for discussion, most Rock Ridge residents avoided the meetings. They could be dull. Kate had a feeling that the bid would be awarded tonight for renovation of the community center.

Perhaps they would mention the mayor tonight. Either way, she had nothing better to do than to attend the meeting. She showered and put on better clothes before leaving the house.

A few people milled about while Kate found a seat in the back. She wanted to be able to escape if it became too boring. She was all for being involved civically, but not at the expense of sleep. She’d heard of town council meetings going into the wee hours of the morning.

That wasn’t what she had planned. No, she had a glass of wine waiting for her at home.

Kate turned off her phone. With her luck, someone would call her and she’d disrupt the meeting.

Finally, the council members sat and the meeting was called to order. Scott sat down next to her as the first agenda item was being discussed after a moment of silence for the departed mayor.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing at this meeting?” he said.

She smiled at him. “I wanted to see who gets the renovation of the community center—professional curiosity.”

“You don’t have anything better to do tonight?”

She didn’t and that spoke volumes about her life. She’d been meaning to join a book club or a painting class, but she hadn’t. Many of her friends who had kids in college had gone back to work. She’d bet they were all in the same boat in terms of social life.

“I guess not.”

He leaned closer to her. “The offer still stands, Katydid. I’ll take you out and show you a good time.”

A thrill went through her and she clamped it down. Her ego liked that Scott was so blatantly interested in her. Her heart was another story.

“You know how I feel. Now let me listen.”

“You find it interesting that maybe they’ll turn the fountain in town square on for eight hours a day rather than nine?”

She hadn’t realized that was the current topic of discussion. “I don’t want to miss the bid part. It’s important.”

“Who do you want to get it?”

“Dean. I know he’ll do a better job than Dudley’s brother,” Kate said. “What about you? Who do you want?”

“I don’t have a horse in this race, but I can’t root for Dean given our history.”

Scott’s ex had been cheating on him with Dean back when they all lived in Philadelphia. Kate understood his feelings, but this wasn’t so personal for her.

Since Dean had moved to Rock Ridge, he’d been nothing but nice to her. She wanted him to succeed in this town, despite how Scott felt.

The next item on the agenda was about petitioning the state for a stoplight. The road was owned by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, but there had been many accidents at that intersection lately. The council wanted the state to put a light there to mitigate the dangerous intersection.

It passed unanimously. No one from the audience spoke on that agenda item.

“We’ve had three accidents at that intersection just this week,” Scott said. “We’re running the fire company and rescue squad ragged. They’re already stretched for volunteers as it is.”

“Hopefully the state will listen,” Kate said.

The next item was a vote to go out for bids on a paid daytime ambulance service. Kate stopped listening at that point.

“Did Jessica get out on bail?”

“Yes. She surrendered her passport and was released.”

Kate had known that would have to happen. With Jessica’s money, she could escape easily, but Kate still didn’t think the woman had killed her own husband.

“You still think she did it?”

Scott shrugged. “Not my investigation.”

“Sure it is. You’re the big cheese,” she said.

She was pretty sure that he knew every aspect of what went on in his department. He may not make the actual decision for everything, but he knew.

“I am, but I like to let Ken do this thing. If he needs help, he’ll ask.”

Kate wasn’t so sure that Ken would. He’d been up for the chief’s job, but it was given to Scott, who had grown up here before moving away. Kate had been surprised when he moved back since he’d been adamant about wanting to leave for good when they were teenagers.

When he did finally leave, he’d broken Kate’s heart. It was long ago, but sometimes she remembered what that young girl had felt—abandoned. She was feeling it again with her husband missing.

“Here it is,” she said.

“We’ve received three bids for the renovation of the community center. By law, we have to award it to the lowest bid, which came from Dean Wentworth of Wentworth Contractors.”

Kate did a little dance inside her head, but didn’t show any outward emotion out of deference to Scott.

“I didn’t think he was going to get it,” Scott said.

“No? He wasn’t sure either when I talked to him over coffee this morning.”

Scott looked down at her. “Rumor mill said that Dudley’s brother was going to get it; that the mayor might not have awarded it to the lowest bidder.”

Kate studied Scott. “Doesn’t that make Dean a suspect? He benefitted from Dudley’s death.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Scott said. “My money is still on Jessica. It’s usually the wife.”

“Or the husband.”

Scott had been the first suspect arrested when his ex wound up dead. He understood Ken’s reasoning for that, but in the end he’d had nothing to do with her murder.

“The spouse either way.”

“What’s her motive?”

“Could be money. Maybe she had an insurance policy out on him. We’re still checking those things.”

“You guys cotton on to a theory and just won’t let it go will you?”

“Just because you don’t want to think it is Jessica, doesn’t mean she’s innocent. Spouses off their significant others all of the time. I saw it too many times in Philly.”

She couldn’t argue with his expertise, but her gut told her that Jessica wasn’t the one. She had to talk to Dean. He was clearly a suspect in her mind. If Dudley had lived, there was a good chance that Dean would not have been awarded the contract. That gave him a much better motive than Jessica had in Kate’s mind.

She wouldn’t mention that to Scott until she had more information. He would just warn her to stay uninvolved in the case.

“I see the wheels turning in your head,” Scott said. “What are you thinking?”

“None of your business.”

She gathered her things, ready to go.

“You want to blow this pop stand and get a drink?”

“Scott, no. I can’t.”

“I’m going to wear you down eventually.”

“Wear me down by finding my husband. Then we can talk.”

***

Kate slept about as well as usual that night. Her dreams were populated with the sight of Dudley Stuart dead on his office floor.

She still hadn’t bought coffee so she stopped at Bean There once again. Clara greeted her and Kate ordered a muffin for breakfast. She hadn’t felt like cooking. She’d received a text from her sons that they were still alive and building houses on an Indian reservation in Utah. Jason had sent a picture. Both boys looked tan and happy.

She missed them, but was glad they were away while all of this unpleasantness was happening. She sent a text back as she sat at a table by the window. Dean walked in a few minutes later. He joined her, looking not quite as happy as he should have.

“Congratulations on getting that contract,” Kate said.

“Thanks. They called me last night. I wasn’t able to make the meeting.”

“Did they call you late?”

“Yeah. Woke me up. Guess I’d forgotten yesterday was the day.”

How could he forget? Maybe he doesn’t need the money after all.

“This was an important contract. How could you forget?”

“I’ve had a few things on my mind. Besides, it’s not the only thing my company has going on.”

Kate eyed him. What could have been more important than that contract? “You know that this makes you a suspect.”

She didn’t know that, but in her mind he was. His eyes flared with surprise.

“Me?”

“You might have directly benefitted from Dudley’s death.”

He leaned back in his chair. He did not look scared or guilty. “How?”

“Rumor has it that he wasn’t going to give you the contract. When town council looked at the bids, yours was lowest.”

“How do you know I wasn’t slated to get it before he died?”

He sipped his coffee, but he didn’t look guilty at all. He didn’t look like a murderer, but what did one look like? The last one she’d encountered had been a man who had been kind to her when she started her business. Clark Stadt, convicted of the murder of Scott’s ex-wife, had been a mentor to Kate. Almost another father figure when hers had moved to Florida.

“You said so yourself. You were concerned yesterday about it.”

“Oh, right. Well I didn’t kill Dudley. My business is solid. I didn’t need that community center contract. I just wanted it. I want to give something to my adopted town. Is that so horrible?”

No, in fact it sounded noble. Dean was embracing his new life in this small town even though it had been the place where his lover was killed. She couldn’t fault him for his intentions. He wasn’t even upset that she’d accused him of murder.

“So where were you the other night?”

“I was with someone. Someone I’d rather not name.”

What?! Could he be Jessica’s lover? “Who?”

“Je—” he stopped. “Never mind.”

“Jessica. Then go to the cops and tell them that you were with her,” Kate said.

That would explain why Dean wasn’t excited about getting the contract last night. He was worried about his lover.

This man needed to figure out how to fall in love with a woman who wasn’t married. He had a bad track record.

He frowned, looking as if he’d lost his best friend. “She won’t let me. She says she’ll deny everything if I talk to the cops.”

That must be killing him. A man always wanted to protect his lover. It was in their DNA. She hoped that Greg had felt that way about her.

“Why? Why is she being so stubborn?”

“Because she is afraid there will be backlash against my business if people find out that I’ve been having an affair with the mayor’s wife.”

Jessica had a point. It might reflect badly if people knew about them. She wanted him to succeed almost as much as Jessica did.

“Do it without her knowledge,” Kate said.

“I love her, Kate. I really do. Now that Dudley’s gone, we can be together, but she’s afraid of what people will think. She’s had to be this pillar of the community for so long. She doesn’t realize that now she is out of the spotlight.”

Everyone would watch her for some time, but then people would realize that she wasn’t the mayor’s wife anymore. She would no longer be scrutinized. Kate would never have enjoyed such a fishbowl life either.

“Maybe I can convince her. Or maybe I can drop the right hints to the right people. If you’re asked questions, you have to answer them honestly.”

His face lit up. “That’s right. If I’m talking to cops, I don’t want to lie.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. I promised Jessica I’d help.

Dean reached across the table then squeezed her hand. “I’d really appreciate that. You have an in with Scott, I know.”

“I do?”

“Sure. Aren’t you two an item?”

Had she and Scott been spending that much time together? “We aren’t an item.”

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed. I’ve seen you have lunch with him.”

She frowned. “My husband is missing, and he’s helping me find him.”

“I see. I guess I misread what I saw. Sorry.”

Kate shrugged. “Not a problem.”

But it was a problem. She didn’t want anyone in town thinking that she was dating Scott. Why hadn’t anyone else said anything?

“If it’s any consolation, Jessica was happy to see you with Scott.”

“Except that I’m not with Scott.”

“She did mention your husband. Can’t you declare him legally dead or something?”

“I can’t petition the court until seven years have passed. It’s only been five.”

“That bites.”

Yes, it did. Lately she’d wanted to get on with her life. Maybe Scott being in town had made her feel that way. Until he arrived, she’d been content to wait out the time until she could declare Greg dead. A double-edged sword. The man who is making her want to end her celibacy is the man who might actually make it happen.

“I guess it does. I have a small job this morning then I am free to talk to Scott. You can expect either him or Ken to talk to you today.”

“Are you sure you can convince them that they need to talk to me?”

“I can be pretty persuasive.”

She finished the last of her muffin and her coffee.

“What do you have today?”

“I have to change some lightbulbs high up at the florist’s. She’s afraid of heights, and I have the big ladder.”

“You do a little bit of everything.”

“I do. It makes my job more interesting. A Jane of all trades.”

“Right. I bet your business it almost recession-proof,” Dean said.

“Just about. People are either fixing their houses to sell or fixing them to stay there.”

“That means business for you either way,” Dean said.

Yes, and she seemed to have a side business as a detective, too. She didn’t say that out loud. No one was paying her for that, and she had to fit it in between her paying jobs. She’d never been one to read Nancy Drew as a kid, so the fact that she seemed to be solving these cases was a surprise to her. Well, one case so far, anyway.

She liked her quiet life—most of the time. Too bad the fates were conspiring to shake it up once in a while. Hopefully this would be the last murder in Rock Ridge.

Chapter Five

The bulbs at Carly’s Florist didn’t take long to change. Carly was Kate’s best friend, so she always gave her a discount. Besides, Carly had even better coffee than Bean There and she always shared with Kate.

Today, Carly had been too busy to talk to Kate. She had to get the flowers ready for Dudley’s viewing. Kate would have to remember to stop in and pay her condolences even though she’d already spoken to Jessica a couple of times. She opted not to order flowers since she hadn’t known Dudley that well.

With the lightbulbs fixed, Kate waved to Carly and loaded the large ladder back into her truck. It was almost lunch, and if she showed up at Scott’s office, he’d talk her into going out to eat with him.

She needed to put some distance between them. If Dean had thought they were together, maybe others assumed that as well. She didn’t want the whole town to be convinced that she was with Scott. If Greg came back, what would he think of her spending so much time with Scott? She needed to be able to deal with whatever was going on with her marriage without that distraction.

So Kate decided to talk to Ken. He was her best friend’s father.

Once again she was allowed into the police department, which unnerved her. Security should have been better. There had been two murders in Rock Ridge in less than a year. Was no one else concerned that crime was on the rise?

She asked for Ken Johnson since he was the detective in charge. He wasn’t in. Kate sighed, knowing she would have to talk to Scott instead.

His face lit up when she entered his office. A part of her liked that he enjoyed seeing her.

“We need to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk,” he said with a grin on his face.

“People are talking.”

Scott shrugged. “Then let them. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

She sat on a chair opposite him. His desk was covered in neat piles of paperwork. She wondered if that’s how he spent his day. It must be very different from being a homicide detective.

“I have a favor to ask.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Take you home and do what comes naturally?”

Kate almost blushed. “Stop, Scott. I’m serious. It’s about Dudley’s murder.”

His smile quickly disappeared. “I asked you to stay out of it.”

He had, but he also had to know that she wasn’t going to stay out of it. She wasn’t nosy by nature, but she had a strong sense of right and wrong. If she saw something wrong, she had to make it right. That was never going to change.

“Well, something just dropped in my lap.”

He frowned. “I don’t believe you, but go ahead. Shall I get Ken?”

“I tried him first. He isn’t here.”

He pouted a little. It was cute for some reason. She didn’t want it to be cute. “You would have come here and not talked to me?”

“Yes. Do you want to hear what I have to say?”

He cleared his throat, but his face still revealed his disappointment.

“You need to go talk to Dean.”

“Why would I need to talk to Dean? You know I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

“Then send Ken, but someone has to talk to him. Ask him where he was when Dudley was murdered.”

“Okay. Can I ask why?”

She shook her head, wanting to keep her promise to Jessica. “I think it will take the case in another direction.”

He studied her for a moment. His gaze was always intense, and she was a little unnerved by it at the moment. “You aren’t going to tell me anymore than that?”

“No, just ask him where he was. He’s eager to tell you.”

Scott frowned. “You really should stay out of this.”

“Sure.”

She’d crossed her finger behind her back for good measure.

“Lunch?”

“No. I think we need to spend a little less time together. Some in this town think we are an item. We aren’t. I can’t look like I’m cheating on my husband.”

“Cheating on a man who hasn’t contacted you in five years?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Speaking of that man. I found his passport in the box of stuff you gave me. The stuff from his office,” Scott said.

“Oh? His current one?”

“Well, it expired last year, so it was current when he disappeared,” Scott said. He pulled something out of a drawer in his desk. “It has some interesting stamps in it.”

“Is this why you asked me if he traveled?”

“Yes. He couldn’t have gotten out of the country without this.”

“So he must be in the United States,” Kate said.

That didn’t narrow down his location by much, but at least he might be more easily found. If he could be found at all.

“Yes.”

He pushed the passport across his desk in her direction. Part of her had given up ever knowing what happened to Greg. That part wanted to just push the document back. Would it really shed any light on his disappearance?

Before she could make a decision on what to do, her hand snaked out and grabbed the passport. She opened it to the first page. There he was. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man she’d had children with.

She turned the pages, one after the other before she put it down. The passport spoke of a life that she’d known nothing about.

“As far as I knew, all of his conferences were in the United States. He was never gone more than a week or so. He’d never said he was going anywhere else.”

Scott frowned. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m thinking that Greg was not exactly the person you thought he was.”

“I figured that out the year after he left. I guess I didn’t know the extent of his deception until this moment. I bet those stamps coincide with the times I thought he was speaking at a conference.”

“I would bet. I’m sorry, Kate. Is there anything I can do?”

He was so sweet. She was going to cry. She wanted to do that alone. In this moment, she knew for sure that she would probably never see Greg again. She had to grieve for him. She had to be angry at him.

But not in front of Scott. He’d comfort her. He’d be sweet, but it would also be another way for him to shoehorn his way into her life. She had to grieve for her loss first.

“No, there isn’t. Thanks for the information.”

She rose.

“Kate? Should you be alone?”

“Yes, I’d like to be alone.”

She left him and went out the back door into the sunshine. Across the lot was a park, the kind with swings and laughing children. No one was there right now, so Kate traversed the grass to sit at a picnic table.

The tears came quickly and then were gone. She wouldn’t have thought that she had any more of them to cry for Greg. She’d been doing it for five years now.

She was sure now that Greg hadn’t been Greg. He was someone else. At least part of the time. Or had it been all of the time? How much of their life together had been a lie?

The only parts she knew were true were her kids. No one could take them away from her. Even if they never saw Greg again, Jason and Jared were hers.

She sniffed, wiped her tears away then vowed not to cry for the man ever again.

***

Despite her new resolve, Kate wanted to talk to Carly. She would listen to her and be sympathetic. She could help Carly with her orders while they talked.

The shop was empty when Kate arrived. As if Carly had radar, she pulled Kate into the backroom and gave her a hug.

“You’ve been crying,” Carly said.

She wanted to share with Carly, but her friend may be tired of talking about Greg. She’d been hearing about him ever since he left. “Scott is looking into Greg’s disappearance.”

Carly stepped away from her. She grabbed a vase and began to arrange flowers. “Don’t you think it’s time to let him go? He isn’t coming back, Kate. I think you’ve been on your own long enough. Shouldn’t you be allowed to get on with your life by now?”

“I owe it to my kids to find out what happened.”

“What if you never find out? You’ll be older and alone because the kids will be living their own lives. Scott is so into you. I wish a man was that into me,” Carly said.

She put two roses into the vase then surrounded it by baby’s breath. On the outside she put daisies and a red flower that Kate couldn’t identify. What she did know about flowers was from being friends with Carly for so long.

“I can’t explain it, Carly. He was my husband. I made a vow to Greg.”

“He can’t be keeping his vows since he isn’t here.”

Carly had a point, but it went back to how Kate felt about her vows. She’d made them and planned to only make them once. Greg might have had other ideas, but until she knew what had happened, she found it hard to move on in her love life.

“I have to do what is right for me.”

“So why is this all suddenly bothering you again? It’s been ages since you’ve talked about Greg.”

Kate pursed her lips. “Let me get some coffee.” She poured some into a cup then returned to a stool by where Carly was working. Now she was putting together flowers in a basket, probably for Dudley’s funeral.

“I gave Scott a box of Greg’s stuff that had been taken out of his office at the college. I’ve never looked in it. Scott found his passport.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know it was in there,” Kate said.

She had no idea if she would have ever looked in the box. She guessed that eventually she would have.

“And what did Scott find?”

“He showed me the passport. It had a lot of stamps from countries in the Middle East.”

“Didn’t he specialize in Middle Eastern studies?”

“Yes, but he never told me he went over there. As far as I knew, he was speaking at conferences. He was never gone for more than a week. I had no reason to think he was lying.”

“And now you do.” Carly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“You never trusted him, did you?”

Carly frowned. “I tried, Kate. He was your husband. He never did anything or said anything he shouldn’t have, but to me there was a bad vibe about him. As if he were always hiding something.”

“Even with the evidence of his passport and your saying that, I still don’t feel as if I ever felt that. I took everything he said at face value. It makes me wonder if he ever loved me.”

“Oh, Kate, I think he did. That’s why I put up with him and that vibe. I knew he loved you. Whatever else he was, don’t doubt that. He loved those boys of yours, too.”

Right now, Kate couldn’t be so sure. If he loved them, he wouldn’t have left. He would be there with her now. How could he just walk out? Kate didn’t think she would ever understand, even if Greg walked in the shop that minute and tried to explain.

She couldn’t imagine leaving behind her boys. No way. She’d miss them too much. They were fourteen when Greg left. That’s a tough age for boys—puberty and high school all at the same time.

She was mad at Greg. She hadn’t wanted to be, but she was. Even now, many years later, she was still angry with him.

“So what now?”

Kate rubbed a hand down her face. “I don’t know. I’m not saying anything to the boys until I know for sure what happened to Greg.”

“That would be best. There is no need for them to think badly of him until you know for sure he had a choice to stay.”

“You think he didn’t have a choice?”

“My take on his passport stamps is that he was involved in something that you knew nothing about. He didn’t tell you because it was dangerous. Something for the government, probably.”

“He was a mild-mannered professor.”

He’d been a beta male, which was increasingly obvious now that Scott was around. Scott was all alpha. King of the hill. Leader of the pack. That he’d applied and been hired for the job of chief of police was no surprise. She wondered why it had taken him so long to be in a leadership position.

“I’m thinking that was not true, Kate. I know this is going to take some time to wrap your head around, but just because he lied to you doesn’t mean that was he was doing was nefarious. He might have been serving his country.”

Kate hadn’t looked at it that way. He might be a hero, just not to her right now. “You always have a different way of looking at things.”

Carly shrugged. “I heard Jessica was released.”

“Good. She did have an alibi.”

“I heard that Dudley was doing some odd things with the bids on projects lately.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Dean Wentworth was in earlier. He was getting flowers for Jessica. He told me that he’d heard that Dudley picked who he wanted, but Dean had put in his bid anyway.”

“I heard that from Dean also. He and Jessica are each other’s alibis. I hope they aren’t lying for each other. What if one of them killed Dudley?”

Carly shook her head as she put the finishing touches on a wreath for the viewing that night. “Jessica had just filed for divorce.”

Kate didn’t know that, but she wasn’t surprised that Jessica hadn’t shared that with her. Now she didn’t need a divorce. If she’d filed, then there was no reason for Dean or Jessica to have killed Dudley.

That left Kate with no suspects. She would have to begin from scratch. She’d have to look into what Dudley had been involved in. It must have something to do with his business dealings. He could have crossed the wrong person. Especially if he was choosing the contractors he wanted instead of picking the lowest bid. Sometimes a contract for a municipality could make or break a struggling company.

She’d have to think about what contracts had been awarded lately and who had been in the running for them. Assuming the rumors of Dudley’s favoritism were true, he would have had to have kept the town council in the dark.

Chapter Six

Kate was still at Carly’s shop when she received a call from Jessica.

“Hello”

“It’s Jessica Stuart. I need you to come over. I have a pile of little jobs for you to do,” she said.

“Okay. I can come over now.”

“Good. I’ll be here.” Kate turned to Carly. “I have to go. Jessica has some jobs for me.”

She hugged her friend. She always felt better after talking to Carly. Always.

“You feel better?”

“Yes, I do. Thanks.”

Carly smiled and waved as her friend left. Kate might actually be able to afford to fix many things on her truck if Jessica had that many jobs for her to do. The poor old thing could use new tires and an oil change. As handy as she was, Kate hated working on cars, so she didn’t unless she absolutely had to.

Only Jessica’s car was in her driveway when Kate arrived at her house. She figured Dean must be preparing for his renovation of the community center. She couldn’t imagine the amount of planning that job would take. That’s why she did small jobs and nothing that required more than a few days’ time.

Kate parked her truck on the street. She knocked on Jessica’s door and she quickly answered.

“I’m glad you were able to come over. I sent the family out grocery shopping. They are hovering, but they don’t seem to understand that I’m okay with Dudley’s death. I’m sad, but I didn’t love him, nor did he love me.”

Jessica led her into the kitchen.

“What did you have in mind for me to do?”

“I actually have a list. Dean and I went through the house on his lunch hour.”

It seemed Jessica wasn’t letting anything get in her way of being with Dean.

“A list?”

“Yes. I want to put the house on the market. This is too big for me, alone,” Jessica said.

“So you have some odd jobs that need to get done before you can do that?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Where will you live?”

“With Dean until we build a much less tacky house.” Jessica shuddered.

She had been the one with good taste, as Kate had suspected. Dudley had liked things colorful and gaudy.

“Let’s go around the house. Can I have the list to make notes on? Then I can give you an estimate,” Kate said.

She enjoyed the idea that she would have steady work. She liked Jessica and she liked Dean, too.

“So why isn’t Dean doing this stuff?”

“He’s busy with the community center renovation, and he said he’d rather pay you to do it and not have to repair things when he came home from work.”

“Will you be living here while I do the repairs?”

“Probably not. As soon as Dudley is buried, I’m going to move in with Dean. “

“You don’t think people will talk?”

Jessica shrugged. “They might, but I don’t care. I finally have someone who thinks I’m smart and listens to me.”

“That sounds good.”

The two women spent an hour going through the house. When they were done, Jessica poured coffee for them and put out a plate of cookies. By then, Kate’s stomach was empty so she didn’t mind helping herself to a few.

Dinner would have to be healthy if this was lunch. She didn’t want to outgrow her overalls.

“Have you heard anything new about Dudley’s case?”

“No, just that he was Tasered and had a heart attack.”

“Did you know he had a weak heart?”

“No, he kept those things from me,” Jessica said.

She understood how disheartening that was. It made Kate wonder about all that Greg had kept from her.

“Could it be something to do with his trucking company?”

“It might. As mayor, he was only there part time. He didn’t really have that much power.”

Kate suspected that Dudley took more than was his share if the rumors were true. “Have you been through the books at the company?”

“No, but I have a private accountant auditing them. You’re welcome to talk to him if you think it will help you figure out who killed him.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. As much as Dudley and I had our differences, I don’t want his murderer to get away.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.” Kate licked her lips then broached a more sensitive subject. “There are rumors that Dudley played favorites in giving out contracts. That he didn’t always take the lowest bidder.”

Jessica put down her coffee mug. “I’ve heard that also. When I confronted Dudley, which is what we were arguing about when he left that morning, he insisted that he didn’t do that. I have no proof of what he did. You might have to talk to the other council members. They might have a better idea of what the exact complaints had been.”

She could talk to Larry Stadt. He had been the fire chief, but now had taken over his father’s hardware store after Clark had been taken away on murder charges. Larry used to be interested Kate but had been scarce since his father had threatened her for investigating Jackie’s death.

She didn’t blame Larry for anything. He wasn’t his father’s keeper. Though it wasn’t surprising that Larry would feel guilty, he was that kind of man.

“Good idea.”

“Let me get the card for the accountant.”

“You already hired him?”

“I had him on retainer because I’d already filed for divorce from Dudley. I didn’t want him to be able to hide any assets from me.”

Dudley had underestimated his wife. She’d probably been underestimated her whole life. She was smart and savvy. Knowing what she knew now, Kate wondered why Jessica had ever married Dudley.

“Can I e-mail you the estimate? It might take me a day or two. I need to figure out supplies,” Kate said.

“Of course. I’m in a hurry, but I understand that you want to do this properly,” Jessica said.

“Yes, I do,” Kate said.

That’s one of the things her father had taught her. Never do bad job. Ever. People remembered those things. Kate had no doubt that he’d been right.

Though Jessica’s list was long, none of the jobs were too much for her to handle. Kate would have steady work for several weeks.

***

With the check cashed for fixing the window, Kate was now able to get an oil change on her truck. She drove it over to Bob’s Garage to see if he could fit her in.

No one was at the desk when she entered the lobby. The place was from a bygone era when the customer could come into the bay to see what the mechanic had been doing on his or her car. There wasn’t the separation as in modern facilities.

Kate sat down to wait. A television blared at one end of the waiting room. Kate wasn’t interested in whatever was on. It was just a bunch of women talking over each other. She never understood that, but she’d never been part of a group of women like that. She’d mostly been a loner in high school until she caught the eye of the star quarterback. The cheerleaders hadn’t been happy with her since they had all wanted to date Scott.

Her social popularity plummeted even further when she and Scott were first seen together. He didn’t care what others thought, but there were days of teasing when she wanted to break up with him just to get relief from it.

She shuddered at the memory of high school. Her sons had been athletic, and so they’d had an easier time in those four years than she’d had. Greg had been a runner. They must have inherited their athletic prowess from him.

Kate heard voices and then Beth Chance, a reporter with the Rock Ridge Sentinel, appeared in the doorway to the bay. Oh crap. She’d want to talk to Kate, who had been able to avoid the woman for days.

Beth’s face lit up, indicating to Kate that this would be an inquisition. Lucky her.

Bob, whose name was on the building, was right behind Beth. “Give me about fifteen minutes then I can give you an estimate.”

He looked at Kate. “What can I do for you?”

“Oil change, but I can wait until you are done with your estimate.”

Not that she wanted to talk to Beth. At all. She could get through fifteen minutes without answering any questions. She’d done it before.

Beth sat down across from her. A table littered with magazines sat between them. Kate picked up a gossip rag and leafed through it, hoping that Beth would get the hint. She didn’t.

“So I’ve been trying to track you down, Kate. I have some questions.”

“I don’t have any answers for you.”

“Come on, Kate.”

“The story is a few days old. My viewpoint can’t be that interesting now,” Kate said.

“Well it still is. You apparently directed the police to the person who could give Jessica Stuart her alibi?”

“No comment.”

She turned a few more pages, but Kate knew no one in the magazine. She didn’t watch much television and she didn’t listen to current music. These people were strangers to her. Still, it was better than having Beth interrogate her.

“What did the body look like?”

Why would she want to know that? That was just gruesome. No reader needed that graphic detail.

“So what are you getting an estimate on?” Kate said.

She could ask questions also. Beth’s mouth opened then closed. “I hit a concrete barrier with my car. It was in the newspaper’s parking lot. I need to see if I have the money to get it fixed or if I have to file a claim with my insurance company.”

The television droned on. The show had changed to another set of women talking over each other. Kate didn’t see the entertainment value in it.

“I see.”

Beth stopped making eye contact, which made Kate wonder if she was feeling guilty about something. It’s not as though Kate really cared about how her car was damaged.

“He’s taking a while,” Beth said.

“He said it would be at least fifteen minutes,” Kate pointed out.

Everyone was in a hurry these days. Kate appreciated the chance to sit still for a few minutes. At least she’d derailed Beth’s questions.

Or so she thought.

“So back to my questions, Kate.” Beth pulled out her phone and began typing into it. “You found the mayor. Why were you there?”

“No comment.”

“That’s an innocuous question, Kate.”

“No comment.”

Kate knew that if she answered one question, Beth would get her to answer more, and she wasn’t opening herself up for that. She wanted to sit and wait for her truck to be done. Of course, no one else entered the lobby during this inquisition.

Kate would have longed for anyone to break up this conversation.

“Give me something here, Kate. The public wants to know.”

“No comment, Beth. That’s all I have to say to you. You can save yourself grief and stop asking questions. I’m not answering any of them.”

“Why not? You seem to know a lot about the case. More than the cops.”

Kate doubted that. She knew more than the average person who read the Sentinel. It wasn’t a hotbed of journalistic accuracy. In fact, the paper had twice been caught printing libelous stories. They were given the choice to retract them or face lawsuits.

The paper had not been kind to her when Greg had disappeared. The editor had speculated that she had something to do with her husband’s vanishing. They’d intimated, without going into an outright accusation, that she might have had him harmed. They’d had no basis for the accusation. As far as anyone knew, she and Greg had been a happy couple.

As far as she knew, she and Greg had been a happy couple. Each time she uncovered something else about his life, she wondered if her whole marriage had been a lie. She wanted to believe that Greg had loved her and the boys, but she wasn’t as sure as Carly was.

She could never forget how horrid the editor had been to her. She even refused to advertise in the local newspaper. She hadn’t had a subscription in years. She’d never been a news junkie, and she had other sources for the information she needed.

None of this was Beth’s fault, but Kate still could not bring herself to help the organization that Beth worked for.

“You won’t give me one good quote for the paper?” Beth asked.

Kate admired her persistence, but she wasn’t giving in. She knew how words could get twisted and people were misquoted.

Bob returned and Kate had never been so eager to see anyone.

“I have your estimate, Beth,” he said.

He handed her a piece of paper. She frowned at it. “Okay. I’ll call and make an appointment if I decide to get it fixed.”

“Let me drive it out of the bay.” He turned to Kate. “Then you can drive your truck into the bay.”

“Sure.”

Since she’d parked on the street, Beth was able to drive her compact car out. Once it was vacant, Kate put her truck in the only bay in the garage.

“Might take me a half an hour.”

“I’ll probably go find lunch. I haven’t eaten in hours,” Kate said.

“I think you might have company,” Bob said.

When Kate looked in the direction that he was pointing, she saw Scott standing there, his arms folded over his chest. He looked as if he were waiting for her. She briefly wondered if maybe he had a tracker on her truck.

He seemed to turn up wherever she was. Not that Rock Ridge was a large place, but Kate was beginning to be convinced that Scott had spies everywhere. She knew the town was rooting for them to get together, but she didn’t think everyone would go as far as keeping tabs on her to make that happen.

Chapter Seven

Kate strode out to see Scott. A smile lit his face.

“Hi.”

“Did you put a tracker on me? Or do you have spies telling you where I am?”

He chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe both.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “No need to give the rumor mill anything to talk about.”

“Well, I wanted to see if you had lunch yet. I got caught up in paperwork and forgot.”

“I got caught up at Jessica’s house. She’s going to put it on the market,” Kate said.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll go grab a bite,” Scott said.

He motioned for her to walk beside him. They were only a block off Main Street, so they could find something there.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know the revelations about Greg’s passport rattled you.”

Kate looked up at the blue sky. She could see the haze and couldn’t wait for fall again. She didn’t like summer. She should have moved to a colder climate years ago, but then she’d married Greg. She guessed he could have taught anywhere, but she’d never thought about moving at that point.

“I went and talked to Carly. She helped me put it into perspective. A little bit, at least.”

“That’s good. At this point, I have no idea what he’d been doing in those places. I have some contacts in federal law enforcement I can tap to go a little further with the investigation.”

He’d only do that with her permission. He may not respect her boundaries when it came to dating, but he would when it came to Greg. She knew this.

“You want my permission?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead. I have nothing to lose. I think I’m already questioning a big portion of my adult life. I didn’t know Greg at all. To me he was this professor who spoke at conferences all over the country. Not some guy who made quick trips to the Middle East on a regular basis,” Kate said.

“I wouldn’t question it yet.”

He held the door open for her to Daisy’s Luncheonette. Only a handful of tables were occupied. Daisy didn’t stay open for dinner, so it would be closing in the next hour.

It wasn’t a diner, but it wasn’t a full restaurant either. Kate could easily find something here to eat to make up for those cookies. A salad would do.

They sat at a table in the window and read the menus. A waitress came by and took their drink orders. Kate was in the mood for a soda that had caffeine in it and Scott chose iced tea.

“How can I not question it? He spent a lot of time lying to me.”

He looked over his menu at her. “But we don’t know why yet. It might have been for a good cause.”

Kate sighed. She didn’t have that feeling in her gut. She was sure this was bad. “That’s what Carly said.”

“Hold on to that until we know differently. This was your husband.”

Scott was right. She should give the man the benefit of the doubt. As far as she knew, he never cheated. She couldn’t imagine him going halfway around the world just for sex. “I know, but I’m the last to know that he had a double life.”

“I’ll go talk to his colleagues at some point,” Scott said.

Kate ordered a salad while Scott insisted on a burger. She tucked the menus back into their holder. “I understand this isn’t your biggest priority. You do have a police department to run.”

He smiled. “Yes, they are paying me to do that. On the other hand, I have a personal stake in finding out what happened to Greg. I have no desire to taint him in your eyes. I just want to give you closure. So you can move on.”

“With you?”

Scott laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Of course with me. I’m not working this hard for some other guy to benefit.”

She looked at him, her head cocked. This was all too much. She needed to get some answers from him. “Why are you working this hard?”

The waitress put down their drinks. Kate took a sip, enjoying the bubbles dancing across her tongue.

“Why not? You’re smart and sexy and loyal.”

“You make me sound like a sexy puppy.”

He leaned closer to her. “I’d make you out to be a sexy kitten.”

Kate blushed, not liking where this conversation was headed. “Stop.”

“Seriously? Maybe you remind me of a simpler time.”

“But I’m not that teenage girl who was dazzled that the star quarterback was interested in her.”

She’d had stars in her eyes. The quarterback had wanted her. It sounded so lame now, but she’d been young then. Stupid, in a way. But he’d been good to her up until he had left.

“I’m not the star quarterback anymore, Kate. And I don’t miss that. I’m a grown man who knows what he likes. I knew what I liked then. You were so different from the crowd I ran with. You were bookish, and you didn’t seem to care what other people thought. I was intrigued by that.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about this revelation. That wasn’t how she saw herself. “I was awkward. Maybe a little high maintenance.”

“If you were high maintenance, then you have no idea of the meaning of that word. The girls I dated other than you made me wear certain clothes. I had to look a certain way to be seen with them. You didn’t care.”

He really did have a different view of her than she had of herself. “The point is: I’m not that girl anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be. I’m not that boy anymore.”

He was closer to that boy than she was to that girl. “You haven’t lost any of your swagger.”

He puffed out his chest. “I’m still confident.”

“Yes, sometimes too much.”

He laughed. “I’m not obnoxious, am I?”

She laughed also. She enjoyed his company. “No. Annoying sometimes.”

“Only because you won’t give in to my charms,” he said. His eyes went dark. “I would take good care of you, Kate.”

“I’m not sure I need taking care of.”

“Sure you do. A little bit. Everyone does.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me, but only in one place.”

She didn’t utter the words, but she knew what place he was referring to. He’d had a voracious sexual appetite in high school. And he always found places that they wouldn’t be disturbed. She sighed. Those were heady times. He’d brought out a woman in her that she hadn’t known she could be. Her confidence had soared during their relationship.

Not so much after he left. As much as that was a long time ago, it still hurt some part of her.

“Yes, I remember.”

Scott chuckled as the waitress brought their food. She shouldn’t like him this much. She was having thoughts that she knew she shouldn’t have. Having lived day to day for so long, she was beginning to think of what the future could hold. That was dangerous.

This man was dangerous. What would her boys think?

It could be that they missed having a male role model in their lives. Or maybe that wasn’t necessary anymore. They were nineteen now. They were finding their own way in life.

Even if it was without a father.

“Where did you go?” Scott asked.

She frowned. “Just thinking about my boys.”

“Young men now.”

“I know. It all happened so fast. They’ll be out on their own before I know it.”

He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “All the more reason to look after your own happiness.”

***

Scott walked Kate back to Bob’s Garage. He kissed her on the cheek and left her there. She paid Bob for the oil change, and then headed to Grayson’s Hardware Store for supplies. She could figure out what she needed for Jessica’s list of repairs and give her an estimate.

She walked in to find Larry Stadt all by himself. That didn’t often happen in this store. She’d noticed that some of the regulars didn’t hang out there anymore since Larry’s father had been convicted of murder. The big-box store was an hour’s drive away. If they wanted to, they could go there.

Kate had relied on Larry’s father for advice. She wasn’t sure Larry could give her any, but she’d stop and chat anyway. She always preferred patronizing local businesses, especially since she ran one.

He’d been leaving her alone. Maybe he was just busy with the store, but she’d missed his friendship. They used to have lunch once a week and catch up. She knew his feelings for her, so the lunches were bittersweet. She didn’t want to encourage him, but in her mind he was safely ensconced in the friend zone.

The store smelled like fertilizer today. Guess Larry was stocking it for the avid gardeners. Kate liked the idea of a garden, but not the execution. She worked with her hands all week. She would rather spend her free time relaxing with a book.

If she wanted fresh vegetables, she could go to the local farmer’s market.

Larry was behind the counter looking at paperwork. Hunched over the counter, he hadn’t heard her come in. She didn’t want to startle him, so she cleared her throat. Larry looked up.

He was a tall, lanky man with brown hair and brown eyes. His eyes held you as if you were the only woman in the room. Others had said that about him, so Kate knew it wasn’t just her.

He smiled at Kate. “Hello, there.”

She smiled back. He was a good guy in a bad situation with his father. “Hi, Larry. Haven’t seen you around.”

He glanced around the shop. “I have less free time since I’m running the hardware store. We’ll have to grab lunch someday soon.”

“I guess it is more time-consuming than being the fire chief.”

He put down the pencil in his hand, and then leaned against the counter. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal sinewy muscles on his forearms. “Yes, it is. I miss the school visits, but other than that I’ve settled into this.”

“Are you happy?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I actually am. This is more of a challenge, and I was due to retire from the fire service two years ago. I didn’t because I didn’t know what I was going to do. This opportunity fell in my lap.”

“The place looks good. I see you’ve rearranged.”

“Yes, I’ve also stocked some items that Dad wasn’t willing to. He was running this shop for several years, but you’d have thought he’d been doing it forever. He was stubborn.”

“Nice to see some changes. You should give me a tour, so I know where things are.”

“You are one of my best customers.”

“I’ll be here even more since I’m fixing a number of things at Jessica’s house.”

“Sad about Dudley.”

“Yes, it is. I don’t think the cops have any idea who did it. It would be nice to have closure about it,” Kate said.

“You found him?”

“Seems to be my lot in life lately.”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “I walked past his office not long before the power went out.”

“Oh?”

This news definitely got her attention. She stepped closer to him, eager to hear what he had to say. “Did you hear anything?”

“I heard arguing. He had a woman in his office. I didn’t think much of it until he turned up dead.”

“A woman?”

“Yes, but I didn’t stop to listen. I thought it odd that he was there so late.”

“What were you doing there so late?”

“I was cleaning out my locker at the fire house. I didn’t want to see anyone so I went when I knew they’d be asleep, so I could get it done without talking to anyone. I’d already given my key back, so I didn’t have a way in the front door. I had to go through the police department on my second trip out. That’s why I went past Dudley’s office.”

“So you heard a female. Were they arguing?”

“It sounded contentious, yes, but I didn’t see any reason to stop or look in. I was minding my own business.”

“Right. I understand. Did you talk to the cops?”

“Yes, and that’s why they thought it was Jessica.”

“Did you see any strange cars around?”

Jessica’s car was a bright red Mercedes with a vanity plate. Hard to miss. Dean didn’t have the same kind of money that Dudley had. Kate wondered if Jessica would be able to keep her car.

“I wasn’t paying attention. I’m not a car person, so I wouldn’t have noticed,” Larry said.

He frowned, clearly having wanted to do more. Kate patted his hand. “Not your fault. Not your problem either.”

“Shouldn’t be yours.”

“I know, but Jessica wanted me to snoop. Since the police were so quick to arrest her, she thinks that they won’t do a good job. You know how people are in a small town. We are judged on what we did in the past, not who we actually are.”

“That’s true. And sometimes we’re judged on who we’re related to.”

Kate saw the pain in his eyes. “Has business gone down since your father left?”

“At first it did, but I still had my core. The ones who didn’t want to drive to the big-box store,” Larry said.

“I’m so sorry. What your father did is not your fault.”

He looked up at her with widened eyes. “You aren’t mad at me?”

“You had no control over your father’s behavior. You were just as surprised as the rest of us when he confessed. You can’t be held responsible for what he did.”

“You don’t think I could be a murderer?”

“No, Larry, never.”

Then again, she’d never have thought his father could be one.

“Good. I’m glad. It would be too much to bear if you thought badly of me, Kate. Now what can I get you?”

“I don’t have an actual purchase today. I have to create an estimate for Jessica first, so I need to know the cost of materials. You’ll benefit from this, I promise.”

“Eventually. That’s good enough, Kate. I’m just happy that you don’t hold a grudge.”

He was a sweet man, one that any woman would be lucky to have. “I couldn’t think that way of you, Larry. You’ve been a good friend.”

He grimaced. “A friend. I had hoped for more, but I see that with Scott back in town, I don’t have a chance.”

What could she say to him? She wasn’t one to kick a man when he was down, but in reality, Larry never had a chance.

“I’m sorry, Larry. You would treat me like a queen, I know, but I’m not sure I want to be treated like a queen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t see myself that way. I’m just Kate. I don’t dress like a queen.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you dress, Kate.”

She sighed. He didn’t get it. “That’s not the point. You have to love someone the way they want to be loved. And I don’t want to be a queen.”

“Oh, I think I understand. I’m sorry, too, Kate.”

“There’s someone out there for you. You need to forget about me and look for someone who will appreciate you.”

Carly came to Kate’s mind. She’d love to be treated like a queen, but Kate didn’t think that Larry was ready for that suggestion.

Chapter Eight

Kate’s next stop was the accountant for the trucking company. With the late lunch, she didn’t need dinner for a while, so she had time. It wasn’t five yet. She figured she had at least a half an hour before the guy would want to go home.

His office was in the only office complex in Rock Ridge. Three buildings made up the sides of a triangle. In the middle of them was a courtyard with plants and benches. Parking was behind one of the buildings. On a snowy day, some of the employees would have a long walk.

Kate appreciated that today was a good day to have that walk. The buildings were made out of stone and had been built a decade ago. Someone was keeping them up because they didn’t look that old.

She looked at the directory in Building A and found Eric Swan’s office number. His office occupied a little spot on the third floor, just outside the elevator. She strode through the door with his name on it only to find an empty office.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

A round man with jet-black hair and bushy eyebrows looked at her from the door to an inner office.

“I’m looking for Mr. Swan.”

“You’ve found him.”

He smiled and held out a beefy hand to her. He reminded her of a gummy bear.

“I’m Kate Flaherty. Jessica Stuart might have mentioned I would come by.”

“She did. Come in.”

He waddled back behind his desk as she sat on a buttery leather chair she never would have expected to find in this office. He must spend his money on certain things and not others. Right in the middle of his desk was a jar of gummy bears.

He must have seen her eyeing it. “You want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m still full from lunch.”

He folded his hands on his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Did Jessica tell you what I wanted?”

“All she said was to give you what you asked for.”

“I just wanted to see the audit you did of Stuart Trucking Company.”

“I’m not done yet, but from my preliminary perusal, nothing is wrong. Nothing is out of place.”

“Do you do these types of audits often?”

“Yes. I am a forensic accountant. I’m trained to look at books to see if there are any problems. Nothing jumped out at me my first time through. No one is that good at hiding wrongdoing, trust me. I don’t expect to find anything out of order.”

Kate frowned. She would have to rethink the motive for Dudley’s murder. She wondered if Jessica would let her look at their personal finances. Maybe she and Dudley had separate accounts. He didn’t have a lot of power as mayor, so she doubted that he could have made enemies that way.

Unless the rumors of his playing favorites was true.

“Well, thank you for your time,” Kate said.

“No other questions?”

“Not unless you can shed any light on who might have wanted him dead.”

“No, sorry. I just work with numbers,” he said. “I didn’t get involved in what Dudley did day to day.”

She received a call as she arrived at her truck. It was Celia.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Kate. Just wanted to let you know that you can fix those shelves in the mayor’s office. It has been cleared,” Celia said.

“Oh, thanks. Who do I bill?”

“Jessica said she’d pick up the tab. Guess she has money to throw around.”

“Can I come over now?”

“Yes, but I’ll be leaving for the day. I think there will be someone here.”

She still had the supplies for that job in her truck, so she could get this job done then call it a day. A long day.

Celia wasn’t there when Kate arrived, but Joe Swenson was. He was the town’s auditor.

“Hi, Kate. Let me move to Celia’s desk then you can fix these shelves. You going to the viewing tonight?”

“I’m going to try. If not, I’ll get there tomorrow while I’m out and about,” Kate said.

He left her alone to fix the shelves. He had books in his hands and a laptop. The computer from Dudley’s desk had already been removed. Not that Kate had planned to snoop, but she might have.

She didn’t know what to look for anyway. She fixed the shelves and was about to leave when she heard Joe on the phone.

“I have bad news. I’ve only pulled the last three contracts awarded and their bids.”

Silence.

“Yes, Dudley kept it all. Doesn’t seem smart in light of what he did.”

Kate eased closer.

“No, he didn’t award the contracts to the lowest bidder. I can’t tell why he awarded the contracts as he did. Maybe we need to look into who financed his mayoral campaign.”

Campaign? He ran unopposed. Kate didn’t think that was the avenue to follow. Maybe they would subpoena his personal financial records. Kate would love to get a look at them before the cops did.

She also wished she could see who didn’t get the last contracts. Dudley’s murderer might be among those people.

“I don’t know if we can get a warrant or not,” Joe said. “Still, I’m going to turn these over to the cops. They need to know he was doing this.”

Joe was thinking the way she was. Maybe Scott would take care of it. Maybe Dudley’s killer would be exposed without her intervention.

If there are irregularities in what the mayor did, what did that mean for the contracts awarded? It would seem Dudley had left quite a mess.

Kate cleared her throat, and then walked out of the mayor’s inner office with her tools. “I’m done,” she said to Joe.

On her way to her truck, Kate encountered Beth. The girl looked harried.

“Hey.”

Beth looked at her. “Hey.”

“I might have a scoop for you.”

“Yeah?”

“There are rumors that the mayor didn’t award the last few contracts for the town to the lowest bidder. He may have played favorites.”

Kate would have thought that Beth would brighten up, but she still looked glum.

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead. He can’t fix it. He can’t change it and neither can the town council.”

“Right, that’s true, but it might lead to his murderer.”

Still, the young woman had no reaction. “I don’t think I can pursue that. I have other assignments.”

Other assignments? Wasn’t the death of the mayor a big story? Kate left Beth to her wallowing and loaded her tools back into her truck.

She sent a text to Scott. Where are you?

Miss me already?

No, I wanted to talk to you about something.

I’m getting ready to go to the viewing. You want to come with me?

I need a half an hour or so to get ready.

I’ll see you then.

She had to hurry home and then hurry through her shower. Scott was on her doorstep early, of course.

“Did you eat?”

“No, I’m still full from lunch.”

“Then let’s catch a bite afterwards,” he said.

“We’ll see.”

She probably shouldn’t be going to the viewing with him, but she hated wakes and didn’t want to go alone.

“At least you didn’t say no.”

***

The Rock Ridge Funeral Home was packed. Scott had to drop Kate off at the front door then find a spot to park. She waited for him in the entryway. He walked in and everyone turned to look at him. He had that type of presence. Not even noticing what had happened, he walked over to her, taking her elbow.

“Shall we get in line?”

“Sure.”

Anyone who was anyone in Rock Ridge was in the funeral home right now. There were people Kate hadn’t seen in years.

“Guess Dudley was well liked,” Scott said.

“He did run unopposed four times,” Kate said.

She looked at all the people. She’d bet the murderer was here.

“Do you have cops watching the place?”

“Yes, I borrowed some state troopers so that visitors wouldn’t know them.”

“What are they looking for?”

“Just any suspicious behavior. It’s more a gut instinct,” Scott said. “We don’t arrest anyone based on that, but it may give us a suspect.”

“I see.” Kate wasn’t sure anymore if she could trust her own gut feelings. “I talked to Larry today.”

“So how is my, ahem, rival for your affections?”

“Don’t be cocky.”

He put on an innocent face, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “Who? Me?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “He said he heard a female talking to Dudley before the power went out.”

“I know. That’s why we initially thought it was Jessica. I’d seen them arguing, so her following him to his office to keep arguing made sense. Clearly she hadn’t.”

“Hmm. Do you think that female is your murderer?”

“At the very least, we have to talk to her because she may have seen something, but we don’t want to let on that we know about her in case she is the murderer.”

“So you are only looking at females?”

“No, but mostly.”

“Was Dudley having an affair?” Kate said.

“Not that we know of. Jessica didn’t seem to think so. Think about Dudley. He landed Jessica. Even if he was frumpy and not that attractive, he could fancy himself more attractive and want to get someone hotter than his wife.”

“Not always hotter. Some men cheat with anyone,” Kate said.

“You know from experience?”

“No, sorry. My past dating history isn’t that interesting or depressing,” she said. “I have Carly’s history to go by.”

“Sad. She’s a nice girl.”

“How much time have you spent with her?”

“Jealous?”

“No. Just asking.”

The line snaked out into the hallway and back around. Kate was going to be hungry by the time they left here. She might take Scott up on his offer, after all.

“Did Jessica tell you that she had an audit done on Dudley’s trucking company? She didn’t want him to be able to hide anything when she filed for divorce.”

“Bet that didn’t go over well with Dudley.”

“He did like to keep her in the dark. She was making the right decision to divorce him.”

“Ironic,” Scott said.

“What?”

“That you feel that way, yet you won’t do that to Greg.”

She couldn’t speak for a moment. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Ever. Why hadn’t it? Was she playing the victim?

She didn’t want to be, but until a few months ago, she had still loved her husband. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“I guess I’m not there yet, and Jessica is a stronger woman than I am.”

Kate turned away from him. She wasn’t mad at him. She was questioning her own actions. Maybe she should have done something before now. It might have helped her kids to have closure.

Scott leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry.”

She turned back to him. “I’m not mad. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Still. I upset you.”

“I upset myself.”

Finally, they arrived at the closed casket of Dudley Stuart. Kate had admired the pictures of him along the way. Jessica was acting as the grieving widow, but Kate didn’t judge her. Many people didn’t know that she’d filed for divorce.

Dudley’s relatives probably had no idea.

She gave Jessica a hug when she reached her. “You holding up?”

“I am. I’ll be happy when it is all over. All of it. Including catching Dudley’s murderer. No matter what I felt or didn’t feel for him, he didn’t deserve to die,” Jessica said.

Kate didn’t know what to say to that. Jessica had already moved on from her marriage before Dudley was killed. Kate wondered what that would feel like.

“I’m sorry, Jessica.”

“Thank you for coming,” Jessica said.

Kate waited in the hallway for Scott. He came out a few minutes later.

“She is a strong woman,” Kate said.

“She has a good man with her, even if he can’t be here,” Scott said.

“I’ll get the car.”

As she waited outside, she saw what she thought was Beth’s car. Looking around, she crossed the lot to get a closer look. The dent was still there. The green car had flecks of metal in it. Guess she couldn’t afford to get it fixed yet.

The metal flecks seemed odd, but Kate had no idea why. She’d backed into something pretty hard, given the dent.

Kate eyed it before looking up to see Scott driving into the lot. She flagged him down, and then climbed in.

“You shopping for a new car?”

“No, just looking at that green car. It’s Beth’s and she still has the dent in it.”

“So?”

“She was getting an estimate for the dent when I had the oil changed in the truck, and I wanted to see if the work had been done on it. I have a few spots on my truck that I’d like to take care of. They aren’t a priority, but if Bob does a good job, then I’ll use him.”

“Okay. Let’s grab a bite.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m tired. Let’s go to my place. I’ll fix something.”

“Let’s stop for pizza then. That way you don’t have to cook,” he said.

“You are sweet.”

“Remember that,” Scott said.

“Nothing is going to happen until I’m ready, Scott, and I’m not ready.”

“I know, Katydid. I know. I just wish I could find out what happened to that husband of yours so you can be mine.”

“You’re expending a lot of effort for me. What if I’m a letdown?”

“Oh, I doubt that. I’ve seen you naked.”

She laughed. “About thirty pounds and two kids ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. It will be the same to me.”

As Scott drove her home, Kate realized that all the poles on Main Street were wooden. Not metal.

“Let’s go to my place and get that pizza delivered. I don’t want to stop. I just want to get out of these shoes.”

“Okay. I’m in. You have some beer?”

“I do—in the fridge even.”

He smiled at her and she liked that smile. More than she should.

Chapter Nine

Kate woke refreshed after having spent the evening with Scott. She did enjoy his company, and she had to admit that it was nice having a man in the house again.

Today was about getting the estimate to Jessica, but first Kate had to pick up a book she’d reserved at the library.

The book was so she could learn some more repair techniques and expand her business. She was never too old to learn new tricks.

The Rock Ridge Library was in a building separated from the municipal complex by a parking lot. She parked in front and then entered the air-conditioned building. It was hushed, of course, and the thick carpeting extinguished all sounds.

Kate strode to the circulation desk with her library card. Meghan Tully, the town’s head librarian was behind the counter.

“Hello, Meghan.”

The woman had been at least two grades ahead of Kate in high school. She wasn’t at all surprised that Meghan had become a librarian. She’d volunteered in the school library and could always be seen with a book in her hands. Even when walking to school.

“Hi, Kate, your book is here.” She grabbed it off of a shelf behind her. “Doing research?”

“I am.”

“We have some woodworking and repair magazines that you should look at. We have the current issues on the shelf and the back issues on microfilm.”

“Ah, microfilm. It’s been years since I looked at one of those.”

“You’d be surprised what you can learn from a magazine,” Meghan said.

“I bet. I’ll have to make some time to stop in and look at them. Right now I need to read up on some stuff and finish an estimate for a client.”

“The library’s empty if you need a spot to work.”

Kate looked around and saw that no one was in the small library. “Are you less busy in the summer?”

“We are except for our Children’s Reading Club. More kids come in on rainy days than a day like today.”

“Makes sense. They want to be in pools and running around outside. While I’m here, maybe I’ll look at one of those magazines you talked about,” Kate said.

She never turned down a suggestion from a librarian. Meghan led her to the rack of magazines, and the microfilm projector was next to it. There were several reels sitting on the desk.

“Darn. I hate when people leave these out,” Meghan said.

“That’s not very thoughtful,” Kate said.

“The biggest culprit is not the kids.”

“No?”

“No, that darn reporter is in here all of the time. She leaves them out more than anyone.”

“She does research here? Doesn’t she have a whole ‘morgue’ full of newspaper clippings at her office?”

Meghan nodded. “She said she was working on something that she didn’t want anyone to know about, and this way no one could trace what she’d done.”

“Did she tell you what it was?”

“No, and frankly she annoys me, so I didn’t care.”

Meghan cleaned up the mess, but Kate wondered what Beth had been working on. The Sentinel wasn’t about crusader journalism.

The librarian showed Kate some of the magazines she’d been talking about. Kate thumbed through them and found some more tools she might need to buy before she expanded her business.

Maybe she could rent them from Grayson’s before she bought, just to see if she liked them. She did that a lot.

“Are you finding them helpful?” Meghan said.

“Yes, except that I want to learn all of this at once. And buy all of the tools,” she laughed.

Meghan sat down next to her. “A library is full of potential.”

“I know. Too bad I haven’t been here since the boys were little.”

“That happens to a lot of people,” Meghan said.

She neatened a stack of newspapers on the table in front of her. Then her face lit up. “I actually need your services.”

“Oh?”

“At my apartment, I have a leak. Do you fix plumbing?”

“I don’t do plumbing. You’re better off getting a licensed plumber.”

“I do need a new lock on my front door.”

“That I can do,” Kate said.

She pulled out a card and handed it to Meghan. “Just e-mail me with the job. I’ll schedule you in.”

“Okay. I’ll look at my calendar and see when I’m home.”

“Sounds good.”

She went back to thumbing through the magazines. She really did want to buy new tools. Instead, she worked on the estimate for Jessica.

Kate used the computer at the library and was able to e-mail the estimate to herself. At least she’d have a copy now. She also printed out a copy to give to Jessica. She wanted to send a text to the woman, but then she remembered that she was at Dudley’s viewing. She could’ve dropped it in the woman’s mailbox, but she chose not to.

Dudley would be buried later today. She was pretty sure Jessica didn’t want to deal with business right now. Even if she didn’t love her husband anymore, she still must be affected by his death.

This led Kate to think about her own husband. Was she still in love with him? Did she have any feelings for him? She just felt anger at this point. Where the hell is he?

Kate knew she wasn’t going to get any more answers now than she had over the past five years. She’d just have to wait until Scott figured something out. Kate hated depending on him for this, but he was probably the best person to take on the case.

“I’m actually closing soon, Kate.”

“Oh, sorry. You want me to put the magazines back?”

“No, I’ll get them when I come in tomorrow before I open up.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Kate left Meghan in the library walked to her truck, taking in the sun. She didn’t have much to do until she gave Jessica the estimate. Kate wasn’t used to having down time. She usually had something to do, but she was stumped with this case. She pondered who she should talk to next.

She’d been spending too much time with Scott, so he wasn’t an option. The fact that she thought of him first was alarming. He was weaseling his way into her life.

Not that she’d done anything wrong, but appearances were everything. She thought of Beth’s car and wondered what had bothered her about the dent. Lots of people had dents in their cars. Kate’s truck certainly had a few.

She sighed. With nothing else to do, Kate opted to go to the grocery store. That way she’d have coffee and something to eat the next day. When she arrived at the supermarket, her phone rang. It was Jessica.

“Hello.”

“Kate, please come over here. Someone broke into the house while I was at the viewing.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“Yes, but I’d like you to be here. They ransacked Dudley’s office.”

That didn’t sound good. It sounded like it had something to do with the murder. “Okay. I can be there in ten.”

She climbed back in the truck to drive to Jessica’s house, trying to stay under the speed limit. The traffic was heavier than she would have thought it would be. Her frustration level was rising.

***

Jessica answered the door before Kate could ring the bell. She pulled Kate into the house. “The cops haven’t gotten here yet. Dean can’t get away from his job. You were the first person I thought of to call. You’ve been so kind to me.”

Kate hugged Jessica to offer the woman some sort of comfort.

“Do you know what is missing?”

“No. Whoever it was only ransacked Dudley’s office.”

Kate looked into the living room, but everything was in place. It didn’t look like she’d been robbed. Jessica brought her to the door of the office. A tornado might have gone through there from the looks of it.

“Do you want to go in?” Jessica asked.

Kate knew that would be a bad idea. She didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene. “We should leave it for the cops. They’ll want to fingerprint everything.”

Jessica pointed at the window in the office. “The person broke the window you fixed.”

“I can fix it again. Shall I make some coffee?”

Kate needed some even if Jessica didn’t. She’d only had two cups today and she usually drank five or six.

“That would be great.”

Kate hustled around the kitchen as the front doorbell rang. That would be the police. Kate had the coffee going and was searching for some cookies when Jessica came back.

“This is Officer Garrison. Officer Garrison, this is Kate Flaherty,” Jessica said.

“I’ve seen you around the PD,” he stated.

Garrison was a short man with a buzz cut. He definitely had that cop vibe.

“Hi.”

The man turned to Jessica. “You want to talk in here?”

“Yes, I’d like Kate with me.”

Suddenly she was Jessica’s best friend. Oh well. She could offer comfort if necessary. She wasn’t really sure what else she could do until she could fix that window.

“Fine. What time did you leave the house this morning?”

Jessica sat on a stool. “I left here at nine-thirty. The viewing started at ten. I wanted to be there early.”

The cop typed into a tablet computer. The twenty-first century had come to Rock Ridge. “Did you go into the office before you left?”

“I didn’t, but I did walk past it. I glanced inside. All was in order at that point,” Jessica said.

Burglars often targeted houses when they knew the occupants were at a funeral or a viewing. That part didn’t seem odd to Kate, but the fact that the burglar only targeted Dudley’s office seemed connected to his murder. Kate was sure.

“Would anyone else like coffee?” Kate said.

The officer declined.

“I’ll take a cup,” Jessica said.

Kate poured them both a mug then leaned against the counter, the cup cradled in her hands. The brew gave her something to do while the officer talked to Jessica. The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Kate said.

She needed something else to do. She opened the door to find Ken and Scott. The chief looked at her with raised eyebrows.

As if she had to defend herself, she said, “Jessica asked me to be here.”

She let them in. “She’s in the kitchen.”

“Point me to the crime scene,” Ken said.

“We’ll pass it on the way.”

She stopped outside the office. Ken and Scott both looked in.

“Yep, it’s ransacked,” Ken said.

He had what looked like a toolbox in his hand. He entered the office.

“You’ll fix the window for her before you leave?” Scott said.

“Of course. I have the tools,” Kate said.

He tugged on her arm, back in the direction of the front door. “Did Jessica really ask you to be here?”

“She called me.”

She didn’t like his tone. He was overstepping the boundaries of their friendship. “You need to stay away from this case, Kate.”

“Then I shouldn’t tell you that I overheard the auditor for Rock Ridge say that there was a problem with the last few contracts that Dudley awarded,” Kate said.

“He’s already turned over the records to Ken,” Scott said with a smug smile on his face.

“Fine. It isn’t news to you. Don’t you think it is likely he pissed someone off?”

“That person might have killed him. All the more reason we need to figure out who was in the office that night.”

“No video at all?”

“No, they disappeared during the power outage. We’re upgrading the system, but I can’t until next year. It isn’t in the budget for this year. Like I said, the last chief was coasting,” Scott said.

Which meant Scott had a pile of crap to contend with.

“Lovely,” Kate said.

He didn’t look stressed. How could he be so cool about all of this?

“Kate, I really want you to stay out of this. Do I need to remind you what happened last time you became involved in a murder investigation?”

“I caught the guy?” she said.

He wasn’t amused. “I had to rescue you from the man.”

“I would have thought you liked that. Isn’t that why you became a cop?”

He growled. “Please, Kate. I don’t want to have to worry about you. I have enough on my plate.”

She drew herself up. “It isn’t your place to worry about me.”

“Maybe not, but I do. It’s part of my DNA. I need to know that you’re safe. What will happen to your kids if you’re gone?”

She got up on her tiptoes to be right by his face. “Don’t throw my kids in my face. It isn’t your place. I think about my boys all of the time.”

He didn’t step back. He didn’t flinch. She hadn’t expected him to, but she wanted him to know she was no shrinking violet.

He did put up his hands. “You can pretend that there is nothing between us, but the whole town knows there is.”

“The whole town is wrong.”

“You can think that.”

“Yes, I can think what I want, Scott. And do what I want as long as I don’t break the law.”

“If I could arrest you, I would. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

She stepped away from him. “I’m fine. I’m here to support Jessica, and then fix her window.”

At that moment Ken came out of the office. He eyed the two of them. “I need to see what info the officer has gathered, then I might have a few questions for Jessica. Kate, you are free to fix the window.”

“Thanks, Ken,” Kate said.

She left Scott standing there. She looked at the window. The glass wasn’t broken as she’d expected. The window had been jimmied open.

“Doesn’t look like a professional job,” Scott said.

Kate jumped. She hadn’t heard him walk in. She was always surprised by how stealthy he was for a big guy.

“How can you tell?”

“Because it looked like brute force. With a tool. A professional would have gotten that unlocked then pushed it up.”

“I’ll have to order her a new screen.”

She ignored his presence. She needed to fix the window then get out. She turned, but Scott was right there. He got ahold of her arms. “So you know. We’re already interviewing a man who wasn’t awarded a contract from Rock Ridge. He’s been very vocal and he has no alibi. No need to help us do our jobs.”

There was no humor or mirth in his words. He walked out, not giving her a chance to say anything.

Chapter Ten

Kate left Jessica with an estimate for the work she needed done on her house. She looked forward to having steady work. Leafing through the book she’d taken out of the library, Kate knew where she wanted to go with her business. She had big plans; she just needed an influx of cash to buy some new tools.

Fixing Jessica’s house would provide that. She might even get her truck repainted with a new logo, but that was a few months down the road.

Her next stop was a different type of fix. Marley Jones had found a used chicken coop online, so she had it delivered. It needed some work before she could have chickens. Marley lived in the same neighborhood as Jessica and Scott, but in the older section that had been built in the seventies. The house was a ranch, but because Marley and her husband had done some upgrades, it didn’t look as old as it truly was.

The back yard abutted the Pennsylvania State Game Lands which made the view spectacular. Kate would bet that wildlife visited them on a regular basis.

Kate eyed the chicken coop. It was large enough for ten chickens.

“We’re not buying that many yet. The roof leaks and we need a wire fence around it and over the top to keep the critters out.”

“I bet you have a lot of critters here.”

“Yes, but it’s the coyotes that I worry about. They are pretty smart when they are hungry.”

“I can fix the coop today along with the fencing, but I don’t have any chicken wire for the top. I’ll have to get that. Do you want me to get the supplies first or fix what I can today?”

“Just do what you can today. We’re retired so we’re around or not far away,” Marley said.

“Sounds good.”

Kate pulled her tools out of the truck then set to work, fixing the hole in the roof then putting new shingles on it. The roof would be good for twenty years. Her dad would be proud. That reminded her that she needed to call him. She hadn’t talked to him in a while.

Next she tackled the wiring that surrounded the chicken coop. She had some chicken wire with her. She had gloves on, but somehow she managed to trip and snag her arm on the wire. It left a jagged cut down her arm as it pushed her sleeve out of the way.

“Ouch,” she said.

She eyed it. The bleeding wasn’t bad, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a tetanus shot. If she knew that, she might just bandage it herself. Instead, she decided with all the additional work she hoped to be doing, she’d better get that shot.

Marley came out of the house with lemonade. “Oh, goodness. You should have that looked at.”

“I want to finish the job first.”

“Nonsense,” the older woman said. “Go to the MedEmerge place. They can take you faster than the hospital will. Plus they are closer. You have to come back anyway. Go.”

Kate looked at Marley, and then at her bleeding arm. “Okay, I’ll go. I’ll get the chicken wire for the roof then come back.”

“It can wait for another day,” Marley said.

Kate drove herself to the Doc in a Box on Main Street. There were only four people in the waiting room. Kate filled out the paperwork. This was going to set her back since she didn’t have the best insurance.

She had just finished filling out the paperwork and had handed it back to the receptionist as Celia Johnson walked in.

“Hello, Celia,” Kate said.

The woman signed in and sat next to Kate.

“That’s a nasty gash, Kate. You have an up-to-date tetanus shot?”

Celia would think of that. It must also mean that this place was a good medical facility if a former nurse would come here.

“No, that’s why I came. The bleeding isn’t that bad, but I do need the shot,” Kate said.

“You should keep up to date on that considering what you do.”

“I know. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

That wasn’t smart, but she was only losing a few hours of work. If this didn’t take too long, she could get back to Marley’s house. Celia gave her a disapproving look.

“What are you here for?”

She showed Kate a spot on her leg. “I’m just having my stitches looked at. I think I might have an infection.”

The woman sported a line of stitches up the side of her calf. It looked like it hurt.

“How did you get that?” Kate asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“Someone came too close to me on the road when I was walking.”

“Did they stop?”

“No. I was out early and the sun hadn’t come up fully. I should get one of those orange vests so people can see me.”

“Did you get a look at the car?”

“No, but it had a dent in the back. I couldn’t see what color it was,” Celia said.

“That’s most of the cars in Rock Ridge. I think we’ve all put dents in our vehicles over the winter. I know I slid into various things driving on ice.”

“True. I guess they got away with it. It just made me mad that they didn’t stop.”

“Maybe they really didn’t see you if it was that dark,” Kate said.

“I screamed. They couldn’t have missed that,” Celia said.

“Odd. At least all you got was a cut.”

“Some bruising, but that’s gone away. I just can’t believe the person drove away.”

“That is awful. You’d think that since we all know each other that no one would do that.”

“Guess not,” Celia said.

The nurse called Kate in. She followed the woman through a rabbit warren of treatment rooms. She weighed her and left her in a room. Kate’s sleeve was already rolled up and the towel Marley had given her was spotted with red.

It looked like the bleeding had stopped. The physician’s assistant came in. He was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and ice-blue eyes. He smiled at Kate.

“What do we have today?”

“I cut myself on chicken wire and I know that I haven’t had a tetanus shot in a while.”

“Okay. We’ll get that done. Let me look at the wound. You might need stitches.”

“The bleeding has stopped.”

“Mostly. Let me clean the wound and see what it really looks like.” He ran warm water over it, squirting it from a syringe. “No stitches necessary. I will bandage it, and you can’t use it for at least a day to let it heal.”

“A day?”

“At least until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll put some glue on it just in case,” he said.

“Okay.”

He applied the glue, put a bandage on, and then administered the tetanus shot. The shot hurt a little so she winced.

“Was it that bad?”

“I don’t take shots well. Don’t take it personally,” she said.

She paid her co-pay then left. She stopped at Grayson’s, bought what she needed for the next day, and then decided to call it quits.

***

She drove home, stopping to pick up her mail at the end of her long driveway. She glanced up at the sky. Clouds were forming and she suspected that a storm was on its way. She liked to sit out on her porch and watch them.

Her arm throbbed and she hoped she had something in the refrigerator to heat up. She had no desire to cook right now. The day had been exhausting between Jessica’s emotional needs and her work and injury. She was done.

She turned the last corner of the driveway to see Scott sitting in the rocking chair on her front porch. She sighed. She was not in the mood for a fight.

Climbing out of the truck, she glanced at him over her sunglasses. “Don’t you have a job?”

“I do.”

“Don’t you need to spend time doing that job?”

“I do, but I knocked off early today,” he said.

He didn’t stand. He acted as if he belonged there—like he owned the place. In her current mood, that set Kate’s temper on edge. “Do you ever call first or do you assume that I have nothing better to do with my evening than spend it alone?”

He stood at that. His hands were up in surrender. “I’ve come to apologize.”

His words took the wind out of her anger. She was tired and she shouldn’t take it out on him. “Okay.”

She crossed her arms, but stayed by the truck. She wasn’t giving in that easily. He came down the steps toward her, but she wasn’t going to back up. This man wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

“I have overstepped my boundaries with you.”

“Keep going.”

He stopped in front of her, close enough for her to touch, but she wasn’t going to.

“I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you how to spend your time. I can respectfully request that you stay out of this case, but unless you obstruct justice, I can’t do anything to stop you. Legally or professionally.”

That was a pretty good apology. She brushed past him. “Apology accepted.”

“I wish, also, that you would put your security system on before you leave for work. Your husband installed a world-class one for some reason.”

“I would assume that reason left when he did,” she said.

Her arm throbbed. She had the beginning of a headache. She wanted to go to bed even if her stomach was empty.

“I brought a picnic.”

A picnic meant a meal. Food she didn’t have to cook. She stopped walking when she reached her porch. “It’s going to storm.”

“We can bring it inside,” he said. She heard his trunk close. Glancing back, she saw the basket in his hands.

He clearly remained undaunted by her mood. Greg would often run and hide when she got like this. He wasn’t as well versed in the ways of women as Scott obviously was. She wondered if the day would ever come when she wouldn’t compare them.

She sighed. She needed food and Scott had brought it to her. It seemed he always knew what she needed. Damn him. He was making it hard not to be with him.

The first drops of rain began to fall. “Come in.”

She glanced over her shoulder. He had a grin on his face. That man was going to be the reason she did something she shouldn’t. He was right behind her when she unlocked her front door. He had a strong presence and he smelled good. Like a man.

“Where can I set up?” Scott said.

“At the dining-room table?”

“Let’s make it a real picnic and sit on a blanket on the floor.”

She turned around to look at him. “You aren’t giving up the idea of a picnic?”

“I have picnic foods: fried chicken, potato salad, things like that.”

She waved a hand. “Set it up, I need to take a shower.”

“I can wash your back.”

“I can wash my own back, thank you,” she said.

She did wash her own back, and then dressed in shorts and a T-shirt before she returned to Scott. She wasn’t dressed to impress. He had laid out the food on a red-and-white checkered tablecloth on the floor of her living room. He leaned against the couch, his arms draped across the seat cushions. He was a large man with large hands.

“It all looks good.”

“What happened to you?”

She glanced at her arm. “I got caught on chicken wire.”

“Did you see a doc?”

“Yes, I got a tetanus shot. It’s fine.”

He patted the floor next to him. She sat leaning against a chair. She didn’t need to be so close to him. He smiled at her as if he knew what she was doing. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes and so did the shot.”

“Did they give you a lollipop?”

She laughed. “No, they didn’t. I’ll put that in the suggestion box next time.”

“No stitches?”

“Glue. It’ll be fine. I’m not supposed to use it too much for a day. Means I have to take tomorrow morning off,” she said.

He handed her a plate of food. “Want me to feed you?”

“No. I can eat.”

“I wish you would let me take care of you, Katydid.”

“I can’t, Scott. Not yet.”

“I’m doing my best.”

She took a bite of her food. She knew he was doing his best. “So what happened with the angry guy you interviewed today?”

“He’s in custody. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He must have been twice as pissed when you told him his suspicions were true,” she said.

The chicken was good—moist inside and crispy outside.

“He was, but that’s not your problem. I don’t want to talk about the case.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about your kids.”

“Why?”

“They are a part of who you are, who you’ve become in the years since I knew you.”

She put down her plate and wiped her hands. “What can I say? They are great kids. Both are volunteering for AmeriCorps this summer. I wish they were home, but they want to go out and save the world. I can’t deny them that.”

“Is it harder not having them here since Greg is gone?”

“Yes, I think if he were here, things would be easier. I wouldn’t miss them so much.”

She thought about her boys. They were still young and thought they could change the world. She admired that about them and didn’t want them to lose that idealism. She must have done something right, since they weren’t bitter after Greg’s disappearance.

“You must have raised them well if they want to change the world. You had to take over at a crucial time as both mother and father. Do you give yourself credit for that?”

She leaned back. No, she probably didn’t and she should. “I have as much guilt as the next mother. It is what it is.”

Chapter Eleven

Kate was on her way out the door the next morning, thinking about Scott when her phone rang. She looked at the screen. She might have to give Jessica her own ringtone. The woman called her enough and gave her enough business to warrant it.

In Kate’s mind the case was close to being settled. Scott had convinced her that the contractor they had arrested yesterday was probably the murderer. The mystery woman in Dudley’s office had no bearing on the case. If she came forward, she’d help. If not, they could build a case without her.

With that settled, Kate had slept better last night than she had in weeks. She felt so good, in fact, that she decided to disobey the doctor’s orders and get back to work.

“Hello, Jessica. Have you looked over my estimate?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s fine. I’ll sign it and get it back to you.”

“Okay. I have a job this morning, but I can see you after that,” Kate said. “It’s a quick job.”

“No, I really need you to see what I’ve found. I was looking through Dudley’s office to see if anything was missing. I found his appointment book. It has an odd entry in it,” Jessica said.

“An odd entry?”

“I can’t describe it. I think you need to come by and look at it.”

“Jessica, Scott is pretty sure they know who killed Dudley. Can this wait?”

“Okay, I guess it can.”

“I’ll be over in two hours.”

Her first job of the day was fixing a wooden swing set. She used lag bolts to secure the structure so that the kids could climb on it again. The wood likely would disintegrate before the bolts did. She received a check and decided to put it in the bank right away.

She and Jessica could decide on a payment plan today. Kate couldn’t wait until all of the projects were done to see any cash. She didn’t think that Jessica would be averse to that. With the check in the bank, Kate headed to Jessica’s house.

Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything. Jessica could have put it in the garage. Kate parked her truck on the street and then walked to the door and rang the woman’s doorbell. No one answered, but the house was big enough that Jessica could take a few minutes to get to the front door.

Kate looked around at the neighborhood. Kids played in nearby yards. She could hear some splashing in a pool. Those were the sounds of summer, and as much as Kate didn’t like the hot weather, she did enjoy those sounds.

She even missed them a little, living out in the country. Greg had insisted that he wanted a country home. He wanted a place the boys could fish and climb trees. Neither of the boys had wanted to do that, but Greg had not budged once they’d been settled in the house for a few years. It would be nice for Kate to have a neighbor she could invite over for coffee. One that was just over the back fence.

Instead, Kate had gotten involved by way of the community center and by volunteering at the kids’ school. By the time middle school rolled around for Jason and Jared, Kate was a little bored with the stay-at-home mom thing.

That’s when she had the idea of creating her current business when her father, also a handyman, retired. It was about the same time Greg had disappeared and her dream became a necessity.

Jessica was taking her time for someone who had wanted to see Kate so badly this morning. Kate rang the doorbell again. She waited, and then tried the knob. The door was locked, of course. Kate glanced in the sidelight, but that didn’t yield any information.

Kate found this odd. After wanting to see her so badly, why had Jessica stood her up?

She dialed her phone. Kate could hear it ringing inside the house. Even odder.

She contemplated what to do and finally decided to go see Scott. She parked by the police station and was let in like a relative.

Scott was on the phone and held up a finger for her to wait. She leaned on the doorjamb, her arms crossed. She really wanted to talk to him. He finally hung up.

“Come in, Kate. You look worried.”

She sat. “I got a call from Jessica Stuart this morning.”

“And?”

“She wanted to see me. She found something in Dudley’s office that she wanted me to see.”

“The case is probably closed, Kate.”

“That’s what I said. So, I put her off and did my first job of the day before I went over there. I knew it wasn’t a rush. When I got there, she wasn’t home.”

“Maybe she ran out to the grocery store.”

“No, she was insistent that I see her and that I text her before I came over. I did and she texted back that she was waiting for me. When I got there she was gone.”

“Did you call her?”

“I did. Her phone rang inside the house. I rang the doorbell twice. She didn’t answer. I’m worried, Scott.”

“Maybe she remembered a meeting she had, but forgot her phone so she couldn’t call you.”

“Sounds reasonable except that she was so insistent that I come over today.”

Scott shrugged. “She’s a grown woman, Kate. I can’t do anything until she’s gone for twenty-four hours.”

Kate frowned. She understood what he was saying.

“I get it. I’ll see if I can find her car in town.”

“Don’t you have better things to do than keep track of her? Maybe Dean knows where she is.”

Kate knew it hurt Scott to even mention Dean, but it was a good idea. “I’ll try now.”

She dialed Dean’s number, but it went right to voicemail. She left a message that she was looking for Jessica. “Where does Dean live?”

“You think I know that?” Scott said.

“No, I guess you don’t. Let me see what I can figure out.”

“I think you should leave it alone. Maybe she’s off having a nooner with Dean.”

Kate hadn’t thought of that. How embarrassing would that be if that was the reason Jessica had stood her up. And if she went searching and found them…well, no way. She didn’t want to be involved in that.

“The thought hadn’t entered my mind. I was sure she was missing because of something bad.”

“You do remember those heady days in the beginning of a relationship when you can’t get enough of each other?”

Kate probably blushed. Scott was thinking about the two of them in high school. They had been all over each other that summer before he went to college—young love and lust.

“On that note, I’m leaving. You have a good rest of the day.”

He smiled as if knowing that he’d gotten her thinking about the old days. Those days were gone. They were simpler times, for sure. She didn’t think about them very often. She had too much going on in the present.

Since she unexpectedly had time on her hands, Kate pondered what she was going to do next. While she was here, she could return the book on home repair to the library. It had served her well and she’d learned a lot. Her phone rang and she saw a text from Scott.

I have a job for you to do, but not until tomorrow.

Okay.

Can you come by in the morning?

Yes, can I have a clue?

Just bring your tools.

Okay.

That didn’t narrow it down, but she’d bring her tools.

***

The next day, Kate appeared at Scott’s house first thing in the morning. He smiled when he opened the door. “You are a lovely sight first thing in the morning.”

“What’s broken?”

“My garbage disposal. I don’t know how old it is, so if I need a new one, go ahead.”

She walked into the kitchen and went right to the sink. She smelled coffee. She’d had her first cup at home, but her body was calling for the second cup. Her mouth watered as she examined his disposal. “The house isn’t that old. I can’t imagine you need a new one.”

She eyed the pot.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he said.

She was about to say she’d kill for a cup of coffee, but she didn’t think that was appropriate on any level. “Yes, I’d love a cup of coffee.”

“You still take it black?”

“Yes.” She turned on the disposal and it made a dying cat noise. “That doesn’t sound good. You don’t have anything stuck in it?”

“Not that I know of.”

He set a cup of coffee on the counter and she immediately reached for it. “I’m going to take it off to look at it. Do you need to get to work?”

“Not yet.”

He poured himself another cup and leaned against the counter next to where she was working.

“Let me get some tools.”

Scott hadn’t moved when she returned. She removed the disposal, changed a few parts and put it back on. It worked.

“You’re a genius,” he said.

“Not really.” She wrote up her bill and handed it to him.

He wrote her a check.

“What else do you have going on today?” he said.

“I’m going to check in with Jessica since I’m here and see if I can start her jobs. See if she has any priorities.”

“Well, then enjoy your day.”

“Go catch some bad guys,” she said as she walked out of his house.

“Not so many in Rock Ridge, but I’m not complaining.”

Kate didn’t bother moving her truck since she’d parked it on the street.

She walked over to Jessica’s house in the humidity, wishing for some relief from it. She’d bet she could get her truck’s air conditioning looked at soon. Two newspapers were on the doorstep. Kate picked them up then rang the doorbell.

Dean had never gotten in touch. Maybe the two had gone away together and were out of cell phone range. No one answered as Kate stood in the heat.

She was beginning to wonder if Jessica was ever going to let her start. Where was the woman who had so desperately needed to see her yesterday? The situation seemed odd to Kate. Certainly by now, Jessica must have remembered that she’d called Kate.

Kate punched the digits for Jessica’s phone. She once again heard it ring inside the house. She considered trying to get in. Jessica could have fallen; maybe she was injured.

Kate jogged back over to Scott’s house. He was just leaving for work.

“I’m concerned. Jessica didn’t pick up her paper this morning. Her cell is still in her house. What if something happened to her?”

“I’ll have patrol do a well-being check this morning.”

“I want to see if I can get in,” Kate said.

She had a bad feeling about all of this. Jessica had never been this flighty. Kate had always found the woman to be responsible. Not that she owed Kate any explanations.

“Don’t break in, Kate. I’ll call dispatch now.” He called as she waited. “They are sending a car over right now.”

“I’ll wait then,” she said.

“I’ll wait with you.”

Her phone rang. “It’s Dean. I called him yesterday.”

“Kate?” Dean said.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, I didn’t call you back. My phone died and I didn’t have my charger with me, so I didn’t see that you called. I can’t get ahold of Jessica. She isn’t answering her phone.”

“Her cell phone is inside her house, but she isn’t answering the door.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“The cops are doing a well-being check. I’ll be here,” Kate said.

They disconnected. “Dean is on his way,” she told Scott, who grimaced. “You can’t keep him away.”

“I know. He has more of a right to Jessica’s house than I do. Maybe he has a key.”

“I know where their hide-a-key is. Although, if we have to break in, at least I can fix it.”

Scott chuckled. A patrol car parked in front of Jessica’s house. Scott went to greet them. Kate tagged along. She helped them look into the windows, but no one saw anything.

“We can’t break in, Kate. She’s a grown woman.”

Kate saw Dean’s truck pull into the driveway. “Did you find her?”

“No, we haven’t. Would you have a key?” Kate said.

“No, I don’t. I’ve never met Jessica here. She’s been staying with me since Dudley died.”

Kate didn’t comment. She didn’t blame Jessica. Why not stay with the man who loves you? “The fact that you don’t know where she is concerns me.”

“Still, I don’t think we can legally break in, Kate.”

“I’ll do it,” Dean said. “I doubt she’d press charges against me.”

He wasn’t wrong on that issue. He turned to Kate. “I don’t have any tools with me. You have a hammer?”

“Hold on.” She walked to the hiding spot and breathed a sigh of relief when she found the hide-a-key. She returned with it and handed it to Dean, who then used it to unlock the front door.

“Stay out here, Kate,” Scott said.

Kate glared at him, but waited on the driveway. They came out looking grim about a half an hour later. She’d paced a trail in the driveway while waiting for them.

“She isn’t inside,” Scott said. “There are coffee cups on the counter as if she left in a hurry.” He looked at Dean. “Can you come to the station to fill out a missing persons report?”

“I can and I will. I’m very worried now.”

“Did she say she was meeting anyone?” Kate asked.

“Kate,” Scott warned.

She glared at him again. “Just asking.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Dean said. “I know she was meeting someone, but I cannot remember who. It didn’t seem significant to me.”

“I was supposed to meet her yesterday. Could it have been me?” Kate said.

“No, it was someone else. It’ll come to me.”

Kate’s phone rang. It was Carly. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kate. I have a small emergency. Can you come fix something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s some shelves I had in the storeroom.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten,” Kate said. “I have to go, but keep me updated please?”

Dean nodded.

Chapter Twelve

When Kate arrived at Carly’s shop, her mother, Celia, was there. The tension was palpable as Celia chattered away.

“Oh, hello, Kate,” Celia said.

Kate was eager to escape to the storeroom so she could do her repair and then get back to looking for Jessica. She knew the woman had to be in trouble. She had to find her. Someone had to find her. “Hello, everyone. I’ll just get to those shelves.”

“Coffee?” Carly said.

She clearly didn’t want to be alone with her mother any longer. Kate had briefly considered setting Carly up with Larry. Maybe then the older woman would leave her daughter alone.

“Uh, okay, but I’m going to bring it back with me.”

Carly glared at her, but Kate had to get to work. She had to make a living, and looking for Jessica had taken enough of her time today.

Kate took her mug back to the storeroom. Carly appeared in the doorway. “Save me,” she whispered.

“She’s your mother.”

Kate didn’t have much sympathy. She wished her own mother were here. There were so many times when the boys were younger that she could have used her advice.

“Kate?” Celia said behind Carly.

“Yes?” Kate said.

Carly escaped, leaving the two alone, but Celia didn’t bother Kate the way she bothered her own daughter.

“Did you know that Beth from the newspaper and Jessica were friends?”

“I didn’t know that. Why do you ask?”

“I saw them driving out of town yesterday in Jessica’s car,” Celia said.

Kate gave the woman her full attention. “When?”

“Oh, in the morning. Say nine or so.”

That would have been right after Jessica had called her. It occurred to Kate that Beth may have been the female in Dudley’s office.

“I’ve been looking for Jessica. Now I know where she is…or at least who she is with.” Kate walked out to the front of the shop. “Carly, I’ll be back.”

She left them with their mouths open. Kate called Scott.

“Kate?”

“I just talked to Celia. She saw Beth Chance from the Sentinel and Jessica driving out of town yesterday in Jessica’s car.”

“Hold on. Dean’s here. Let me put you on speaker.”

“Celia said she saw them?” Dean asked. “Dudley had a hunting cabin outside of town.”

“That could be where they were going,” Kate said. “Let’s go find them. Beth could be your mystery woman.”

“Kate,” Scott said in a stern voice. “You stay put. I’ll go out there with a patrol car and alert the state troopers.”

“Sure.” Like that is going to happen. “How will you get in? I have tools.”

Dean spoke up. “I have a key. It’s where Jessica and I used to meet.”

Kate didn’t know what to say to that. “Okay. Fine. You don’t need me.”

She disconnected the call. Kate waited until she saw Dean’s truck go by, and she followed him out of town and into a hillier region. Her little truck was no match for his large one, but she kept him in sight. She hoped that Scott wouldn’t catch up before they arrived.

The log cabin was set back from the road by almost a mile. Kate’s truck bounced her around as it went over the rutted, dirt road. She stopped a little before the clearing and pulled her truck off to the side. Scott would see it, but she didn’t care at this point. Jessica’s red Mercedes was parked in front of the cabin.

She knew that Beth hadn’t killed Dudley with a gun. Besides, Kate outweighed her—she could take her.

Dean was already creeping up to the front door when Kate joined him.

“I thought Scott told you to stay out of this,” he whispered.

“Scott isn’t my boss.”

Dean just shook his head. They crept to the front window which was opened. Jessica was tied to a chair.

“You had to meddle,” Beth said. “You couldn’t leave it alone. The cops were going to charge that contractor with murder.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Beth stopped pacing. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Why were you there?”

“I wanted to confront him with the evidence I’d found. He wasn’t giving the contracts to the lowest bidder. He was awarding them to his favorites—his cronies.”

Kate and Dean looked at each other. Behind them, they heard a curse. Kate turned to see Scott pointing at her and motioning her away from the cabin. He was probably right. This wasn’t her place, but Dean was a civilian also.

“Then how did he die?”

“He got angry with me. He threatened me and tried to hurt me. I only defended myself by Tasering him,” Beth said.

Kate gasped. Beth must have heard her because she looked toward the window. Dean and Kate ducked. Scott signaled for the patrolmen that had arrived to go around back. He grabbed Kate and pulled her close to him. “Go back to your truck. Get out of here.”

She nodded, and then she and Dean walked away. She hoped that Beth was no longer looking out the window.

Kate waited by Dean’s truck. He fidgeted and she wondered what was going through his mind. She didn’t think that Beth would have a chance to harm Jessica.

“What will I do if something happens to her?” Dean said.

“She’s going to be fine, Dean. Scott will take care of it.”

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Dean said.

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen him do what he says he will. He’s never let anyone down as far as I can tell.”

Dean tapped the side of the truck. He couldn’t seem to stand still. A few minutes later there was a yell. Dean and Kate crept closer to the house. A patrolman was pulling Beth out of the house. She had handcuffs on.

“I think it’s okay,” Kate said, but Dean was already running toward the house.

Jessica appeared on the porch and Dean took her in his arms. She wasn’t sure that Greg would be that excited to see her if they met again. Before he left she hadn’t had these doubts, but now she did. The longer he was gone, the more she questioned their relationship. Maybe she’d been wearing rose-colored glasses all that time.

Kate walked up to the house after the patrol car left. Scott stood on the porch.

“I’ll need a statement,” Scott said, “but it can wait until later in the day.”

Dean nodded. “I’m going to take her home to my house. We’ll be by later.”

Jessica looked shaken but happy to be with Dean. He walked her to his truck, his arm over her shoulder. Kate was glad that the woman had someone who loved her that much.

“She’ll be okay,” Scott said.

He put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. It felt comforting. She felt safe. Something she hadn’t felt since Greg left. She patted his hand. “She will be and that’s good. Did you hear what Beth said? It was an accident.”

“She should have come forward.”

“It would have been her word only,” Kate said. “She’s young.”

“But now she has the added charge of kidnapping,” Scott said.

***

Kate met Scott for breakfast the next morning. While they ate muffins and drank coffee at Bean There, Larry walked in with Carly.

Scott looked at Kate. “Is that your doing?”

“I might have made a suggestion to Larry.”

“You insist that you aren’t nosy, but you are,” Scott said.

“I like to take care of people. That’s all.”

“I get that. Maybe I need some taking care of.”

She put up her hand. “You know how I feel. We’re friends for now.”

“And when I find your husband? Will you keep me in the friend zone?”

“We’ll see.”

She wasn’t making any commitments. Before she could change the subject, Dean and Jessica walked in. Jessica made a beeline for Kate.

“Oh, Kate. I have the estimate signed. And I’ve prioritized what I want done.” She dropped a key on the table. “I’m moving into Dean’s place, so I won’t be at the house much. Just tell me when you complete each task and I’ll pay you.”

Kate looked at the key then palmed it. “Okay.”

“Good. Hello, Scott. Didn’t mean to ignore you.”

He smiled. “No offense taken.”

He seemed more amused than anything. Jessica went back to Dean.

“How is your disposal working?”

“Like new. Thanks.”

“Good.”

“So Jessica is going to put her house on the market?”

“Yes, as soon as I’m done. I think she’s ready to be out of that house. Dudley had horrific taste in decorating.”

“I don’t understand men who feel they need to dominate women,” Scott said. “I don’t have the energy to do that. I want a partner.”

Kate sipped her coffee, not sure how to answer that. If Scott was auditioning, he was doing a good job. She wanted a partner also.

“Kate, don’t fret about the passport until we know for sure what his visits were about.”

Sometimes she would swear Scott was able to see inside her mind. She found it uncanny that he could figure out what she was thinking. As if he was on the same wavelength or something. Greg had always treated her as if she were a foreign object. He’d never understood her.

She had to stop comparing the men. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

“We got a confession out of Beth.”

“Oh?”

Now this was more interesting.

“She was confronting Dudley about what she’d found with the contracts. He’d tried to harm her, so she pulled out her Taser weapon. She had no idea that he had a heart condition.”

“So not premeditated.”

“No, she’s been charged with murder two,” Scott said.

“Really sad to see a young life ruined like that.”

“If she had just come to us then we could have helped her. And she was the one who backed into the utility pole causing the power outage. She was rattled and wasn’t paying attention.”

“That would explain the dent in her car. I knew it wasn’t from running into a concrete barrier like she’d said. It had metal flecks in it. I didn’t make the connection because the new pole they put up was made of fiberglass.”

“She lucked out when the recordings were ruined.”

“What had Jessica found?”

“She found an appointment in Dudley’s book to meet Beth. She called Beth, who came over, and then when she figured out that Jessica knew something, she kidnapped her. She was going to kill her then dump the body.”

Kate shuddered. “How awful.”

“But it’s done. And now you can get on with your steady work at Jessica’s house.”

“True. That means I can get my truck fixed, too.”

At least it all worked out okay. Jessica had Dean. Larry had Carly. Kate glanced over at them. They didn’t know that anyone else was in the room. It made Kate happy. Now if she could just figure out where her husband was, she, too, could get on with her life.

~~~

A VENEER OF MURDER

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty looked around the wedding reception and wondered when it would be polite to leave. Though she was an extrovert at heart, she still liked to be by herself sometimes. Dean and Jessica Wentworth were about to cut the cake, and Kate figured she could leave after that.

The ceremony had been beautiful. If Kate knew where her missing husband was—and why he’d disappeared—she might be in a mood to reminisce about their wedding. However, as she discovered more about the man, she wasn’t sure that her wedding, or her marriage, were nearly as happy as she’d thought.

She wished Scott York, her friend and the chief of police, was here. At least she’d have someone to talk to. And someone to fend off the drunken divorced man who had been keeping an eye on her all night.

He hadn’t been invited because Dean, the groom, had been the reason Scott’s marriage had ended in divorce. When the woman wound up dead, Dean decided to settle in Rock Ridge where he met Jessica.

Now they were married and heading off for a short weekend honeymoon with a bigger trip planned for later on in the year.

Kate sighed heavily. It wasn’t that she didn’t like happy endings, but she was ambivalent until she could sort out her own life. She hoped to find her husband soon, or reach the point where she could file for divorce or declare him legally dead, but it seemed neither option was going to happen anytime soon.

Carly, Kate’s best friend, and Larry, her new beau, were just coming off the dance floor so it could be cleared for the cake. Kate shifted her gaze to Jessica, looking beautiful in an off-white gown. Kate felt as though she should know what it was made of, but she was not a girly girl. No, she was a handywoman who spent most of her time in overalls or coveralls.

Jessica fed Dean first and was nice. She didn’t shove it in his face. It was Dean’s turn next. He put a touch of icing on her nose and licked it off. Get a room. Kate chuckled as the rest of the crowd groaned.

Meghan Tully, the town librarian, sat down next to Kate. “I’m in the process of inputting all of the books into the new computer system. I came across something you might be interested in.”

“Oh?”

Kate had taken out every home improvement book she could to learn more about fixing things for her handyman business. Her next expansion involved home staging. She was learning how to stage a house to get the maximum price for it. Meghan had been an invaluable resource for her.

They’d also become friends, having dinner every few weeks. Carly had been scarce lately, but Kate couldn’t blame her. She was in love.

“I don’t want to say anything here.”

“Is it a new book for me to take out?” Kate said. She was eager to learn more about fixing household items. She had recently learned to fix toasters which made many people happy. No one wanted to throw away the one they had because they worked so well. Newer toasters were crap.

“No, nothing like that. Just meet me at the library.”

“After the reception?”

Kate was feeling melancholy today and didn’t want to go home to an empty house. Her sons were back in school for the fall. People around her were enjoying themselves, and for some reason, she couldn’t get into this celebration, even though she was happy for Jessica and Dean.

She just wasn’t happy herself. Her business was taking off, and that should have grounded her. Instead it just reminded her of what a mess her personal life was.

“Yes, or it can wait until tomorrow,” Meghan said.

“You have me intrigued now,” Kate said.

Since she was in no hurry to go home, if Meghan didn’t mind meeting her tonight, then she would go to the library after she left the reception. That way she didn’t have to break up her day of repairs tomorrow. She didn’t used to work Saturdays, but her business was booming, so she had added the sixth day. She didn’t really have any hobbies, so she figured she might as well work.

“Don’t worry. I just want to show you something that your husband had taken out. It might be significant or it might not.”

“Now I’m really intrigued.”

Anything that could point her in the direction of her husband would be good. She needed to close the door on that part of her life. She hadn’t felt the need to move on until recently, but that might have to do with Scott being back in her life.

They’d been high school sweethearts until he left for college. She hadn’t seen him in years, and now he was back in Rock Ridge. She didn’t know what she felt for him, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t pursue anything until her husband was found. In two more years she could declare him legally dead if he didn’t surface by that point.

Originally, she’d hoped to find him, but now she wasn’t so sure she wanted that. The guilt bothered her, but less with each day. Less as she spent more time with Scott.

“After the reception then? I’m going to get some more wine. You want some?”

“No, thanks,” Kate replied with a smile.

She didn’t like to drink anything if she was driving. Having to be a role model for teen boys had stopped her from being reckless. They only had a mother at this point, so she didn’t want them to lose her also.

Meghan left her at the table. Kate looked around. Everyone was having a good time. Jessica and Dean were clearly happy. They were all smiles. Kate was overjoyed that they’d found each other.

Jessica had not been happy with her first husband. Now she was ecstatic with Dean. Everyone deserved a happily ever after. The question was: would she ever get hers?

Damn Greg. Where was he? He should have stuck around—his boys needed him. Scott had stepped in this summer during the brief period they’d been home. They liked Scott, and that make Kate feel better about spending time with him.

Kate turned her thoughts back to what Meghan had said. She wished the librarian had given her more of an idea of what she was going to show her. Kate’s curiosity was getting the best of her. The cake was being passed out. She’d take a few bites and then leave if she saw Meghan leaving.

With a glass of wine in her hand, Meghan returned. She looked harried.

“You okay?” Kate asked.

Meghan waved her hand. Her face looked flush, like she was upset. “I just had a run-in with Celia Johnson. She owes a lot in back fines.”

Celia was a tough woman. Even if she liked you, she wasn’t warm and fuzzy. She’d been a nurse for years. Kate wasn’t sure if she’d spent all of her compassion on that job and had none left, or if she never had any and the job made her even more cynical.

Kate remembered her being a little less that way when she and Carly were younger, but then she’d worked most of the time so Kate hadn’t seen that much of her. Rumor had it that Celia had been asked to retire. Kate didn’t know for sure. It seemed like a tacky subject to bring up with Carly.

“You can stop working at some point,” Kate said.

Meghan laughed. “Yeah? Do you?”

“I’m not working right now,” Kate said.

Her gaze went around the room. “For a change.”

Kate laughed. She really shouldn’t be calling anyone else a workaholic when she was one. She dug into her cake and ended up finishing it. Buttercream icing could make anyone feel better.

“You demolished that,” Meghan said. “And you stay skinny.”

“My job keeps me from gaining too much weight.”

Not that anyone had seen her naked in years. She wasn’t keeping herself fit for anyone; she just had a job that kept her moving. Not that she was concerned about her appearance. When you worked in overalls, you couldn’t be vain.

“You leaving?”

“Yes,” Kate said.

“I’ll meet you in the library in fifteen minutes,” Meghan said.

Kate waved goodbye and went out the door into the warm evening.

***

Kate strolled down the sidewalk away from the Knights of Columbus Hall where the reception was taking place. She wasn’t in high heels, so it was okay to walk and enjoy the waning summer. The sky was a light blue with a few puffy clouds floating by. Kind of how she felt at the moment—like she was floating.

Not in her professional life. No, she was making strides there, but in her personal life. That part of her life made her feel untethered. She waved at a few people as she walked toward the Rock Ridge Municipal Complex. The library wasn’t in the same building, but it was across the parking lot from court and the rest of the facilities a town needed to provide to its residents.

A man and his son were out for a walk and in deep discussion about current events. Kate liked living in a small town. She might not know everyone well, but she recognized most of them. That’s how she knew the man she suddenly saw sitting outside a café and nursing a beer was not from Rock Ridge.

He looked to be staring at her, but his mirrored sunglasses didn’t let her see for sure. She looked away then back. He hadn’t moved, but his head tracked her progress down the street.

Kate was under no illusion that she was a traffic-stopping beautiful woman, so the stranger’s gaze unnerved her. Maybe he knew her and was trying to figure out where from. She smiled at him as she came to the spot across the street from him.

He had a leather jacket on, which seemed inappropriate for late August in Pennsylvania. His moustache had gray in it, as did his long hair that was tied back in a ponytail. He wasn’t her type, and she doubted she was his type.

Since he hadn’t moved the whole time she was walking, he didn’t pose a threat. His gaze merely made her uncomfortable. She walked on, but felt his eyes on her as she reached the municipal complex. Shuddering, she glanced back, but he no longer sat at the table he’d been occupying.

She looked around, but didn’t see him. She shrugged. Her overactive imagination was getting the best of her. Nonetheless, with a few minutes to spare before she was to meet Meghan, Kate opted to stop in the police station.

She was allowed in without questioning. She headed to a familiar office and knocked on the open door. Scott’s desk was covered in paperwork, which was why he was working on a Friday night.

“Reception over?” Scott asked when she seated herself opposite him.

“Almost. They cut the cake and I ducked out. I’m meeting Meghan at the library. She has something to show me,” Kate said.

Scott, as usual, gave her his full attention. “You two spend a lot of time together. I’m getting jealous.”

“You have no place to be jealous.”

“You haven’t started batting for the other team?”

Kate laughed. She liked men way too much. “Why, because I like to fix things? I don’t dress up?”

His gaze took in her outfit. “You’re dressed up right now. And looking mighty pretty.” He looked her over again. “I think you might be the most beautiful woman in Rock Ridge.”

“Thank you. No, Meghan said she had to show me a book that Greg had taken out and never returned.”

His face turned serious. “You think it’s significant?”

“It might be. I’ll let you know.” She remembered the guy at the café. “I had a strange encounter just now. Not really an encounter.”

“Then what was it?” His blue eyes studied her intently.

She thought back to her stroll to the police station. “I was walking down Main Street. There was this biker dude at the café. He stared at me openly.”

Scott didn’t get upset. He shrugged. “Maybe he thought you were hot.”

“Really? I was probably at least a decade older than he was.”

“Maybe he likes cougars.”

“Scott, stop. It really made me feel uncomfortable.”

Scott chuckled. “Okay, sorry. There is a group camping outside of town at the campground. I’ve been keeping an eye on them as have the state cops. At this point, they haven’t done anything. They have this campout every year around this time.”

“Do they at least spend money in Rock Ridge?”

“They do, and thus far there haven’t been any problems. Word on the street is that they have a new, younger leader, so we’ve been warned.”

“Motorcycle gang?”

“No, but a group that operates on the fringe of society, let’s say. They stockpile guns and are prepared for battle.”

Kate mulled that over. “Do they open carry?”

“Some of them do. I prefer open carry to conceal, since with open carry I know it’s there.”

“Do cops always carry?”

She really didn’t know.

His gaze narrowed. “Of course. I always have my weapon with me. You’re always safe by my side.”

“Well, I better get going. I have to meet Meghan.”

“Let me know what that book is. It might be more significant than you think. Anything could be a clue.”

“Well if it’s a book about living frugally on a deserted island, I’m sure it’ll be helpful.”

Scott chuckled. “Clues aren’t always that obvious.”

She stood. “That’s why you’re the guy with the badge and I’m the gal with the hammer.”

“You want a police escort? I’m on my way out in a few minutes.”

“Across the parking lot? No. I don’t think that man was a threat now that he isn’t staring at me.”

“Can I stop by for a drink later?”

He was doing his best to insinuate himself into her life. She wasn’t doing as good a job at resisting it as she should. “No, I’m going to bed.”

“We could go there, too. I could tuck you in. Tell you a bedtime story.”

Part of her was thrilled that this hot man was attracted to her, but she knew she shouldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t answer him; she just waved as she went out the door.

“That wasn’t an answer,” he yelled from his office.

Back out in the parking lot, Kate looked up at the sky again. It was still blue with puffy clouds wandering by. How could anything be bad on an evening like tonight? Dean and Jessica had had a great night to get married.

Meghan’s car was parked outside the library, so Kate entered the building.

“Meghan?” Kate said.

The hair on the back of Kate’s neck stood on end. It entered her mind to call Scott.

She called out to her friend. Some of the lights were on in the library, but Kate had been here enough lately to know her way around in the dim light. It just wasn’t like Meghan to forget to light her way.

“What did you have to show me?”

No answer. Kate made her way around the bookshelves and back to Meghan’s office. There was a light on in there. Her friend must have gotten distracted by something and forgotten that Kate was coming by.

Kate entered Meghan’s office and let out a squeal. Meghan was at her desk, slumped over. A letter opener was sticking out of her neck. Kate went close enough to feel for a pulse, though she didn’t expect to find one.

She stepped out of the office and gulped in some air. Meghan was dead. Kate took out her phone and dialed Scott.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Scott said.

“It’s Meghan. She’s dead.”

“Kate, where are you?”

“In the library.”

“Get out and stand in the parking lot. Someone could still be in there.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “Okay. I’ll hang up.”

“No, stay on the line until I get there.”

Kate walked back out to the parking lot, her mind buzzing and her body cold. Meghan’s eyes were lifeless, staring at her in her mind. Who would do such a thing?

Kate wrapped her arms around herself as she stood in the evening sun. Scott flew out of the police department door with two uniformed officers behind him. The cavalry. What an odd thought. The tears started to flow.

Meghan was the first new female friend she’d had in a while, and now she was dead. Is it something about me? Was she the problem? This was the third dead body she’d found in six months. Something had to be wrong with her. Her body began to shiver.

Scott had touched her arm, but then disappeared into the library. An ambulance drove around the municipal complex, parking by her.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the young EMT asked.

“I’m not the patient,” she said.

She glanced at the library, but the young man didn’t take his eyes off of her. She must have looked a sight. Kate wiped at the tears rolling down her face. The man handed her a tissue from his ambulance.

“Thank you.”

Scott strode outside and right to her. He took her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

She sniffed. She’d known that Meghan was dead, but hearing someone else confirm it brought the reality to her doorstep. She buried her face in Scott’s chest. He gave instructions to the EMTs.

“Let’s go to my office.”

He held her as they walked across the parking lot. Kate’s heart hurt. They hadn’t been friends long, but she had been developing a sincere affection for Meghan. Now she was gone. Murdered.

Scott put Kate in his office chair.

“I’ll get you some tea with sugar,” he said.

“No sugar.”

He shook his head. His tone was stern. “You need it, Kate.”

She didn’t have the strength to argue. She didn’t want to fight. “Okay.”

She stared at his blotter as she waited for him to return. She couldn’t get the sight of Meghan’s eyes out of her mind. How did Scott deal with dead people when he was a homicide detective in Philadelphia? She’d never get used to it.

He returned with a paper cup filled with hot tea. She sipped the steaming liquid as he cleared off his desk. He leaned on it, staring at her. It was a little unnerving to have this large man hovering over her. Greg hadn’t been that way. He had always assumed she could take care of herself. He wasn’t cold; he’d just never been this concerned about her.

“I’m upset, but I won’t shatter.”

“You’re much stronger than that, I know, but I’m still concerned,” he said.

Kate rolled the word around in her mind. “Murdered?”

“Most likely. I will need to ask you some questions, Kate. It can wait until tomorrow if you’d like.”

She shuddered. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Okay, honey.”

She let the endearment go. Today it felt good for him to have this much concern for her. She’d just found a friend dead. She could use all the warmth she could get. Hugging the cup, she sipped it slowly, beginning to feel human again.

“Can I get you anything else?” Scott said.

He hadn’t moved. He was just within her reach, but she didn’t reach out to him. She couldn’t.

“No, the tea’s fine.” Kate took a deep breath, let it out then composed herself. “I’m ready to answer questions.”

“We need to go to an interrogation room, so I can record it. You okay with that?”

Whatever he needed. She wanted to talk while it was all fresh in her mind. “Fine.”

She followed him to such a room. She’d never seen him so solicitous toward her. He touched her more than usual, and she appreciated the human contact. Finally, he was ready to ask her questions.

“You were supposed to meet Meghan in the library?”

Kate thought back over her conversation with Meghan at the reception. She wasn’t specific about the item she had wanted to show her. “Yes. We talked about it at the wedding reception. She had something to show me.”

“Did she indicate what it was?” Scott said.

He sat across from her. A microphone hung in between them. He had his cop face on now—serious. He was studying her as if trying to read her body language. She didn’t take offense. This was his job. His life.

“She said it had something to do with a book that my husband had taken out of the library and not returned.”

“Did she tell you the title of the book?”

Kate shook her head, and then realized the microphone wouldn’t pick that up. She’d been puzzled and curious about what Meghan had wanted to show her. “No. She didn’t say the title or the subject.”

“So you don’t have any idea what she wanted to show you?”

“No, I don’t.”

Kate set the empty cup down. It no longer was keeping her fingers warm. She figured nothing would right now. The vision of the letter opener in Meghan’s neck wasn’t going to leave her mind anytime soon.

“You need some more tea?”

“No, thanks.”

Scott nodded and continued. “So you met her at the library.”

Kate took a deep breath. Scott held her hand. “I did. It was dark, which I thought was odd. She usually turned some lights on so I could see.”

“Did you often meet at the library?”

“Once in a while, when she wanted to show me something new that I might like to borrow,” Kate said.

They’d share a pot of tea and sometimes cookies. It was sweet and fun. They were two middle-aged women who had a lot in common. Her friendship with Carly was the same, but Carly had never been married. Meghan had.

“So the lights were off.”

She remembered being bothered by the lights being off. It should have been her first clue that something was off. “Yes.”

“You didn’t think it might be dangerous?”

“Rock Ridge Public Library? No. The thought never occurred to me.”

Even though there had been two, now three murders in town this year, Kate still felt safe here. That had been important when she’d chosen to have children and raise them in Rock Ridge. She wanted them to be safe.

“What did you do next?”

“I walked back to Meghan’s office. I called out once, but she didn’t answer,” Kate said.

“Then what?”

“I got to the door and saw her slumped on her desk. I checked for a pulse and then called you.”

“Did you notice anything unusual besides the body?”

“She had a letter opener sticking out of her neck, and a piece of paper was stuck on the opener.”

“Did you look at it? Did you touch it?”

“I didn’t touch anything but Meghan’s wrist,” Kate said.

“Anything you want to add? Any enemies you could think of?”

“No, not at all. As far as I knew, everyone liked her,” Kate said.

“Do you remember anything that happened earlier in the evening you want to add?”

That’s when Kate remembered that Meghan had argued with Celia. “Uh, at the wedding reception, she told me she had an argument with Celia Johnson.”

Kate felt bad for saying that, but she had to be honest. She couldn’t hold back from Scott.

Scott nodded. “Anything else? Anything you can think of, even if it seems insignificant?”

“Nothing else.”

She didn’t think the man staring at her had anything to do with Meghan’s death. He probably couldn’t have even gotten to the library that quickly.

Scott turned off the recorder. “This will be typed up, and I’ll need you to come back to sign it.”

“No problem. Can I go?”

“You want me to drive you home?”

She shook her head. As much as she didn’t want to be alone, she had to keep this man away. There was a strong possibility that in her current state she would do something stupid. “My car is back at the reception. I just need a ride to the Knights of Columbus Hall.”

“I can take you.”

He drove her to her car and followed her home. She waved at him from the porch, and then curled up in bed without undressing and tried to erase the memory of Meghan’s face from her mind.

***

Kate returned to the police station the next morning to sign her statement. On her way, her best friend, Carly, called. She was in hysterics.

“Carly, what’s wrong?”

“They’ve arrested my mother, Kate. They think she killed Meghan.”

Kate cringed, wondering if it was because she had said something about the argument the night before. She had to trust that Scott knew what he was doing. She was on her way to the station anyway. “Look, I have to go there anyway. I’ll see what I can find out. Get your mother a lawyer.”

“She’ll need a lawyer?”

“If they are charging her with murder, or at least questioning her, she needs a lawyer. Tell her not to talk to anyone until she gets one.”

“Oh, Kate. What will she do? She’s a tough bird, but not prison tough.”

Celia would probably tell the prison warden how to run his own place. And she’d be right. The woman could be a force of nature.

“Your father is there. She won’t get a raw deal.”

Carly’s father, Ken Johnson, was a detective for the Rock Ridge Police Department. Scott must’ve had some serious evidence to warrant bringing Celia in.

Kate parked her truck at the other end of the complex from the police department. She didn’t want to look at the library today. She just couldn’t.

Scott was in his office, of course. He wasn’t wearing the same suit. He must have gone home at some point. He looked fresher than she felt. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. She’d showered, and she’d probably washed her hair more than once because she’d lost track. She’d pulled it back into a ponytail.

He stood when he saw her. “I have your statement here.”

He handed her a pen. “Go into the room and read it. If you’re okay with it, then sign it.”

She read it, signed it, and then brought it back to him. “I hear you’ve brought Celia in for questioning.”

Scott put up a hand. “Don’t get involved, Kate.”

“Carly called me on my way here. Could I at least see Celia so I can tell Carly that she’s okay?”

He frowned. “You don’t want to be in a relationship with me, but you certainly take advantage of our friendship when you want something.”

“I’m not asking for that much. I don’t have a file to pass to her.”

He shook his head. “She’s in lockup. You want me to take you there?”

“I think I can find it.”

Lockup was in the basement and a uniformed officer sat at a desk by the entrance. He waved her in. It seemed everyone in the police department knew her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Celia sat primly on the edge of the bunk bed in lockup. No one else occupied the cell with her. Whatever drunks had been arrested the night before were in the other cell. Kate didn’t glance in there. She didn’t want to know.

Celia didn’t stand. She just looked at Kate, her lips pressed together. Kate would bet that Celia had never been in jail in her life before.

“Hello, Celia.”

“Kate.”

“Did they tell you why you were arrested?”

“Besides the fact that I had an argument with Meghan last night?”

“What did you argue about?”

Celia sighed. “About my outstanding fines.”

“That doesn’t sound like a motive for killing a person.”

“I said that, too, Kate, but only Ken is listening to me. Scott wasn’t, so I’m in here now.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“He’s on his way,” Celia said.

Ken couldn’t investigate this case. Not as long as Celia was a suspect. Kate could not imagine the woman killing anyone. She could be a pain, but Kate couldn’t see her doing anything as violent as what had happened to Meghan. The killer had to have been very angry, much more so than Celia would have been over an argument.

Kate leaned against the bars. “Weren’t you at the reception?”

“No, I’d left. I was walking home. You know how I love to walk.”

Celia walked the town every morning before her part-time job as administrative assistant to the mayor. She was a retired nurse and had spent a few years home before being hired by the municipality a few months ago.

“So you were out walking when they think it happened? Surely someone must have seen you.”

“They haven’t found anyone, and as far as I know, no one was out.”

“I walked to the library and there were a few people out and about. It was still light enough for a walk after dinner,” Kate said. “So all they have is that you had an argument with Meghan?”

“Well, there’s more.”

“Oh?”

“The letter opener used to kill her was mine.”

“Yours? How did it get in the library?”

“I don’t know. I lost it at a meeting a week or two ago. I’m not sure.”

“Only your prints were on it?”

“Sadly, yes. I don’t know where it was during that time, but I didn’t have it.” Celia rose. She walked toward Kate. “Please help me, Kate. You seem to be good at these things. Find the murderer.”

Kate was going to try anyway. That person had snuffed out the life of her friend, and Kate couldn’t sit by and let that person go free. “I will, Celia.”

Kate mulled over the letter opener as the murder weapon. It appeared that the person targeted Celia. “Other than Meghan, have you had a fight with anyone lately?”

“The only run-in I’ve had was with the new mayor’s wife.”

Kate groaned. She’d been hearing things about the woman. Kendall Stuart was new money and thought she was better than everyone else was. Kate suspected that the woman had come from nothing and was just a snob now that she’d married well. Mayor Harvey Stuart, her husband, was elected to fill the position after his brother was killed by a local news reporter. He wasn’t quite the politician that his brother was, but he wasn’t doing any harm at this point.

Kate suspected that he wouldn’t get elected again. His wife would be the biggest reason. The woman wore tight leopard-skin jumpsuits that Kate didn’t even know they still made. She wasn’t your typical politician’s wife. She was loud and told people what to do.

“What was it about?”

“Nothing that huge. I just told her she couldn’t barge in while Harvey was on the phone. That was by his request. His wife included. He had business to attend to and she just walked in on those impossibly-high heels.”

Kate knew the ones. To her they defied gravity—or Kendall did. She hadn’t had a chance to meet the woman, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before she did. At some point, everyone needed a handyman.

“She’s the only person you argued with?”

“Other than that biker dude that’s been hanging out on Main Street.”

Kate instantly thought of the suspicious man at the café who had been watching her. “Why him?”

“His motorcycle veered a little close to me on my walk one day. I’ve healed finally from the last time I was hit. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“I understand. Did he threaten you?”

“No, he just leered at me.”

Kate doubted the man leered at a woman old enough to be his mother. A sneer was more likely, but Celia had probably been upset at the time.

“Okay.”

“You’ll snoop?”

“I’ll do my best. And I’ll let Carly know that you’re okay.”

“Not that she’ll come and see me.”

It was a contentious relationship between mother and daughter. Kate never enjoyed being in the middle of their squabbling. “I’ll see you later, Celia.”

Chapter Two

Kate left Celia and drove to Carly’s florist. Her friend was probably just opening the store. She parked her truck and climbed out. The bell above the door rang and Kate’s nose was hugged with the scent of vanilla coffee and fresh flowers.

Carly always had great coffee on hand. Kate didn’t stop by every day, but when she did she would indulge. Carly handed her a mug and Kate breathed in the aroma. “Yum.”

“Did you see my mother?”

Kate shifted onto a stool. She only had a few minutes, but she was going to enjoy this coffee. “Yes. She’s fine.”

“Are you going to snoop like you usually do?”

“Celia asked me the same thing. Yes. I’ll look into it, but I do have a job that I have to do.”

“I’ve seen your truck everywhere lately,” Carly said. She was counting money as they talked.

“I have been busy. It’s great. I actually have some disposable income.”

“Where are you off to today?”

“Jessica’s house.”

“Isn’t she on her honeymoon?” Carly asked. She put her money in her register, and then closed the drawer.

“Not yet. They’re doing a weekend away. Dean is busy with projects. He told me that they’ll take a real honeymoon later in the year,” Kate said.

“What are you doing at her house?”

“Staging it for sale. It’s my new line of work besides fixing things. I seem to have a knack.”

“Is it something you just picked up?’

“No, I read a few books. The real estate agents are clamoring for me now. I staged a living room as a test and they were happy with it. The house sold the next day,” Kate said.

“And you barely decorated your house.”

Kate laughed. She didn’t have throw pillows or any accents like that in her own house. “Thankfully, none of the agents asked to see my place before they hired me.”

“Good thing.”

“I don’t spend much time at home anyway.”

“Nope. I guess you don’t. As a business owner, I understand that.”

“Have you met Kendall Stuart?”

Carly rolled her eyes. She liked most people, so if she had a problem with someone, the issue was most likely with that someone. “She came in here demanding a flower that I’d never heard of.”

“A flower that you’ve never heard of? I can’t believe it.”

Carly hadn’t gone to college. Instead she’d worked for the flower shop’s previous owner. The woman had taught her everything, and when she retired, she sold the place to Carly. Carly then renamed it, but not much had changed except that the flowers were of a little higher quality than they had been. Not that Kate could tell. She didn’t know a begonia from a buttercup.

But those who did know about such things raved about the flowers.

“Turns out, she was calling it by the wrong name. She showed me a picture and I told her what it was really called. She left in a huff. Came back and asked to speak to the manager.”

“Bet she wasn’t happy when you told her that you were the manager and the owner.”

Carly laughed. “On the bright side, I do have a standing order from her husband for flowers to be delivered.”

“Where are they living?”

“They’re renting a house over on Kent Street.”

Not a ritzy neighborhood, but not the wrong side of the tracks either. “I would have expected somewhere fancier than that.”

“From what I heard, there was nothing available on short notice.”

“Why did Harvey run for mayor if he didn’t even live here? And why did town council appoint him?”

Carly shrugged. “Who knows? He won’t get elected again. Not with that wife.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

“Why did you ask about Kendall?”

“I had asked your mother if she’d had run-ins with anyone else besides Meghan. She said Kendall.”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because someone framed your mother.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carly hugged her. “I forgot that you and Meghan were friends.”

That came out of the blue. “Thanks.”

“You doing okay? Here I am worried about myself and you’re grieving.”

“Our friendship was just starting. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, so you think someone framed my mother?”

“Yes, the murder weapon was hers.”

“Not that letter opener that she’d been complaining she’d lost?”

“You’ve talked to your mother recently?” Kate said.

Carly seemed to avoid her mother as much as possible. “Mom and Dad had Larry and me over for dinner.”

“You’re that serious?”

“It isn’t like they don’t know him.”

“Yes, but now your father is looking at him as a potential son-in-law. That’s a whole new ballgame. How did it go?’

Larry’s father is in jail for murder. Ken is a cop. That couldn’t have been a good combination.

“My dad was a little stern at first, but I did point out that Larry had nothing to do with what his father had done.”

“And of course he gave in because you have him wrapped around your little finger,” Kate said.

Carly laughed. She knew it was true. Everyone knew it was true. It was probably why Carly and her mother didn’t get along. It was sad, really. Kate’s mother had died when she was young. She missed her every day. Her father had moved to Florida last year.

Kate was without family since her boys were away. She couldn’t imagine being emotionally estranged from them. Her thoughts drifted to Greg. She might be emotionally estranged from him at this point. He’d been gone more than five years. How was she supposed to hold on to the love she had once had for him when each time she learned something about him, it didn’t match the man she had married?

“You and Larry are doing well?”

“Yes, we are. He’s the kindest man I’ve ever dated.”

Larry had had a thing for Kate, but she’d made it clear that nothing was going to happen until she knew where her husband was. She’d nudged him in Carly’s direction knowing that he was a good man, and she hadn’t had too many of those.

“I’m happy for you.”

“You seem sad when you say that, Kate.”

“I am. I just wish that part of my life was a little more settled.” It was true, though there was nothing she could to about it right now. “I better go before I get melancholy.”

Kate finished her coffee and scooted off the stool. Carly hugged her again. “Thanks for letting me know that my mother was okay.”

“No problem, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.” Kate walked to the door. “Do you know what time your mother left the reception last night?”

Carly looked to the ceiling for a moment. “I think it was eight or so. Not too long after you snuck out.”

“Thanks.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see if anyone saw her when she walked home. Maybe she has an alibi and just isn’t aware of it.”

“Oh, makes sense.”

Carly was putting together an arrangement when Kate left. She’d have to order some flowers when Meghan’s next of kin made the funeral arrangements. As far as Kate knew, the only relative she had was her brother, Clem. He had been Dean’s foreman on his last project. They had renovated an office building outside of town.

Kate would offer her condolences, but she had no idea where the man lived.

***

Kate parked her truck on the street in front of Jessica’s house. The largest SUV Kate had ever seen was parked in the driveway. It wasn’t Jessica’s car. As flashy as hers was, this dwarfed it in both size and gaudiness. The hubcaps looked to be gold. Gold? Kate didn’t know enough about cars to know if that was even an option.

Jessica stood on her stoop, and based on her body language, she wasn’t happy with the person in front of her. Not having seen Kendall Stuart up close, Kate couldn’t be sure, but she’d bet that was who was standing there.

The woman stood on heels that probably should be illegal. She towered over Jessica, who wasn’t short by anyone’s standards. If Kate was in the mix, she’d be a member of the lollipop guild. She waited on the driveway, not sure she wanted to get into the fray of the conversation. She didn’t like confrontation too much, and two women fighting made her shiver.

Kendall wore a tank top meant for a much younger woman, along with leopard print Daisy Dukes. Her chest threatened to spill out with each movement of her body. The woman clearly had no shame, because she didn’t have the body for the outfit.

Kate took a deep breath, contemplating if she should weigh in on the conversation. She took a moment to listen.

“The house is not for sale yet. There are still some items to take care of,” Jessica said.

“I don’t care about those things.”

She took off her movie-star sunglasses and tucked them onto the top of her head. From this distance, Kate could see the woman’s false eyelashes. It made Kate’s eyes water just thinking about them. She’d tried to wear them once when she was a teenager, but had done such a bad job that they’d fallen off…before her date with Scott, thankfully.

“Well, you can’t come in.”

“This is the house I want. There’s no need to go through a real estate agent. We can take care of the transaction just between us. I can pay cash,” Kendall said.

Kate didn’t think that sounded right, but it wasn’t her property to sell. All she wanted to know was if her services were still needed or not.

Kendall moved toward the door, but Jessica blocked her. “I don’t have time to play around. I have an appointment and then I have a meeting. Please leave, Kendall.”

“We’re family, Jess. Can’t we just do this without all the fuss?”

Why does she want the house so badly? Is it just because of the size?

“We’re hardly family.”

“I’m married to your late husband’s brother. We’ve spent Christmas together for the last five years,” Kendall said.

“Begrudgingly, Kendall, you never liked me. You made that clear. I’ve always been beneath you. You never thought I was good enough for Dudley.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is.”

Right now, Kate wanted to be anywhere but here. She didn’t want to be part of this family drama, but she was trapped on the driveway. If either of them turned slightly, they would see her. Besides, her truck announcing her business on its side was parked in plain view.

Kate rubbed a spot between her eyes. A headache was beginning, and she wasn’t even halfway through the morning. She sighed.

“I’m not letting you in, Kendall. You can wait like everyone else for when it goes on the market.”

Kate sneezed. She’d felt it coming but couldn’t stop it. The two women turned to her. Jessica was embarrassed, wringing her hands. Kendall was not. She sailed past Jessica, who had stepped out of the doorway.

“Crap,” Jessica said.

She followed her former sister-in-law into the house. Kate thought of taking the opportunity to leave, but realized that Jessica needed help. Kendall was a steamroller, and Jessica was going to get flattened. Kate entered Jessica’s house. The pair hadn’t gotten very far. Jessica had grabbed ahold of Kendall’s arm. The woman was still trying to maneuver her way down the hallway.

“Is there a problem?” Kate said.

Both women stopped then turned to her.

“No, Kendall was just leaving,” Jessica said. “This is my appointment. We don’t have much time, and I can’t show you around.”

The last part was said to Kendall, who frowned. “But we’re family. Of course you can trust me in your house. If you can trust a tradesperson in it…”

Kendall gave Kate the once-over and Kate was sure she came up lacking. Oh well. I can’t do fix-it work in designer clothing.

“Kate isn’t just anyone. She’s the town handyperson,” Jessica said with pride, as if she’d birthed Kate. Well, she had singlehandedly kept her in business, and her recommendations to others in town had helped Kate immensely. Still, she didn’t need to be that proud.

“Oh? Do you have a card?”

Kate pulled one out of her pocket but made Kendall come closer to her to retrieve it. “Do you have work that needs to be done?”

She kept moving toward the door, with Kendall following her. Kate could get this woman out of Jessica’s house.

“My house is a little out of town. Will that be inconvenient? We have to move to a place in town since Harvey is mayor. Our house is technically not in Rock Ridge, but in Walter Springs.”

The statement made Kate want to ask how Harvey got elected. Most likely, no one else wanted the job. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Why don’t you make a list of what you need and e-mail me? I can give you a rough estimate of the cost.”

She had Kendall to the front door. “If you get me that list today, I can get you an estimate tomorrow sometime. I’m booked most of the day, so I won’t get to it until tonight.”

“That works. I’ll go right now and look around.”

Kendall put on her flashy sunglasses and left.

Jessica laughed when Kendall’s SUV was gone. “That was good. How did you do that?”

“It’s a knack,” Kate said. “I can only imagine what Christmas dinner was like with her.”

“Don’t make me think about it. Talk about stress. It was always at their house, and the decorations were over-the-top. Think Christmas Vacation.”

“Oh, no. Did they have things that moved and made noise?”

“Yes. On the roof. I think you could see their house from outer space,” Jessica said.

Kate shuddered at the idea. Her decorations were understated since no one saw them. She wasn’t even sure she’d put them up this year.

“So she wants to buy your house? Could be a winning situation.”

“No, it couldn’t.” Jessica motioned for Kate to follow her. In the kitchen, she poured coffee.

Everyone knew about Kate’s penchant for coffee.

“A buyer already can’t be a bad thing,” Kate said.

“She’ll nitpick me on items and try to get the price down,” Jessica said.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“I’m sorry about Meghan,” Jessica said.

Kate’s heart hurt again for a minute. The exchange with Kendall had made her forget about the loss of her new friend. Now the hurt of it all came back to her. “Thanks.”

***

Jessica packed the last of her stuff as Kate looked over the second floor to see what changes she could make to stage it. It seemed pointless if Kendall was that interested in buying the house.

“Why does Kendall want this house so badly?” she asked as she fixed the covers on the queen-size bed in the master bedroom.

Jessica had a suitcase on the loveseat in the corner. She kept walking in and out of her walk-in closet. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is the biggest house in Rock Ridge.”

“You aren’t going to miss it?”

Jessica stopped, looking around. “No, I won’t. Not as many happy memories here as I’d like to think. Dudley may have died, but I was going to divorce him anyway.”

“True.”

Kate had forgotten that. Jessica had been unhappy with her late husband. She was a different person with Dean. Much calmer, Kate had to say. Dean wasn’t rich like Dudley had been, but happiness wasn’t always about money. Jessica probably had inherited some money from her husband. The pair would be okay.

Kate fixed the pillows on the bed. Jessica had mostly moved out to Dean’s house. Once she was completely moved out, the house would go on the market. It would make the staging easier as no one would be there to move the furniture or accessories.

“So Celia was arrested for Meghan’s murder?” Jessica asked.

“Yes.”

“I can’t see Celia killing anyone. Did she even know Meghan as more than a librarian?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So why are they so sure that Celia is the killer? Doesn’t she get some benefit of the doubt because she is Ken’s wife?”

“Well,” Kate began. She wasn’t one for gossip, but she’d also found that people talked if you shared something. She’d solved two cases this year by just listening, but each person had to be prompted. “The murder weapon was her letter opener.”

Jessica gasped. “But she’d lost that.”

“How do you know that?” Kate stepped back to look at her handiwork on the bed. “Do you have a throw blanket?”

Jessica disappeared into the closet. The one she came out with matched the comforter perfectly. Kate draped it over the corner of the bed as if it had been casually put there.

“I love that touch. I wouldn’t have thought of that. Dean likes my taste. He says I can decorate his, I mean, our, house any way I want.”

“Nice.”

Dudley had the tackiest taste. It must run in the family since his brother married Kendall.

“How do you know that Celia lost the letter opener?” Kate said.

“Because she had it at the last meeting of the Founder’s Day Festival Planning Committee meeting. She’d picked up the mail and was opening it while we were discussing other things. We are on several committees together, and she usually is the one checking the mail for each of them. She brings the letter opener everywhere.”

“But how did you know she lost it?”

“After our last meeting, she called me to see if I’d seen it. She said she put it down but couldn’t find it in her purse.”

“Where do you have your meetings?”

“In the community center. Have you been? It’ll be rededicated this week. Dean and I will be there.”

“Are they naming the center?”

“Ironically, yes, after Dudley.”

Kate wanted to laugh. Dean had renovated the center that was going to be named after his wife’s late husband, whom she had cheated on with Dean. Only in Pennsylvania. “Did Celia go back to the center to look for it?”

“The next day on her way to work she did,” Jessica said. She closed her suitcase.

“So she didn’t find it. Who else was at that meeting?”

Jessica rubbed her chin. “The usual suspects: Clara Jenkins and people like that. Oh, and Kendall had insinuated herself into the meeting also. She came late and left early, of course. She’s all about the show. She’ll do no work, I’m sure.”

Clearly Jessica didn’t like her former sister-in-law.

“Could you talk to Scott about the letter opener?”

“Sure. I can do that after my meeting today.”

Jessica hadn’t had to work as Dudley’s wife. She spent her time on the committees that got things done in a small town. Kate would find that exhausting. She liked working solo most of the time. People, to her, were fine one-on-one, but any group larger than that and she found herself looking for the door.

“I hope you weren’t offended that I left your reception early,” Kate said.

Jessica patted her arm. “Not at all. I was just happy you were there. I know life has been tough for you and will be in limbo until Greg is found.”

“I’m glad you invited me. I’m not one for large gatherings.”

“Understood. I, on the other hand, love a party.”

Kate laughed.

“Speaking of large gatherings,” Jessica said.

What am I going to get roped into now? Kate wasn’t one for hen parties or committees. “What?”

“I actually need your expertise behind the scenes.”

“Oh?”

Behind the scenes might be okay.

“The wooden bleachers for the parade spectators are in need of repair. We don’t have a large budget, but we can certainly pay for supplies for you to fix them.”

That Kate could do. “Okay. Can I look them over? I’ll need to before I can buy supplies.”

“Sure. Just ask one of the DPW guys. He’ll show you where they are.”

“Okay. I can do that. Anything else?”

Kate felt an obligation to Jessica, since she’d given her most of her business. Kate wouldn’t have been quite as successful if Jessica hadn’t recommended her to all of her friends.

“You almost done?”

“I’m done with this room. Are you completely moved out now?”

“Yes, I am. You can do what you want with the house.”

“You aren’t taking any furniture with you?”

“Not yet. It’ll go into storage for later, after Dean builds me a house.”

A small smile appeared on her face. New love. What a joy. Kate tried to remember back to when she’d first met her husband. She couldn’t. His continued absence was beginning to make her resent him.

Greg was slowly becoming someone she didn’t know. Each time Scott uncovered something new about him in his investigation of the man’s disappearance, Kate increasingly felt like she’d married a stranger. Had he even loved her? She didn’t know anymore, and her feelings toward him were becoming more complicated.

“You okay?” Jessica asked.

“Just thinking—too much, of course.”

“About Greg?”

“Yes. Meghan was supposed to show me something—a book that Greg had taken out and not returned. I never found out what it was.”

“Do you think it would help find him?”

“Might shed light on where he is or at least why he left.”

Jessica put her hand on Kate’s arm. “I wish this wasn’t so tough on you. I’d be pretty mad about now; five years is a long time to be in the dark. You’ve held up so well.”

Kate smiled at Jessica. “Thanks.

***

Kate stopped at the grocery store to pick up a rotisserie chicken for dinner. Cooking for one wasn’t fun. She ran into Dean in the frozen foods aisle.

Kate glanced at his cart. “That looks like a bachelor meal.”

He laughed. His dark eyes sparkled when that happened. What a transformation. When he’d come to town, he’d had a Goth style with eyeliner and black nails. Now he looked like every other man in Rock Ridge. She wondered if Jessica had fallen in love with him before he mellowed his look.

“I saw your lovely bride earlier today,” Kate said.

Dean grinned. He was a man who was smitten. “I heard that you deftly got rid of Kendall for her.”

“I did.”

“I had lunch with Jessica. She’s out with some friends for a working dinner. I didn’t ask for what. I lose track of all of the committees she’s on.”

“She’s a busy woman. You guys heading out of town soon?” She pulled out a bag of frozen peas and dropped them in her cart.

“In a few days. The community center is being dedicated.”

“I heard.”

She chose not to ask him about the name. He got the girl. That was the most important thing. He rubbed the back of his neck, and Kate couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Uh, Kate. Are you free right now?”

“Free?”

She was sure he wasn’t asking her for a date, but she didn’t know what he meant.

“I want you to come and look at something. I need a second opinion and I trust yours.”

“On what?”

“I want you to look at this office building that I just built. It isn’t complete, and it failed some inspections—for real reasons, not stupid ones.”

Kate had to laugh. Town inspectors could be intermittent with their enforcement of the codes.

“Okay. The one out of town?”

“Yes.”

“I live that way anyway. Sure. You want to go now?”

“I just need to pay for my stuff,” Dean said.

They both used the self-checkout, and then Kate followed Dean in her truck. They drove past Kate’s house, then out of town. Just at the edge of the zip code, Dean parked his truck by a partially-built office building.

“I thought you were further along than this.”

“I was, but I had to take down some of it. There hadn’t been inspections done.”

She looked up at the building. It must be frustrating to do things twice. “Who is in charge of this site? Or are you here full time?”

“I’m not anywhere full time. I have crews and foremen.”

“Who is the foremen for this site?” she said.

He led her into the building. “Let me show you some things, first.”

He took the steps to the second floor. He pointed to some of the electrical wiring. She was no expert, though she could do some minor wiring of an outlet or a light switch. She looked more closely at it. “The electrician didn’t put the wires in correctly. They’re switched,” she suggested.

“The inspector didn’t catch it because there wasn’t one. I have no idea why anyone thought that was a good idea.”

“Is the electrician union? You can complain.”

“Not that anything will get done. I started out working as an electrician with my dad before I went to the police academy,” Dean said. “I saw many guys do a crappy job, and there were no consequences.”

“What else.”

“Pull on that Sheetrock.”

Kate did. It came away in her hands as if it were powder. “Where did you get this?”

“I haven’t looked at the records yet, but I’m sure it isn’t where I normally get this stuff.”

“Who’s in charge?”

Dean rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “My foreman. I’m not sure if he is the one cutting corners or not.”

“Who?”

“Clem Tully.”

“Meghan’s brother.”

“I know. His sister was just killed, and I feel bad coming down on him. That’s why I haven’t yet. I have to be sure. I can’t piss off the local guys or I’ll have no workers.”

“That bites.”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t losing my mind.”

“You aren’t. This is all substandard work and materials. What are you going to do?”

“I need to document some things. If I can prove who did it, they will be fired. I can’t have that stuff going on at my job sites. I have a reputation.”

Kate nodded. In this business, reputation meant everything. She took a lot of pride in her work. Dean did, too. That’s why they often recommended each other.

“I understand. What benefit would there be to substandard materials?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I don’t understand. Unless someone is getting a kickback for using the crappy stuff.”

“Someone could be paying them the difference between the two prices. Still, what’s the point in failing to get an inspection? That’s going to make them look harder.”

“For sure. I want everything done correctly. This really pisses me off. Especially right now with the wedding.”

“Maybe whoever did it thought you’d be distracted by the wedding.”

“Possibly.” He let out an exasperated breath. “This puts me behind schedule. I was ahead and on track for a bonus.”

“Well, my father always said to follow the money. There might be two trails in this case.”

“Why?”

“Maybe your investors don’t want you to finish early. Maybe they’ve run out of money.”

“I hope not. It’s a coalition of some of the bigwigs in town. Most of them are business owners. They should know how to manage their money.”

“One would hope.”

What is the world coming to? “I’m so sorry this happened, Dean.”

“Can you not tell anyone? I hate the situation enough, and I’d hate to have anyone find out. Even if it isn’t my fault. We can’t defame anyone until I know what’s going on.”

“Sure enough.”

She left him at the site, muttering. Poor Dean. At least Jessica would cheer him up at some point tonight. Unlike Kate, who was going home to an empty house with supermarket chicken. That was pathetic. She could probably be having a lovely dinner with Scott, if she wanted.

Best not to go there. No need to encourage him. Maybe she shouldn’t even be his friend, but she had begun to rely on him and his opinions.

As she drove down her long, winding driveway, she half expected to see Scott. He often showed up unannounced. She really should break him of that habit, but her life was that boring. No social life other than a girls’ night once in a while with Carly.

That thought reminded her of Meghan. Dean had given her Clem’s address. Kate would have to give her condolences in person—tomorrow. Now she wanted to get into shorts and a T-shirt and devour her chicken.

Before she reached the house, she turned off the perimeter security system. Scott had found it by accident. He’d said it was put there by a very paranoid person: Greg. Of course, she had no idea what Greg had been into that he felt they needed this type of security.

Parking her truck, she gazed at the house that had once been a home. She’d accepted that her boys would leave, but she was supposed to grow old here with Greg.

That clearly was not happening.

Chapter Three

Kate mulled over who might have wanted to kill Meghan as she drove to Clem’s house. She had to give her condolences to the man. He must be broken up. His sister had been brutally murdered.

His house was a ranch-style home on a little spit of land. More weeds grew than grass, and Kate figured Clem lived by himself. There were no womanly touches. No flower boxes. No wreath on the door.

Kate knocked. She didn’t hear any movement inside. She waited a minute then knocked again. A disheveled man opened the door. He looked as if he’d just woken up…under a truck. His bleary eyes blinked at her.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was Meghan’s friend. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

He stared at her for a moment, and she wondered if he’d heard what she said.

“Are you Clem Tully?”

“Yes. I am. Sorry. I was napping.”

This early in the morning? She kept that question to herself. Then he yawned. The smell of alcohol wafted to her. That explained the nap in the morning. She’d never have suspected if he’d said he’d just been awakened.

“Sorry to wake you. Do you have the details of the viewing and funeral?”

She’d have to send flowers. And attend both the viewing and the funeral. Meghan had been her friend, even if it had only been for a short time. She missed the woman.

“Uh, my sis, uh, no, we don’t have the details yet.”

Sister? Meghan hadn’t talked about a sister, but then she hadn’t talked about Clem either. Being an only child, Kate didn’t know if that was normal or not. Scott mentioned his siblings sometimes. They had moved out of Rock Ridge. One was a lawyer. His sister designed wedding dresses.

Maybe it was odd that Meghan hadn’t talked about her family. Kate hadn’t known her long enough or well enough to have asked such personal questions. That said, Meghan probably knew everything about Kate’s boys, but a mother often talked about her kids. She was proud of them.

Seeing that Clem wasn’t going to volunteer anything else, Kate said her good-byes. She’d just look at the funeral home’s website for the times and dates.

She climbed back into her truck, puzzling over Clem. Maybe it was just grief. She wondered how close they were as siblings. Her phone buzzed. She started the truck to get the air conditioning going. The summer heat was hanging on.

She received a text from Scott. Hey, are you free for lunch?

Uh, yeah.

Good. Stop by my house, he wrote back.

She bit her lip. Should I? She was in her truck. It was a weekend. Everyone would be home to see her parked there. Then again, some people thought she was already dating Scott. At least Meghan had told her what people had been saying. No one thought badly of her. Everyone wanted her to be happy.

She texted him back. I can be there at noon. I have a small job before then.

Okay.

He then texted her a smiley face. She couldn’t help but grin. He did brighten her day.

Kate put a new faucet in a customer’s kitchen sink. Then she fixed the garbage disposal. Thankfully the house had been air-conditioned, so she wasn’t sweaty by the time she arrived at Scott’s house. His house was cool, and he had the shades drawn in his living room.

“Hi,” he said, moving aside to let her in.

“Hi. This is the best offer you have on a Saturday? To make lunch for me?”

He laughed. “I think it’s the only offer I want.”

Her mouth went dry. He was charming and sweet and…damn. He was chipping away at her defenses. This was probably a mistake, but one she was going to enjoy.

Scott led her to his kitchen where he’d put out placemats and silverware. She smelled something that had come off the barbecue.

“You didn’t have to go all out,” she said.

“I didn’t. Sit. I was itching to grill, so I did. You gave me an excuse to do something that I really wanted to do.”

She sat at the Formica table. He poured lemonade for her and opened a beer for himself. He put a plate with a cheeseburger in front of her. The condiments were laid out on the table already. She chose mustard and pickles. Scott went with ketchup and onions.

“I feel as if this is a last meal. What do you have to show me?”

“You in a hurry?”

“No, I’m done for the day.”

“Then enjoy your food. What I have to say can wait.”

They chatted about many things as they ate, including Meghan’s murder. Finally, Scott cleared the plates.

“I have Greg’s library record.”

“Okay.”

“This might be what Meghan had wanted to show you.”

“Do you think that this had something to do with why she was killed?”

Scott frowned. “It’s possible, but I don’t see how.”

Relief washed over Kate. She didn’t want that on her conscience. “Okay.”

He handed her a piece of paper. A screenshot, she assumed.

“This was the last book your husband took out of the library. It hasn’t been returned.”

“That’s what Meghan wanted to show me.” She read the title of the book. “A Doomsday Prepper Guide. Greg didn’t even like camping.”

“You don’t know why he would have it or want it?”

“No. It’s not a subject we talked about.”

“Do you think he led a double life?”

“I’ve been wondering that since you found the security system. There seems to be a lot about Greg that I didn’t know.”

She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to scream at him. Why had he married her? Why had he left her?

“You seem to be taking this well.”

“Nothing is going to surprise me anymore about Greg.”

She hadn’t given up trying to figure him out, but she doubted that she ever would. Greg’s leading a double life was as good an explanation as anything for the things Scott had found.

Scott reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Kate. I don’t know if this brings me any closer to finding him or not.”

“I appreciate your help in any case. I do.”

***

Kate woke up Monday morning with nothing on her plate. Meghan’s viewing was that night, so Kate’s heart was heavy. She was looking forward to lazing around for the morning. Her first appointment wasn’t until after lunchtime. She would clean the house, not that she made much of a mess, and maybe do some laundry also.

With one load in and her shower done, Kate’s phone rang. So much for a lazy morning.

“Kate Flaherty? It’s Kendall Stuart.”

Kate wanted to groan. Frankly, she’d rather do chores than talk to the woman. “Hello, Kendall. Have you got a list for me?”

“Well, I’d rather you stop by and I’ll show you what I need done on the house. That way you can give me an estimate on the spot.”

“I can give you a better idea of the cost if I see the jobs, but I can’t give an estimate on the spot.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know the price of everything at the hardware store. I’ll have to do some research, but I’ll get you the estimate within twenty-four hours.”

Silence. “I guess that will have to do. Can you come by this morning?”

Kate had hoped she could put the woman off for a few days. She wasn’t in any position to deal with her. Thinking about Meghan, Kate’s emotions were a little raw. She might not be as diplomatic as she should be.

Having Kendall Stuart running around saying she’d been rude would not help her business. “If you give me the address, I’m sure I can be there in about a half an hour.”

Kendall told her where she lived. It was on the outskirts of the next town over. Too bad Kate would have to drive through Rock Ridge to get there. Hopefully she would make it back in time for her job at one.

She drove her truck out to Kendall’s address. It sat down a driveway not unlike her own—windy and dirty. The house itself was impressive. It wasn’t as big as Jessica’s, but still not bad at all. Kate was surprised that Kendall had agreed to live here. No one could see her wealth back here in the woods.

Kendall answered the door right away, as if she’d been standing and waiting for Kate to arrive. She had a bad feeling about this. Kendall had the capacity, certainly, to be the customer that would make her wish she didn’t have her own business.

“Come in.”

Today, Kendall was dressed in sparkly stiletto heels, real Daisy Dukes and a tank top that showed off her midriff. She had a ring in her belly button. Kate tried not to stare at it.

“Hello, Kendall.”

Kate brought a pad of paper and a pen into the house with her. She was ready to talk about repairs.

“You want some coffee?”

She did, but she didn’t want to linger in Kendall’s house. In the end, the lure of the coffee was too great. Kendall sat across from her at her expansive kitchen table.

“How much sway do you have with Jessica?”

“Jessica? Not much. We’re friendly, but we’re not friends.”

“You were at her wedding.”

“Yes, I was.” She wasn’t going to explain anything to Kendall. “How about you show me what you need fixed.”

“Wait. I want to talk about Jessica.”

“I don’t.” She smiled her best fake smile and stood. “Shall we get started?”

Kendall frowned. “I want that house, Kate.”

“It’s not on the market. You can put in an offer as soon as it is.”

“Is it done? Is it ready to go?”

“I have some more work to do when they are on their honeymoon.”

Kate realized after she said it that she’d revealed too much information.

“So you’ll have a key?”

“I will have a way to get into the house,” Kate said. “Did you bring me here for work or to talk about Jessica?”

“Both.”

“I don’t really have anything to do with the sale of Jessica’s house beyond staging it. There’s nothing I can do for you.”

“You can let me in to look around.”

“No. Now, either show me the work to be done, or I’m leaving.”

To emphasize, Kate grabbed her pad of paper and turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

Kate looked back at Kendall. “I just want that house. I really love it.”

“Then put in an offer when it goes on the market.”

Kendall stood. “Okay. Let’s start at the top of the house and work our way down.”

Kate followed her upstairs to the master bathroom.

“I need new fixtures in here. I stopped liking them two months after the bathroom was renovated.”

“I’ll have to get a catalog from the store so you can choose.”

“No, I already have them.”

Kendall produced the boxes from her walk-in closet.

“Oh, okay. What’s next?”

Kendal traipsed through the house, and by the end, Kate had three pages of notes. She shook Kendall’s hand and left. She had just enough time to slip into the hardware store to price the items she’d need. Kendall’s house would take a few days.

Kate wanted to space out the repairs, but Kendall had insisted that she needed it all done at once. That would be two days, at least, of the woman’s company.

Because Kate was an honest person, she couldn’t even charge the woman more than she wanted to. She should get a stipend for the pain and suffering that she was sure would take place. Kendall was not an easy woman, and she wasn’t going to be an easy customer.

Kate couldn’t turn down the work. Not at this early stage of her business. Word of mouth was everything, and Kendall’s was bigger than most. She would probably benefit from Kendall telling people about her work.

At least she hoped she would. All of this work might get her mind off Greg and his disappearance. What the heck was Greg doing looking up doomsday prepping? He’d never said he was interested in it.

She’d gone camping once with the men in her family. Greg had complained the whole time. He didn’t know how to pitch a tent. The weekend had been a disaster that Kate chose never to repeat.

So she was curious as to why Greg would be suddenly interested in the end of the world. He’d never talked about anything like that. Not even remotely.

“You look deep in thought, Kate,” said Larry Stadt, owner of Grayson’s Hardware and Carly’s new paramour.

“Oh, lots of things going on.”

“I’m glad. You have a lot of business?”

He stood, tall and lanky, with brown hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t a remarkable person to look at, but Kate knew the man had the biggest heart in town. He probably got better looking as you fell in love with him.

“I do. Have you met Kendall Stuart?”

Maybe Larry would have something positive to say about her.

He took off his John Deere hat and scratched the top of his head. They’d been good enough friends in the past for her to know that he was choosing his words carefully.

“Well, I couldn’t say that I know her. I met her once. She isn’t really the type to need a hardware store, so I can’t say much about her.”

“Okay.”

“Is she a customer?”

“Yes, and she has a lot of work for me.”

“Maybe you need to concentrate on the fact that you’re getting paid.”

Kate had to laugh. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Larry.”

Chapter Four

Next stop was Carly’s Florist Shop. Today the coffee was cinnamon. It was one of Kate’s favorites. She stopped to fill up a mug as Carly helped a customer.

The woman left. Carly turned her smile to Kate. “I hear you’ve got Kendall Stuart as a customer.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just got off the phone with Larry. We were making lunch plans.”

“He mentioned it?” Kate said.

“Just in passing.”

“Did he have an opinion?”

Carly laughed. “You know Larry. He doesn’t want to say anything bad about anyone.”

“Of course not. He was just as reticent when I asked for his opinion.”

“She’s a pain, but harmless.”

“I’m hoping she’s harmless.”

“She is.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Cold. Man, it’s been busy with the viewing tonight. I know you’re going. You want company?”

“It’s a thought.”

“Unless you have a male shoulder to offer you support?”

Of course she meant Scott. “I have no plans to go to the viewing with Scott.”

“Then let’s go together. I know it isn’t going to be easy for you.”

“Thanks.”

So much had happened in the last few months. But even so, Carly was still her friend. It was one constant in her life.

“Are you going to lunch with Larry today?”

“No, tomorrow. I knew I was going to the viewing tonight. Tonight is the night he keeps the store open later, so he won’t be attending.”

Keeping the store open later on Monday was one of the changes that Larry had made at Grayson’s Hardware since he’d taken over for his father. Larry had been chief of the Rock Ridge Fire Department. He retired soon after the trial, focusing instead on running the store.

He’d been slowly bringing the place up to date.

“Let me get started on painting that wall.”

“I have a ton of orders to get to by this evening,” Carly said.

Kate had recently put up a wall to provide Carly with more storage space in her back room. She was now there to paint it the same cheery yellow that the rest of the area was coated with. Carly had picked out the color herself.

She had already prepped the wall, so today she could just get down to painting. She thought the rest of the wall might need to be painted also, but she only did what Carly had wanted her to do. When you ran a business, you couldn’t do it all at once.

Carly set up her flowers not far from where Kate was working. She debated sharing what Scott had shown her with Carly; she wanted another opinion.

“Scott showed me what he thought Meghan wanted me to see that night.”

“Oh?”

Kate poured paint into a pan with a liner. She straightened.

“Apparently Greg took out a book from the library on doomsday preparations,” Kate said.

“Greg? He didn’t even like to camp.”

“I know. Odd, right?”

“Does Scott think it will help him find Greg?”

“He doesn’t know, but Scott doesn’t always tell me everything. I think he holds back because he doesn’t want me to worry.”

“What is there to worry about? You don’t have your husband, so if you could get closure that would be for the best, right? I bet you don’t care what the outcome is at this point.”

“Well, I don’t want him dead, but I’d deal with it. I do just want closure.”

“The chief of police wants it for you also,” Carly said.

Yes, Scott would want that. It would open things up for him. She had no idea why he was so set on her. There were many eligible women, younger women, who were always throwing themselves at him. He didn’t even seem to notice.

“For his own reasons.”

“Those reasons are not bad. He is really smitten with you.”

“Smitten? Are you eighty?”

Carly laughed. “He is. He has such a crush on you. It’s so funny to see this big guy so sweet around you.”

Kate stared at her for a moment. “Do people really talk about us?”

“Yes, sorry. You’re a great topic.”

“There isn’t a pool or anything like that?”

Carly hesitated. “No, of course not. You’re well liked here, Kate. Other than the single women who want Scott for themselves, everyone wants to see you with him. They like him too.”

“Well then, I guess it would be a win-win for the town.”

Carly smiled. “It would be a win-win for you. He’s met your kids, right?”

“Yes, he took them fishing when they were home before the fall semester.”

“Wow. You let them spend time with him?”

Kate shrugged. “I was working. He’d taken the day off. The boys like to fish…sort of.”

“Aren’t you tired of being the good wife? It’s been five years. Get a divorce already.”

Kate had been thinking about it for the last few weeks. Spending time with Scott and seeing how easily her kids took to him made her wonder if she was doing the right thing by staying married.

Scott was a good man. She could probably make a life with him. Having spent enough time alone to know herself, she’d been thinking that she didn’t want to spend her time alone anymore.

But she wasn’t sure it was right to divorce Greg.

“You need to look into it Kate. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“But you have this shadow in your eyes. I think his name is Greg. Think about this latest development. What did he want the book for, and why didn’t he return it? Did you look for it at your house?”

“I did, but I didn’t find anything.”

“Have you cleaned out his office yet?”

“I’m getting there.”

This was why she was friends with Carly. The woman would push her out of her comfort zone. Carly sighed. “Fine, but I’m not giving up.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Founder’s Day,” Carly said, laughing.

Being her best friend, Carly knew that Kate wasn’t a fan of festivals or much that had to do with crowds. Kate groaned. “Jessica roped me into building stuff for her. At least it will be before the whole shindig. I can stay home for the rest of it.”

“Why stay home? You have someone to take you.”

“Stop. You know I’m not a fan of those things. Too many people. It’ll probably be hot.”

“So what are you building?”

“Some viewing stands for the parade. I’m not building them, just fixing them,” Kate said.

Carly nodded. “I haven’t found out from her what she needs in terms of flowers, yet.”

“Will you bring people in to help?”

Kate couldn’t imagine one person doing all of that work.

“Yes, I will. I don’t suppose I could rope you in?”

“Been there, done that. You promised never to ask me again.”

Carly laughed.

It had been a disaster when Kate had helped the last time. Flowers were not her thing.

“I bet Scott will ask you to go.”

“Then he’ll be disappointed because I won’t go.”

“You won’t even go for Scott?”

“Especially not for Scott.”

***

A large yellow ribbon was strung across the entrance to the Dudley Stuart Community Center. It was finally being dedicated. Thankfully the community center was in the middle of the municipal complex, so Kate didn’t have to look at the library and be reminded of the events that had taken place there.

Meghan’s viewing had been the night before and the whole town had turned out. Today the town was out in full force also. Kate didn’t know if they were all looking forward to the center reopening or if they wanted to see Dean stumble over the new name of the place he had renovated.

Kate didn’t stay away either, but she was there to support Dean. A disc jockey played music and balloons were everywhere. It was a party. Not that Kate felt like partying, but she figured today she could eavesdrop on conversations and see if she could find out anything about Meghan that might help Kate solve her murder.

She missed her friend, and Scott had been pretty close-mouthed about what was going on in the investigation. She did know that they hadn’t arrested anyone since they’d released Celia. She’d bet that they had no leads.

Scott said that many crimes went unsolved, but that wasn’t good enough for Kate. Meghan’s murderer had to be brought to justice. The woman was a pillar of the community and a good friend. She’d taught many kids to read and could find anyone a book that they would want to read. That was a talent.

For her to be brutally murdered, and then not have the person responsible brought to justice didn’t sit well with Kate. She looked around to see who was there.

Jessica and Dean waited by the ribbon. He’d get to cut it along with Jessica since it was named after her dead husband. Dean didn’t look nervous, but she’d bet he wanted to get his bride out of town for some time away.

Something caught Kate’s eye. She turned to see Clem Tully. Perhaps he would think this ceremony was obscene so soon after his sister’s death. He had an odd look on his face, and it seemed as if Kendall Stuart was stepping away from him. How would she know Clem? Kate couldn’t imagine that they traveled in the same circles.

Clem was blue collar and Kendall thought she was high class. Maybe they’d known each other in school. Or maybe Kendall was offering her condolences to Clem. Kate shouldn’t be so suspicious, but the look on Clem’s face intrigued her.

“Hello, beautiful,” Scott said in her ear.

She jumped, putting her hand over her heart. “You scared me.”

“Were you doing something that you shouldn’t be?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “You don’t often admit that.”

She shrugged. “It looks like they are about to begin.”

They both turned to the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Dean was in a suit. Kate had never seen him dressed that well other than at his wedding. He looked good; he cleaned up well. Jessica was the epitome of taste with her conservative pink sheath dress. Seeing her with Dean, Kate wondered what she had ever seen in Dudley. He was frumpy and old compared to her new husband.

“I’m surprised you are here,” Kate whispered.

“I am the chief of police. I have to make these appearances once in a while.”

“Have you made your peace with Dean?”

“We’ve come to a détente. It seems ridiculous to hate him since he probably didn’t break up my marriage.”

“Very mature of you.”

Mayor Harvey Stuart stepped up to the podium next to the ribbon. Everyone quieted down.

“I’d like to welcome everyone to the rededication of the Rock Ridge Community Center as the Dudley Stuart Community Center. I’d like to thank Dean Wentworth and his crew for doing a great job at renovating the place. Dudley and I spent a lot of time at the center when we were young adults. I have fond memories.”

He droned on for ten more minutes. Kate was impatient to get to Jessica’s house to finish staging it for sale. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Scott’s gaze went around the crowd.

“What are you looking for?”

“I’m a cop. I can’t stop observing.”

“Find anything?”

“No.”

Jessica and Dean were handed a large pair of scissors and cut the ribbon. A cheer went up in the crowd. Kate glanced back at where Clem had been standing, but he was gone. She wanted to talk to him, so she looked around. She saw him again with Kendall. They seemed to be having an argument.

Kate wanted to get closer to hear, but she couldn’t leave Scott without an explanation. Kate might be able to ask Kendall at some point how she knew Clem.

“You have that look in your eye,” Scott said.

“What look?”

“You are pondering something. You better not be investigating.”

“I don’t see the cops with any suspects.”

“We are working on several leads. Your Meghan had led a bit of a wild life in college. We’re looking into that.”

“Wild life?”

Meghan? She didn’t even have a boyfriend.

“Yes.”

“Sounds like you are grasping at straws.”

Scott shrugged. “We have to track down anything. Did she talk about anyone bothering her?”

“You have my statement, Scott. I have nothing to add.”

She didn’t want to talk about it again with him. They had no leads as far as she knew. She felt like she had to do something to shake up the investigation. Meghan had been her friend. She owed her at least that much of her time and effort. She had to find the killer.

She didn’t enjoy interfering, but if they weren’t making any progress, maybe she could. People talked to her. She was all over town. Even if people thought she was dating Scott, they still trusted her.

Scott eyed her with a frown on his face. “What’s on for the rest of your day?”

Her head spun with the rapid change in subject. Was he giving her tacit permission to follow her own investigation? He seemed frustrated with it all, which was odd. He was one of the most patient men she’d ever known.

“I have to finish staging Jessica’s house for sale.”

“Staging?”

“I make the house look its best to get the right price; though I have a feeling I know who is going to buy it.”

He looked down at her with his light brown eyes. “Who?”

“Kendall Stuart wants it because it is the biggest house in Rock Ridge.”

“Figures.”

Kate laughed. “I guess you’ve dealt with her then?”

“She has a reputation already. Celia mentioned her once when we were at lunch.”

“You had lunch with Celia?”

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“It was a lunch that a local business provided for the police department. We invited some of the staff of the other departments because there was so much food.”

“Makes sense, and I talked to Celia about Kendall, too. She isn’t making any friends, but she’d offered me a lot of work on her house.”

“Are you taking the jobs?”

“I have to, Scott. It’s money coming in the door.”

Chapter Five

Kate arrived at Jessica’s house after the dedication. She knew that Jessica was fully moved out and probably on her way out of town for a few days with Dean. How sweet they had looked at the ceremony.

Kate dug into her purse for the key to the front door. She knew she’d put it in there for safekeeping. She hadn’t taken it out, but now she couldn’t find it.

Darn.

Carly’s van was parked across the street. The fire chief’s truck was farther down the road. Kids laughed at the house next door. It was a pleasant valley Sunday, just like The Monkees had sung about, except this was Rock Ridge and it wasn’t Sunday.

Jessica had given her the code to the garage just in case. Kate used it. The garage door opened. Jessica had left the alarm system off, thankfully. Kate didn’t need to explain to the cops why she was there. She had Jessica’s permission. The real estate agent knew as well.

Kate entered the house and heard what she thought was the front door closing. She raced around to see if someone was there. She probably shouldn’t have. What if the person had a weapon? Scott would have been pissed at her.

No one was at the front door. When Kate opened it she didn’t see anyone around. Then she was spooked. She’d heard a door slam. No windows were open, so it wasn’t the breeze.

Kate hurried out the front door. Standing by her truck, she called 911. A patrol car arrived minutes later. Scott was only a few minutes behind it.

“You didn’t have to come. You have officers to do this routine stuff,” she said.

He looked her over, concern etched into his face. “It isn’t routine when it’s you.”

The officer returned a few minutes later. “I don’t see any sign of forced entry.”

“They must have been in the house when I arrived,” Kate said.

“Let’s go in and look. Maybe you can tell if something’s been disturbed,” Scott said.

Scott led her back into Jessica’s house. Right now she wanted to be anywhere but there. Hearing that door slam had spooked her, but she had a job to do. She could keep the front door open.

They walked around with her. When she entered what had been Dudley’s office, things had clearly been disturbed. “Someone’s been in here.”

“You sure?” Scott said.

“Yes. I had things in order, but the knickknacks are knocked over and the drawers to the empty filing cabinet are opened a little.”

“How do you notice that?” Scott said.

“It’s those little touches that make the house sell, but they are subtle. It’s part of my job to notice these things.”

Scott shrugged. He turned to the cop. “Ask the neighbors if they noticed anything.” The cop left. “I’m not optimistic, but I’ll file a report.”

“Thanks, Scott.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she lied.

At least she didn’t have that much to do. Other than clean the office.

After Scott left, she noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It was a receipt for Bean There coffee shop. The time stamp was for this morning.

Jessica didn’t go out for coffee.

Kate doubted that Jessica had been here at all today. She’d been busy with the ribbon cutting and then leaving for her trip. This was a clue, but did it have anything to do with Meghan’s murder?

Maybe she should just let this go. No. She couldn’t. There had been someone in here and she knew it.

She tucked the receipt into her pocket. She’d talk to the owner of the coffee shop that afternoon. The woman might remember who was in the place at that time. With the office neat again, Kate worked on the rest of the house. It took her another hour before she was satisfied with it.

She drove to Carnegie Real Estate to drop off the key that she didn’t have. The agent was Justina Anastasi, a million-dollar seller. She had blonde hair and sharp blue eyes.

“You’re done?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can’t find the key to Jessica’s place. I know I had it. I used the code to get in through the garage.”

“Jessica actually dropped off a key before she left town today. She didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

“Oh. Good.”

“We appreciate your services. Let me cut you a check,” Justina said.

Kate waited in the office that was situated at one end of Main Street. Across the street was Grayson’s Hardware and two doors down from that sat a pub that Kate sometimes stopped at for dinner.

The house was lonely without the boys. They wouldn’t be back until Thanksgiving.

Justina came back with an envelope and handed it to Kate. “We have a few more properties for you.”

“Do you have a list and the dates you’ll need them ready?”

Justina laughed. “I put them in order of priority. The list is with the check.”

Kate’s heart leapt. More work. This was even more fun than fixing things. “Cool. Do you want them done this week?”

“If you can.”

“I have to do an estimate and send it off today. If the person accepts, I’ll be busy, but I could probably do one a day.”

She took out the list and perused it before she left. “Kendall Stuart’s house?”

“You know her?”

“I’m fixing some items in her house. A long list actually. When I’m done I can stage it. Did she agree to this?”

“Sort of. The place isn’t in great shape in terms of decorating.”

Kate grimaced. She’d been catty enough this week where it concerned Kendall. She didn’t want to say anything more. “She should paint over all of those brightly-colored rooms.”

“If you can convince her of that, great. If not, we’re going to get her to clear out some of her tchotchkes. Then you can do the staging. That’s why it is last on the list.”

“I see. You have to get around her.”

“Right.”

Kate nodded and left. She puzzled over Kendall. The woman was suddenly in her life in several ways. It was likely a coincidence. Kate shook her head. She had no reason to suspect Kendall of anything. She was letting her dislike of the woman cloud her judgement. She had to stop that.

Kate decided that she had to talk to Clem and see if Meghan had any enemies. Who would want the woman dead?

She should probably do some research on Meghan. Something in her past might have caught up with her. Kate’s past was not interesting or radical. She had no idea how other people had led such amazing lives. Hers seemed so boring compared to everyone else’s.

Yet Kate couldn’t help but think that someone had killed Meghan and left the paper on her when he or she did it. Was the killer trying to give her a personal message? Had the killer known she would be there?

Kate couldn’t remember telling anyone but Scott that she was going to see Meghan. The more she thought about it, the more her brain hurt. She should give it a rest.

***

Clara Jenkins was wiping down tables when Kate entered Bean There. She’d opened the café just two years ago, and since it was the only place in town to get coffee, she’d been doing well. A year ago she began to feature pastries made by a local baker. Just a month ago, she began to make breakfast sandwiches. Kate came here once a week to get breakfast and most days to get one of the five cups of coffee she drank each day.

If a doctor ever told her that she had to give up coffee, Kate had no idea what she would do. The elixir got her through her sometimes-long days. She might skip lunch, but she never missed having coffee.

The place had an eclectic vibe with mismatched furniture and an array of tables and couches. It had a cozy feeling. Kate would love to be able to hang out here, but she had no time.

“Hey, Clara,” Kate said.

“Sorry about Meghan.”

They’d met here for coffee on more than one occasion, so the town knew that Kate and Meghan had been friends.

“Thanks.”

“I have a new flavor of scone from the baker—orange cinnamon. You want to try one?”

Kate’s mouth watered. While she was there, she might as well. “Sure.”

“I’ll get it.”

Before she came back, Larry walked in.

“Hey, Larry,” Kate said.

Larry smiled at her. “Kate, that new sawzall blade is in. I haven’t had a chance to e-mail you yet.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

“Did you get that big estimate out?”

“I’m doing it this afternoon when I’m done with my jobs. I’m not looking forward to working for her.”

She didn’t want to mention Kendall by name in case someone else was listening. Not that Kendall had made any friends in the town as far as Kate knew. Still, it was better for business not to be gossiping about her clients. At least she could do it discreetly with Larry in his store. The coffee shop was a much more public place.

“I’ll bet it will be better than you think. She can tell her friends and you can expand your business. It isn’t as if you have an ideological problem with her. She isn’t a murderer or something like that. She’s just annoying.”

Leave it to Larry to put it in perspective for her. She sighed. “You’re right. My business is too young to pick and choose my clients. What brings you to the café?”

“Coffee, of course.”

“You don’t get to sneak some from Carly’s coffee maker?”

“I can, but I figure we need some boundaries.”

God how sweet. Maybe Larry could teach Scott about boundaries. He seemed to want to push Kate’s all the time. She became exhausted fending him off. Okay, not all of the time, but some of the time.

Other times she liked his attention. “Good point.”

Clara came back out with two scones on a tray. “You want to try it, Larry? Orange cinnamon.”

“Sure.”

Larry took one and Kate took the other. She bit into it and it was heaven. “That’s really delicious.”

“Yum,” Larry said.

“I’ll pass that on to the baker. She’ll be happy,” Clara said. “Can I get you some coffee, Larry?”

“Yes, an espresso actually.”

“Going for the hard stuff?” Kate said.

“Once in a while I treat myself. I used to drink it more on overnight shifts for the fire company.”

“I don’t even drink that. I’d be afraid to.”

“But you drink several cups of coffee a day.”

“True.”

Larry left with his espresso and the rest of his scone. The last few customers filed out and then Kate felt as if she could talk more freely to Clara. She pulled out the receipt. “I can’t say where I found this.”

At this point, Kate didn’t even know if Jessica had been notified about the possible break-in at her home, so she didn’t feel she could reveal what had happened.

“Okay.” Clara looked at her oddly. “Go ahead.”

“I found this receipt and it’s from here. Based on the time stamp, do you know who was in here?”

Kate handed her the paper. Clara looked over it. “That was right before the dedication of the community center. A bunch of people were in here getting coffee. It seems that everyone needs a cup for every event. Not that I’m complaining.”

The young girl smiled. She had a tattoo of a flower that wound up her arm. The flower was just above her elbow and continued under her tank top. Kate could see the end of the stem stopped just before her shoulder. It probably meant something, but Kate had never asked about it. She didn’t know what the etiquette was. Not many people her age had tattoos. At least not that she knew of.

“Do you remember who was in here? I know that’s probably asking a lot.”

Clara tapped her chin. “Okay. Right before the ceremony, the mayor came in. Kendall Stuart, Clem Tully, and even Dean had stopped in. I hadn’t seen Dean at his usual time, but he came with Jessica. She didn’t order any coffee. He did.”

“She likes her own coffee,” Kate said. “She told me that once.”

“Yep. I was surprised to see her, as she hasn’t ever been in here. But it made sense when she came with Dean.”

Clara greeted a few people walking by the store.

“Anyone else?”

Clara looked at the ceiling as if the answer were there. She was a cute girl. She had some odd stripes of color in her hair. Her clothing was mostly black, but that might be because she owned a coffee shop. That way, if the coffee spilled on her, no one could see it. “No. I had expected to see you.”

“I only decided at the last minute to attend the ceremony. I’d already had a few cups of coffee at that point.”

“It was a little nutty, so I may have missed someone,” Clara said.

Other than Kendall, she couldn’t think why any of those people would want to be in Jessica’s house. She had no clue what the person was looking for. Even Kendall wouldn’t stoop to breaking and entering. Though whoever was there must have had a key.

“Well, thanks. I need to go talk to Scott.”

“No problem. If I remember anyone else, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Clara. You’ve been a big help,” Kate said.

She drove her truck to the municipal complex. Scott was in a meeting, so Kate waited for him in his office. She could have snooped, but she chose not to. She might see a picture of something gruesome that she wouldn’t be able to unsee. She wasn’t one for things like that. She didn’t even watch horror movies.

His desk was neater than she’d seen it in a while. Maybe he was getting ahead of his paperwork. She had some of her own that she had to do, including her quarterly taxes.

The police department buzzed with activity. Phones rang. Keys on computers clicked. It reminded Kate that she could never work in an office. No, she liked each workday to be different from the last. Her jobs took her all over the town. Now, with Kendall, it would take her out of town.

If the woman shared Kate’s number with her friends, it might even take her all over the county.

Ken Johnson poked his head into the office. “You need coffee, Kate?”

Guess everyone knew about her addiction.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

Chapter Six

Scott entered his office grumbling. His hands were fisted. Kate had never seen him so agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was a meeting about Founder’s Day. Not that it was included in the budget for this year.”

“Founder’s Day happens every year. Why wouldn’t the other chief have put it in?”

“The town council might have taken it out. Who knows? I don’t have any money for it, and I have to provide security. Have you seen one? Are there really a lot of people there?”

“I don’t usually go.”

“You don’t go? It’s a huge thing in Rock Ridge.”

“I don’t go because I hate crowds.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe such a thing. She really didn’t like crowds. Being short, she had a hard time seeing over people. The weather usually turned out to be hot. The county 4H had its fair that day, so the whole place smelled like animals. It was not her scene at all.

Greg had taken the kids until they could go by themselves.

“I’d invite you to come with me, but apparently I’ll be busy that day. I heard you’ve been drafted into fixing the bleachers.”

“Is that a big deal? Everyone seems to know about it.”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve already had some threats for that day.”

“Threats?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how seriously to take them. There is a gathering outside of town that same week. It’s like a bike week, but for anarchists.”

“Anarchists bike week?”

“Exactly.”

“They come from all over the state to meet that week. On motorcycles.”

“Plotting to overthrow the government?”

Scott nodded. She’d never heard of such a thing, but then she didn’t get out of Rock Ridge much. The world of politics was foreign to her. Scott had to deal with these things every day. She couldn’t imagine that. A nail was a nail. Drywall was drywall. It was a simple life in many ways.

“Something like that. Most of the time they are harmless. We’ve made some indirect threats, but nothing that my office can track down or trace to this group.”

“What kinds of threats?”

“Just chatter and increased activity in the groups that the state cops are watching. They’ve kept me in the loop, and today I had to inform the mayor of these threats. I’d like to cancel the whole thing, but he wants nothing to do with that.”

“So you have to protect against some nebulous threat with no budget.”

“Sweetie, you just summed up my day.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. She’d never seen him this stressed, and her heart went out to him. He rubbed a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, and sorry for venting to you. I wish I could go for a run—to the Ohio border.”

She laughed. That was quite a long way. “Would that get the stress out?”

“Yes, it would.” He finally looked at her. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to listen to me belly ache.”

“I didn’t, but that’s okay. You listen to me a lot of the time.”

“So what did you come here for?”

She pulled out the receipt. “I found this in Jessica’s house in the room that had been Dudley’s office.”

He took it from her. “It’s a receipt for coffee. So?”

“Jessica doesn’t go out for coffee. She prefers her own. Clara even confirmed that Jessica is never in her shop buying coffee,” Kate said.

“So she ran out once.”

“No, Clara said that she came in before the dedication of the community center, but only Dean bought coffee. Jessica and Dean left for their getaway right from the ceremony. It could not have been either of them in her house.”

“You’re sure that you heard a door close?”

“Yes, I did, Scott. I’m sure.”

She wished he would just believe her. Sometimes his skepticism was hard not to take personally. Frustration had her fisting her hands. She took a few deep breaths to try to let it go.

“I’ll talk to Clara, but I’m not doing anything until Jessica gets back.”

She couldn’t blame him for that. It was still Jessica’s house. “Did you contact her?”

“I did, and she said that if you didn’t notice anything missing then it wasn’t an emergency. The woman is on her honeymoon. I don’t think she wants to come back, and I don’t blame her.”

It was not her real honeymoon, but certainly a getaway with her new husband. It must be nice to be in love again.

“What’s next?”

“I’ll talk to Clara.”

“I did already.”

Kate put a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that.

“I wish you wouldn’t interfere with police business.”

“You and the cop acted like I was nuts for thinking that someone had been in there. I don’t appreciate being treated that way, and I’m not going to go meekly into the night just because a man questions me.”

Scott licked his lips. She’d raised her voice when she hadn’t meant to. Then he smiled. “Okay. What did Clara say?”

She gave him the list of people that Clara remembered being in the café.

“Why would any of these people want to be in Jessica’s house?”

“Kendall desperately wanted to get in to look the place over, but I can’t see her breaking and entering.”

Scott put up his hand. “There was no breaking. No sign of forced entry. No one else but Jessica and the agent had a key. Jessica has an alibi, and she had no reason to hide from you. It’s her house. The agent wouldn’t have hidden either.”

“I had a key and lost it. I have no idea where it went. Someone could have found it.”

“Did it say it was Jessica’s key?”

“Yes. I labeled it before I put it in my purse.”

“Yikes. Well, maybe you lost it in your truck.”

She shrugged. “I looked, but didn’t find it.”

“Still. It could be in there.”

She was too tired to argue with Scott anymore. “Fine. Believe what you want.”

“I have no reason to talk to any of these people until Jessica gets back. Besides, I have to worry about Founder’s Day. That takes priority.”

“Right.”

As she rose, her phone rang. She waved to Scott as she answered it. It was Kendall.

“Oh, Kate. I had a leak in my ceiling. The plumber fixed it, but can you come out and fix the ceiling?”

“I’ll have to stop by the hardware store. How big a spot is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you measure it for me?”

“Hold on.” There was rustling as she put down the phone. Then Kendall picked it up again. “Three feet by four feet. It’s really a mess, and I’m having book club tonight.”

“I can only put the new Sheetrock in and do the first coat of spackle. I can’t paint until tomorrow.”

“It’ll have to do. Can you come out?”

“I’ll be there in about an hour. When is your book club meeting?”

“Not for a couple of hours.”

“Okay. It should give me time,” she said.

She was at her truck already. She hopped in and drove it to Grayson’s. Thankfully, Larry had a piece of Sheetrock that would work. He’d get more in the morning.

She put it in her truck with a can of spackle. Hopefully Kendall had whatever paint had been used on the ceiling the last time it had been painted. Otherwise, Kate would have to repaint the whole area. She wished for it to be a small room, but she wasn’t sure that Kendall had any of those in her house.

***

Kendall opened the door before Kate could even ring the doorbell. Today she wore floral bell-bottomed pants with a bright green tank top. Once again she was spilling out of the shirt. Kate wondered where the woman bought her clothes. She’d never seen anything like that in her nearest Walmart store.

“What took you so long?”

“I had to pick up the Sheetrock, Kendall. I told you that. I’m still here in under an hour.”

She shouldn’t have to explain to the woman. She was doing her a favor coming here in an emergency. Kate tried to let it roll off of her back as Kendall showed her the damage. She’d been right about the size of the hole. She’d already cleaned up the floor and moved the furniture.

Kate eyed it.

“Can you fix it?”

“You said the leak is fixed?”

“Yes, the plumber took care of it,” Kendall said.

“Good. Then I can fix it.”

Kate figured she could probe a little if Kendall stayed around. She brought in the Sheetrock and the spackle. “I saw you at the dedication ceremony.”

“I couldn’t miss it—the life of a politician’s wife. I have to show up and smile at all sorts of events.”

She hadn’t looked like she was smiling. She didn’t look like she was having a good time at all. Kate couldn’t do it—smile and pretend that she liked people she didn’t really want to be around. She’d had to do a little of that as a professor’s wife, but that had only been at Christmas. Other than that, Greg had never socialized much with his peers.

“I was surprised to see Clem Tully there. You know, with his sister having just been murdered.”

Kate wished she’d been looking at Kendall when she’d mentioned it. She might have caught something in her body language. When she spoke, Kendall was calm. “I guess he needed to get out of the house.”

If Kate lived where Clem did, she’d want to be out of the house also.

“Did you speak with him? You were back that way.”

She cut out the old Sheetrock, and then measured and cut the new piece. It fit perfectly. Her eye was getting better at this. She opened the spackle can. She liked spackle. It looked like icing.

“I was wandering around the back. Was I near him? I would have given him my condolences. I was paying attention to Harvey. He likes me to gauge how the crowd reacts to his speeches.”

“I guess from my angle, it looked like you were talking to him.”

Kendall shrugged, not making eye contact. “No. I hang out at the back also because I don’t want to upstage Harvey. I’m a pretty strong personality and all.”

That she is.

“What do you have next?” Kendall said.

Was she actually making conversation that wasn’t about her?

“Uh, this is the last stop of the day.”

“Do you want to go to dinner? Harvey has a meeting tonight, and I don’t like to eat by myself.”

Probably the last thing she’d want to do is hang out with Kendall. “No, I’ve had a long day, and I’d like to get home.”

Kendall’s smile dimmed a little. “Sure. I understand. You have family to get home to.”

She didn’t bother correcting Kendall. Her house was empty, but she preferred that to partying or going out to dinner with a person she barely liked—or didn’t like at all. Besides, Kendall was a customer. She shouldn’t mix business with pleasure. That only happened with people she already knew.

“Thanks for the invite, anyway.”

“Sure thing. Another day.”

“Another day.” Kate finished her spackling. “I will have to come back and sand. After that I’ll see if it needs another coat of spackle. If not, I can paint. I’ll be in touch about when I can do it.”

“Okay. It looks much better than it did.”

Was that almost a compliment from Kendall? Maybe she was softening. Kate said her good-byes. She was exhausted when she climbed into the truck. She had to figure out when she was going to fix those bleachers for Founder’s Day. Maybe this Sunday.

The idea of it made Kate even more exhausted. She turned on the truck and let the air conditioning blast her. She’d turned on the air at her house that morning so it would be cool when she arrived back home.

Before she could put her truck in gear, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Scott.

I have food. You hungry?

She was starving. If she didn’t have to cook or stop for anything, that was wonderful. The way to her heart was with food. Scott must be figuring that out.

I am starving, she texted back.

Good. I’ll be on your doorstep in ten minutes.

I’ll be there in fifteen. Wait. The outside motion detectors are on.

He sent her a smiley face because he was always bugging her about turning on her security system.

Scott’s car was in the driveway when she arrived. She used the remote to turn off the outside system, and he drove up the lane and parked in front of her house. She pulled in next to him.

“I still think you have a tracker on me. With vital signs so you know when I’m hungry,” she said.

He grinned. “Maybe I can just anticipate your needs.”

She looked at him. In another time and place she would have asked him to stay the night. Too bad she wasn’t ready for that yet. “Maybe.”

She unlocked the door and sighed in ecstasy at the cool air in her house, glad she had turned it on.

“I brought Chinese tonight. I hope that’s okay.”

“Whatever I don’t have to cook is okay,” Kate said.

She put her keys in a bowl by the door. She led Scott into her kitchen. He knew where everything was, so he pulled out plates. She watched him for a moment in her kitchen, thinking he fit there well. No, Kate. Don’t think that.

“I’m going to pull on a pair of shorts,” she said, and then left him to his tasks.

She returned in shorts and a tank. Scott looked her over, clearly enjoying the amount of skin she was showing. He’d put the food into serving bowls. She didn’t mind, since she knew he’d probably do the dishes when they were done.

What a great guy.

“How was your day?” he said.

“Okay. I had to finish up by doing an emergency repair at Kendall’s house.”

“You two are like BFFs.”

Kate laughed. “How was your day?”

“It didn’t get any better after you left.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

She sat down and dug into some pork lo mien. The scene was so domestic: two people eating dinner, talking about their day. She missed this since Greg was gone. She hadn’t had another adult to talk to like this in five years.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just the nature of the job.”

He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look unhappy. “Do you regret taking it?”

He eyed her. “Never. I like it in Rock Ridge. It’s the politics that make the job hard, but that was true in Philly as well. I like my house and living out here better than the city,” he said.

She was glad he was here, but she wasn’t going to share that.

“Any more revelations about Greg?” she asked.

“I haven’t had time to do anything more. Sorry.”

She waved her fork. “No need to apologize. Your job comes first. And frankly, I don’t think he’s going to be discovered any sooner just because you’re looking for him. I guess I’d better resign myself to the fact that he isn’t coming back.”

He put down his fork and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Kate. I know that’s a tough place to be.”

She looked down at her food, not wanting to break down, but a lump formed in her throat. “I’ve been thinking about filing for divorce.”

Scott’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

“I think I’m almost ready to get on with my life.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

Chapter Seven

Scott left the rest of the food with Kate and said goodbye with a kiss on her cheek. She blushed as she became aware that she wanted to turn her face and meet his lips. She remembered that he’d been a good kisser. Not that she’d had that much experience at that age, but anyone she’d kissed since had been measured against his abilities.

Many had come up short, but not Greg.

Kate had wandered around the empty house once Scott had left. She stared into what had been Greg’s office.

She was restless—not yet ready for bed. Probably not ready to tackle a big project like her husband’s office, but she might lose the feeling of wandering through life if she accomplished something—if she could put something behind her.

Greg had insisted on an old metal desk of the type used by large corporations in the 1970s. He’d moved it from his apartment to hers when they’d married. He then moved it from that apartment to this house despite Kate’s protests that they could afford a nicer one. He loved that desk.

Kate hadn’t done much but neaten this room since Greg had left. Maybe it was time. Greg wasn’t coming back. She didn’t know if that was because he couldn’t or he wouldn’t, but maybe that didn’t matter. She had to accept that he was gone.

Her first step could be to clean out his office. For a moment she wondered if she should talk to her boys about it. No, I’m the adult. She wouldn’t throw out any personal items. She’d keep them in a box for the boys to go through the next time they were home. In reality, their lives were becoming less about Kate and more about themselves, as things should be at nineteen. Eventually they were going to graduate college, get jobs, and marry.

She had to make a life for herself instead of meandering in the limbo created by her husband’s absence. She needed to get a life beyond her work.

She pulled out her phone, dialing Carly. Hopefully her friend would be home. If she wasn’t, then Kate would have to tackle it by herself. She kept her fingers crossed.

“Hey, Kate.”

Kate did a fist pump. She might have company for this task. If Meghan were still alive, she might have asked her. She would have been free. Her social life was as exciting as Kate’s. “You busy?”

“No, I’m not, actually. What do you need?”

Kate was now happy dancing. She didn’t want to face the office alone. “I’m thinking about cleaning out Greg’s office. I need a little help.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Maybe Meghan’s death was showing her that life was too short. Kate didn’t have time to wait around, and Scott probably wouldn’t wait around forever either. Not that she was ready to pursue anything with him. That might be a few steps down the road.

Carly pulled in, as promised, ten minutes later. She was in denim shorts and a T-shirt—ready to work. She hugged Kate. “I’m so proud of you.”

“For what?”

“This is a huge step toward getting over Greg.”

Kate bit her lip as she stood on the porch with her best friend. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Carly took her hand and led her inside. “Come on. It was a good impulse. Let’s go with it.”

Kate stood in the doorway, watching Carly walk around the place that had been so Greg. Everything was secondhand. Upcycled, he would call it, even though he didn’t do anything new with it. He just reused it.

“He was a pack rat.”

“He didn’t throw away anything. I had to sneak stuff out of the house to get the basement cleaned once a year,” Kate said. The whole idea had annoyed her, but she knew he wouldn’t let anything go if he saw it. He almost never missed the things she’d gotten rid of, so that assuaged her guilt over not telling him.

More than one argument had ensued when he had discovered something missing. Usually it was years after she’d gotten rid of it. Those fights were the only ones they’d had, which made Kate think that maybe if he’d loved her more, he would have fought with her. Kate didn’t know. His possessions had been something to fight over, but never her.

“Where do you want to start?” Carly said.

Kate looked around the room. There were piles everywhere. The task seemed more daunting now that she was jumping into it. At least she had Carly to keep her on track. She’d probably have given up before she even started without her friend here. “Let’s start geographically. Otherwise I’ll never start. I feel like this is an episode of Hoarders.”

Carly laughed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

They began in the far corner. The bookshelves there were stuffed with books and papers. The books dealt with studies of the Middle East, the field in which Greg had specialized.

“Maybe the library could use them,” Carly said then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll put them in a box and give them to Meghan’s replacement.”

Kate found some empty boxes in the basement and the women filled them almost instantly. The papers didn’t seem important, so they would go out with the recycling. An hour later, the bookshelves were cleared.

“Wow, that felt good,” Kate said. “Even if we do still have most of the room left.”

She yawned. This was taking a toll on her physically. Emotionally, she was energized.

“Let’s do one more thing then call it a night,” Carly said.

“The top of his desk?”

“Yes.”

Papers were stacked in various piles on that ugly, metal desk. Kate had no idea how Greg had worked among all of that clutter. He’d graded papers and tests here; he didn’t like to do that at school. He had had a ritual. He used the same brand of red pen for every paper. He’d bought a huge box online. Kate wondered if he’d run out or if she’d find that box somewhere.

Had he taken them with him? In the five years he’d been gone, she hadn’t found anything missing. It was as if he’d been taken by aliens as he was. Well, he and his car.

“I haven’t seen a desk like this since I was a kid,” Carly said.

“I know. Greg would not get rid of it. He didn’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Well, there isn’t, except that it is decades out of style.”

“You saw how my husband dressed. He wasn’t worried about style,” Kate said.

Carly laughed. “Let’s divide this up into piles of bills, academia and other.”

“Good idea.”

Kate took one half of the desk and Carly took the other. How could one person have so much paper? Kate didn’t have nearly this much and she ran a business, complete with collecting sales tax. As she went through a pile, Kate found a bill for a credit card that she didn’t know existed. She stared at it for a moment.

“What’s that?”

“A credit card bill.”

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I don’t recognize this number.”

“Was it one he had for work?” Carly asked. She neatened a pile as she spoke.

Kate shook her head. “No. That one was a VISA. This is MasterCard.”

Carly looked over her shoulder at it. “Huh. What does it have on it?”

“Camping equipment.”

Kate didn’t know what to make of this. Why was her husband buying camping equipment when he had no intention of camping? At least not that she knew of. He’d hated it. He didn’t like to get dirty. Greg was a bit prissy for a guy.

“Holy shit, Kate.”

“I know.”

“What exactly did he buy?”

“A tent. Sleeping bag.”

“Only one?”

“Only one. I guess he wasn’t running away with anyone,” Kate said, even though it was a small consolation. As far as she knew, her husband hadn’t left her for anyone.

“Oh, Kate. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s better that I learn the truth. It will be easier to get past this.”

Carly put a hand on her arm. Kate appreciated the support. Carly had been there for her time and time again. She patted her friend’s hand.

“What’s that charge?” she asked, looking over the bill.

“I don’t know. I’ll bring it to Scott to see if he can figure it out.”

“Has he made much progress in finding Greg’s trail?”

“No and every time he finds something, I feel that I was married to a stranger. He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

“Oh, Kate.”

“I’ll be okay, Carly. I will.”

“You are stronger than this.”

Kate folded up the bill and tucked it back in its envelope. “You want a drink? I need one.”

“I hate to see anyone drink alone,” Carly said.

Kate found an opened bottle of chardonnay in the refrigerator. She poured a glass for both of them. Carly held hers to Kate’s. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” Kate said.

***

Kate woke the next day with a new sense of purpose. She felt a shift in herself. She was willing to entertain the idea that there would be life after Greg. A good life that she would enjoy. That she should enjoy, guilt free.

She wasn’t ready to embrace every aspect of that, but she was taking steps in that direction. Part of her wanted to finish Greg’s office that morning, but the task was too large. She could do the rest herself. She had the strength now.

First, she had to show Scott the credit card statement. He would be able to figure out that charge. She’d grown to rely on him, and he hadn’t let her down. Ever.

She hadn’t been this bitter about Greg before Scott came to town. Maybe she had just been delusional before, or perhaps she was seeing Greg from a distance now. She was probably comparing him to Scott and that wasn’t fair. Scott was here and present. Or maybe it was fair. If Greg had been here all of this time, she wouldn’t be looking at Scott.

With her first cup of coffee in hand, she drove to the police station. Meghan’s funeral was the next day. Kate glanced at the library. It was still closed since no one had stepped up to take it over. She didn’t know who would. Maybe someone who had just graduated from college would be interested in the job.

The place wouldn’t be the same without Meghan, and Kate’s heart hurt at the idea. Life went on, but grieving had to be done. She hadn’t grieved for Greg, and it was probably about time.

She sipped her coffee as she walked to Scott’s office. He was once again knee-deep in paperwork. She sat with her coffee, waiting until he finished what he was writing. The bill was tucked into the pocket of her overalls.

He’d nodded at her when she first entered. She watched his movements, his forehead wrinkled from thinking. He was a handsome man. Rugged. Not the intellectual that Greg was, but just as smart. Maybe her marrying Greg had been a reaction to having been with Scott. She might have been looking for someone completely different. She couldn’t have picked anyone more different from Scott than Greg was.

She wondered if Greg were there, if Scott would even turn her head. He would be polite, but he wouldn’t be so blatant about his feelings toward her. There would be no way he’d do that to another man’s wife. Scott had more class than that, which meant that he didn’t consider her another man’s wife.

“Hey,” he said, finally looking up. He looked harried and more stressed than she’d seen him since he’d come back to Rock Ridge.

“Hi. Busy morning?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Tell me.”

It was about time she at least returned his friendship. He’d been good to her. She needed to be good to him. Even if they were never romantic, they could be friends. She trusted him and he must trust her.

They certainly spent a lot of time together for not dating.

“You sure you want to hear it?”

She nodded. He studied her. “You look different.”

“Oh?”

“Like you made a decision.”

“I did, but tell me about your morning,” she said.

“Okay. We’ve had threats; actual threats about Founder’s Day. Nothing we can trace to a specific person yet, but we’re working on it. Keep that to yourself.”

“Mum’s the word,” Kate said.

She leaned back in the chair. She did want to hear this. Even if it meant that Rock Ridge wasn’t as safe as she wanted to believe. She was beginning to perceive that most of her life hadn’t been how she’d believed it to be.

“I’m pretty sure it’s that group outside of town, but we can’t find actual evidence that would hold up in a court of law. Anarchist Freedom Network is what they call themselves.”

“That’s sucks. I’m sure you will in time. Don’t you always tell me that criminals are not smart?”

“They aren’t, but sometimes smart ones do appear. This group has a legitimate branch.”

“What do you mean by legitimate?”

“They have charitable status with the federal government, but when I talk to my FBI contact, he thinks that charitable branch funnels money to the more subversive branch. They just haven’t been able to pick up the trail of that money.”

“Wow. So they aren’t just anarchists, they’re businessmen. Why target Founder’s Day?”

“They are targeting events like this across the United States. The thought seems to be that each individual event won’t be disruptive on a large scale, but the sum of them will be. People won’t feel safe in small towns. Besides, small towns are easier to target.”

“People are more trusting. They don’t think these things can happen in a small town.”

“Exactly.”

“But if people don’t feel safe, won’t they turn to the government for help? Wouldn’t that leave the door open for the government to put stricter controls on things? Wouldn’t that be the opposite of what an anarchist would want?”

“They are going to target government officials—cops and firefighters, too.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly. I’m supposed to keep a parade safe that has the mayor as grand marshal and a whole bevy of police and fire apparatus in it.”

“Yikes again.”

“Right.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Thanks for listening.”

“Not a problem.”

“Did you come here to bring me something?”

“I did.” She pulled the bill out of her pocket. “I was cleaning out Greg’s office last night.”

“Cleaning out his office?”

“Yes, I know. It’s a step.”

Scott’s grin was huge.

“A big step. Do you finally think he isn’t coming back?”

“I’m getting there, yes.”

Scott took the bill from her. “What’s this?”

“It’s a bill for a credit card I knew nothing about.”

He studied her, and then looked at the bill. “A MasterCard.”

“Yes, not for work. There’s a charge on there I can’t figure out.”

“From a glance, I don’t know; I’ll have to get back to you,” Scott said.

“That’s fine. I know you have to worry about Founder’s Day. I have to figure out when I’m going to do those bleachers—not as life threatening as your job, but stressful for me.”

“Your business has picked up that much?”

“Yes and now people call me for emergency stuff also.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well.”

She rose then smiled. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Next time, bring me coffee?”

“Just in the morning, or anytime?”

“Anytime. The coffee here is crud. I can barely choke it down.”

“I don’t have a French press coffee maker.”

He waved his hand, the smile making his eyes twinkle. “It’s still better than what is here.”

She’d had the station’s coffee before. She couldn’t swallow it, either.

“Kate?”

“Yes.”

“I’m proud of you. Not just because I hope to benefit from your taking steps to get over Greg, but because I’m happy to see you moving on. For your sake. It’ll be better.”

“I’m hoping it’ll be better. I don’t want to wander through life anymore. It’s no way to live. Meghan’s death showed me that life is too short.”

“You want me to go to the funeral with you?”

She thought about that for a moment. It would be okay to lean on someone. “Yes, I’d like that.”

His smile widened. “Good.”

“It isn’t a date, Scott. It’s a funeral.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still beginning to let me in. I only need that door opened a little, Katydid.”

She knew that. He would have her walls down and her doors opened in no time. For once that didn’t seem all that bad. She knew he would be good for her. He’d been pleasant and patient with her since he’d returned to Rock Ridge. She’d have to give him a chance, but not quite yet.

He always made her day—always. She felt better after talking to him. “Have a good day, Scott.”

“You too, Katydid.”

She left the police station, her steps that much lighter. She’d finished her coffee in Scott’s office, but she wanted more, so the next stop would have to be the coffee shop.

Chapter Eight

Kate parked in front of Bean There. The day seemed just a little bit brighter than it had before she spoke to Scott. A little bit of weight had lifted off of her shoulders. She almost whistled as she entered the café. Almost. No one needed to hear her off-key version of anything. She hadn’t been blessed with musical talent.

Kendall was there, but she didn’t seem to notice Kate as she entered the line behind her. Kate could look at her phone and pretend not to notice. Nope, not even Kendall was going to bring her down. The woman was muttering to herself.

Kate decided to ignore her. No reason to invite trouble.

Then Kendall’s phone rang. The ringtone was a rap song. Rap? Kate didn’t recognize it, but then again, she wouldn’t. Kendall fumbled in her big purse to find her phone. She finally came up with it.

“Yes?”

Kate could hear a male voice on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words. No reason to snoop. She didn’t really want to know what was going on in Kendall’s life. She had nothing to do with Meghan’s murder and less to do with Greg’s disappearance. Those were the two major items on Kate’s plate that morning.

Oh, and some repair work. That thing she did for money. She had to look at the calendar page she’d printed out. She had no idea what her first repair was. She just knew she wasn’t due there for another half hour.

“No, this isn’t a good time.”

Kendall’s breathing stepped up. Kate could hear it. “No, we shouldn’t meet.”

Kendall listened as the caller replied.

“No, he isn’t my problem. He’s yours. If he talks you’ll be sorry… Are you threatening me?”

Kate’s ears perked up, but she still couldn’t hear the person on the other end. Kendall tucked her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans and ordered her coffee. She’d never said good-bye. She just disconnected the phone call. Her phone rang again, but she turned it off.

It was interesting, but still not enough for Kate to want to get involved.

Clara brought the coffee. Kendall still hadn’t noticed Kate. She walked out without acknowledging her. It was sort of a relief. Kendall could bring so much drama to a conversation. She tired Kate out.

Kate got her coffee then stepped outside into the sunshine. Kendall was still shaking her head as she walked down Main Street. Kate glanced at her phone, realized she had a few minutes, and then followed Kendall. She didn’t really like the woman, but she didn’t wish her harm.

Kendall ducked into an alley between two buildings. Kate looked around the corner when she reached it. Kendall was just disappearing to the right. Kate strode down the alley and poked her head out. Kendall was behind the liquor store. No one else was in the alley other than the man she must have been talking to on the phone.

He was a rough-looking man. Kate thought she knew him, but couldn’t remember from where. Then it hit her. He was the man who had been staring at her while she was walking to meet Meghan. She considered calling Scott, but decided to try and understand what the meeting was about first.

Maybe this man was Meghan’s murderer. Kendall’s voice rose an octave.

“He isn’t my problem. You let him loose. I’m not being held responsible for him.”

Kate couldn’t hear the man’s voice. He leaned in close to Kendall, who tried to move away. He grabbed her arm.

“You’re hurting me,” she said.

Kate stepped out of the alley. “Do you need help, Kendall?”

Kate’s heart raced. She had Scott on speed dial. She only had to punch one number and he’d answer. He always answered her call.

Kendall smiled at Kate, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Is he hurting you? I can call the police,” Kate said.

She stepped a little closer, but the pair was still ten feet away. Kendall didn’t look that nervous.

Kendall shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

The man grunted, turned and walked away. Kate watched him walk away in his ripped jeans. Kendall brushed her clothing off as if she’d spilled some crumbs rather than being threatened by a dangerous-looking man.

No one else was in the alley. There would have been no one else around to save Kendall had something happened to her. It was a good thing Kate chose to be nosy.

“Who was that?”

Kate looked Kendall over to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Today she wore red skinny jeans and a purple halter top. Once again, her breasts were front and center.

Kendall glanced in the direction that the man had gone. He’d turned a corner so Kate couldn’t see him anymore. “He’s my brother.”

“What did he want?”

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “It’s a family matter.”

“Who aren’t you responsible for?”

She’d heard Kendall say that to her brother. They must have been arguing about a family member that was in trouble.

Kendall frowned. “This is a family matter, Kate. It’s none of your business.”

“Then why was he threatening you?” Kate said.

She couldn’t get past that. Why would her brother manhandle her? Families shouldn’t treat each other that way. Not that Kate had siblings to understand the dynamic. Carly was an only child also. Didn’t families do their best to get along?

Kendall pressed her lips together. “Just mind your own business.”

She couldn’t do that. The man was very scary looking and he had been holding on to Kendall. Kate was not one to walk away. No way. She wished she had a weapon. “I was afraid for you, Kendall.”

“Bubba wouldn’t hurt me.”

In that instant, Kate knew that Kendall wasn’t as blue blooded as she talked. She was closer to how she dressed. Kate’s heart went out to her. Maybe she was in a situation that was over her head. Maybe she tried to be something she wasn’t.

Kate wasn’t going to apologize for following Kendall and trying to defend her, even if that man had been her brother. “He looked like he wanted to hurt you.”

She waved her hand, dismissing Kate’s statement. “He was angry. We fight. Brothers and sisters do that.”

Kate took a step back. She knew that from Jason and Jared. They could fight over anything. “I get that, but he looked really angry.”

“Kate, please let it go. I’m fine.”

She sipped her coffee then brushed past Kate on her stilettos. Kate watched her walk down the alley. The man hadn’t looked anything like Kendall. Was she lying?

Kate couldn’t figure it out.

***

Kate dressed in her only black dress. Meghan would be buried today. The finality of it all took Kate’s breath away. At least she’d have Scott there to support her. She was still hesitant about depending on him. She’d been going it alone for a few years now, but she found it refreshing to have someone there. To have someone who cared.

She applied some mascara to her lashes, and then a bit of dark lipstick to her lips. That was the best that was going to happen. Meghan would understand. She wouldn’t have primped any more for Kate’s funeral.

With one last look in the mirror, Kate left the house. She sat on her porch, waiting for Scott. Her cell phone was on vibrate; she didn’t want to be interrupted by a client during this solemn occasion.

Scott pulled into her driveway in his truck. For a city guy, he’d quickly readjusted to the country lifestyle. He’d traded in his luxury car for a pickup truck. But his wasn’t a beat-up one, it was top of the line.

Scott liked the best. She should probably consider that as a compliment since he liked her. He climbed out of his truck, stopping to look at her.

“I know this is a funeral, and that she was a friend of yours, but you look beautiful, Katydid.”

She couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t want to, but he looked handsome in his dark suit. “You didn’t wear your dress uniform?”

“I’ve always hated wearing a uniform. I only do it if someone holds a gun to my head.”

“Which is likely to happen in your line of work.”

“Yes, it is.”

He held the car door for her, and then closed it when she was comfortable. She put on her seat belt as Scott slid into the vehicle.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m with you all the way.”

“Thanks.”

The funeral was being held at the cemetery. Meghan would have appreciated what a nice day it was. A lump formed in Kate’s throat as she tried not to cry. She didn’t want to in front of anyone. She had shed her tears for Meghan on the day she’d died.

Today should be a tribute to her life. Not a reminder of her death.

Scott held her hand in his and she let him as they walked to the gravesite. “I’m thinking about getting a divorce.”

She wasn’t sure why she had to share that now, but she did. Scott’s steps faltered, but he kept going. “I see.”

“I don’t know why I blurted that out.”

“Let’s talk after the funeral,” he said.

She’d like that.

The whole town had turned out for Meghan’s funeral. Her casket sat by the big hole in the ground, flowers on top of it. Carly had been busy the last few days. What a good friend to take time out and help her with Greg’s office, which still wasn’t done.

She’d get it done eventually. It was her first step. The divorce, if it happened soon, would be the next one. She’d have to talk to her kids before she did that.

Carly stepped away from Larry and hugged Kate. “You okay?”

“I’ll be okay. You know I’m not a fan of these things.”

“Nope.” She looked up at Scott. “Are you taking good care of her?”

“As much as she’ll let me,” he said.

Carly returned to Larry’s side. He took her hand and it warmed Kate’s heart. Carly was a great person. She deserved to be happy.

Clem was up front by the coffin, dressed in a suit. He’d cleaned up well from what Kate could see. Celia was alone in the second row.

“You want to find a seat?”

“I’m not ready to sit yet.”

“I think it’s starting,” Scott said.

She let herself be led to a seat in the back. Kendall was there. She ignored Kate, and Kate hoped that it wasn’t the end of the woman’s business. She glanced over her shoulder toward the road. Two police cars were stationed there.

“Are you thinking there will be a problem?” Kate said.

“Shh.”

The minister began to speak. How can one’s life be boiled down to a fifteen-minute speech? Kate wondered what people would say about her when she died. She had no idea. As much as she thought about what people would think of her and Scott, for the rest of the service, she didn’t worry about what other people thought.

The minister talked about Meghan’s service to the community as the librarian. He talked about how much she added to Rock Ridge and how many kids she’d taught to read. Kate’s mind wandered. She preferred to remember Meghan as the sweet friend she’d become. The late night teapots they’d shared in the library, the wicked sense of humor that Meghan had. She could turn anything into a double entendre.

She’d miss the woman. The minister finished his eulogy. Clem stood. “Thank you all for coming and paying tribute to Meghan’s life. She has touched all of you, I know. There will be coffee and light refreshments at the community center in about a half an hour.”

Kate rose. She wanted to say one last goodbye. “I’ll be right back.”

She stood by Meghan’s coffin. “Good-bye, my friend. I promise I’ll find out who killed you.”

She patted the coffin and then went back to where Scott was standing. She went into his arms for a hug. After a moment’s hesitation, probably because he was surprised, he hugged her back. When she let him go, she glanced back at Clem. Kendall had a hand on his shoulder. They were talking quietly. Clearly they knew each other. The question Kate had was: why had Kendall denied it?

“Come on. Let’s go get some coffee. I’ve been with you for almost an hour and you haven’t had any. You must be jonesing for it.”

“Chief York, are you contributing to my addiction?”

“Yes, I am. I’m hoping that it’ll score points with you.”

She smiled up at him. “I am jonesing for it.”

“Then let’s go.”

They’d reached his truck. She stopped to look at it. “You aren’t here on official business?”

“No. I’m here for you. I didn’t really know Meghan, and I had to make an appearance, but it was more important that I was here for you.”

The idea warmed her. “Thanks.”

The cops were on the move now, so Kate watched them. They walked up to Clem and put handcuffs on him. He didn’t resist.

“What’s going on, Scott?”

“Let’s move along and I’ll tell you.”

She climbed into his truck. He closed the door. She stared at him as he walked around the truck and climbed in the driver’s side.

“He’s been linked to that group out of town. They’ve made terroristic threats. We’ve traced them to him.”

Kate gasped. “So you arrest him on the day he’s burying his sister?”

“We had no choice. We only confirmed the connection this morning. We were waiting on some more information.”

“You were here as backup?”

“Yes and no. I was still here for you.”

She didn’t feel betrayed, but a lesser woman might have felt that way. She looked out the window as the cops walked Clem to a patrol car. Her heart went out to him even if he’d been part of the threats. He was still burying his sister. Though she didn’t know how close they were since Meghan had never mentioned him.

And what had Kendall known of Meghan, or Clem, for that matter? She’d disappeared not long after talking to Clem.

“I hate to tell you this, but Meghan was involved in that group in college,” Scott said. He started his truck. “We could find no record of her being a part of it after that.”

At the moment, Kate’s thoughts were on Kendall.

Chapter Nine

With a few hours to kill since she’d taken the day off for Meghan’s funeral, Kate spent another hour cleaning out Greg’s office. She had moved five boxes to the basement and five more would be donated. The man had kept too many things in his office.

Now that the desk was cleared off, she put her laptop on it so she could work. She did a search online for Kendall Stuart. Well, Kendall Tully Stuart, as she found out. Somehow Kendall was related to Meghan and Clem.

Interesting.

This was the type of search Kate would have gone to the library for. Meghan would have thought of other ways to look for information on people. She had a good head for research. Kate searched her memory to see if she could come up with other ways to find information about Kendall.

Her phone rang. It was Scott. Maybe she could get information out of him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi, Katydid. I wanted to check in on you and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay. I’m just doing a search on Kendall and Clem.”

“Why?”

“Because some part of me thinks they’re more connected than Kendall lets on.”

Scott cleared his throat. “Haven’t I asked you to stay out of this more than once?”

He wasn’t mad, but there was that sternness to his voice. He might get mad, but she wasn’t going to back down. She had to find out who killed Meghan. The woman had been her friend.

“You know something.”

“I know lots of things, Kate. I know that we are doing everything possible to solve Meghan’s murder. I also know that I don’t like your interference with a murder investigation.”

Well. He put her in her place. “That’s not stopping me.”

“Please, Katydid. Please don’t. All I’ll say is this is bigger than you think.”

That made her think of the anarchist group camped outside of town. “It has something to do with the group Clem was involved in, right?”

She’d been looking at the wrong person. Maybe Meghan was killed as a warning to Clem. Perhaps he wasn’t toeing the line.

“I’m going to go now, Scott.”

“Stop snooping, Kate. Come out to lunch with me at noon.”

“We’ll see.”

She disconnected and turned off her phone so he couldn’t call her back. Sneaky, she knew, but she had to find out about the group. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that Meghan was killed while they were in town.

Searching her memory, she came up with the name Scott had told her: Anarchist Freedom Network. She typed that into her search engine. She clicked on the first entry and came to the organization’s website. Wow. At first it looked like a normal business website. That must be the legitimate arm that Scott had mentioned. There were pictures of them building homes for the poor and collecting items for disaster relief.

On the surface, it all seemed so good. Then she read the other parts of the website and found the page that espoused their beliefs. This was a group that wanted to overthrow the government. Not to garner power for themselves, but to cause anarchy—hence the name. They didn’t use government handouts...they made loans among themselves.

Except for the violence, they sounded Amish.

Their symbol looked familiar. She had no idea where she’d seen it before, maybe at Greg’s work. College students tended to be drawn to these radical groups. They wanted to pretend that they were anti-establishment. Meanwhile, they were attending established colleges that received government funds.

The website caused Kate even more puzzlement. So, Clem was part of this. They’d made threats against Founder’s Day. But why Rock Ridge? More importantly, why Meghan?

The key had to be Clem, so Kate looked into his background more. He hadn’t gone to college, but she found a picture of him being arrested for a protest in another part of the state. She considered how he might have been recruited by them if he hadn’t been in college. It seemed to be where they recruited new members.

Kate turned her chair to look out the window at the woods. She didn’t go in them much anymore. She should. They were probably soothing. Her mind needed to sort all of this out. She still had a strong intuition that the group had something to do with Meghan’s death.

Kate had to go talk to Clem. She wondered if Kendall would know. She had some link to the anarchist group. Kate had seen the woman with a member, and Kendall had clearly been talking to Clem before his arrest. Can I just talk to her about this?

But, in the end, she didn’t know if Kendall would shed light on the problem, or if she was part of the problem. She wanted to know if Kendall knew who had killed Meghan, but even if she did, she wouldn’t tell Kate about it.

Kate turned her phone back on. Scott hadn’t left any messages. Good. He isn’t mad. He was probably frustrated with her, but not mad.

Her phone rang. It wasn’t Scott, so she answered it.

***

Kate parked her truck at a house that was next to Kendall’s. Both properties had woods behind them and the driveways were near each other, but out in the country, the boundaries were less clear.

Kate had driven past where the anarchists were camping. For a second, Kate thought about driving in, but then decided she wasn’t that stupid. No one knew where she was, and if something happened, how quickly would anyone get there? What would she say to them anyway?

Besides, this new customer had an emergency. Kate knocked on the door of the cute little cottage in the woods. If Kate had picked a house for herself, it would be just like this. Part of her expected a hobbit to answer the door.

Instead, a woman in her thirties opened the door. She was dressed to stay home in sweatpants and a shirt sporting a local baseball team.

“Jenna?”

The woman opened the door wider. “Yes, I’m Jenna. You must be Kate.”

“I am.”

They shook hands. The woman let her inside, closing the door behind her. “My neighbor, Kendall, gave me your number. I hadn’t expected to use you so soon.”

“I didn’t have anything going on this afternoon.”

“Lucky me, then.”

“Do you want to show me the problem?”

“Well, my washer died and it leaked. I didn’t find it right away, because I just came back from vacation,” Jenna said.

The laundry room was right off the tiny kitchen. Okay, maybe this house was too small for Kate. She liked her kitchen, and it was much bigger than this.

In the laundry room, the washer was gone, but the floor had the remains of the leak. The tiles had been pulled off the floor and the subfloor was warped.

“Do you have more tiles?” Kate said.

“I do. “She left and returned with a stack. “It was on sale, so we bought a bunch just in case this happened.”

“I need to tear up the subfloor and then put new plywood down. This stuff is warped. I can give you a price beforehand.”

“Whatever the price is, I’ll pay it. The new washer is coming tomorrow and I need it done.”

“Okay.”

Kate returned with a piece of plywood she’d had in her truck. She cut it to the size she needed. She tore up the warped board and put a new one in. Jenna hovered, but Kate pretended not to mind.

“So you’re friends with Kendall?” she asked, just to make conversation.

She glanced up to see Jenna grimace. “I wouldn’t call us friends. We’re neighbors. Cordial. We don’t run in the same social circles.”

“I see.”

Based on her house and clothing, this woman had taste. Not high-end, but good taste. Kendall was more of a freak show in how she dressed. Kate wasn’t going to say that out loud, however.

“Kendall has some odd friends.”

“Oh?”

Maybe this woman had information that might be useful.

“Yes, she had people at her house. It didn’t sound like a party, because I can hear when she and her husband have parties; the music goes all night.”

“Not fun.”

“No, it’s not. At least I don’t have kids. Anyway, this wasn’t a party. There were lots of motorcycles and strange people. I think they came from that group that’s camping out this way.”

“I see.”

“And that woman who was just killed was there.”

Kate wondered how Jenna could even see all of that. The houses weren’t that close.

“Meghan?”

“Yes, that librarian. She’d been to Kendall’s house, but I don’t think they got along. I once asked Kendall about her. I’m nosy; I’ll admit it. Kendall told me they were cousins.”

“That would explain why she was at the funeral.”

“I didn’t think she liked the woman. Why would she attend her funeral?”

Was there bad blood between Kendall and Meghan?

“What about Kendall’s brother?”

I might as well ask since the woman is talking.

“Oh, that low life. He scares me. He looks at you as if he knows all of your secrets.”

Kate could agree with that. She suppressed a shudder. “This is going to make some noise,” Kate warned.

She screwed the plywood into place. Then she applied the adhesive, laid the tile and finished with grout. Jenna busied herself in the kitchen as Kate worked.

“It should be dry by the time the washer gets here tomorrow,” Kate said as Jenna admired her handiwork.

“It looks like new—or at least like the surrounding tile. Thank you so much.”

After she’d loaded up her tools, Kate returned from her truck and gave Jenna an invoice. Jenna left to write a check. She came back and handed it to Kate. “If you have a few minutes, I have a project that I want you to give me an estimate on.”

“I have a few minutes.”

Lunch was still an hour away. She still hadn’t decided if she was eating with Scott or not.

Jenna showed her a picture of a fire pit. It was made with stones and dug into the ground. The paper listed all of the supplies she would need. She’d never done stonework, but she’d bet she could do it. She would read up on it first.

Her heart hurt because this was something she would have asked Meghan to help her research. She swallowed the tears that threatened to leak out.

“Can you do it?”

“Yes. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you on the price. I don’t have any idea what the materials will cost.”

“That’s fine. I’m not in a hurry. It’s just something I always wanted and never did anything about. Now that I know someone who can do this stuff, I was reminded of it.”

“Okay. It’ll take me a day or so.”

“Not a problem.”

Kate headed to Grayson’s Hardware Store. Larry had a few customers, so Kate found her way to what she needed. She tallied what the fire pit materials would cost her. She estimated her time, and then had a pretty good idea what she needed to charge Jenna for it.

This was going to take her most of a day to do this project. She’d have to make sure she didn’t schedule anything else, and the payoff had to be worth it.

“A fire pit?” Larry said over her shoulder.

“Yep. It’s for a new client. She had directions, and she knows what stone she wants.”

“Nice. You are getting very busy, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“I’m so happy for you, Kate.”

“Hey, I hear you and Carly are doing well.”

“She’s a great lady, Kate. I’m nuts about her.”

“Good. I’m glad. I’m happy for both of you.”

Larry looked at his feet for a moment, blushing. Then he was all business. “I might have a book about fire pits you can borrow.”

“Since the library is closed, I will take you up on that offer. It might be something I can do for other people. I can put it on my website.” She had just recently created one.

“I saw your website. You’re moving up in the world.”

“Yes, I guess I am.”

The front door jangled. Larry left to attend to the customer. Kate double-checked her numbers and then took off.

She decided to have lunch with Scott.

“I’ve seen you a lot today,” Scott said. “That isn’t a complaint.”

“I guess you have. You’re my only friend free for lunch.”

“Ouch.”

She laughed. “I did some snooping. I know you don’t want me to, but I think Kendall and Clem are involved in Meghan’s death.”

“Kate.”

She shrugged. “Okay I’ll pretend I didn’t snoop.”

Chapter Ten

Kate left Scott and returned to her truck. Their lunch had been a little strained, but that was okay. She was stepping on his toes.

Her truck was parked in the lot at the front of the municipal complex. There hadn’t been open spaces anywhere else. That part faced a busy road, so Kate had always felt safe leaving her truck there.

As she walked to her truck, she noticed someone leaning against it. As she approached, she saw it was Bubba, Kendall’s brother.

She was tempted to return to Scott’s office, but Bubba saw her, coming to his feet as she approached. What could he want? She looked around to see if anyone else was in the parking lot. She wanted to be able to run. She had her keys in her hand.

Kate stopped a few feet from her truck. “Bubba.”

He grimaced at her use of his name. She wanted him to know that she knew who he was. It might stop him from doing anything stupid. The building had a bank of windows on this side. Hopefully someone was looking out at that moment.

“You need to stay out of our business,” Bubba said.

He was wearing his usual ripped jeans and leather jacket.  It was a warm day for that jacket, but if he was on his motorcycle, he’d want it. Not that she really cared. Her heart sped even though his words were not said in a menacing tone. His whole demeanor was scary to her.

“How am I in your business?”

He stepped closer. She stepped back, ready to run.

“Just stay out of it.”

He walked away, and then climbed onto his motorcycle. It took a moment for Kate’s heart rate to steady. That’s when it hit her: she was pissed. She hadn’t been snooping in his life. Their lives had crossed her path. They had interfered in her life.

She climbed into her truck. It was time to see Kendall. She had some work to do at her house, but what she really wanted to do was confront her about her brother. After arriving at Kendall’s house, Kate sat in her truck for a moment, wondering what she was going to say.

Her phone rang. It was Jason.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, why do you ask?”

She laughed. She could count on one hand how many times either of her boys had called her since going off to college. “Because you don’t call unless there is a problem.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking about Dad.”

“Okay. What about?”

“Just that I think it’s time you moved on.”

“Why were you thinking about that?”

“Because, I was thinking about Mr. York and how good he was to us this summer. I think he likes you, Mom.”

“We’re friends, Jason.”

Had the boys picked up on an undertone between us? She’d tried her best to hide it.

“He wants more than that.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to, Mom. It was in the way he looked at you.”

“What brought on this soul-searching?”

“I have a girlfriend.”

Kate wanted to laugh, but boys’ egos could be fragile. “Oh? What’s her name?”

“Becky.”

She’d have to call Jared and see what he thought of this development. “Sounds pretty.”

“Are you coming up for Parents’ Weekend? You’ll meet her.”

“That sounds great, honey. Has Jared met her?”

“He has, and they get along great.”

Nothing like a call from your kid to put life in perspective. Kate chatted with him for a few minutes then hung up. Now she didn’t want to confront Kendall.

But she had to.

First, she decided that since she was right there she would look at those bleachers. The bleachers were housed behind a garage used by the Department of Public Works. They had brought them outside for her to look at.

Kate made notes for what she would need and what it would cost. She’d be ready when Jessica was back in town. She didn’t think it would take too much to get them in shape. She’d have to replace most of the screws with stainless steel so they wouldn’t rust.

It was kind of neat for her to fix these because her father had built them when she was a kid. Maybe that was why Jessica had asked her to fix them.

Content that she knew what she had to do, she climbed back into her truck. It didn’t want to start at first. She guessed it was time to take it back to the shop. A few more dollars, and she could buy a new one.

***

Kendall answered the door in flowered yoga pants and a fuchsia tank top. Her lipstick matched her shirt.

“Hey, Kate. Come on in.”

Kendall moved out of the way. Kate entered the house, ready to paint the replaced drywall she’d spackled the other day. She also wanted to talk to the woman—feel her out. She wanted to know if she was still involved with the anarchists.

How does one bring that up in conversation? Excuse me, do you still belong to a radical group that wants to overthrow the government?

Kate set up her painting supplies. Kendall lingered in the doorway.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Kendall said.

Kate stirred the paint. “What?”

“I knew your husband.”

Kate’s hand stilled. “You knew my husband? When?”

“Well, for a few years.”

“How do you know him?”

“That isn’t important. I knew him. He was a good man.”

“Did you know him through his work?”

“Sort of. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You brought it up. How did you know my husband?”

“He was involved in a group I’m involved in.”

“The one camping outside of town? The one your bother belongs to…the man who threatened me?”

“Bubba threatened you?”

“Yes. And I know about your group. I know more about you than you think.”

At that moment, Kate wished she’d told Scott that she was coming here. Kendall got a faraway look in her eyes.

“You know?”

“I know.”

“Meghan knew too much,” Kendall said.

She looked as if she were no longer grounded in the present. Kate pulled out her phone as Kendall spoke. She sent a text to Scott to come or send someone. Kendall didn’t seem to notice.

“We cooked up this deal a long time ago.”

“Deal?” Kate asked.

She had no idea what Kendall was talking about.

“Yes. The highway is going to be expanded past Rock Ridge. The land will increase in value, so we bought it up. Then someone got the great idea to build something on a parcel of it.”

“Jackie York arranged this deal?”

“Yes, she did. Dudley was involved also.”

Seems like everyone was. The next name stopped her cold.

“Greg knew about it. He saw it as a way to raise money for our group,” Kendall said. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared straight ahead.

“Go on.”

Kate looked around for a weapon in case Kendall attacked her. This would be the third confession she listened to, and they always seemed to become violent. She had no reason to think Kendall would be any different.

“We wanted to destabilize local governments, bring about anarchy and confusion. Too many people are following the government like sheep.”

Kendall took a deep breath and let it out. Kate’s heart rate sped up. Her phone buzzed, but she was afraid to look at it. Hopefully someone was on the way.

“We did raise the money. But then Greg took off with it.”

That would explain why he hadn’t emptied their joint bank account. But this was, yet again, something she hadn’t known about Greg. She had a feeling the man’s whole life was a lie—including his marriage to her. She’d been swept off her feet by him, and now she knew it hadn’t really happened in the fairytale way she remembered it.

She wondered if he married her as part of a plan; if she’d figured into his deceit somehow. She’d been naïve, but she loved him. No longer. The man who had shared her bed had been a stranger to her, and she hadn’t even known it.

The revelation took a piece out of Kate.

“Meghan knew too much. She threatened to go to Scott. She had to be silenced.”

Kendall killed Meghan? Kate searched more deliberately for a weapon.

“Who killed her?” Kate asked.

“I did. I didn’t set out to kill her, but I did it. I went to the library that night to talk sense into her. She wouldn’t listen.”

Kate heard a car pull up next to her truck. An officer came into the house.

“Mrs. Stuart?”

Kendall didn’t turn. She just stared at the wall, as if it held all of the answers.

The officer put handcuffs on her. Scott was in the doorway, and Kate let out her breath.

“We knew, Kate. We were just coming out to arrest her.”

The officer took Kendall away. “Let me drive you home. I’ll get someone to get your truck home.”

He put his arms around her.

“He was part of the group,” Kate said as Scott led her out the door.

She climbed into his vehicle. She was still trying to wrap her brain around it all. Kendall had killed Meghan. Kendall had known Greg.

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“I figured I didn’t need to tell you yet. I was waiting.”

“He took off with their money. That’s why he didn’t need our money.”

“Yes, Clem told me that.”

“Was Clem part of killing Meghan?”

“Not that I know of, Kate,” Scott said.

He drove her to her house. She climbed out. “I know you have to get back.”

“Not really. It’s not my jurisdiction. I just went out there because I knew you were there.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

“I’m okay, Scott. I’m not fragile.”

“But I like taking care of you.”

She relented and let him lead her inside her house. He poured her a glass of wine and sat with her. “Do you have any other revelations about my husband?”

“Nothing other than what you learned from Kendall.”

“He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

She wiped away a tear.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I wish I could defend him, but I didn’t know him. Just the fact that he left you makes him an asshole in my book.”

Kate laughed. She couldn’t help it. Scott so rarely cursed. He joined her in her laughter, and she loved how the sound filled her house. Her house had been empty for too long.

She decided to make an appointment first thing in the morning. It was long overdue. She should have done it months ago, but now she was ready. She’d finally talk to a divorce lawyer.

“You look to be deep in thought,” Scott said.

“I am, but it’s all good.”

“Are you going to be okay when I leave tonight? You know I’ll stay if you want me to.”

She knew they had sleepovers in their future, but not that night. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be better than fine.”

“Good. Now, what were you thinking about?”

She laughed. “I’m keeping it to myself.”

Yes, she’d call a lawyer, make an overdue appointment, and file for divorce. Now that she was sure in her mind it was the right thing to do, she’d call Jason and Jared and let them know that she was ready to move on.

~~~

DRILLED IN MURDER

Chapter One

As Kate pulled her gray truck into the driveway in front of Hazel Millhouse’s home, she drank in a few deep breaths of crisp autumn air. She’d rolled her windows down during the drive over. Days like this were her favorite. The heat of summer burned away with each passing day, and most mornings were cool and refreshing.

It was mid-September, and she’d just bid her twin sons, Jason and Jared, farewell yesterday. They’d driven home for a weekend visit now that Kate was getting closer with Scott York, the police chief of Rock Ridge. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, explaining to her boys her decision to finally file for divorce from her husband, Greg. But in a lot of ways, the conversation had been harder on Kate than either of her sons. Jason had made it clear to her last month that he truly wanted her to move on and be happy. He liked Scott, thought the white-haired police chief was perfect for his mother, and wanted her to be happy like he was with his new girlfriend. Jared had expressed an identical sentiment. Funny how similar her twins were, right down to their hopes and dreams for their mother. With their support, she’d found an affordable divorce attorney in the yellow pages and scheduled her first appointment, which she’d get to right after she helped Hazel with a crack along her living room wall.

Kate rolled her windows up then stepped out of her truck. Her vehicle, which seemed to suck up her extra cash since it had a nasty habit of falling apart—piece by piece—on a daily basis, was finally in peak condition. She hoped it would last, as she eyed its new paint job and the freshly stenciled name across its side, “Mrs. Fit It”. As faulty as the engine tended to be, at least it now looked well maintained from the outside. She’d had the dings and scrapes buffed out, and its gray color now appeared to sparkle silver. Just like me, she thought.

Her life was shaping up on the outside, too. She’d taken steps to clear her house of her husband Greg, who had disappeared over five years ago. With Scott’s help, she’d discovered the man she thought she married wasn’t at all who Greg really was, and learning what she had, stirred up all kinds of mixed emotions. But she didn’t let her conflicted feelings slow her down. His old office was nearly empty of his hoarded files, books, and piles of paper. And soon she’d be legally free of him, but no less determined to find out where he’d disappeared to and why.

One step at a time, she reminded herself, as she approached Hazel’s front door.

Hazel Millhouse was a loyal customer and these days called Kate roughly once a week to swing by and fix a shelf here, paint a room there, tighten up the loose cupboards, or lay in new tiles when they popped off the bathroom floor.

Kate knocked loudly on the door so she wouldn’t have to do it twice. Hazel was getting up there in age and had recently broken her hip, so Kate was patient when the woman took her time getting to the door.

“Kate,” she said when she pulled the front door inward. “Right on time as always.”

“How are you feeling?” Kate asked, as she glanced at Hazel’s walker.

“Recovering slowly,” said Hazel. She took a few steps back so Kate could come inside with her sheetrock and can of spackle. “I’m still getting used to the new hip, and now that the temperature is dropping my muscles cramp up, making me a little slower than I’d like to be.”

“You take all the time you need,” said Kate.

“I’m just glad you’re here to fix the dent in the wall.” Hazel led her through the entryway and into the living room where Kate had discovered Hazel last month when she’d fallen and broken her hip. “That darn dent is a daily reminder of my fall, and I’m eager to put it behind me. I feel old enough as it is, I don’t need to stare at it every time I come into the living room.”

Kate chuckled at her sense of humor, as she examined the dent. It wasn’t terrible, a three-inch hole in the wall between an end table and a framed photo of Hazel in the prime of her life. However, two long cracks jutted out from the hole. Kate would have to cut a wide square around the crack then lay in the new sheetrock.

“Can I get you cup of coffee to jump start this project?” Hazel asked. She knew Kate too well, just like the majority of Rock Ridge residents. If Kate was coming to fix something, you better have a fresh pot of coffee. It was the air she breathed.

“That would be great,” said Kate, as she pulled a drywall knife from her overalls, along with the T-square she’d brought with her, and began cutting into the wall.

Hazel started off for her kitchen, taking short steps in rhythm with her walker, but Kate didn’t let her get far.

“I can help myself,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “How do you like your coffee?”

“With a splash of half and half and two sugars,” said Hazel, as she inched along after her.

Kate was familiar with most of her customers’ kitchens since at one point or another she’d fixed a cupboard, drawer, or garbage disposal. She pulled two mugs from the cabinet above the sink, doctored Hazel’s mug to her specifications, and then poured a black cup of coffee for herself.

Hazel took a brief sip after Kate handed her mug to her then smiled and asked, “How do you like Mrs. Briar?”

Hazel was referring to her old friend Meghan’s replacement. Meghan had been the librarian with whom Kate had grown close. Last month, Meghan had been murdered, and though Kate had worked tirelessly to expose her killer, it hadn’t mended the hole in her heart. If anything, it had made Kate apprehensive about this quaint and crimeless town she’d lived in her entire life. Rock Ridge was proving to be a dangerous place where murders cropped up. And the worst of it was that Kate had stumbled upon each victim.

“Mrs. Briar is no Meghan,” Kate stated plainly. “But I’m glad the library is up and running again.”

Hazel narrowed her eyes at Kate, as though she knew Kate was holding back her real opinion. And Kate was. Far from her perky and helpful predecessor, Mrs. Briar was a grumpy woman in her early sixties who acted annoyed by the library patrons and tended to close up early, which made it difficult for Kate to stop by and checkout more books to research her newest endeavor of staging homes for sale.

Hazel went on. “I heard Mrs. Briar came across some of Meghan’s files, you know, the ones she’d been keeping about the new development over on the east side of town.”

“Is that so?” Kate asked, as she made her way into the living room to get started putting in the sheetrock. “I didn’t realize Meghan was documenting her discoveries.”

Kendall Stuart, the new mayor’s wife had killed Meghan because Meghan had discovered some shady dealings regarding the new mayor, Harvy Stuart’s business venture on that area of land. Kendall had meant to keep her quiet, knowing that if Rock Ridge learned about Harvy’s inclination to hire contractors who would keep his project quiet—which in essence violated the town’s protocol—Harvy wouldn’t get voted into office again. Kendall hadn’t meant to kill Meghan, but that was the result, and now Kendall was in prison and Harvy’s position in office was in jeopardy.

Kate was curious about those files. What did they contain? Would they shed any light on her husband Greg? One of the most puzzling discoveries Kate had made last month was that her husband might have been tied to the Anarchist Freedom Network, a group who planned to occupy the land out east that Dudley’s business deal revolved around. Apparently, Greg had been a treasurer of sorts and held the money, but then disappeared. Whether he had taken off with the cash or had been killed for it was still a mystery. But knowing what she now did about her husband, the former seemed far more likely than the latter.

“Does Mrs. Briar still have Meghan’s files?” Kate asked once her racing mind had calmed.

“As far as I know,” said Hazel, who was now seated on her couch and watching Kate muscle the sheetrock up to the wall. “After a fair amount of groveling with Mrs. Briar, she agreed to come by later with a few books for me. Can you believe she told me she wouldn’t bring them over to me at first?”

Kate could. Mrs. Briar wasn’t very kind.

“She knew I broke my hip and can’t drive,” Hazel went on with her complaints. “Well, finally, I convinced her. I can ask if she’d bring Meghan’s files.”

“I doubt she’ll oblige,” said Kate. “But I’ll have to come back to paint your wall once the spackle dries. So if Mrs. Briar does bring the files I could pick them up from you.”

Hazel pressed her mouth into a determined line. “I’ll get her to.”

“Great,” said Kate. “I have an appointment, but it shouldn’t take longer than an hour or so. I’ll come back after to paint.”

Kate worked in silence, laying on spackle in smooth strokes to secure the sheetrock, as Hazel finished her cup of coffee.

“Mind if I open a window?” Kate asked. “It’ll help the spackle dry faster.”

“Be my guest,” said Hazel with a shrug.

There were two windows behind the couch, so Kate unlatched the locks and opened them a good six inches then collected the old bits of wall she’d torn down, placing the scraps into a garbage bag. Then she gathered her tools with the garbage bag and noted the time.

“Let’s say eleven o’clock,” she told Hazel, while in the back of her mind she determined she might be able to meet Scott for lunch afterwards. They’d gotten into quite a habit of spending their lunch hour together, and after her meeting with the divorce attorney, a little support from Scott would be more than appreciated.

“See you then.” Hazel smiled and worked her way to her feet, then walked Kate to the door.

Outside, Kate placed the garbage bag into Hazel’s trash bin. Hazel waved from the doorway then closed it, as Kate climbed into her truck.

As she drove through Rock Ridge to Walter Miller’s office, Kate grew nervous. This divorce had been a long time coming, but she felt conflicted. Greg had been the love of her life, and their years together had shaped her into the woman she was. She wouldn’t have her precious boys if she’d never met Greg. She wouldn’t have her lovely home or a wealth of memories that warmed her heart if she’d never married him. And yet, he wasn’t the man she thought. He couldn’t be. And where was he now? Why had he disappeared?

It made her angry just thinking about how he’d run off, and that’s what he had done, right? It had to be. Between the MasterCard statement she’d found cleaning out his office, its mysterious charges for camping equipment that was so at odds with his personality, and the fact that he’d stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars from a shady business venture to buy land out east, Kate had to assume he’d been in the throws of a deadly transaction when he disappeared. Was he a member of the Anarchist Freedom Network? Had they threatened him? Or had he been a part of something much greater, working with the government to thwart the anarchists?

Kate realized her imagination had run wild and pondering these things would bring her no closer to understanding the truth, so she quieted her racing mind and pulled off of Main Street into a commercial complex where her attorney rented office space on the first floor.

She’d only spoken with Walter Miller a few times on the phone, but he’d struck her as a real pit bull. Gruff and brash, he’d barked out a list of documents she’d need to bring without a hint of sympathy that embarking on a divorce was a highly sensitive and possibly emotional undertaking. But maybe his attitude would be good for her.

Kate told herself it would only be a matter of time before she would walk out of his office, get Meghan’s files from Hazel or perhaps Mrs. Briar herself if the librarian felt like being contrary, and soon she’d be seated across from Scott in their favorite lunch spot.

Once she parked, she took a moment to thumb through the stack of documents Walter had instructed her to bring and made sure they were all there. She’d also brought Greg’s MasterCard statement, the one she’d found in his office. If Greg had an additional credit card she’d never known about during their marriage, Kate wondered what other secret accounts he might have had. Maybe Walter could look into it. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt at the thought. Scott had volunteered to track Greg down and was also using the MasterCard statement. Kate knew Scott preferred to work on these types of things solo, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

With the documents in hand, Kate climbed out of her truck, made sure to lock it, and then started into the building.

She quickly checked the marquee in the lobby to remind herself which office Walter was in then ventured down the hallway to Room 114.

The door was ajar when she rounded the corner, so she eased it open and noticed classical music playing faintly in the anteroom. The receptionist’s desk was vacant, but there was a plastic sign that said, “Back in five minutes.” Rock Ridge was a sleepy town, and it didn’t surprise her that the receptionist had wandered off with the door wide open. She only hoped that knocking on Walter’s office door wouldn’t launch him into a sour mood. The man was sour enough as it was.

But when she glanced over at Walter’s door, which had a placard with his name on it, she noticed it too was ajar.

No matter, she figured. She knocked on it.

“Mr. Miller?” she called out. “It’s Kate Flaherty.” She felt a bit silly shouting at a wooden door, but he hadn’t responded, so she clarified her reason for being there. “I have a ten o’clock appointment to get my divorce underway. Mr. Miller?”

Kate eased the door open and took in an impression of the room. It was a handsome office. The furniture was polished oak. The desk was topped with a shiny sheet of glass that matched a coffee table where a leather couch was positioned across the way. The attorney obviously did well for himself, but he wasn’t here.

Or at least that was what she thought until she saw a hand on the floor poking out from behind the desk.

It stunned her, then her heart skipped a beat and began pounding hard in her chest.

She crept around the desk, eyes locked on the hand, and soon a body came into view.

Motionless on the ground, an overweight man lay on his back. His eyes were white all around, and the sight of him sent a chill through her.

“Walter!”

Kate rushed to him, knelt down, and placed her fingertip along his pudgy neck. He felt warm, but there was no pulse.

Her attorney was dead.

Chapter Two

Kate sat in the anteroom and nursed a dull cup of coffee she couldn’t even taste while police officers swarmed Walter Miller’s office.

The receptionist, Margaret Boisey, a young, polished looking woman in a peach blouse and gray pencil skirt, busied herself doling out coffee for the officers, as though the task could rid her mind of the jarring fact her boss had died when she’d stepped out to make a personal phone call. Or at least that was what she’d told the cops. Kate was just glad she hadn’t been the last person with Walter.

Scott hadn’t emerged from Walter’s office yet, but Kate’s mind had already leapt to the worst conclusion. Had Walter been killed? There was a lot of that going around Rock Ridge in the past six months, and the fact that she’d once again stumbled on a body set her teeth on edge.

Like a mantra, she kept repeating, Please be a heart attack, please be a heart attack, over and over in her head, but when Scott stepped into the open doorway and met her gaze, his expression told her it had been anything but.

His brown eyes were rounder than usual and conveyed a hint of apology mixed with trepidation, as he lumbered towards her. He sat and plowed his fingers through his snow-white hair.

He kept his tone quiet as he explained, “He was shot.”

“Shot?” The image of Walter flashed through Kate’s mind. She didn’t recall a drop of blood. “How was he shot?”

“In the back,” Scott said with regret. “He must have fallen immediately.”

“From his chair?” Kate asked, confused. There wasn’t much space between the chair and the windows behind his desk and Walter was a rotund man.

“You didn’t hear a gun go off?” Scott asked, avoiding her question.

“No.”

Scott mulled that over, as Margaret appeared with a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee and offered it to him.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, and Margaret had the good sense to pad off and take a seat at her receptionist desk. “Kate, I’m going to need you to make a statement.”

“All right, but I didn’t see anything. I came in at ten o’clock sharp. No one was here. There suite door was ajar and so was Walter’s office. I let myself in and found him then called you.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll write that up, then you can sign it.”

“I need to get back to Hazel Millhouse’s house to finish some work,” she explained. “If we’re still on for lunch, I can sign it then.”

“I might still be here,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

Kate rose to her feet when Scott stood.

“I’m going to have to find a new attorney.”

He frowned, and she caught the disappointment in his eyes. No one wanted Kate’s divorce to go through more than Scott did. He’d exercised patience and remained considerate in his hope she’d take steps to get the ball rolling, and now that she had, it seemed all for naught. A terrible coincidence, or had Walter’s murder cut even closer to home than she realized?

Scott wavered back into cop mode, Kate’s least favorite side of him, as he gave her a curt nod then started over towards Margaret, who would also need to give a statement.

Kate took a moment to study the young woman. If she’d learned anything in the past half year, it’d been that killers came in all different shapes and sizes, and she wondered if the dainty receptionist had played a role in Walter’s death.

Scott wouldn’t appreciate her curiosity, so she tore her gaze from the woman before he could take notice of her staring and left the office.

When she got to her truck, she set her stack of documents on the passenger’s seat and checked the time. If she left for Hazel’s now, she’d be much too early, and the coffee Margaret had given her far from hit the spot, so she decided to head over to Bean There for a proper cup.

The coffee shop was hopping with late morning customers who were eager to get their caffeine fix, but the line moved quickly, and soon Kate was smiling at Clara, the young barista who also happened to own Bean There.

The rich aromas of dark roast and pastries hit her senses as she stepped up to the counter.

“I heard there’s quite a hullabaloo over at the commercial complex on Main Street,” said Clara.

Word got around fast in Rock Ridge, but Clara had heard about Walter Miller in record time, which had Kate taken aback.

“I was just there, unfortunately,” she managed to say when she realized Clara’s widening eyes indicated she was eager for the inside scoop. “It looks like he was shot.” Kate was sure to keep her voice quiet. She liked Clara and wouldn’t want to leave her hanging, but with the recent string of murders, a plague of reporters had swarmed their quiet neck of the woods, and Kate could never be sure one wasn’t lurking in plain sight ready to report no matter how unfounded the gossip.

“You’re kidding?” asked Clara, then she quickly added, “I heard Walter Miller represented all sorts. As long as the client could pay, he didn’t ask too many questions.”

“I thought he mainly did divorces,” said Kate, who hadn’t thoroughly researched Mr. Miller’s practice.

“Oh no,” said Clara, as she poured a cup of dark roast for Kate. Kate’s daily coffee order was more than predicable, so Clara didn’t have to wait to hear it. She plucked a bear claw from the rack next and slipped it into a paper bag for Kate as well. “The big name for divorce around here is Arthur Joseph. No, Walter Miller has been doing criminal defense and also real estate deals, filing the paperwork. Don’t ask me how one relates to the other, but that seemed to be his niche.”

In Kate’s haste to throw herself into the divorce, which she’d decided to approach like ripping off a Band-Aid, she hadn’t bothered to look into Walter. She made a mental note to go with Arthur Joseph if he was known for divorce proceedings, as she scooped up her coffee and handed Clara a five.

“Then Scott has quite a task on his hands,” Kate mused. “Who wouldn’t want to kill a lawyer?”

Clara offered her a smile then made change, which Kate told her she could keep.

“Thanks for mentioning Arthur Joseph,” she said before turning to go. “I’ll give him a call.”

“I’m glad you’re going ahead with a divorce,” said Clara. “You deserve to move forward with your life.”

Kate smirked as a parting gesture. She was one to keep to herself and not participate in the rumor mill, so it didn’t entirely sit right with her that Clara had spoken so intimately of her personal life when they weren’t close friends, but what could she do?

She made her way to her truck. The day was heating up a bit and the crisp chill of this morning was barely a hint in the air, but she enjoyed the warmth as she climbed behind the wheel. Autumn would be in full force soon enough. Rock Ridge was located in central Pennsylvania, and when the season turned it usually turned hard and fast, and the long winter months dragged on. She might as well savor the momentary swells of heat when they billowed up.

The spackle on Hazel’s wall should be dry, but Kate had to swing by Grayson’s Hardware Store to pick up some primer before she painted over the sheetrock she’d laid. She started along Main Street and looked forward to seeing Larry.

Larry had taken over the hardware store when his father Carl, the prior owner, had been arrested for killing Jackie York, Scott’s ex-wife. Larry had been dating her best friend, Carly, which had come as a huge relief to Kate since Larry had been pursuing her romantically and she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. In some ways, she’d lost her best friend. Carly had been spending more and more time with Larry and less time with her, but she couldn’t hold that against her friend.

She smiled to herself, as she pulled into the parking lot in front of Grayson’s. Rock Ridge was a small town, and it kept getting smaller.

“Hi Larry,” she said when she found him pouring over a stack of invoices behind the cash register. “I need a can of primer.”

Larry’s dark eyes darted up to her, and he straightened his back. He was a tall and lanky man, but not unattractive. Carly had done well for herself to strike up a romance. He was a good man, who still carried the shame of his father, though Kate wished he wouldn’t.

“No problem, Kate. I’ll put it on your tab.”

As Larry punched in the charge and made the necessary adjustment to her running tab, Kate set her checkbook on the counter.

“Let’s see if I can’t knock that out. What’s the damage?”

Larry told her the balance, which she tried not to cringe at. It was a bit higher than she expected, but she wrote a check for nearly half of it and handed it to him.

“Business has been steady,” she told him. “I might be able to drop a check for the remainder later this week.”

Larry smiled and told her not to sweat it. “Carly’s birthday’s coming up this Saturday.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said with a smile. It warned her that Larry had his thumb on the pulse of Carly’s special day. He was good to her like that. “Should I bake a cake?”

He chuckled. It was no secret that Kate wasn’t very skilled in the kitchen. “If you show up with a bottle of wine that ought to do it,” he said.

“Consider it done.”

Kate headed down one of the aisles—she knew Grayson’s like the back of her hand—and made a beeline for the paints and primers. When she found a gallon can, she slid it off the shelf and made her way through the store.

“I was thinking about getting Carly some exotic bulbs,” he said, catching her before she got through the door. “But then I thought, why would a florist want more flowers?”

“Good point,” said Kate. Carly worked at Sunshine Florist where she spent her days making floral arrangements and delivering bouquets around town. “Can’t go wrong with jewelry.”

He smirked as though it would’ve never occurred to him. Men are dense at times, she thought, but Larry makes up for it being sweet and considerate. “See you later.”

She set the can of primer in the bed of the truck then started off for Hazel’s. With any luck, Hazel had convinced Mrs. Briar to drop off Meghan’s files along with the books Hazel had requested, but Kate knew it was wishful thinking. She’d probably have to swing by the library, which meant her day was starting to fill up. She had to paint Hazel’s wall, check in with Justina Anastasi, the real estate agent at Carnegie Real Estate who’d been getting Kate work staging houses for sale, head over to Clem’s office and install a new shelving unit, squeeze in a quick lunch with Scott if he had time for it, and try to make an appointment with Arthur Joseph to see if she couldn’t get this divorce underway. Sometimes there weren’t enough hours in the day.

Hazel’s teacup labradoodle, Mitsy was yipping about, darting around the front yard when Kate got out of her truck. She grabbed the can of primer from the truck bed and noted Hazel was tossing a red ball for the dog. He leapt to retrieve it.

“Come in,” said Hazel, once Mitsy had brought the ball back. “We were just getting a bit of exercise.”

Kate smiled as the dog tore through the entryway past her. Tuckered out, she flopped on her dog bed in the corner of the living room.

“You said you had a can of eggshell white?” Kate asked, as she set the primer down in front of the wall and tapped her finger to the spackle to test how dry or tacky it was.

“In the closet,” said Hazel, who began inching in that direction.

“I’ve got it.” Kate walked swiftly up the hall and found her paint in the bottom of the closet.

As Kate got to work, bending the primer can’s top off and mixing it with a stirring stick, Hazel eased onto the couch.

“Mrs. Briar has frazzled my last nerve,” she stated in a huff. “She acted like the library was in peril because she had to come by with my books, and of course, she didn’t bring Meghan’s files.”

It wasn’t a shocker as far as Kate was concerned, and her day would certainly get a bit tighter because of it.

“Then she had the audacity to complain about Mitsy. The poor little thing was excited to have a guest and jumped up on Mrs. Briar. And can you believe the woman, she said Mitsy scratched her.”

People who didn’t like dogs were not to be trusted in Kate’s book.

“So I’m sorry. I tried,” Hazel concluded.

Kate shot her a thankful smirk then stroked the primer over the square of sheetrock. They shared a cup of coffee as it dried and Hazel caught her up on all the goings-on along the block. There was a new house on the market up the street and Kate made a mental note to ask Justina if Carnegie was at the helm of that sale. Soon the primer was dry and Kate rolled on a thick coat of eggshell white paint, making sure there were no seams or drips. She prided herself on a job well done, and her business depended on customers like Hazel. Leaving them happy was her top priority.

“Looks good,” Hazel noted. “What do I owe you?”

Kate did some quick math and wrote up an invoice that only included the cost of materials. She liked to discount Hazel as much as possible, and every third job she omitted the cost of labor.

When she handed the invoice to Hazel, Hazel wrote out a check and walked her to the door.

With her materials in hand, Kate mentioned, “Keep the windows open and it’ll air out fast.”

By the time she was climbing into her truck, she felt her cell phone vibrate in the front pocket of her overalls. Kate swiped the screen and opened the new text message. It was from Scott.

The case is developing quickly. Can’t make lunch.

She texted right back.

My day is filling up anyway. Dinner?

She turned the key in the engine, but her cell vibrated again before she could back out of Hazel’s driveway.

Now who’s courting who?

She had to smile. Scott had certainly worked his way back into her heart, taking the fastest route possible…through her stomach. Countless times he’d shown up on her doorstep with bags of takeout, relieving her from the chore of throwing a meal together. Often she’d turned him down for little favors like this, but resisting had soon become a greater effort than giving in. She liked that about him. In so many ways, he’d rekindled who they used to be together in high school. And more and more she saw Scott with those old schoolgirl eyes. It had been a challenge to let go of her lingering animosity that Scott had abandoned her for college all those years ago. But one day she’d woken up and the lingering resentment wasn’t there, only a true affection for him. Realizing that, gradually, Kate had been the one to suggest lunches and dinners. She’d shown up on his doorstep with take-out, so he wouldn’t have to trouble his weary mind with the task of cooking for himself. Theirs was becoming an equal partnership, both invested in seeing where the new romance might lead.

It was all the more reason to give Arthur Joseph a call. She wanted this divorce now more than ever.

She texted back simply, Mexican?

And he responded with a smiley face.

The Rock Ridge Library was set between two buildings that made a triangle with a courtyard in-between.

After parking, Kate glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d looked better, that was for sure. Her red hair was sticking up at strange angles, which she smoothed down with her hands. And she had a streak of white paint across her cheek. It took some scrubbing, but she smeared it off then started through the courtyard to the library.

Mrs. Briar was grumbling about, as she slowly pushed a cart of books through the library, inconvenienced as ever that the patrons had dared remove them from her shelves.

She pushed her thick glasses up her pug nose, which crinkled as she strained to read the title of the book in her hand. Her hair was in a bun, and her oversized sweater, long matronly skirt, and clogs made her look at least a decade older than her sixty years.

“What do you want?” she barked, as Kate came up beside her.

“Thanks for bringing Hazel’s books to her house,” said Kate, figuring kindness might soften the woman up. “She really appreciated it.”

“Tell her not to get in the habit,” said Mrs. Briar, as she slid another book onto a bookshelf.

“Well, in the future, I don’t mind checking out books for her,” she offered.

But Mrs. Briar cut her off immediately. “You can’t. It’s policy. If Hazel wants a book, she’s going to have to get herself down here and check it out herself.”

Kate had the impulse to point out that Hazel had broken her hip and mobility was difficult enough much less getting behind the wheel of her Volvo, but the fact wouldn’t do much to convince Mrs. Briar, so she got down to it instead.

“I was close friends with Meghan,” she began, not that the librarian was paying her much mind. “And I heard she was keeping some files.”

“You heard correctly,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I’d like to take her personal effects. I’m meeting Meghan’s brother, Clem, later today and I can give them to him.”

“If Clem wants her belongings he can come and get them himself. None of this middleman business. It goes against policy.”

Kate had no idea where Mrs. Briar was dreaming up all these policies. During Meghan’s reign as librarian, not once was policy mentioned. This was a library after all, not the Oval Office.

It crossed her mind to drop Scott’s name and imply the police chief could pay her a visit if she didn’t feel like being cooperative, but Kate knew it would likely backfire. If there had been one area that bore a bone of contention in their relationship, it was her compulsion to meddle in criminal affairs that Scott felt were his domain and his alone.

“Fine,” she said. “I was only trying to be helpful.”

Kate started through the library, as Mrs. Briar turned down an aisle and continued to return books to the shelves.

As Kate rounded through the checkout desk, she noticed the library office beyond it was ajar. She saw there was a box with Meghan’s name on it on the desk inside and felt a sudden twinge to grab it.

But should she?

Meghan’s belongings weren’t hers to steal. She wasn’t entitled like Clem. And the last thing she wanted was to get into an altercation with Mrs. Briar should she get caught. But something wasn’t right about the librarian. She’d obviously mentioned the files to Hazel. Had she been boasting? Had she meant to stir up intrigue only to then hold it over the heads of those who became curious? What would Mrs. Briar even want with Meghan’s files? They’d clearly been in her possession for the past month since Meghan’s death and she hadn’t done a darn thing with them.

Kate glanced over her shoulder to be sure Mrs. Briar was tucked out of sight. Confirming that, she padded into the office, grabbed the entire box, which got her heart pounding, and then veered back through the library and out the door.

With Meghan’s box in the passenger’s seat, Kate drove out of the parking lot and it wasn’t until she cleared a few blocks down Main Street that her racing heart calmed and a strong sense of guilt set in. But she told herself she could return the box once she’d sorted through it and taken cell phone photos of every page in Meghan’s files. Besides, Mrs. Briar wasn’t being ethical. She was being difficult on purpose.

Kate realized her cell was vibrating in her pocket, and when she checked the screen, Justina Anastasi’s number flashed. Not one to take a call while driving, she pulled into a gas station, shifted into Park, and took the call.

“Justina?”

“Hi Kate, could you come by Carnegie?”

“I was planning to this afternoon.”

“I’m having an open house for Jessica Wentworth’s mansion this afternoon. Could you come sooner?”

Jessica Wentworth, formerly Jessica Stuart, had been married to the late mayor Dudley Stuart until his untimely death. She’d since married Dean Wentworth, moved into Dean’s apartment, and now lived a quiet and happy life. It was no wonder she wouldn’t want to live in her old house, too many memories of Dudley.

“You mean now?” she asked to clarify.

“Yes, that would be great,” said Justina. “I have a number of houses I’d like to get on the market, but they need to be staged.”

The more business the better, Kate thought. Having two sons at Penn State wasn’t cheap, and though her twins had taken out student loans and were working part time to help pay off their tuition, Kate helped as much and as often as she could.

She told Justina she was on her way then swung a U-turn through the gas station and started off towards Carnegie Real Estate.

The real estate office was located up the street from the library. Carnegie Real Estate was the only business occupying a stone, two-story building. Justina worked on the first floor with one other real estate agent and two assistants, and she lived on the second floor. Like most business owners in Rock Ridge, Justina had built something out of nothing, growing her business, and it soon became the number one name in real estate for the county, though the majority of her clients lived in Rock Ridge. Kate held all her fellow entrepreneurs in high regard.

The real estate office had a stately presence outside as well as in. The anteroom was carpeted, and the walls were pale lavender. Kate had painted them herself when Justina had moved into the location. She found Justina busily rushing between assistants. Her blond hair was styled with conservative flare, and her sharp blue eyes immediately landed on Kate.

“Please, come in,” she said and waved Kate up the hall to her private office. Once Kate stepped inside, Justina was quick to close the door. “Great work on Jessica’s house.”

Kate smiled. Justina had already complimented her handy work several times, but not in person.

“I’m in a real pickle with Walter Miller’s death,” she went on.

It piqued Kate’s curiosity.

“He was handling all of our contracts, and now everything’s on hold.”

Kate wanted to dive into a million questions, but sensing Justina’s nervous energy, she decided to tread lightly.

“I didn’t realize you were working with him,” Kate said.

“He’s the best around,” Justina explained. “No family, no kids, no social life to speak of, Walter lived at his office and handled a tremendous amount of paperwork. He’s fast, and because of his abrasive personality, people generally wanted him out of their hair. As soon as he picked up the phone or dropped off a contract, the person he was dealing with would drop everything, get it done, and hope he’d go away.” Justina smiled sadly. “It’s a real talent.”

So Walter’s murder had to be over a business matter, Kate extrapolated.

“Did you know him well?” she asked.

“If you’re asking me who could’ve killed him, I wish I had an inkling.”

“How long were you in business with him?”

“Years,” said Justina. “My father was an attorney, and he helped me, pushed my contracts for virtually no charge, but when he died the year after I got up and running, I went to Walter.”

Kate found it interesting that anyone in Rock Ridge could work with Walter for so long and not know much about him. In a sense, Walter impressed her for this reason.

Justina took a thoughtful pause then said, “The only times he got tied up and I had to exercise patience was when he’d worked for Jackie York.”

Scott’s ex-wife, Jackie, had been something of a real estate tycoon and was in the midst of drawing up a real estate deal with the late mayor, Dudley Stuart to use part of the Rock Ridge land out east for the anarchist group, Anarchist Freedom Network. Kate had also learned that her husband Greg had been involved, perhaps as a treasurer and subsequently ran off with their funds. Her old friend, Meghan had discovered this and was then killed for knowing too much. Meghan’s box and her files came to mind, but Kate would get to those soon enough.

Justina fell silent and seemed to fret then managed to shake it off, as she handed Kate a piece of paper from her desk.

“I made a list for you,” she explained. “Those are the properties where I need repairs and the houses I’d like staged.”

Kate perused the list, which was detailed.

“It could take a day or so to get an estimate written up,” she mentioned.

“No estimate necessary,” said Justina. “I trust you won’t gouge me. Do you have an idea of when you’ll be finished?”

Kate widened her eyes and reviewed the list again. “The repairs shouldn’t take long, but staging the houses is time consuming. I’d say a week.”

“And for just the repairs?”

“A few days. I’ll get to them right away.”

Kate folded the list and tucked it into her overalls, as Justina rounded to the door to walk her out. But when she opened her office door, Scott York was standing on the other side with two police officers.

“Police Chief York,” she said, confused to find him at her office. “How can I help you?”

“Justina Anastasi, you’re under arrest for the murder of Walter Miller,” he stated.

Justina’s jaw dropped, as she locked eyes with Kate.

“You’re making a mistake,” she protested. “I didn’t kill Walter.” Desperately, she reached for Kate. “I didn’t kill him. You have to help me.”

It jarred Kate to see Justina handcuffed. She jerked and resisted, but was no match for the two police officers. Scott recited the Miranda Rights and instructed the officers, Gunther and Garrison to take her out, as Justina proclaimed her innocence.

“Kate!” she shouted from down the hall. “Please help me!”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said.

Scott scowled at that from where he stood filling the doorway.

Holding his gaze, Kate asked, “Justina?”

“Unfortunately,” he said then ushered a stern warning, “Leave it alone, Kate.”

“I know Walter was Justina’s attorney,” she pointed out. “Why would she kill him?”

Scott pressed his mouth into a hard line so as not to give away a single detail. “I’m sorry.”

He approached her, but Kate didn’t want comfort. She wanted answers.

Chapter Three

Pressed for time now that she had a full list of repairs from Justina and still needed to swing by Clem Tully’s office to install a new set of shelves, Kate got her lunch to-go at Bean There…and it wasn’t a healthy one—an extra-large coffee and two pastries. She reasoned she’d be running around all week and would surely burn off the sugary sweets and then some. Eating behind the wheel wasn’t ideal, but she didn’t want her day to drag much later than seven in the evening. Dinner with Scott could prove fruitful in terms of getting a sense of the evidence he’d collected against Justina. Not to mention Meghan’s box remained at the forefront of her thoughts.

As she drove to Clem’s office, she wondered how on earth Scott had pegged Justina as the killer. Or was Ken Johnson, Scott’s best detective who also happened to be the father of her best friend, Carly, leading the charge? It would take some finessing with Scott, but Kate decided she could get him to tell her a thing or two.

Tully Contractors was located on Rock Ridge Road, which intersected with Main Street on the edge of town. It had come as a surprise to Kate that Clem had called her for the repair. She had gotten close with Clem's main competitor, Dean Wentworth not only because of his relationship with Jessica, which led to marriage, but because Dean was also in the fix-it business, though on a much grander scale. Dean had recommended Kate for dozens of jobs in the past few months, and she felt a loyalty to him. Dean wasn’t Clem’s biggest fan. Quite the opposite, in fact, since months ago Clem had nearly messed up Dean’s bid with the Town Planning Commission to construct a new building project. As it turned out, Clem had been working with Dudley Stuart, the prior mayor, who was in the secret habit of awarding new projects not to the lowest bidder as the town mandated, but to whomever would best serve his agenda. And that contractor was Clem. Ultimately, Dean was awarded the building project when Dudley died, but the bad blood between the contractors remained.

But Clem was Meghan’s brother, and so Kate felt sympathetic for his loss. She still missed Meghan and could only imagine how badly Clem must still be hurting.

At the same time, she didn’t trust the man. His involvement with Dudley, who had been secretly working with the Anarchist Freedom Network, led Kate to wonder if perhaps Clem knew the real reason her husband Greg had disappeared.

Kate lifted her toolbox out of the truck bed and entered the building, which was a warehouse large enough to hold all the necessary materials for Clem’s intricate construction projects.

Workers bustled through the warehouse, driving forklifts and shouting to be heard through their ear protection. Somewhere a table saw shrieked, as Kate padded over concrete towards the office where she expected to find Clem.

With his back to her, he stood hunched over his desk and was speaking loudly into his phone to be heard over the commotion. Kate paused in the open doorway when she gleaned his distress.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, “Ken assured me.”

Why would Detective Ken Johnson assure Clem of anything? She wasn’t aware they were friendly.

“No,” he went on. “Just listen. Listen to me. Ok, you need to calm down. Justina Anastasi was arrested so you have nothing to worry about. Carry on as usual.” Clem paused, listening. “Look, if you get spooked and try to fix this, you’re going to make a mistake and you’re going to get caught. Don’t do anything.”

Clem slammed the phone into its cradle, and Kate ducked around the corner out of sight.

Who had he been talking to? She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it had certainly sounded like Clem knew the real killer, and they were anxious. It also meant that perhaps Ken Johnson had the inside track and had assured Clem not to worry. Was Ken in on Walter Miller’s murder? And if he wasn’t in on it, did he have a vested interest in keeping the real killer safe?

Her stomach clenched at the notion her lifelong friend’s father, a man who’d been a figure of her childhood and whom she’d trusted her whole life could have anything to do with a murder. Not to mention he worked in law enforcement. There was nothing worse than a crooked cop.

A few moments had passed, and she heard Clem rustling through paperwork, so she rounded the corner.

“Here to get those shelves installed,” she said.

“Ah, Kate. Thanks for coming by.” Clem got to his feet and indicated the shelving unit, which was still packaged up in a large box.

“Hey, thanks for thinking of me,” she said, deflecting his compliment. “I was surprised you’d need my services. Couldn’t any of your employees take care of this?”

“We’re swamped,” he explained. “We just got a new contract for some land out east and I need all my manpower focused on that project.”

Land out east? The deal for the Anarchist Freedom Network? It’d gone through?

“What’s out east?” she asked, as she used her box cutter to free the shelving unit pieces from its container and set them out on the floor.

“Just a new development that’s been a long time in the making. The funds finally came through and we need to get a jump on it.”

Funds? Her husband Greg had disappeared with the funds. Had he resurfaced? Kate’s head reeled at the thought. Or had they raised new funds? Had Walter Miller been involved? Kate was tempted to ask Clem which attorney he’d used, but then thought better of it.

“A new development in Rock Ridge,” she mused. “I hope it’s not too close to my house.”

She’d meant for it to be a light joke, but her tone came off distressed. And she was. She liked her quiet neck of the woods. If bulldozers and jackhammers came to her peaceful road, she wouldn’t like it. Not to mention having an anarchist group as a neighbor made her queasy.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Clem. “The site is much further east than your house.”

“So it’s the old campsite?”

“Word travels fast.”

Kate tried not to reveal how uneasy she was, as she grabbed her electric drill and found an outlet.

Clem made a phone call, but it sounded like all business, so Kate got to work drilling the shelves together then righted the unit up against the wall. There were nylon loops in the back that needed to be drilled into the wall to secure the unit from falling forward. She addressed them, drilling in one screw at a time.

When Clem wrapped up his phone call, it occurred to her that if she appealed to his softer side he might open up.

“How are you getting on with Meghan gone?” she asked.

He frowned and placed his hands on his hips.

“She died too soon.”

“You were involved with Kendall,” she pointed out. Kate had noticed them a few times in conversation. They’d each denied knowing the other, but Kate had soon learned their clandestine exchanges revolved around Dudley’s secret real estate deal. The deal that had apparently gone through since Clem was focusing all his manpower on building it. Clem had been originally charged with his sister’s murder, but those charges hadn’t stuck because Kendall was found to be guilty. “Poor Meghan. She’d gotten in the middle of it.”

Clem’s expression told Kate he agreed. “At least that nightmare is over and done with.”

Was it?

Once Kate had the unit secured to the wall, she tucked her drill back into her toolbox.

“I’d actually been meaning to ask you something,” she began. His stern eyes and furrowed brow relaxed, so she went on, “Do you know if my husband Greg was involved in the Anarchist Freedom Network?”

“What would make you think he was?”

“Come on, Clem. He disappeared with the funds to build the development you’re now proceeding to build. I just want to understand what happened.”

“Who told you that?”

“Kendall. She may be a murderer, but she had no reason to lie about that. I believe her.”

“Well, I can’t help you there.”

“But this new development is for the anarchist group,” she stated, though it was a question. When he didn’t respond, she pressed, “Jackie was killed because of her involvement. Your sister was killed because she found out about it. Even the reporter, Beth, discovered the deal, and when she confronted Dudley about it, he threatened her so she tasered him to death. Too many people have died because of this deal. Rock Ridge has always been the safest place to live until this land deal cropped up. And now Walter Miller is dead.”

“No one knows why Walter Miller was killed, and Justina had nothing to do with the land deal.”

“No? Who took over Jackie’s role after she was killed?”

“Are you finished with the shelves?” He didn’t wait for a response. It was obvious the shelves were installed. “What do I owe you?”

Kate sighed. He wasn’t going to help her, but she couldn’t be shocked. His phone call had alerted her to which side of the fence he fell on. She wrote up an invoice then handed it to him and he made slow work of reviewing the charges and making out a check.

After he handed it to her, she tucked it in her overalls and picked up her toolbox.

“Thanks again for thinking of me,” she said.

“Kate, I’m telling you to stay out of this.”

She didn’t like his tone.

“For your own good,” he added.

“Finding out what happened to my husband is good for me,” she countered then walked out before he could warn her further. His warning had sounded like a threat. And she wasn’t one to entertain such things.

Kate spent the greater part of the afternoon tackling what she could on Justina’s list. First, she stopped by Grayson’s Hardware to pick up supplies and ten gallons of paint. It seemed most of the properties Justina was preparing to sell would need freshly painted walls, and Kate grabbed five cans of spackle, figuring the previous owners probably nailed a painting or two in each room, and she’d need to cover the holes before painting.

The first house on the list was next to Jessica Wentworth’s mansion. It was a two-story Colonial set between Maple trees that swayed in the autumn breeze.

As she pulled her truck up the driveway, she noticed a Mercedes parked in Jessica’s driveway. It struck her as odd until it occurred to Kate that in the crisis of being arrested, Justina might have forgotten to cancel her appointment to show the property. The car looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

It took three trips into the house to load in her supplies, and by the time she’d carried in the three cans of paint she estimated she’d need, her hands felt sore. She started back for the front door to close it when she realized Mayor Harvy Stuart was walking up the driveway.

Though he was the late mayor’s brother, Harvy lacked Dudley’s regal appearance and easy charm. In fact, the closer he came, the clearer it was that he looked disheveled, out of breath, and a bit peeved. Well, his wife Kendall was in prison for murdering Meghan. He had every right to have come undone.

“I was interested in seeing Jessica’s house now that it’s on the market,” he explained. “You work for Justina. Do you have a key?”

Kate frowned. She worked for herself and no one else. And why would he be interested in Jessica’s house? Kendall certainly had been, but you’d think that would leave a bad taste for it in the mayor’s mouth.

“I don’t have a key,” said Kate. “I returned it as soon as I finished my work.” It was a lie, but she wasn't about to let Harvy in without Justina present.

“Justina isn’t answering her cell,” he said.

How could he not have heard about her arrest?

“I recommend getting in touch with the other agent at Carnegie Real Estate,” she suggested. “I can give you the office number.”

“No, I have it,” he grumbled. As he headed down the driveway, he said, “Vote Stuart!” with a wave.

His wife was a murderer. There was no way he’d get reelected.

Four hours had passed by the time Kate was loading empty paint cans and her materials into the bed of her truck. Her arms and shoulders felt sore from rolling paint in five rooms. It could very well take her longer than a few days to get through the repairs on her list. However, with Justina in jail, there was probably some flexibility with the timeline.

She checked her cell for the hour and noticed a new text message, as she climbed into her truck. The sun was setting and dusk fell over Rock Ridge, but she was focused on the message from Scott.

Burritos or tacos?

She noted it was 6:15 p.m. and his text had rolled in about fifteen minutes earlier, so she called him.

“Have you ordered?” she asked as soon as the line opened up.

“I’m inching up the line,” he said. She could hear the smile in his tone. “Looks like everyone in town felt like Mexican take-out tonight. Let’s eat at your place. Mine’s overwrought with case files.”

“Sure.”

“So a chicken burrito?”

“You read my mind,” she said. “And a salad if they have it.”

“You think a Mexican joint has salad?”

“Anything healthy will do,” she explained. “I need to justify some pastries I ate earlier.”

He laughed and told her he’d be at her place in a half hour.

Kate felt exhausted when she returned her cell to her overalls. The one downside of fixing up houses to be put on the market was that the homes were vacant. No one was there to offer her coffee and she’d been too busy to get her fix at Bean There.

She had more than enough time to stop off at the coffee shop on her way home. She could use a cup or five. But the thought of Justina sitting in a jail cell caused her guilt. She decided she could grab a coffee at the county college since it was near the county jail where Justina was being held. It wouldn’t be the greatest cup of Joe, but it’d do the trick.

Assuming the college wouldn’t have the greatest cup of Joe was the understatement of the century. As soon as she’d paid, she edged away from the counter and took a sip. Hot, brown liquid, it was so watered down and stale at best. It seemed like a distant cousin of her beloved beverage, but she didn’t have time to complain. She splashed in a generous quantity of half and half, which she usually never drank, and then added a heap of sugar. Of course that made her cup lukewarm, but she downed it none-the-less, knowing that any caffeine was better than none.

After getting through five minutes of red tape at the county jail, presenting her ID, walking slowly through a metal detector, getting her picture taken, Kate followed a guard through the cellblock. Rock Ridge had virtually no crime so all the cells were empty except for Justina’s.

The real estate agent looked downtrodden, as Kate stepped up to the bars. But her blue eyes sharpened and a faint smile appeared when she realized Kate had come.

“Can’t you make bail?” she asked, as Justina wrapped her hands around the bars.

“I’m still waiting for them to set it,” she explained. “I think they’re waiting on the murder weapon. My defender told me they got a warrant for my house and are searching it.”

“What would the murder weapon have to do with setting bail?”

“I guess it’s the difference of murder in the first or second degree,” she shrugged, as if the logic of any of this was entirely lost on her. “It’s that detective, Ken Johnson. I think he’s dragging his feet on purpose.”

So Ken was in charge of this investigation. Kate wondered what Scott would have to say about this.

“Justina, where were you this morning? Do you have an alibi?”

Regretfully, she shook her head. “I’m desperate, Kate,” she said. “I was home alone. I asked my attorney if they could check my water usage since I was taking a shower when Walter was killed.” She laughed sadly at herself. “As though running a shower would clear me of this.”

“What do they have on you to justify arresting you? Your lawyer must have found out.”

Justina looked at her hands and her expression drew long.

“I moved here from Philadelphia,” she began. “People who were born and raised in a safe town like Rock Ridge don’t understand how much crime goes on in the bigger cities. Philly is a rough city, and when I lived there, I was in a dangerous neighborhood.”

“Okay,” said Kate, following along.

Justina sighed and worked up the nerve to continue her tale.

“One night a friend of mine got attacked.” She swallowed hard. “It was a real wake up call for me. I wasn’t going to be victimized.”

“I’m not going to judge you, Justina. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I ended up buying a gun for protection. I only fired it once in a firing range in Philly right after I bought it. Just to practice. I never touched it again, but of course, I kept it in my purse. But when I moved here I kept it in the closet. There was no need to have it on me.” Again she sighed. “The detectives found a shell casing in Walter’s office. Then they found out I had a registered fire arm.”

“And it was the same caliber,” Kate guessed.

“It was. I know my gun was still in a shoebox in the closet. I know it, Kate. But the cops have been searching for it all day. According to my attorney, they haven’t found it.”

“So they think you used it to kill Walter and then got rid of it,” she said.

“I didn’t kill him. I swear. I needed Walter. And I would never hurt someone. I’d never take a life.”

“I believe you.” Kate pondered the dilemma. “Did anyone have access to your house?”

“It’s possible. The weather’s been so nice I’ve left the windows open. I rarely lock my front door.”

A common mistake of city folk who move to the country; the change in setting could be so dramatic they assume crime doesn’t exist.

“What’s your address?” she asked, pulling her cell from her overalls.

“You’ll look into it?”

“I’ll poke around.” Kate punched the address into her contact for Justina when she recited it then returned her cell to her pocket. “Did Walter ever mention the specifics of his work for Jackie?”

“No, he was a steal vault.”

“Justina, I have to ask you. Did you take over Jackie’s deal with Dudley Stuart for the land out east?”

“No,” she said quickly and with conviction. “I don’t do corporate real estate, only private property and store front space here and there, but it’s small time. In fact, I was against those big development deals. I voiced my concerns in several town meetings. I want Rock Ridge to stay quiet and quaint, and if big corporations come to town, the landscape and economy is going to shift for the worst. The middle class won’t be able to afford this town. It was the last thing I wanted.”

Could that have been the real killer’s motive to frame Justina?

“Do you know Clem Tully?”

“Only by face and name,” she said. “I never really talked to the guy.”

“Okay,” she said, thinking things through. “This could be an uphill battle, but I’ll do what I can.”

Justina smiled. “Thank you.”

“Sit tight. They can’t keep you in here forever. You’ll be up for bail soon enough.”

Kate didn’t have much time to get to her house. Scott would be waiting. However, she needed to show up with an incentive to get him talking, so at the risk of being tardy, she stopped off at Rosalie’s Wines and picked up his favorite bottle of red.

Chapter Four

As Kate drove up her long, windy driveway towards her two-story house, she spotted Scott leaning against his pickup truck, which was parked a good twenty feet from her front door.

“Katy did,” he said when she climbed out of her truck, Meghan’s box in her arms. “I didn’t want to set off the alarm.”

One of the biggest surprises she’d learned about her husband, Greg, was the state-of-the-art security system he’d installed during their marriage. Scott had told her it was suitable to fortify a bank, and the model was rarely used on private homes. Between the security system Greg had installed, the doomsday book Meghan had told her he’d checked out of the library, the mysterious camping equipment charges on his MasterCard she hadn’t been aware he had, and his international travels to the Middle East—Scott had discovered on Greg’s passport—her husband was becoming more and more of a complete stranger to Kate. She couldn’t get to Meghan’s files fast enough.

Kate smiled and handed Scott the bottle of red wine.

He turned the label up and grinned. “My favorite.”

“It was the least I could do,” she said. “You brought dinner.”

She balanced the box on her hip, as she keyed into the front door then quickly punched the security code into the alarm and it stopped beeping.

Scott pulled plates from the kitchen cupboards and set out their burritos then poured a salad into a bowl while Kate set Meghan’s box onto the granite counter and grabbed two long-stem wine glasses.

When they got situated at her dining room table, Scott asked, “What’s with the box?”

“It’s some of Meghan’s stuff from the library,” she said, as she poured the wine.

“Why do you have it?”

“Meghan had been keeping some files. I haven’t looked at them yet, but they could shed light on why she was killed.”

“Kendall’s in prison,” he countered. “What’s there to find out?”

“You tell me,” she said, but managed a smile, as she raised her wine glass encouraging him to do the same.

“Are we toasting to something?”

“Just that it’s been a very long day, and I’m glad to be home.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said then took a sip.

“Meghan was the one who told me about the doomsday book Greg checked out of the library,” she explained. “I’m hoping her files contain more information on him.”

“But you think they’re related to her murder as well?” he asked, catching on. “You think Greg was tied up in her death?”

“Kendall told me Greg had taken the money for the anarchist land deal. So yes, he was involved. Did you know that land deal went through? Clem Tully was contracted to build it.”

Scott frowned, but she couldn’t be sure if it was because he hadn’t known or wasn’t pleased she found out.

She waited to press any of her burning questions until Scott drank his glass of wine. Their conversation skimmed over how his day went, though he failed to mention Justina or his investigating detective, Ken Johnson. She refilled his glass and kept topping it off after every sip and soon their plates were clear.

It wasn’t until Scott’s gaze grew dreamy that she realized the unintended romantic overture of getting him tipsy. So there was no better time to sober him up with a few questions.

“Why is it taking so long for Justina’s bail to be set?”

“How did you hear about that?”

“I spoke with her. It seems like Ken Johnson is stalling the process.”

“Ken’s a good detective. We’ve been backed up with paperwork. The last chief of police left more than a few things in disarray. I’m still playing catch up.”

The previous police chief, Neil Motley, had abruptly moved to North Carolina. Kate had gotten a weird feeling about the man during his reign in Rock Ridge, and it never sat right with her that he’d moved down south around the same time Greg had disappeared. She wondered if he had something to hide.

“Justina’s gun could’ve easily been stolen from her house,” she said.

“You heard about her gun, too?” Scott pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair as if to distance himself from her nosey ways. “Look, you’ve got to let Ken do his job. He’s good at it.”

“I don’t think she killed Walter.”

“Well, forensics don’t lie.”

“A shell casing from a weapon that was likely stolen? That doesn’t link Justina to his murder.”

“Actually, it does.” He sighed. “I wanted to relax with you, Kate. Not get strong armed into divulging confidential information.”

“Why would she kill him?” she challenged.

“It’ll take time to sort through his office and review all the files he had for her real estate deals, but trust me, we’ll find out.”

Kate could tell he wasn’t going to make her privy, and as frustrating as it was, she accepted there was nothing she could do about it.

“Have you looked into Greg’s MasterCard? Did you find anything else out?”

“I’ve been canvasing the cities he traveled to in the Middle East, trying to find out where he stayed, what he did there. So far, once he landed in Dubai, Beirut, Cairo, and Baghdad there’s no trace of him. I checked every hotel and cross-referenced the dates with his MasterCard and there’s no record of him being there. He could’ve functioned under an alias in those cities. I’m doing what I can, but there’s a lot of red tape and even though I work in law enforcement, I don’t exactly have jurisdiction.”

Her heart sank, which Scott must have sensed, because he added, “I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. Don’t worry.”

She then remembered Meghan’s box. Quickly, she excused herself to the kitchen where she’d left it on the counter then returned. Scott was collecting their plates to clear space, and when he sat down, she began lifting items out of the box.

Kate set the manila file folder on the table then, standing over the box, lifted out a framed photo of Meghan smiling in front of the library. It struck Kate as possibly Meghan’s first day of work. Next she pulled out a mug, a stapler, a stress ball, and a few romance novels, which made her smile. Meghan had often surprised her with a dirty joke or two, and the steamy books seemed to resonate her humor. She placed each item on the table then found a loose photo of a young boy, who she didn’t recognize. Meghan had never been married and certainly didn’t have children. She wondered who the child was.

“Let me see,” said Scott when she stared at the photo for too long.

“I don’t know who he is,” she said, passing the photo.

“Hmmm.” After a moment, Scott told her, “I can put this through our face recognition software at the station.”

With the box empty, she sat and opened the manila folder.

The top sheet was some kind of to-do list written in sloppy scrawls. As Kate skimmed it, she gleaned most of the tasks were relevant to her duties at the library so she set it aside.

Scott switched his chair so that he was to her left and could glance at the papers with her. He passed Kate her glass of wine, which she sipped absentmindedly then set aside. He refreshed his glass and frowned at the sheet.

It was a list of library books, and at the top of the page, she read Greg’s full name and his library card number.

Kate read the book out loud. “The Anarchist’s Bible. The Counter-Culture of Anarchy. Why Civilization Is Killing Us. Manifesto of a Dark Journey: Anarchy in the 20th Century.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Jerusalem Fallen: The Rise of New World Anarchy.”

“He could’ve been researching the enemy if he really did have government ties,” Scott suggested as though that would make this easier.

“What if his government ties weren’t with the U.S.?”

They locked eyes, then Kate set the Greg’s library list aside to find another, but the name at the top of the page was Mike Waters.

“Who is Mike Waters?” asked Scott.

“I don’t know,” she said then gasped. “Oh my God.”

Quickly, she set Greg’s list next to Mike Waters'. His list was far longer, but Meghan had highlighted select titles.

Scott’s gaze darted from Greg’s list to Mike’s, as he said, “They checked out the same books.”

Kate diverted her gaze and downed her glass of wine. Greg’s secrets had her overwhelmed. When Scott took the two lists in his hands, Kate realized the last item in the file was another photo. She nearly choked on her wine, as her mind registered who the two people were in the shot.

It was Walter Miller and the little boy from the other photo.

Chapter Five

Kate didn’t have to get out of bed to know today would be a chilly one. In fact, she didn’t want to get out of bed. She could feel the draft even under her blankets. Her nose was cold, and though the air that seeped through the windowpane was crisp and refreshing, it only made her want to linger or perhaps fall back asleep. But she was busier than ever. Justina’s list of repairs would demand the majority of her time, plus she’d gotten other small fix-it jobs to which she’d need to tend. So she whipped the covers back and was quick to throw on her robe and slippers.

The morning light barely pierced through her kitchen window, as she stood in front of her coffee maker and remembered she was out of fresh grounds. She usually had a cup before hopping in the shower, and realizing she was out launched her into a sour mood, but she shook it off, warmed up in a hot shower, and was sure to dress in layers—a long-sleeved shirt under her overalls, long Johns, and a flannel over that. Once dressed, she grabbed her heavy Carhartt coat, which was too bulky to work in but would warm her up between jobs, and was out the door.

When she walked into Bean There, she was happy to see her best friend Carly at the counter. She made a mental note she’d need to find time to buy Carly a birthday present before the party this weekend. But like Larry, it was tricky to feel certain about what Carly might like. Funny how you could know someone your entire life and still not be confident about what to get them. Not that Carly was picky or easily disappointed by gifts, quite the opposite in fact.

There wasn’t a line, so Kate joined her at the counter just as Clara, the barista turned to pour Carly’s coffee.

“You out of coffee as well?”

Carly turned to her and brightened. “I haven’t seen you in days,” she remarked. “Yeah, I’ve got a number of deliveries this morning and thought making a full pot at Sunshine would get stale sitting on the burner for hours. No sense in wasting the good stuff.”

“Excited about your birthday?”

“If it doesn’t rain.”

“You think it might?”

Carly shrugged then accepted her to-go cup from Clara.

“This autumn weather can be unpredictable,” she said finally.

Kate greeted Clara and ordered her usual. As she waited, she wondered about Carly’s father, Detective Ken Johnson. He was a formidable man, who she’d grown up fearing, though she never distrusted him. In her adult years, she’d been far less intimidated by him. But now that his name had come up in regards to Walter Miller’s murder, first with Clem then with Justina. Old fears were resurfacing. She was tempted to ask Carly about him, but what sense would that make? If Ken was involved with shady undertakings, it’s not like he’d call a family meeting and give Carly the update.

“Is something on your mind?” she asked when Kate had fallen into deep consideration.

“Still half asleep, I guess.”

Clara set her coffee on the counter and said, “This will help with that.”

Kate paid then stepped away from the counter with Carly so the customers who had lined up behind them could voice their orders.

“How are you holding up?” Carly asked, and at first Kate couldn’t pinpoint specifically what her friend was alluding to. She was most shaken by what she’d learned of Greg based on Meghan’s files, mainly because it had stirred up more questions than answers. But her friend, Meghan, had also been killed, which Kate was still processing. And of course she’d discovered Walter dead. Thankfully, Carly clarified so she didn’t have to guess. “It must have been traumatic finding Walter Miller.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Then Carly leaned towards her in a secretive huddle. “I heard Justina Anastasi did it.”

Carly didn’t know Justina like Kate did. She was only a face and name who occasionally placed flower orders with Carly when she needed to spruce up a house for sale, but even then, they hadn’t interacted face to face. So Kate didn’t blame her friend for hopping on the rumor mill and speculating.

Carly could read her expression like an open book, however, and asked, “You don’t think she did it?”

“I don’t see why she would have. But then again I’m not investigating.”

She shot her a wry smile and sideways glance.

“Okay, fine, I’m poking around a little. I don’t believe she’s guilty. I’m just trying to help her get a fair shake.”

“You’re a good friend, Kate,” she concluded. “I just hope you’re right.”

With that, Carly passed through the door and rounded into her car, a long day of delivering flowers ahead of her.

Kate checked the time and reasoned she could eat her muffin and pastry at Bean There, as opposed to juggling it behind the wheel of her truck. She took a seat at a round table in front of the window and pulled her cell phone from her overalls.

She’d looked up the recommended divorce attorney’s office number last night and saved it in her contacts so she put the call through and hoped Arthur would be available.

A receptionist picked up, announcing the name of the firm, then forwarded her call to Arthur’s assistant, who told her he wasn’t available. She offered Kate an appointment in the afternoon after Kate had stated her reason for needing Arthur’s services.

By the time she hung up she had an appointment for four o’clock. Hopefully, all the documents Walter had asked her to gather would be all Arthur would need to get the divorce underway and the meeting wouldn’t eat up too much of her time. It was a good thing she’d gotten so much extra work recently. An attorney’s bill would be quite expensive to tackle.

She took a moment to drink her coffee and eat most of her chocolate chip muffin, which tasted less like breakfast and more like cake, not that she was complaining. She gazed out the window and got a bit lost in the sight of the treetops, leafy and exploding with autumn colors, as they swayed into the breeze. Then she hopped up, discarded her muffin wrapper in the trash, and ordered a refill on her to-go cup, which Clara tended to immediately.

As she walked to her truck, steaming coffee warm in her hands, she felt her cell vibrate in her overalls.

“Justina?” she asked with her phone to her ear. “How are you doing?”

“I’m finally out on bail,” she said on a sigh.

“Does that mean they found the murder weapon?”

“No,” she said. “But they couldn’t keep me in there forever. I’m not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing they couldn’t find the gun. I’m just glad to be out for the time being.”

“Let’s hope the killer still has your gun in their possession. It would be the best thing for you,” said Kate. “Are you headed home?”

“It’s still being searched as far as I know. I was going to head to the office. My normal routine will calm my nerves more than sitting at home anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re out. I’ll probably swing by Carnegie later.”

“All my employees are authorized to write you a check,” she mentioned, “so if I’m not there and you need reimbursement on supplies or your labor fee paid for your work so far, then please feel free. But I should be there unless I connect with the mayor to show him Jessica’s house.”

“Sounds good,” she said and climbed into her truck.

She returned her cell to her pocket then headed to Grayson’s Hardware to pick up more supplies. Larry was involved with a handful of customers when she walked in the door. He explained to them how to sand spackle smooth while giving a mini demonstration, so Kate helped herself to collecting the materials she would need for the next house on Justina’s list.

In a stroke of good timing, Larry’s customers had taken to roaming the aisles, as she stepped up to the counter. He rang up her items.

“Now I’m wondering what to get Carly for her birthday,” she mused. “I feel like a deer in headlights.”

“What about that new salon on Rock Ridge Road?” He suggested. “You could get her a gift certificate for a haircut.”

Kate’s brows flew up she was so impressed with the idea.

“You know, I think I’ll do that,” she said.

Larry helped her carry her materials out to her truck and set them in the truck bed then bid her a good day and disappeared inside the hardware store.

The house next on her list belonged to Bobbie Hamden, who Kate was well acquainted with since she worked at the permit office where Kate got all of her permits to build when such a document was necessary. Bobbie had been involved with a nice man, Jimmy Cranston, who worked a floor above her. And their relationship had evolved gradually over the course of a decade. Kate smiled to herself as she carried her materials to the front door of Bobbie's house. She was glad Bobbie and Jimmy were taking the next logical step in their relationship, moving in together, which was the reason Bobbie had contacted Justina to put her house on the market.

Some relationships took their time and meandered towards real and lasting commitment, and that gave Kate hope. She was certainly taking her time with Scott. It wasn’t at all like their hot and heavy relationship in high school. Young love tended to move swiftly and falter just as easily as theirs had when Scott moved away at the drop of a hat. This time around they were calm and steady in their efforts to rebuild a strong connection. He hadn’t intruded on her solitary life, and she hadn’t inserted herself into his. They were naturally growing closer and closer, gradually spending more time together, and unlike their time in high school, things felt grounded and real between them.

Kate let herself in and muscled her materials into the kitchen, which she understood would require the most work. She had to replace all the cabinet doors with new ones and re-tile the floor, as well as spackle and paint the living room and master bedroom. Then once the repairs were complete, she would need to stage the house. Bobbie had left the living room sofa and her bed behind at Justina’s request so the house wouldn’t look bare, a realtor’s trick on par with baking cookies at every open house so the prospective buyers would immediately associate the house with a real home.

As Kate got to work, the effort to hang the cabinets warmed her from the chill in the house. It was an hour before the new doors had been drilled in, and it made a huge difference in the kitchen that was otherwise a bit rundown.

She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her flannel, as she glanced out the window and realized the house across the street was blocked off with yellow crime scene tape.

It had slipped her attention that she was on Pennsylvania Lane at an address incidentally across the street from Justina’s house.

Kate didn’t see any police vehicles or officers in sight, which told her they’d likely concluded their search.

She was on a very tight schedule and couldn’t be late for Arthur at four o’clock, but still the urge to sneak over and poke around nagged at her. She reasoned that the police officers or Detective Ken Johnson had surely collected any evidence in Justina’s house, but then she realized that his team would have been looking for evidence against Justina, not evidence that could support or prove her innocence.

She decided she would spackle the living room and bedroom, filling in the holes and dents, and then use the drying time to head over to Justina’s house. So that’s what she did.

Bobbie must not have hung too many paintings, because Kate only had to spackle three holes in the living room and two in the bedroom, which didn’t take long, then she rounded through the house and stepped outside into the fresh air.

Pennsylvania Lane was sleepy. No cars rolled through, and she noted only a few were parked in driveways here and there. Most everyone was at work. And when she observed that the houses to the left and right of Justina’s looked dark within and didn’t have any vehicles in their driveways, she felt that no one would spy her. In case someone did, Kate grabbed a can of paint from the bed of her truck along with a roller. If anyone questioned her, she’d mention she was there to paint, which no one would be able to argue with.

Justina had told her she kept a spare key in a fake rock in front of one of the planters beside her front door. Not the safest security measure, she thought, and when she found the rock she realized how easy it would’ve been for the killer to let themself in. The fake rock was shiny plastic and didn’t at all match the other real rocks it was clustered with.

She slid the bottom of the fake rock out and plucked the key out then let herself in the front door and immediately her heart dropped for Justina. The police had ransacked her home and left it an absolute mess. She set down the paint can and roller, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. What was she even looking for? And how would she find it in this mess?

Kate crept through the living room, which looked like a tornado had passed through it and lifted items as she went. She returned a lamp to the end table it'd fallen from. She set the cushions back on the couch. A chair was on its side so she righted it, all the while loose papers rustled under her boots. She thought to gather them up, maybe skim each document, when she sensed she wasn’t alone.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

She whipped around and found Ken Johnson standing at the edge of the living room just shy of the foyer. She hadn’t heard him come in and being startled, she stammered to remember her excuse.

“Justina permitted me,” she said finally. “She asked me to paint.”

“And yet you’re sorting through this mess?” he challenged.

Suddenly, she felt like she was eight years old all over again and Carly’s dad had caught them playing in his office where they didn’t belong.

“She’s not going to be pleased when she gets home. I thought I’d straighten up.”

“You need to leave now,” he ordered.

Then it occurred to her. What was Ken doing here if the police had concluded their search? Did he have the murder weapon? Had he come back to plant it now that his team of officers were gone? During Clem’s phone call, he’d certainly implied Ken was looking out for whomever he was talking to. Had it been the killer?

All of these questions were on the tip of her tongue, but confronting Ken with no witnesses present seemed too risky an endeavor, so she said, “Fine,” and started for the foyer where she’d left her paint can and roller.

He barely moved as she passed, but soon she was out the door, paint and roller in hand.

More and more she felt like these murders in Rock Ridge were somehow connected to Greg’s disappearance, and it caused her to feel like the walls were closing in all around her. But could she really have spent the last five years with people who had kept Greg’s reason for disappearing a complete secret from her? The very notion made her blood run cold. Was Rock Ridge even more of a stranger than her husband was turning out to be?

Chapter Six

Kate spent the rest of the morning re-tiling Bonnie’s kitchen floor. She sliced through the old linoleum with a razor knife and pulled up the strips to clear the surface for the new tiles. Next, she positioned the new tiles in the mortar she’d brought, pressing each into place. The adhesive had a strong chemical smell, so she opened all the windows before spreading a thin layer to set the tiles down row by row. As she worked, Clem’s phone conversation that she’d overheard kept nagging at her. And by the time she’d laid down all the tiles, she realized what she could do about it.

Since the land deal out east had gone through, it meant that Bonnie might be able to help. The permits office would have record of who owns the property, because they would’ve needed a permit to build, which could possibly list the investors. It was a safe assumption to think that the killer was involved in the project. Tully Construction was at the helm of the build. Clem, the owner, had assured someone on the phone that with Justina’s arrest there was no need to worry. That alone told her that the construction project required Walter Miller to die. Her mind started racing at the prospect all these murders might somehow explain what had happened to Greg, Meghan’s files coming to mind. However, she calmed her speeding thoughts and reminded herself to take it one step at a time.

The permits office was located in the Rock Ridge Municipal Complex adjacent to the police station where Ken Johnson would eventually turn up. Scott, as well, had warned her about snooping, so she parked in the back so that her gray truck boasting Mrs. Fix It wouldn’t be in plain view.

When she reached the second floor, Bonnie was buried in a mountain of paperwork at her desk, but she smiled at Kate as soon as she caught her eye.

“How’s it coming along?” she asked, grabbing her purse then making her way to the counter to reach Kate.

“Great,” she said. “The new kitchen floor looks amazing.”

Bonnie was quick to reach for her checkbook to pay Kate.

“I’ll finish up tomorrow if not this afternoon,” she explained, which implied there was no need to pay yet.

“Oh, then what can I do you for?”

“I’m interested in getting a little information on the land deal that went through out east. Tully Construction is building a new development over there, and I figured you’d have all the information since they would’ve had to secure permits with you.”

“True,” said Bonnie. “But our paperwork only notes the builder. So if you already know its Tully Construction there’s not much more I can do for you.”

Shoot. She hadn’t thought of that.

Bonnie added, “The town clerk would have that information though.”

“Are they on the first floor?” she asked, not quite remembering.

“No, one floor up. I’ll call up to Jimmy to let him know you’re headed his way.”

“Thanks,” said Kate.

Bonnie smiled then started for her desk, as Kate veered through the door and down the hall to the stairs.

One flight up, she found the town clerk’s suite and asked the receptionist for Jimmy Cranston. As soon as she did, Jimmy came barreling into the anteroom from his office.

He was a big bear of a man, towering at six foot four with a thin tuft of wispy brown hair and round, glassy eyes behind thick, tortoise-shell glasses.

“Kate, come on in,” he said in his deep, booming voice.

She followed him into his office, which was as disheveled as any government employee's, but she found a chair in front of his desk and eased into it.

He sat with a grunt then typed quickly on his keyboard.

“I understand you’d like the see the deed for the new development.”

“Yes, any and all information would be great,” she said.

A moment passed, Jimmy typing and breathing hard with the effort, then his printer whined and began spitting out a copy. He grabbed it as soon as the sheet was free, then looked it over, getting his thumb on the pulse of the deal he’d probably long since forgotten.

“Looks like the deed was signed over to a company called AFN.”

AFN? That would have to be the Anarchist Freedom Network.

Jimmy went on reading. “And the principal appears to be Michael Waters.”

Mike Waters? The library patron who’d checked out the same anarchist books her husband had according to Meghan’s files.

“Let’s see here,” he continued, skimming through the report. “We’ve got some investors.”

“Perfect,” Kate said, eager to have the copy in her hand.

“Looks like a corporation called the Beirut Building Project, another called Princes of Dubai, as well as a few individuals, Harvy Stuart—”

“The mayor?” Kate was stunned.

“That’d be the one,” he confirmed. “And Walter Miller.”

“Walter Miller?” she asked in disbelief just as the printer began spitting out another sheet.

Jimmy chuckled and said, “This old thing,” as he tapped the printer. “Takes forever.” Then Jimmy passed the first sheet to Kate and began looking over the second. “Oh, scratch that,” he said. “Walter pulled out of the deal.”

Which would give Harvy Stuart, Mike Waters, or any of the other investors motive to kill Walter for backing out. But would this copy of the deed be enough to clear Justina’s name?

“If he pulled out, did anyone else step in to invest the balance?” Kate wondered.

“Not that I can see, but the deal went through, so you’d have to figure one of the other listed investor’s stepped up and filled the gap.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the second sheet. “I can’t tell you how helpful this is.”

“Any friend of Bonnie’s is a friend of mine,” he said with a smile.

As she crossed through the back parking lot towards her truck, she pondered why Walter Miller would have gotten involved in an investment with the Anarchist Freedom Network. Equally puzzling was the fact that Harvy, too, was involved, though considering he was married to Kendall, a woman Kate discovered had been directly linked to the anarchists and knew her husband Greg had taken their money, it actually made sense.

It also wasn’t lost on her that the investing companies, Beirut Building Project and Princes of Dubai, were clearly founded from the same Middle Eastern cities Greg had traveled to according to his passport.

Had Greg played a similar role as Walter Miller? Had Greg been involved with the development then learned something he couldn’t live with, attempted to extricate himself from the project, and been killed? Or had he been threatened when he expressed leaving the project and had the good sense to disappear before he could be killed? Or had he been working for the government as a spy essentially and been yanked from his investigation before he could come into life threatening danger?

Had Greg been the one to travel to these cities in the Middle East to garnish the investments in the first place?

Her head was swimming by the time she inserted her key into the ignition, but one thing was clear, if Walter had withdrawn his investment then no one had more motive to kill him than Harvy Stuart and Mike Waters. She needed to get this information to Scott if for no other reason than to exonerate Justina.

But it was fast approaching four o’clock and she couldn’t be late for her appointment with her new divorce attorney, so when she pulled onto Main Street, she headed left towards Arthur’s office.

Again she slipped into deep thought. It was as though she had all the dots and could see them clearly, but couldn’t quite connect them, the dot representing Greg being the most glaring. But when she spotted the bright pink sign for Harriet’s Hairdos she made a fast decision to pull curbside directly in front.

Nothing made Kate feel more androgynous in her overalls, work boots, and mussed hair than encountering well-polished and well-dressed stylists, which described the ladies who were snipping and fluffing their customers’ hair in front of a row of mirrors.

Sheepishly, Kate approached a young woman sitting behind the counter who seemed to have taken her fashion cues from Lady Gaga’s music videos. Kate wasn’t sure where to look, so she smiled and began rummaging through her purse for her debit card.

“I’d like to get a gift certificate for a cut and color,” she explained, handing her card to the woman. “It’s for my friend.”

“No problem,” said the young woman. “I’m Molly.”

“Nice to meet you. Kate Flaherty. I’m the local handywoman, so if you ever need a repair or fresh coat of paint, I’m your girl.”

“Good to know,” she said. “Do you know which stylist you’d like?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, each stylist costs a different amount,” she explained. “Harriet, the owner, is the most experienced. And we have Jane and Samantha. Jane is priced in the middle and Samantha’s the most affordable.”

Kate didn’t want to be cheap with Carly, but she had a feeling Harriet might cost an arm and a leg. “Let’s go with Jane.”

“You got it,” she said, as she processed the charge and inserted one of their gift cards into her system. It popped out a moment later, and she tucked it into a pink foil cardholder that read the name of the salon and all its contact information then handed it to Kate along with her debit card and a receipt.

Arthur Joseph’s legal firm was just a few blocks up the street, so Kate decided to walk now that the sun had warmed the chill out of the air.

The sky overhead was clear and blue, and she hoped for Carly’s sake it’d stay that way for her birthday party since the plan was to barbecue outside.

When she reached the law firm, she pulled the heavy oak door open and checked in with the receptionist for her appointment with Arthur. She was told to head straight down the hall to his office, which she did, finding his door wide open.

Arthur was a lanky man, who looked as though he rarely saw any sunlight. He was pale, and his cheeks were gaunt and sunken in, but his eyes were clear and bright, the mark of a highly intelligent and discerning attorney.

“Kate Flaherty,” he said with a smile, as he got to his feet and rounded his desk to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve brought all the documents my last lawyer, Walter Miller had asked me to collect.”

“Great,” he said, taking the files. “I couldn’t get my hands on Walter’s client file on you,” he mentioned, as he returned to his seat behind the desk. “Apparently, his entire office is considered evidence, so why don’t you get me up to speed on where things stand.”

She’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to, but she gave him the basic rundown anyway, taking her time to explain how Greg had disappeared over five years ago. He’d left without a trace, and though she’d hired investigators, nothing had turned up. For the sake of her sanity, she didn’t delve into the harrowing findings she and Scott had discovered about Greg since she figured it’d have no bearing on the actual divorce. Arthur made notes in his laptop computer when necessary and took a deep breath after she concluded all that she thought pertinent to tell him.

“Ah,” he said, wrapping up his notes. “There are a few more hurtles for us in your situation as opposed to a normal divorce where the filer can issue the divorce papers to their spouse. The first step is, we’re going to have to run a notice of your intent to divorce Greg in the newspaper.”

Kate gulped. Broadcast my divorce? It unnerved her.

“You see, ordinarily you’d file either a no-fault or at-fault divorce decree. But since you don’t know where Greg is, we must file something called a Divorce by Publication. We’ll ask the court for an Order of Notice by Publication, which we’ll run in the paper for three weeks. Of course, Greg won’t respond, so after three weeks of no response we’ll then get an affidavit of marshal service attesting the publication has run, and we’ll use that to file for divorce with the court. It’s a lot of work on the front end, but I think we can assume that there won’t be too much hassle on the back end involving dividing the marital assets.”

“No, I doubt it,” she agreed. “He left everything behind, so I don’t foresee him popping up to demand half the assets.”

“Okay,” said Arthur. “I’ll get started on the paperwork. Margie out front can go over billing and get you set up on a payment plan if need be. The only costs you’ll have to prepay with her are the actual cost of obtaining the Order of Notice and the actual space in the paper.”

“I understand,” said Kate, as she got to her feet and shook his hand. “Thanks again.”

She stopped by Margie’s desk where Margie was already printing out an invoice for the charges Arthur had mentioned. The total didn’t gouge Kate too badly, so she wrote a check.

“You’re in good hands,” said Margie, as though she was already intimate with the details of Kate’s strange marriage. Suddenly, she realized who Margie was.

“You went to high school with my boys, didn’t you?” she asked.

Margie smiled. “I was a senior when they were freshman, but yes.”

“I remember you were one of the cheerleaders at their football games.” Margie lit up that she remembered, and Kate soon laughed. “Mostly brains and little brawn,” she mused. “Jared and Jason spent most games on the bench.”

“They’re better off,” said Margie. “It’s not good getting hit in the head like that.”

The second she left the building and stepped into the fresh air, Mrs. Briar stomped angrily towards Kate with her finger pointed at Kate’s face.

“That’s her!” Mrs. Briar exclaimed. “That’s the thief who stole Meghan’s box!”

Jarred, Kate quickly noticed Scott staring at her, raising his hands as if it might calm Mrs. Briar down.

Chapter Seven

“She took it from right under my nose!” Mrs. Briar narrowed her beady eyes at Kate, but Scott gently urged her back.

“All right, Mrs. Briar,” he said in a contrived calm tone. “Let’s keep the big picture in mind.”

“Let’s!” she agreed, completely missing Scott’s point. “There are consequences.”

Kate was appalled the woman had demanded that the chief of police address this matter.

“And the big picture,” he went on to clarify, “is that Meghan Tully’s belongings should go to her brother. I’ll make sure that they do.”

The librarian seemed offended that Scott was falling short of meeting her idea of justice and became suddenly speechless, though her mouth gaped.

“I’ll speak with Kate privately now,” he said and ushered Mrs. Briar to her vehicle.

“You’re banned from the library!”

Scott didn’t hesitate to inform her that she couldn’t ban Kate from the library then helped her into her car.

When he returned, Kate laughed uncomfortably until Scott regarded her with an air of embarrassment.

“That’s where you got Meghan’s box?”

“I know it was out of character that I took it.”

“To say the least.”

“But aren’t you glad I did?”

“You’re getting bold.”

“Wouldn’t I have to?” Kate held his gaze and watched him soften.

“Next time give me a call.”

“You came over here to scold me?”

“No, I was headed over anyway,” he said.

“To talk to Arthur?”

“To talk to you.”

“How did you know I was here?” Kate asked since she didn’t recall telling him her appointment with Arthur was this afternoon.

“Mrs. Briar told me. Don’t ask how she knew,” he said with a slight eye roll. “Now I want you to let me handle things,” he went on, changing topics. “I don’t want you going off half-cocked until I have more information.”

“What?” she asked eagerly.

“I got a little help from Missing Persons,” he began. “I showed them the photo of the little boy we found in Meghan’s box.”

“Who was also pictured with Walter Miller,” she stated.

“Yes. He’s Jessica’s son.”

Kate’s eyes widened. When Jessica was married to Dudley, Kate had gone to her house to do a quick repair, and Jessica opened up to her that her son had disappeared years ago. She’d told Kate that Greg had made efforts to help her find her son, but he was never found. Walter Miller had been in the photo with her son? Why would Meghan have obtained those photos and kept them with information about Greg unless the two were connected?

“Are you going to talk with Jessica?” she asked.

“Missing Persons will,” he said. “According to their report on Bradley, there was no mention of Walter Miller, but this is a small town and there could be a straight forward explanation if Walter was a family friend of the late mayor’s.”

She nodded and tried to calm her excitement.

“Now they’re going to talk to Jessica, and I’ll do a follow up.”

“Because something isn’t quite right?” she asked. Scott had one of those faces that foreshadowed his thoughts whether he shared them or not.

He grimaced and seemed to debate if he should tell her what was on his mind.

“Just tell me, Scott. This thing is getting closer and closer to shedding light on what happened to Greg.”

“I’d like to find out where Meghan got these photos.”

“And?”

“And...,” he trailed off then bit the bullet, “Bradley was reported missing when he was four years old.”

Kate’s heart skipped a beat. “The boy in those photos was older than four. He looked about seven.”

“Exactly.”

“So someone took him from Jessica, but didn’t take him far if Walter was able to spend time with him and have their photo taken.”

“That’s what it’s looking like.”

Interesting that Dudley had been killed. Though it had been Beth, the reporter, who took his life in self-defense or so she’d said, Dudley wasn’t alive to ask about who might have taken their son. If Dudley was involved in a land deal with the anarchists, it was possible the group could’ve taken Bradley as a consequence of Dudley not falling in line. And if Dudley had kept all of this secret from Jessica then talking to her now wouldn’t help. Likewise, Walter wasn’t alive to interrogate as to why he was in a photo with the boy years after Bradley had gone missing.

“Who took the photo of Walter and Bradley?” she asked. “We have to figure out who was behind the camera.”

“My feeling exactly, except that I have to figure it out, not us and not you.”

“This has to do with Greg,” she objected.

“This has to do with a murder investigation,” he countered.

She held her tongue.

“Promise me you won’t talk to Jessica about this. Kate?” He searched her eyes. “You don’t want to compromise the investigation.”

“All right,” she said, reluctantly.

“I can trust you?”

“Yes,” she said.

Scott let out a sigh of relief. “Let me walk you to your truck.”

They started off across the parking lot.

“How’d it go with Arthur?” he asked.

“Good,” she said. “He seems knowledgeable. We’re getting the ball rolling and should be able to file with the court in about three weeks.”

Scott smiled, all anxiety about Kate’s meddling gone from his face. “You’ll be a free woman in a month,” he mused.

She’d been a free woman for a good long while now, but she agreed. “Officially, yes.”

She unlocked her truck, and Scott opened the driver’s side door for her. It suddenly struck her what her divorce really meant. Not only would she be officially on the market again, but things with Scott could get very serious very quickly. What if he wanted to marry her? They weren’t young anymore. What if he felt like there was no time to waste? She’d worked too hard to master her independence. She felt a sudden urge to pump the breaks.

Scott closed the door for her after she settled behind the wheel, and she immediately rolled her window down.

“Dinner tonight?” she asked.

“What time should I be at your place?”

She grinned. “Let’s say seven.”

When he walked off to his pickup truck, she backed out of her spot and got an idea.

Kate hadn’t been to the campsite out east in perhaps a decade. Thinking back, it felt like a lifetime ago. When she and Greg had been embarking on their eighth year of marriage and the twins were seven, her father, who now lived in Florida, inspired Kate to take the boys camping. Greg had seemed squeamish at the idea but hid it well enough from Jason and Jared. He’d been reluctant to go with Kate to the sporting goods store that sold camping equipment. When they got to the campsite, he’d insisted they pitch their tents near the communal bathrooms and not deep in the woods. And it had been because of Greg that they didn’t make it through the entire weekend, even though the boys were having a blast, but still they packed up the very next morning and drove home.

During that trip, they’d still managed to have fun. Greg had enjoyed a few laughs, and Kate did a decent job of keeping him loose and relaxed with a beer or two. But ultimately their time there had showed Kate that Greg wasn’t at all made for the woods.

But recalling his attitude was impossible to reconcile when she considered the fact he’d bought a lot of high tech camping equipment on his secret MasterCard.

Jessica’s son, Bradley, had disappeared. Greg had been helping her, unbeknownst to Kate, with locating her son.

Maybe Greg hadn’t been intimidated by camping in general, but was expressing real fears about what might happen to them at the campsite for other reasons. Had he been on edge because he suspected their sons, Jason and Jared, could fall prey to the same fate as Bradley if they went camping there? Had that been the real source of his trepidation?

She wondered, and doing so made her both angry and scared. Had Greg been a stranger even back then and she hadn’t even known it? How could she have been so blind?

If Mike Waters had checked out all the same books as Greg and was also on the land deed of the campsite, then she would have to look around the campsite and see what she might be able to find out.

As she drove deeper into the woods, the asphalt road turned bumpy with potholes and old frost heaves from winters past. She squeezed the brakes until she was rolling along at less than thirty miles per hour. The last thing she needed was to cause any more wear and tear on her truck. She’d been lucky she hadn’t needed to take it into Bob’s Garage these past few weeks. The old thing seemed to be holding up and she’d like to keep it that way.

Soon the road narrowed, and the double yellow line up its middle disappeared. The thick forest on either side of the road thinned out, and her truck began climbing a steady incline until the road came to a rickety wooden gate. The gate was open. Brush had grown up around it in tangles, and because of it, she almost didn’t see an old weathered sign that said Rock Ridge Campsite. Above it, however, there was a pristine sign for Tully Construction.

She kept her truck creeping along into the campsite. It wasn’t four hundred yards before she noticed the gravely path she drove along was flanked by dozens of tents. Beyond them was a set of mobile trailers, which also said Tully Construction. And in the far distance she spied two bulldozers and tall stacks of building materials, though she didn’t see any construction workers. She checked her rearview and side mirrors and caught a little movement around the tents, campers on foot lazing about. Most of them looked like young adults, slightly homeless, as though they’d run away five years ago and hadn’t had the means to buy new clothes or take care of themselves like real adults.

Kate rolled her truck to a stop a good thirty yards shy of the trailers then climbed out. A few of the campers had taken notice of her, but didn’t necessarily seem alarmed or curious. Maybe they figured she was with the construction team since her truck had Mrs. Fix It printed on the side.

Glancing around, she realized more and more campers were in the surrounding woods. When they turned their backs to her incidentally here and there, she noticed they each had the anarchist symbol, a red circle with a haphazard A-triangle slashed through it, on their backs. It reminded her of the years Jared and Jason had perched close to the TV and watched Sons of Anarchy. They’d been immune to the over-the-top violence of the show, like most boys their age, but Kate couldn’t look at the screen for very long. She hoped the campers here were nothing like those characters.

Cautiously, she started for the first trailer. She kept her wits about her, looked over her shoulder, noted where the campers were huddled or crossing through to the tents. As she neared the trailer, she heard voices within, speaking low. She couldn’t place how many people were inside or what they were saying, but she got a better sense when she approached the stairs that ran up to its door.

If she wasn’t mistaken, one of the voices was Clem’s, but that was no shocker. He was overseeing the construction development. She imagined he’d have to spend a lot of time here. What didn’t make sense was why there were no construction workers here. No one was actually building, yet it wasn’t yet five and there was a good two hours worth of light left in the day.

She felt uncomfortable and conspicuous. Her luck that they hadn’t paid any attention to her could soon run out, so she rounded the back of the trailer, where she was less likely to be seen, and pressed her ear to the side of the trailer.

Muffled though they were, she could now hear Clem speaking to one other man. If there were more inside, they weren’t talking.

“I don’t see why you’re worried,” said Clem, who sounded strained in his assurances. “Look, we can’t rush this. Constructing the center is going to take years. It’s a slow process. This isn’t a renovation. It’s a full build.”

His tone reminded her of his earlier phone call when she’d installed a shelving unit in his office at Tully Construction. That call had sounded entirely focused on Walter Miller’s murder. Was he talking to the same person now?

“Cut it down to months,” the other man demanded. “I don’t care what it takes, and I don’t care what it costs.”

“You’re costs are finite,” Clem countered. “The funds you raised are the funds you raised, and I formulated my budget accordingly.”

“I’ll get more money,” he countered.

There was a pause, and Kate imagined Clem’s skepticism.

Clem finally spoke. “Look, these are union guys. They work union hours. If you want them working around the clock on this, it’s going to triple your cost. Trust me you don’t want that. And quite frankly, even if you did, the guys wouldn’t go for it.”

“Get more guys.”

“How big do you think this town is?”

“The investors are flying in next month,” he said urgently. “I can’t show them a vacant lot and two bulldozers. I need to show them we’re erecting a structure.”

“In a month we’ll barely have the foundation set in the earth. You’re being unreasonable.”

Kate heard footsteps, as though the man talking to Clem was stalking towards him. It made her stomach clench with nerves.

“Do I have to remind you who these people are?” he asked.

Clem didn’t respond, probably too scared to.

“Do I have to remind you of the big picture? Do I have to remind you what happened to the last person who tried to slow this project down?”

Clem’s response came on a trembling and quiet voice, “I’m not trying to slow this project down. I’m trying to manage expectations and be realistic about the timeline.”

Kate suddenly felt eager to get out of there. Their tones and the severity behind their statements gave her a very bad feeling. She turned for her truck and startled to find a young man standing in front of her.

“Can I help you?” he asked, though it sounded like a threat.

He couldn’t have been older than twenty-four or twenty-five, but his skin looked weathered, perhaps from years of smoking cigarettes and suffering harsh winters at the campsite. His clothes were tattered, and yet somehow oddly stylish, like a rock-and-roll star from the seventies. And he wore a handkerchief bandana around his head that pushed his long, messy brown hair into strange angles.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said finally.

“Then why are you here?”

Thinking fast on her feet she said, “I do odd fix-it jobs for Clem Tully sometimes.”

“So he asked you to come here?” he said, skeptically.

She didn’t want to be seen here if Clem and whoever he was talking to came out of the trailer, and her heart was pounding too hard to think straight.

“Not exactly,” she managed to say. Mike Waters’ name surged to the forefront of her mind. If she’d come here for anything, she’d come to get information on him. “Do you know a man named Mike Waters?”

He snorted a laugh, as though it should’ve been obvious to her that he did. “He owns this place.”

She knew that thanks to Jimmy in the town clerk’s office.

“He may have known my husband, Greg Flaherty.”

“Okay,” he said, not quite following.

“Did Walter Miller ever come here?” she asked, changing the subject.

The kid narrowed his eyes at her then banged hard on the side of the trailer and called out Mike’s name. “There’s a lady here to talk to you!” Bang, bang. “Mike!”

She shouldn’t have mention Walter Miller, and yet the fact that she did, and the way in which the kid was responding, made her feel certain Mike Waters must have killed him.

Mike stomped down the trailer steps, followed by Clem, who was instantly shocked and seemed somewhat worried to find Kate standing with the kid.

“What’s this about?” Mike asked impatiently.

Far from his anarchist residents, who were crawling all over the campsite, Mike Waters looked more like a movie actor. He appeared to be in his mid or late forties, but his strong jawline and clear blue eyes implied he was one of those men who got better looking with age. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed neatly, and he wore slacks and a warm sweater that looked nice enough to be a big name designer.

“She asked about you,” said the kid when Kate didn’t introduce herself. “And she asked about Walter. Oh, yeah and some guy named Greg.”

With each name the kid stated, Mike’s eyes grew darker and darker until he seemed to be scowling at her.

“Kate,” said Clem with a nervous sigh. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Kate?”

“Flaherty,” she supplied. “Wife of Greg.” She wasn’t feeling nearly as bold as she had with the kid, so she stopped at that.

“Walter was my attorney,” she went on. “Or he would’ve been if he wasn’t killed.”

Clem got Mike up to speed, but wasn’t very nice about it. “She’s a bit of a busybody,” he told Mike then directed the next statement to Kate, “and she shouldn’t be here. This is private property, you know.”

Asserting her right to be here, she said, “Walter was an investor on this project—”

“No, he wasn’t,” Mike corrected her.

“He almost was,” she pointed out.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked.

But Clem took her by the arm. “I’m sure she was just leaving.”

Kate didn’t like being handled, but she let Clem lead her towards her truck a number of paces before she yanked her arm free.

“Kate, really, you shouldn’t have come here.”

“I helped you,” she said with conviction and turned on her heel to face him and stare him down. “When Meghan was murdered and people thought you did it. I helped you.”

Clem sighed.

“I overheard your phone call,” she pressed, playing on the guilt she’d stirred up in him. “You were telling someone not to worry, that Justina had been arrested, that everything would be fine, that Ken Johnson had assured you. Were you talking to Mike Waters?”

He clenched his jaw.

“Look, this is one area you don’t want to get involved in. Trust me.”

“Did Mike Waters kill Walter because he pulled his investment out?”

Clem’s eyes widened, as though he were taken aback she knew as much.

She had to find his tipping point, the magic words that would get him to tell her what he knew.

“I don’t think you killed Walter,” she said in an even tone. “But covering up for someone who did is a very serious crime.”

He turned to stone and said nothing.

“Did Mike sneak into Justina’s house and steal her gun? Clem, just tell me where the gun is, and we can get Mike Waters arrested within the hour.”

Clem opened her truck door for her and said, “Leave it alone, Kate.”

Reluctantly, she climbed behind the wheel, and Clem closed her door. When she turned the engine, Clem began walking back towards the trailer.

Dusk had fallen quickly, and the sky was darkening by the second, so she flipped her headlights on, swung a U-turn, and crawled through the campsite until she reached the bumpy road.

As she accelerated to a reasonable speed, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her overalls. She was excited that Clem may have changed his mind and called her to spill, so she answered it without checking the screen.

“Kate? It’s Hazel.”

She could hear Mitsy yelping excitedly in the background, as she pulled her truck to a stop on the grassy shoulder of the road.

“Hey Hazel, what’s up?”

“It’s one of the drawers in my kitchen,” she explained. “I hate to bother you so close to dinner time, but I can’t open my utensil drawer. It’s stuck shut.”

Kate smiled. “It’s no problem. I’ll be right there.”

“Oh thank you. I’ll brew a fresh pot.”

After hanging up and returning her cell to her overalls, she checked the time. She’d told Scott she’d be home by seven for dinner, which left her more than enough time to swing by Hazel’s. Tomorrow wouldn’t be pleasant. She hadn’t done the greatest job of tending to Justina’s list, but she vowed to catch up tomorrow—even if it meant working late into the evening.

“Oh shoot,” she said out loud, remembering that Carly’s birthday party was tomorrow night.

As she drove into town, she reasoned she could wake up a few hours earlier tomorrow morning to fit all her work in.

By the time she pulled into Hazel’s driveway, all she could think about was a strong cup of coffee. Night had fallen, and the moon was out. She glanced at it, as she walked with her toolbox in hand to Hazel’s front door.

She knocked on the door, which sent Mitsy into a yippy fit of barking, but when Hazel let her in the dog quieted, waged its tail, and ran circles around her feet.

“Thanks so much for coming,” said Hazel. “I didn’t want to eat a casserole with my hands.”

“My pleasure,” said Kate and followed her into the kitchen where the aroma of fresh dark roast filled the air.

Kate set her toolbox on the kitchen table and started for the coffee maker, remarking, “First things first.”

Hazel chuckled, as Kate helped herself to a cup and leaned her back to the counter to take the first few sips.

“I’ve been accidentally cutting back on coffee,” she explained between sips. “Not a good thing.”

“Well, if you’re ever on the block, you’re welcome to drop in for a cup,” said Hazel. She’d settled into a chair at the table and lifted Mitsy into her lap. “I heard Mrs. Briar tried to have you arrested.”

“Is that what that was?” Kate said softly before taking another sip. “She’s all bark and no bite.”

“She’s got a screw or two loose, is her problem. The library is like a second home for most people. Word around town is that people don’t enjoy going there anymore. I hate to badmouth anyone in town, but I’ve been considering bringing it up at the next town meeting if not privately. I’m not saying I want to get her fired, but she certainly shouldn’t be running things.”

Hazel shook her head and grimaced.

“I used to love going to the library, and I can already tell that when I’m fit to drive I’m going to hesitate before I set foot in it.”

“Would you ever want to work there?” Kate asked, setting her mug on the counter and taking a look at the drawer in question.

“You know, it’s crossed my mind,” said Hazel.

Before her retirement, Hazel used to work as a kindergarten teacher. She’d loved reading to the youngsters and encouraging their curiosities. It seemed that working in the library would be a good fit for her.

“Would I have it in me to keep Mrs. Briar in line is the real question,” she mused.

“At the very least, you could split the hours with her. Then people would have the option of coming to the library during hours they’d know they wouldn’t get harassed.”

“Good point.”

Kate discovered the obstruction inside the drawer. A card-stock menu for the local deli had gotten wedged under the lip of the drawer. She used her screwdriver to dislodge it then eased the drawer open. Then she set the menu aside, removed the utensil tin, and emptied the drawer.

“Fixed?”

“Almost,” Kate said, opening and closing the drawer to see if it would otherwise stick. “Maybe a spray of WD-40 to loosen it up,” she suggested.

“Whatever you need to do,” said Hazel, happily.

Kate didn’t want to spray too much or else the chemicals would linger, so she pumped off a quick spritz then pushed the drawer in and out to work the grease in. After that she kept the drawer open all the way so it could air out.

“That should do it,” she said and closed her toolbox.

“What do I owe you?” asked Hazel, and she muscled out of her chair.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she said. “It took two seconds, and I got a cup of coffee out of it.”

Hazel smiled but made her way to the cupboards anyway and grabbed a small thermos into which she poured the rest of the coffee from its carafe. Then she twisted the top on and handed it to Kate.

“For the road,” she said.

“Thanks, Hazel. You know me too well.”

She was doing good on time and drinking more coffee on the way home had her energized, so when she got to her house at the end of the long, winding driveway, she hopped in the shower for a quick rinse before Scott arrived. She combed her wet hair in the mirror so it would dry straight and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater that she felt was flattering.

She was putting on her socks when she heard Scott ring the doorbell, which reminded her that she hadn’t reset the alarm after she'd gotten home. If she had, it would’ve let off three warning beeps when he stepped up to the door. It wasn’t the worst oversight, but she needed to be vigilant about keeping the alarm set, especially now that she’d gotten an idea of how Greg’s disappearance might be linked to the string of murders around Rock Ridge.

“Hi,” she said, breathy, as she opened the door.

Scott looked like a relaxed version of himself, and his expression wore an easy smile. As she stepped back for him to come in, she smelled the savory scent of Chinese wafting up from the bags he carried. It made her realize she was starving.

“I had an idea for Carly’s birthday party,” he said, as he opened the bags and set out the food on the kitchen table. Kate grabbed a few plates and utensils, as she listened. “You know Gunther?”

She shook her head not quite placing the name.

“He’s one of the police officers in the department. Anyway, he plays the drums. And another officer, Garrison is pretty good on the bass.”

And Scott had a penchant for playing electric guitar, a hobby he’d never dropped since high school. He was actually quite skilled.

“We were talking about putting a little garage band together. You know, a way to blow off steam other than grumbling over beers at The Rail.”

The Rail was a bar three doors down from Grayson’s Hardware and one of Kate’s favorite places, though she agreed drowning your sorrows in a drink or two wasn’t the healthiest option.

“Anyway,” he went on, “we were thinking about putting a few songs together. Covers mostly. And we could play at Carly’s party, have a little fun.”

“That sounds great,” she said with a smile. She wouldn’t mind seeing Scott work his magic on a six-string. It’d be quite the turn on in fact.

“And Ken’s a hell of a singer,” he added. “Sounds just like Axl Rose.”

“Ken’s going to be in the band?”

“If we’re lucky,” Scott chuckled.

She didn’t trust Ken. His name had come up too many times out of the mouths of possible suspects. It was bad enough Scott admired him on the job, but if they got particularly close socially, then Scott would never believe her concerns that Ken might have his fingers in criminal pots.

But she remained reserved and supportive in her reaction, as they sat down and ate their Chinese dinner. She mentioned the gift card she’d gotten for Carly and offered to put his name on it as well. And Scott told her about his gripes regarding the impossibility of finding Walter’s murder weapon.

When they got through their meal, Kate felt the nagging urge to clue him in to all she’d learned at the town clerk’s office about the land deal out east. She expected he’d bellyache about her snooping, which she wasn’t looking forward to, but reasoned he needed to know. It could crack his case wide open.

“With regard to Meghan’s files,” she started, “I swung by Jimmy’s office, the town clerk, and learned that Mike Waters, the guy who’d checked out the same library books as Greg, was the one who bought the land out east.”

“Okay,” he said, shifting into cop mode.

“According to Jimmy’s records, Walter Miller was one of the investors, but he backed out of the deal.”

Scott froze and stared at her.

“Yeah, that was my reaction,” she said. “And the other investors, well they were listed as corporations, all sounded like they were from the Middle East: Beirut Building Project, Princes of Dubai. And Mike Waters is head of the Anarchist Freedom Network. The organization is listed on the land deed.”

“Kate, stop. This is dangerous. I don’t want you poking around.”

“But did you know any of this?”

He didn’t answer, but his expression told her he hadn’t known.

“I’m not asking for credit here,” she went on. “But could you look into it? What if the people who know what happened to Greg are over in that campsite?”

“Kate,” he barked then took a carefully measured breath to compose himself, “I don’t want you meddling in this.”

“But—”

“I’ll look into it.”

“But—”

“Kate.”

She didn’t like how he was using her name, but she quieted. Telling him the most important detail of all—that the mayor, Harvy Stuart, was also an investor—was lodged in her throat.

“I will look into it. I will keep you updated as it regards to Greg. Just stay out of it. For your own safety and wellbeing. Agreed?”

Reluctantly, she did.

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Kate rose from bed two hours earlier than usual. The room was still dark, and it took a moment to shake the nightmares about Greg, the anarchists, and Walter Miller’s dead body that had plagued her dreams.

She made a pot of coffee, hopped in the shower, and dressed quickly in her usual attire. Before heading out to her truck, she downed one cup of coffee, poured the rest into the thermos Hazel had lent her, and then drove off to Brent Townsend’s house, the next on Justina’s list.

It needed quite a few repairs, and Kate had noted the majority required her toolbox alone, so she decided to tend to those then drive to Grayson’s for supplies for Townsend’s house and the next one.

When she arrived at Brent Townsend’s house, she hopped to it. She cleared his rain gutters of debris then hosed them down. She fastened two of the kitchen cabinet doors back on the cupboards. For some reason, they were propped against the wall. She fixed the garbage disposal next, which she discovered had been jammed by a toy soldier, Brent’s kids she figured. There were a few loose tiles in the bathroom, which she glued down. On the second floor, she tightened the doorknob on the kids’ playroom, drilled in door stoppers on the wall perpendicular to the bathroom door, and glued down the floppy edged of the carpet in the master bedroom. If it were up to her, Kate would’ve torn the old carpet up and laid in a new one, but it wasn’t her place to argue Justina’s instructions, so she pressed the carpet down against a glob of adhesive then made her way out to her truck.

The minor repairs had taken only a few hours, and she estimated she could get a wealth of work done before lunch. On long days, she allowed herself a sit down lunch, which she would definitely take, but not until the late afternoon.

On her way back to Brent Townsend’s house, after she’d collected all the materials required to address the major alterations on Justina’s list, her cell phone vibrated. She gave it a quick glance and saw that it was her new attorney, Arthur Joseph calling, so she eased her truck curbside and put it in Park then answered the call.

“Hi Arthur.”

“Good morning, Kate. The Order of Notice came through,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know. I’ll contact the newspaper this afternoon to run it.”

“Sounds good, thank you for letting me know.”

“Depending on their space and layout, they might not be able to get it running daily for a few days, but I’ll let you know if that’s the case.”

“Thanks again,” she said then waited for him to hang up.

Before she could get on the road again, her cell vibrated in her hand. This time it was Justina.

“Hey, Kate, could you do me a favor?”

“I hope so,” she said, a little nervous for her tight timetable.

“I placed an order with Carly at Sunshine, but don’t have time to pick it up and bring it to Jessica’s house. Mayor Harvy Stuart is on his way to my office. Could you deal with it and put one bouquet on the dining room table and another on the kitchen counter?”

“Sure,” she said, trying not to grumble.

“I’ll pay you for your time of course,” said Justina.

“I’m on my way.”

At least Sunshine Florist was a mere block away. Kate walked briskly up the street and into Carly’s florist where her friend was putting the final touches on a bouquet of pink peonies.

“I’m just finishing up,” she said without looking at Kate.

“Happy birthday,” said Kate, which got her attention.

“I hear your boyfriend’s going to make his musical debut at my party,” she said with a smile.

It was the first time Kate heard anyone refer to Scott as her boyfriend, and it felt good.

“You don’t mind?”

“Mind?” She laughed. “It’s going to be great. I can’t wait.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait long. I’m just hoping I get all my work done and can shower before the party.”

“Hey, you can drift in,” she said. “Don’t kill yourself to get there at seven.”

It took a little pressure off, and Kate thanked her then took the bouquet. Carly grabbed the second one and together they made their way up the street to her truck.

“Let’s get these in the passenger’s seat,” Carly suggested, “so they don’t topple over when you make a turn.”

Carly set one bouquet on the floor and carefully placed the second onto the passenger’s seat when Kate handed it over.

“See you tonight!” she said, all smiles.

Kate waved at her as she drove off in the direction of Jessica’s house.

The chilly day had warmed up quite a bit. Kate felt the warm sun on her face, as she carried the bouquets to the front door of Jessica’s house then set them down briefly to key in.

She placed the bouquets exactly where Justina had indicated, and as she made her way back to the front door, Justina stepped through, explaining to Harvy the year the house was build and its architectural style.

Making pleasant chit-chat, Justina then asked Harvy if he’d started yet on his re-election campaign.

“I shouldn’t have to do much campaigning,” he boasted confidently, as though his wife hadn’t been arrested for murder. “Besides, the election is a year off. I’m sure my work for Rock Ridge in the meantime will speak for itself.”

Work, like funding an anarchist movement that might be chalk full of killers? Kate wondered, as she smiled uneasily when they realized she was in the foyer.

“Kate,” Justina exclaimed. “Nice to see you.” Then she mentioned to Harvy, “Kate has been hard at work making sure every inch of this place is in proper working order.”

Harvy smiled disingenuously then wandered into the living room.

“Thanks again,” Justina whispered.

She nodded, but lingered. She didn’t want Justina left alone with the mayor. If Harvy really was in on Walter’s murder because of his ties to the land deal out east, then he had been in on the effort to frame Justina. So she hung back, while the real estate agent followed Harvy through the expansive living room, noting for him the types of wood, marble, and molding craftsmanship, as well as what Harvy could expect the natural sunlight to do at various times of day.

After a few moment of listening in, her concern for Justina’s safety loosened. The real estate agent seemed to be wrapping up her pitch and based on their exchanges Kate got the impression this was his second time seeing the house.

She let herself out, and as she walked down the driveway, she had the sudden urge to glance in Harvy’s Lexus.

Kate still felt certain that Harvy and Mike Waters had the most motive to kill Walter. Not that Harvy would leave a gun in plain view inside his car if he’d been the one to shoot Walter, but she peeked through the windows anyway, as she slowly worked her way around his vehicle. When she rounded the rear and got to the driver’s side window, she felt eyes on her and her gaze suddenly snapped up to the house.

Harvy stared at her through a window on the first floor that she recalled was the bathroom. His expression was steely, and he seemed to quake with anger. He’d obviously caught her snooping, and she had the impulse to tell him his tires looked low as if that would explain stalking around his Lexus, but she decided against it and instead made her  way to her truck and simply got out of there.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded at a clipped pace. Kate painted Brent Townsend’s kitchen, covering the faded, pastel blue walls with classic eggshell white. Then she worked her way through the living room, painting the walls the same shade after laying down cloth and taping off around the windows and molding, which Justina wanted a brighter shade of white.

She managed to steal a quick lunch at Daisy’s Luncheonette, but didn’t eat there. She felt too rushed for time, so she ate on the drive back to the Townsend house. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d be worth it on the other end to have a few extra minutes to get ready for Carly’s party.

The paint wasn’t dry enough to roll on a second coat. She’d have to do that tomorrow, but she could paint the upstairs rooms. It took some time to move all the painting cloths and supplies to the second floor, but once she got settled the hours flew by as she painted. Since the rooms upstairs were originally white, she wouldn’t have to do two coats to cover a wild color.

It was almost six by the time she finished. The workaholic in her was tempted to hustle a second coat of paint on the walls downstairs, but she wrestled the urge down, locked up, and drove home, all the while dreaming up what she might like to wear.

After a quick shower and an honest effort at blow-drying her hair into some semblance of style, she decided on a pair of black jeans that were hiding in the back of her closet. She’d bought them a year ago and continuously felt like they were too nice to work in, which resulted in her never wearing them. Then she picked out a green sweater that wasn’t too shabby. Redheads looked good in green, she thought. She must have read that in a magazine somewhere, so she threw it on, slipped her feet into black sneakers which had also been too nice to work in, and then grabbed her coat and was out the door.

By the time she got to Carly’s house and climbed out of her truck, she could hear the party guests murmuring from the yard behind the house. With a bottle of wine in hand, she walked up the driveway and around the side of the house, letting herself in through the gate.

The party was hopping already. She spotted Scott mingling with Larry, who cooked steaks on the grill near the refreshment table, while Scott's buddies, Officers Gunther and Garrison set up speakers near the back and plugged in their instruments. Celia was perched on her husband, Ken Johnson’s arm and laughing wildly at something he must have said. A number of women Carly worked with at Sunshine Flowers were milling about and chatting, as well as Clara, the owner of Bean There, who was setting out cookies and other sweets with the help of Cookie, the woman who ran the bakery next to her coffee shop. There were tiki torches all around, casting a pleasant glow over the party, and Kate spied a table topped with presents.

For Carly’s sake, she was glad the sky was clear and that the night held a hint of the day's warmth.

Kate rounded through the crowd, set the wine on the refreshments table, and gave Carly a squeeze. She looked pretty in a long, knit dress and stylish jacket. Then she grabbed a beer from an ice bucket near the refreshments table and joined Scott, who was now strumming a chord on his electric guitar to check that it was in tune.

“Hey, Katydid,” he said with excitement she’d arrived. The look of pure bliss on his face told her it was as much his party as Carly’s. Clearly, the anticipation of playing with his new band meant the world to him, and she was eager to watch him play as well.

The party kicked off with a bang when Carly announced Scott’s band, cleverly titled The Law, would now play a set. The guys got behind their instruments, turned up their amps, and hit in with a rock rendition of the Happy Birthday song, which everyone joined in singing, following Ken’s lead as he belted out lyrics into the mic. Scott was right. Ken had a strong singing voice, but Kate’s eye was drawn to Scott, as he worked his guitar with laid-back precision that amplified his charming good looks. For a moment, she felt like she was seventeen again. They’d just started dating. Scott had invited her to check out his high school band. She felt the same thrilled jitters. Got lost in the music the same way she had all those years ago.

After their set, Carly opened her birthday presents and gave Kate an extra big squeeze for the gift certificate to Harriet’s Hairdos, which she also thanked Scott for since Kate had included his name on the card. Then they ate steaks and hotdogs and grilled vegetables, followed by drinks and a second set of The Law’s covers of classic rock songs.

Kate was much too full to have a slice of birthday cake once Carly blew out her candles and kissed Larry. But at the end of the night, she took her slice to-go and let Scott walk her to her truck out front.

“You got skills. I’ll give you that much,” she told Scott with a smile, but it immediately slid off her face when she realized someone had tucked a note under her windshield wiper.

She unfolded it.

“What’s that?”

But she didn’t respond. She was too confused by what it said, which was simply Talk to Jessica.

Chapter Nine

Kate managed to downplay the anonymous note when Scott had asked about it. He’d already warned her not to get involved with Walter’s murder investigation and had specifically forbid her to talk to Jessica in regard to Greg having helped her to find her son, which hadn’t been successful.

But the next day, once she packed up her truck and made a pit stop at Grayson’s to pick up more supplies and also gave Larry a check to clear off a chunk of her ever-growing balance, she drove over to Jessica’s apartment where she was now living with her new husband, Dean Wentworth.

Like Clem Tully, Dean was a large scale contractor, who Kate had developed a fondness for since he was always recommending her to his customers when smaller fix-it jobs cropped up.

As she suspected, Dean’s truck wasn’t parked out front of the apartment complex, which told her he’d already left for work. When Jessica had been married to the late mayor, Dudley Stuart, she’d mostly kept to the house. Dudley had had a way of putting her down, and she hadn’t felt confident enough to take a job, even part-time work, mainly because he discouraged it. Now that Jessica was happily married to Dean, she’d started a home-based business, making fashionable t-shirts and selling them online, and at the same time, she managed her late husband’s trucking company. In short, Jessica proved to be quite business savvy and had a knack for multitasking.

Kate parked in front of the complex. She draped a large, blue tarp over the materials in the truck bed in case any of the neighborhood teens got mischievous ideas, and then rang the Wentworth’s apartment buzzer in the entryway.

Jessica’s melodic voice came tinny through the speaker. “Who is it?”

“Hi Jessica. It’s Kate Flaherty. Do you have a few minutes?”

Jessica’s response was simply the blaring ring of the door unlocking. Kate hurried through the lobby and rode the elevator, which creaked and vibrated, as it ascended to the fifth floor.

The Wentworth’s apartment was at the very end of the hall, and as shabby as the building seemed from the outside as well as the interior lobby and rickety old elevator, the apartment itself was grand. It was newly renovated and furnished with a number of pricey items that reminded Kate of a French cottage.

“Come in, come in,” said Jessica, happy and also a bit thrown by Kate’s unannounced visit. “What a party last night,” she commented. “Who knew Scott had such talent on the guitar?”

“He kept it up since high school,” Kate said easily. “But yes, I was impressed as well.”

Jessica was dressed in khakis and a cozy sweater. She led Kate into the living room, though the apartment had an open layout with an islet separating the living room from the kitchen that Jessica padded around.

“Would you like a coffee?” she asked, as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “I just made a pot.”

“Yes, thank you.”

As Jessica poured the coffee then returned to the living room, she asked, “So what brings you here?”

Kate took a deep breath, composing her thoughts. It was months ago that Jessica had opened up about her missing son, but it still seemed the sort of topic one wouldn’t dive into easily. She hoped by bringing Bradley up, she wouldn’t offend or upset Jessica.

“When I left Carly’s party last night, I found a note on my car,” she began. “I don’t exactly know how to say this, but speaking personally, well, I’m not sure you heard, but I’m in the midst of divorcing Greg.”

“Good, that’s good for you,” she said, as her eyes rounded sympathetically.

“So because of that I’ve gotten proactive with trying to understand what happened to him. You had mentioned that Greg tried to help you find your son all those years ago when he disappeared.”

“He did,” she said.

“By the way, has Scott talked to you at all?”

Kate could tell that he had by the way Jessica sighed and sank into an armchair. Kate took a seat on the couch and drank her coffee patiently.

“You want to know about those photos,” she said finally. “And so do I.”

“So you didn’t know that Walter knew your son? That they’d taken those pictures?”

“No,” she said bewildered. “I had no idea. I didn’t really know Walter, certainly not back then.” After a long thoughtful pause, she asked, “You think those photos have to do with your husband?”

“It seems possible,” she said then quickly admitted, “but at this point it's just a gut feeling I have. The fact that Bradley disappeared, and then Greg did, seems too great a coincidence to be a coincidence.”

“You’d mentioned a note?”

“I don’t know who left it on my truck, but it said to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?”

“I’m not sure if it meant in reference to Greg or Walter’s murder or any of the other bizarre things that have been going on in Rock Ridge for the past six months, but I figured I’d give it a shot.” Kate studied her expression, which appeared consistent. She was just as confused and in the dark as Kate. “Do you know if Dudley knew Walter?”

“Ah,” she sighed and shook her head. “Dudley led a life so separate from mine that towards the end of our marriage I felt like I didn’t even know him. He shared almost nothing with me, whether personal or business. He came and went as he pleased. And I didn’t complain, because the house only felt peaceful when he wasn’t there.”

Kate drank more of her coffee and wondered who had left the note.

To cover her bases, she asked, “Is it possible Bradley was taken to threaten Dudley into, I don’t know, voting a certain way on something or entering into a deal?”

Jessica’s face went long, and then her expression hardened with anger. “I really hope not. God, he was careless when it came to his family.” She shook off her anger and smiled. “I’m just grateful I have a good man now. To think, all those years wasted.”

Kate finished her coffee and got the sinking feeling that Jessica simply wouldn’t be able to help her. But then Jessica’s eyes snapped up and locked with Kate’s.

“I’m not sure if it's anything, but leading up to Bradley’s disappearance, I remember Dudley was really upset with Neil Motley.”

Neil Motley was the last chief of police, who Scott had replaced. Right around the time Greg had disappeared, Neil abruptly quit and moved down to North Carolina, and it had always given Kate a strange feeling that he had. Not to mention Kate had felt there was something off about Neil. She’d not been able to put her finger on it, but she never liked the man. He’d given her a bad feeling.

Jessica went on. “Dudley didn’t really talk about it or explain why there was sudden tension between him and Neil, but he wasn’t shy about griping at home. It was peculiar because Dudley really didn’t gripe like that about anything else. Whatever upset him, he generally kept it to himself or directed his grievances to people he worked with, never me.” She took a sip of coffee then added, “You might want to talk to Ken Johnson since he worked so closely with Neil.”

Better yet, Kate thought, I could talk to Ken’s wife, Celia. Celia was unabashedly the town gossip, and as unnerved as Ken made Kate, Ken’s relationship with Celia was close and very strong. Perhaps he’d known something and mentioned it to his wife.

“You really think this is all connected?” she asked when Kate sank into deep thought.

Kate was tempted to explain the land deal, how the development had been percolating in the works for years and years, and how the string of murders seemed to trace back to it, whether incidentally or directly. But if she told Jessica, she'd risk the information spreading like wildfire, which would be terrible for Scott’s investigation, not to mention her relationship with Scott. Whenever Kate got proactive, or nosey, as he saw it, she felt like she was walking on thin ice.

“It could be,” she said vaguely. “Or maybe not. I just want to expose whatever’s really going on, so we can finally have answers and hopefully make Rock Ridge a murder-free town again.”

Jessica nodded her agreement.

“When Scott talked to me, he didn’t let on who might have killed Walter Miller,” said Jessica. “But does he know? Do you know? I mean they thought it was Justina, but was it?”

“No, I really don’t think it was Justina. But I can’t say who Scott thinks did it,” she added, which was a true statement. She really didn’t know what went on inside that head of his.

Kate thanked her for the coffee, and Jessica walked her to the door.

“Do you happen to know a man named Mike Waters?” she asked before leaving.

“Mike Waters?” she asked, saying his name as though it was familiar to her. “Yes. I mean, I don’t know him personally, but Mike was Greg’s assistant.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know that? Mike was one of Greg’s students.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because, though I never met him directly, when Greg was helping me look for Bradley he told me Mike Waters was assisting him in that effort.”

Secrets upon secrets. Greg’s life with her had been a complete lie.

Reading Kate’s shock, Jessica added, “It’ll be good once the divorce goes through. You need to put that man behind you.”

Kate couldn’t agree more.

When she got to her truck, she wasted no time and drove off to the third house on Justina’s list. She wasn’t sure how she’d concentrate on her work with so many loose ends whipping through her mind, but she couldn’t pay her bills speculating on murder motives. She needed to get through the list of repairs on Heather Dover’s house, swing by Carnegie Real Estate to pick up her check, deposit it, and then tackle the last house.

As she went about her day doing just that, Kate couldn’t help but wonder who had left the note, where the murder weapon was stashed, who had been behind the camera taking that photo of Walter with young Bradley, and what exactly had been the dynamic between Greg and Mike Waters.

It was all connected. It had to be. And still she couldn’t draw the lines, attempting to only confuse her more and sent her heartrate through the roof. It was frustrating, but strangely exciting. She was so close.

As she painted Heather Dover’s walls with artisan precision, she obsessed over her hunch that the killer had to be either Mike Waters or the mayor, Harvy Stuart—which in her mind meant that the Justina’s gun had to be in one of their possessions.

The notion that talking to Celia would be even better than talking to Ken Johnson, who Jessica had mentioned would know about the last police chief, Neil Motley, sprung to mind.

Celia also worked for the current mayor, Harvy Stuart, though part time. She’d previously worked as a nurse but took on some part-time hours for the last mayor as his receptionist then Harvy—in a sense—inherited her when he came into office.

Kate knew she’d be killing two birds with one stone if she talked to Celia. She didn’t know where Mike Waters lived, and even if she did, she couldn’t very well break in and search his home for a gun. But she might have a shot at searching Harvy’s office or perhaps his home since, according to Justina, he was set to move into Jessica’s old mansion later that day.

Suddenly, Kate got excited and realized she hadn’t been painting.

What if she could get into Harvy’s office while he was moving? If she didn’t find the gun, she could then get into the mansion once he’d moved all his belongings in, because she still had the key.

She felt a sudden twinge of guilt at how her mind was working. She’d never been one to be so unethical, and she didn’t like this new impulse, but she also couldn’t fight it.

Well, she thought, first things first. She’d stop off at the mayor’s office and see what Celia might spill when prompted, and take it from there.

Kate finished painting, opened all the windows of every room she’d painted, and collected her materials, which she placed in her truck bed before she headed off to the mayor’s office on Main Street. Harvy Stuart’s office, where Celia worked, was located in the same building as the police station, so Kate kept an eye out not to run into Scott York, Ken Johnson, or any of the other officers who might question her visit to the mayor’s office, as she crossed the parking lot and made her way through the building.

It was fast approaching noon, and she hoped Celia was in the habit of taking her lunch later in the day. She didn’t want to miss the receptionist, and at the same time hoped Harvy wouldn’t be there.

Kate found Celia seated at her desk. Her posture was erect, and she held her head high though she glanced at her desk, filing out some kind of form. As always, Celia had a regal air and dressed with style, which might have contributed to her reluctance to look up and see who had stepped into the anteroom.

Kate took that moment to glimpse Harvy’s door. It was shut. Had he shut it for privacy or was it that he wasn’t even in his office? She hoped to find out.

Starting in with a bit of small talk, Kate said, “I love the dress you gave Carly last night.”

The compliment must have warmed her, because Celia brightened with a smile then popped alive when she realized Kate had said it.

“I hope she wears it,” said Celia. “She likes to resist my suggestions, you know, the eternal teenager in her who refuses to let her mother make her happy.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll wear it. It’s very stylish and also fitting for autumn.”

Carly’s mother had given her a long sleeve, knit dress that if worn with tights and boots would be very warm and could be worn well into winter.

Then Kate leaned in close as though they were good friends. “How’s Harvy doing?”

Celia cocked her head perhaps unsure as to what Kate was referring to, then she caught her drift. “He’s hired a moving company,” she said. “So the move shouldn’t overwhelm him too badly, but you could say he’s still struggling to keep this office running. Kendall really marred his career. I doubt he’ll get voted in next term.” She said that last bit quietly, which gave Kate the impression Harvy was in his office. “He hired a publicist and everything. He’s fully committed to changing his public perception, but come on. Married to a murderer? That’s a very deep hole to try to crawl your way out of.”

“Is anyone nipping at his heels yet?”

“You mean vying for the mayor’s title next term?” She thought about it. “Not that I’ve heard, but I’ll tell you one thing, it won’t be a Stuart.” She chuckled at that then sobered up so as not to be heard.

Dudley Stuart hadn’t been a bad mayor, but the fact that he’d been murdered and when his brother came into office his wife turned out to be a killer, didn’t bode well for the family name, much less the town of Rock Ridge on the whole.

“If I’m being honest with myself,” she went on, “I’d like to see a woman in office.”

“It’d certainly be a breath of fresh air,” Kate agreed and glanced at Harvy’s door.

“Oh, would you like to see him?” she asked, as she scanned over the calendar she kept for the mayor. “I didn’t know you had an appointment.”

“I don’t actually. I came to talk to you.”

“Well,” Celia smiled, “what about?”

Kate thought it best not to let on about her reservations about Ken Johnson since he was Celia’s husband and inquiring could rub her the wrong way. So she asked, “Do you happen to remember why the old police chief, Neil Motley, moved to North Carolina? I know Ken worked closely with him.”

Celia narrowed her eyes in a way that told Kate she was more interested in why Kate wanted to know than in actually answering the question.

“I really don’t know,” she said finally. “It baffled the entire department, Ken included.”

“Hmm,” said Kate. “What do you make of the land deal out east?”

Celia rolled her eyes and sighed. “I think Harvy can barely keep up with his responsibilities as mayor, and the last thing he needs is to divide his time and attention between this office and a development project. But you know, Harvy was a builder before he got into office. It’s in his blood. In a lot of ways, it didn’t sit right with me that he came into office. And from what I observed, he’s much more focused on that development than he is on being mayor.”

“Do you think that’s why he came into office?” Kate speculated. “I mean, the mayor has a say in these sorts of developments. He can push a build through or deny a build with the power of his signature.”

“It crossed my mind.”

Celia seemed relaxed and eager to divulge, or at the very least, happy to be gossiping and not doing her secretarial work.

But just as Kate was about to delve into asking her about Walter Miller and where Harvy might have been on the morning of his murder, she sensed someone enter the anteroom behind her.

It was Mike Waters.

Kate caught Celia letting out an almost imperceptible grumble, but Celia quickly smirked and told Mike that Harvy was expecting him. “Go on in,” she added, even though Mike had already whizzed Harvy’s office door open. When he shut it, Celia complained, “That man.”

Kate was about to ask what precisely about Mike Celia disliked, but Celia collected her purse from under her desk and announced, “That’s my cue for lunch.”

As she put her coat on, Kate asked, “Did Harvy tell you to take your lunch whenever Mike Waters shows up?”

“He doesn’t have to,” she said, as she rounded her desk for the door. “I can’t get any work done during their screaming matches. It’s very unpleasant.”

Screaming matches?

“What do they argue about?” Kate asked eagerly, as she walked with Celia towards the elevator.

“Oh goodness. What don’t they argue about is the question. First it was Kendall. Harvy’s a very jealous man and got ideas in his head about Mike’s interest in her even though as far as I could tell Mike wasn’t interested in her. Besides, you have to wonder why Harvy would go into business with a man he suspected was chasing his own wife.” She snorted a laugh. “But these days they mostly argue about the building project. They’re careful about what they say though and it’s all just noise to me. Who needs it?”

“You know I think I forgot my purse,” said Kate offhandedly and hoped Celia wouldn’t realize Kate never wore a purse. “Have a good lunch, Celia.”

Celia waved her off as the elevator doors closed between them, and as soon as they did, Kate rushed back into the anteroom.

Their arguing voices boomed through the door loud and clear.

“I’m not bringing anyone else in on this,” yelled Mike. “There are too many cooks in the kitchen as it is.”

“Losing Walter hurt us, don’t you get that?” said Harvy. “We need to make up the loss.”

“We made up enough of it,” said Mike.

“No, we didn’t. I did, and we agreed it was only temporary. I just bought a house for Christ’s sake.”

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before you—”

“Don’t even say it. We both knew it had to be done,” yelled Harvy.

“Knowing and doing are two different things,” Mike pointed out.

Were they referring to killing Walter? Kate wished they’d come out with it. Celia had been right. They were careful about what they said.

Then, in a low tone, Mike asked, “Did you get rid of it?”

Harvy didn’t respond, and Kate sensed a strange tension between them.

“You can’t sit on this,” Mike pressed.

“If you’re going to worry about anything, worry about getting another investor. Worry about getting my money back.”

Kate got the sense their argument was coming to a close, and she didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping. Quietly, she padded through the anteroom, walked briskly to the elevator, and pushed the call button. Thankfully, the doors popped open just as Mike stormed out of Harvy’s office. She sidestepped out of view behind the closing door.

More than anything, Kate felt certain the thing Mike had alluded to that he wanted Harvy to get rid of was the gun. It had to be, right? And if Harvy had kept it in his office for some unspeakable reason, wouldn’t he have simply given it to Mike to get rid of? The more she thought about it, the more practical it seemed that that would’ve been the case, which had to also mean that Harvy had the gun elsewhere, his house perhaps.

The gun was the one piece of evidence that would exonerate Justina, and also put the real killer behind bars. She had to find it, and the fact that Harvy was in the midst of moving would give her just the excuse.

When she settled behind the wheel in her truck, she wasted no time dialing up Justina.

“Hey! How’s the painting coming along?” she asked right away. “I’ve got a check here for you.”

“Thanks, Justina. It’s going well. Hey, listen. Is Harvy Stuart moving into the mansion today?”

“As we speak, which reminds me, I should really get the key back from you. Could you drop it off later when you come for your check?”

“Sure, that’s no problem. Out of curiosity, his house is on Kent Street, but do you know the address?”

“Ah, I can look it up.” Kate heard her begin to type away. “Why?” she asked, as she pulled up the address Harvy was in the throws of moving from.

“Let’s just say the Rock Ridge police won’t be bothering you anymore if I’m right about something.”

Justina paused on the other end of the phone. Her curiosity clearly peaked. However, she didn’t question Kate; she only read off the street number and told Kate she hoped to see her later.

Harvy Stuart’s house on Kent Street wasn’t in a bad neighborhood, per se, but his decision to move into this particular location with Kendall had been a surefire sign he wasn’t from Rock Ridge. People who lived here knew this side of Kent Street was notorious for loud, ruckus parties since the rent was much lower and it attracted young adults who'd just graduated from college. Hardly the area a burgeoning mayor would want to spend time, much less live.

When she drove down the block, she spotted a moving truck in Harvy’s driveway, and she only hoped Harvy hadn’t stashed the gun within one of the boxes or suitcases the movers had already loaded into the truck. But when she pulled up to the curb, she realized only furniture had made its way into the truck.

As she walked, toolbox in hand for good measure, up the driveway, keeping out of the movers’ way, she heard one of them complaining to another about how these rich types never packed anything.

Apparently, Harvy had expected the moving company to box up all of his belongings.

“Sent from Carnegie Real Estate to make a few repairs,” she announced to no one in particular. The movers, quite frankly, didn’t seem to care, so she proceeded through the living room.

Soon the movers cleared out, and she noted that the furniture had gone with them.

Outside, one of the guys shouted, “Let’s get the furniture over and unload it. We’ll do the rest next trip.”

The guys seemed efficient, and the mansion Harvy was moving into was less than a fifteen-minute drive. At best she’d have forty-five minutes to find that gun.

Frazzled, but thrilled, she took off up the stairs two at a time, figuring the most likely place Harvy would hide the murder weapon would be in his bedroom.

Harvy’s bedframe and mattress were gone, and it looked like the movers had made a fast attempt at gathering his belonging, but it amounted to leaving disorganized piles on the floor, which was also strewn with open, empty moving boxes. She noticed his closet door was ajar, and when she opened it wide, Kate saw that the movers hadn’t gotten to it. Clothes hung on the rack, and the top shelf was a mess of shoeboxes stacked high. Below, she found more shoes set out in a neat row and behind them was a satchel.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the satchel and immediately rummaged through it, but the sound of a punctuated metal click behind her stole her attention.

A pistol being cocked?

She turned and found Harvy Stuart aiming a gun at her from the doorway.

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he asked smugly.

“Like wife like husband, I see,” she said coolly, though her heart was in her throat.

“You could say that. Now where does a low-life woman get off meddling in the affairs of people far more important than you?”

“I know you killed Walter,” she said, trying hard to keep her tone steady.

“It doesn’t matter that you know that, because as far as I’m concerned you’re already dead.”

“What does Greg have to do with all of this?” she demanded.

“Greg?”

“My husband, Greg. He was involved with Mike Waters. He disappeared. If you’re going to kill me, then I’m going to die with the truth.”

He cocked his head at that. “Feeling bold are we?” He chuckled. “You think this is a bluff you can call?”

“I think I’ve been dying to know the truth anyway, so it’s only fair you tell me before taking my life.”

“It bothers me you aren’t scared,” he said, tone suddenly ice.

“Oh, I’m scared, but I’m not going to grovel. Not with a man crazy enough to get into bed with a bunch of anarchists.”

“Is that what you think they are?” he challenged, as though he knew something about the land deal that she didn’t.

Kate kept the sarcasm out of her voice, as she stated, “They're called the Anarchist Freedom Network, so yeah, it wasn’t hard coming up with that theory.”

He laughed, but then his smile fell from his face so fast it startled her. “Look, Kate, the top of this pyramid is so high you’ll never get a glimpse of it.”

“You killed Walter because he withdrew his investment. What did you do to Greg?”

“Greg was a traitor.” Harvy seemed deeply betrayed.

“Like Walter?”

“Walter was a chicken,” he corrected her.

“When he found out what he was really investing in, anarchy,” she supplied, but it was only a guess.

“So easily fooled by titles,” he mused.

“If they’re not anarchists, then what are they?” she challenged.

He grinned, as though she’d never get it out of him.

“Just tell me if Greg was with you or against you,” she demanded. “I have to know at least that much.”

His grin turned plastic, and he said, “If you weren’t the reason my beloved Kendall is now in prison, I might tell you. But I’ll never get back what you’ve taken from me. Your time is up.”

Harvy straightened his firing arm, but just as he was about to pull the trigger, Scott slammed into him from behind. Together, they fell to the floor. The gun flew out of Harvy’s hand and skidded into the boxes, as Scott wrangled Harvy’s hands behind his back cuffing him.

“You knew it was Harvy?” Kate asked, astonished, as Scott hauled him to his feet.

Officers Gunther and Garrison swooped in and took charge of yanking the mayor out of the room.

Scott went to her and put his hands on her shoulders, which made Kate realize she was trembling.

“How did you know?” she asked again, as if the commotion had sent her into a daze.

“Oh, Katydid, what am I going to do with you?”

~~~

CHISELED

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty, Rock Ridge’s infamous handywoman, snagged the closest seat she could to the podium, muscling between two residents who weren’t pleased to have to make room, and scanned the crowd for Scott York.

Murmurs and abject worry billowed throughout the town hall where the council was set to announce the new mayor of Rock Ridge now that the dust had settled on the previous mayor’s arrest for premeditated murder of Walter Miller.

It had been a tense three weeks since Harvy Stuarts’s arrest. Residents had indulged in idle speculation, while the town ran amuck ungoverned. Not that democracy passed so quickly in Rock Ridge (quite the opposite, in fact), but certain civic grievances had gone unaddressed since they hadn’t a leader to vote on such matters. Hazel Millhouse’s petition to strip Mrs. Briar of her status at the public library, for one. Another unaddressed issue was a vote to put a new stoplight at the corner of Main and Rock Ridge Road where a number of accidents had occurred. And yet another was to cease and desist the building development for the Anarchist Freedom Network out east, helmed by Clem Tully’s construction crew. All matters would be voted upon as soon as the new mayor was announced.

But as all eyes locked on and scanned the empty stage, nothing but a faint rustling from behind the velvet curtain could be seen. Kate thought she might’ve heard arguing voices back there, except that the crowd was much too loud for her to pick up on any conversations that would otherwise billow out.

She wondered what could be keeping Scott.

Their relationship had blossomed rapidly over the course of the past three weeks. He’d been spending more nights at her house. Daily lunches at Daisy’s Luncheonette had become a given. They’d both arrive around one in the afternoon. The waitress Mary was so used to their clockwork rendezvous that she’d come to reserve their favorite table at the window, which overlooked the rolling hills behind Main Street. Now that it was late autumn, the foliage was not to be missed. The real accelerator of their closeness had everything to do with Kate’s new divorce attorney, Arthur Joseph. The man worked swiftly and soundlessly, and there’d been virtually no bumps in the road. Kate’s space in the local paper had run her notice of divorce daily and without fail for the past three weeks. Soon it would be time to officially file with the courts, and Scott’s happiness seemed to elevate with each passing day because of it. Most surprising was that Scott had been inviting Kate over to his apartment. After months of excuses for why it made more sense to dine at her house instead of his—too many case files, nowhere to sit, iffy heating—he’d finally dropped his reservations and welcomed her into his home.

Which wasn’t to say he welcomed her nosing about in his cases. It had always been a bone of contention between them and probably always would be. At least they’d reached a dynamic where no matter how meddling she became, they could both let go of their opinions on the matter and enjoy a hot meal. In so many ways, things were really looking up for Kate.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a thick tuft of snow-white hair and stood, turning to the back of the room.

“Scott!” She exclaimed to get his attention. He’d been scanning the crowd and likely grimacing that there wasn’t a seat in sight. “Over here!”

Her neighbors grumbled from where they sat to the left and right of her, but she paid them no mind as Scott wove his way through the crowded aisle to find her row.

“We’ll squeeze in,” she said easily and got some curt objections from the row.

Likeminded, Scott barreled down the row, passing some residents who stood for him, others who merely shifted their legs to the side, and a few who downright refused to oblige him.

“Police chief coming through,” she said, irritated by these people. “Make room.”

They did, but they didn’t seem happy about it.

Scott gave her a quick peck on the cheek, perhaps shy in the highly public setting.

“Who should we expect?” She asked excitedly, as she grabbed his arm.

The vote had been a comedy of errors, if not chaotic. With less than a day’s notice, the town council had announced all residents were welcome to vote in the next mayor, feeling that their determination alone could very well backfire. After all, it had been the town council that voted in Harvy Stuart, and he turned out to be a downright murderer.

No one had time to campaign, and even less people had time to vote. The ballot had listed only two names—Milton Avery, who was the town treasurer, and Samantha James, who was the vice president of Tully Construction but had also dedicated her thirties to assisting Senator Rhinecliff, who represented Philadelphia and still did. In lieu of more candidates, the ballots simply included an additional blank line that a voter could use to write in their preferred candidate. It was anyone’s guess who would come into office as a result of this meeting, and no one was more excited than Kate to find out who.

“Let’s hope it’s not Samantha,” said Scott as they settled into their tight seats. “I don’t think anyone working in corporate development should have a say in running Rock Ridge. It’s a conflict of interest.”

Kate agreed but felt that Milton Avery wouldn’t be much better. At eighty-seven, the man was breaths away from expiring, and the last thing Rock Ridge needed was to lose another mayor before the term was up.

“Who did you vote for?” she whispered, as the director of civic relations stepped up to the podium and the crowd fell into an eager hush.

Scott shot her a sideways glance and a wry smile.

“You voted for yourself?” She was astonished.

“No, for goodness sake, do you think I’m insane?” He had a good laugh at that. “No, I voted for your friend Jimmy.”

“Jimmy Cranston? In the permits department?”

“I like his politics and he has a good head on his shoulders.”

“When did you learn about his politics?”

“It’s a small town. We’ve chatted.” She must have looked stunned, because Scott continued to defend himself. “He’s a nice guy, open minded. Why? Who did you vote for?”

Kate became suddenly bashful. She didn’t want to have to say it.

“Who?”

“Well, I’ve been running around town so much. The voting hours were ridiculous. Two hours? I couldn’t make it.”

“You didn’t vote?”

“I wish I could’ve,” she shook her head, “but it just wasn’t possible. By the time I wrapped up staging one of Justina’s houses and raced over to the town hall, it was already locked up tight, no lights on. I tried.”

The director of civic relations, Marshal Krane, tapped the microphone. He was a bookish man in his late forties whose bald spot, thick glasses, long fingers, and doughy physique reminded Kate of a cartoon bookworm—the ones featured on giant plastic signs in the children’s section of the library.

“Thank you for your patience,” he said in a nasal tone, as he pushed his glasses up his nose. They slid right back down when he glanced at the index cards in his hands. “Without further adieu, it is my pleasure to announce our new town mayor.”

The crowd fell into a hush, everyone on the edge of their seat and anxious to hear the name of the individual.

“Oh my,” said Marhsall, reading the name to himself. He laughed, and under his breath, he muttered, “Did not see that coming.”

Someone from the back shouted, “Tell us already.” When Kate turned her head to see who’d spoken, she found Jimmy Cranston in a ball of nerves. His sweaty brow and wringing hands told her he had high hopes of hearing his name.

“Well folks,” Marshall went on. “Our new mayor is none other than Mr. Dean Wentworth.”

“Dean?” Kate’s voice sounded aghast, but she was only shocked because she hadn’t had an inkling that Dean would be interested in such a position. He was a wonderful man, young and smart with a good head on his shoulders. She couldn’t be happier for him, and the longer it sank in, the better she felt about the direction Rock Ridge would take under his command. Though not a native, Dean regarded Rock Ridge with the same ardor as Kate and the other lifelong residents. He wanted to keep this town small and quaint, favoring mom-and-pop stores over the big chains. Though he was a contractor on par with Clem Tully, Dean conducted and executed his deals with the greater good of Rock Ridge in mind. Having him as mayor was just what this town needed.

Gradually, and careful not to trip over any of the youngsters seated in the aisle, Dean made his slow way to the podium where Marshall was waiting for him with a smile and the keys to the city.

After shaking the director’s hand and accepting the symbolic keys, which were comically large, Dean laughed into the microphone and began his speech.

“If you’re surprised,” he started, “you are not more surprised than I am, trust me.” He laughed more and studied the keys with a bizarre sense of wonder as though he was trying to figure out whether or not this was a dream. “I mean, who the heck voted for me?” he asked humorously. “I almost didn’t come, because I’m swamped at work.” Once he sobered up a bit and became somewhat grounded, he said, “I believe in this town. I see its goodness, and under my tenure I promise you the best parts of Rock Ridge will prosper and get better, and those aspects that are crippling our town will be modified and improved upon. I take this honor very seriously, and I will not let you down.”

The crowd of residents broke out into applause. Some were reserved in their clapping and others hooted and hollered.

“Now,” said Marshall, reclaiming the microphone as Dean, in a daze, stepped aside. “There’s quite a bit to attend to and we’ll get right to it.”

As Marshall dove into the agenda, Kate turned to Scott and whispered, “I wasn’t planning on staying. Did you want to come over in a bit?”

Distracted by the first item on the docket, Scott said, “A few hours. All the hoobaloo about that stoplight.”

“Right,” she said, giving him a squeeze on the leg. “Come anytime.”

Careful not to cause a disturbance, Kate eased out of her chair and kept her head ducked, moving down the row until she spilled out into the aisle. Only a few residents muttered “hey!” angrily as she passed through. Before she knew it, she was stepping out into the late September chill.

The moon overhead shined in a crescent and the stars pierced through the dark dome sky that reminded her of camping with her twin boys. Jared and Jason were at Penn State, and she missed them with each passing day. She knew one day soon their short summers at home and those brief holiday breaks that flew so fast would soon be replaced by the empty-nest feeling. Her sons were busy foraging their way in the world. They’d soon be graduates. They’d have their own apartments and separate lives. Maybe they would come home for Christmas, if she were lucky. My how time flies, she thought.

And that camping trip. As many years ago as it had been, she remembered it still. Her boys were skipping about, collecting kindling, Greg was fretting over insignificant details that revealed a deep sense of anxiety, which at that time she couldn’t place, reason, or even fathom. After everything she’d learned about her husband in the past six months, Kate was starting to get a better idea of why he’d been so on edge that weekend, pitching the tent and thumbing through bird identification books that Jared had brought along.

Greg hadn’t been the man he’d pretended to be. He’d been involved in a secret mission, whether for the US government or a much darker organization was still unknown to her, but the fact of the matter was that he’d disappeared with a large sum of money intended to fund the Anarchist Freedom Network in a land deal that, at the time, hadn’t gone through. The very campground they’d ventured to with the twins all those years ago turned out to be the site where the anarchists were now building some kind of development, headed by Clem Tully’s construction company, no less.

Greg had had ties with the president of the anarchists. That much she’d learned thanks to Scott and with the help of her deceased friend Meghan Tully, the former librarian. Her last divorce attorney, Walter Miller, was somehow also in the mix. As many pieces as she’d discovered, they still didn’t fit together. Funny how gazing at the stars could bring to mind a world of turmoil.

As she made her way to her vehicle—her pride and joy that had recently been spruced up with a shiny new paint job and the words Mrs. Fix It stenciled on the side—she was suddenly startled when someone behind her uttered, “Kate!”

Her quickened breath subsided when she saw Celia Johnson rushing towards her. Wrapped in a rhinestone shawl and looking far too dressed up for the town meeting, Celia stepped in front of her and smiled strangely.

As much as Kate had a fondness for Celia, Kate had recently developed serious reservations about Celia’s husband, Detective Ken Johnson. Scott worked with Ken closely, and though Scott trusted the man, and Ken had undoubtedly been a pillar of this community, there had been far too much mention of Ken in regard to the anarchists’ land deal. People had died, Walter Miller being the last to have been murdered, and Clem Tully had, more than once, mentioned Ken as an ally in the dark siege to overtake Rock Ridge.

“Hi, Celia. Ducking out of the meeting?” she asked, keeping things light. “Can’t blame you. Once they announced Dean Wentworth as mayor, I had no reason to stay.”

Celia quirked her mouth into a peculiar smile.

“Oh, no, I’m all for Dean!” she clarified. “It’s just that I’ve had a long day and don’t need to sit through a bunch of town votes.”

“Right,” said Celia. It dawned on Kate that Celia might not have been in attendance at the meeting. She seemed to mull over the name Dean Wentworth as though it gave her a bad taste in her mouth. “Actually, I need a bit of help.”

“Okay? What about?”

“Darnedest thing,” she explained, “our back door? Well, the doorknob has been a problem for a while now—loose in its socket, you know. And it finally sprung off. I know it’s late, but if you could swing by, I’m sure all it needs is a screwdriver and an expert’s eye. I’d ask Ken to do it, but he’s been laid up with the flu for the past three days. I hate to think of him sick at home with the back door wide open for anyone to walk in. You can never be too careful these days.”

“Right,” said Kate, who took a moment to remember her toolbox was in the bed of her truck. She glanced at her watch. It was half past six and it wouldn’t take long to screw in the doorknob. “I’ll head over.”

“Thanks a million. I really appreciate it. Ken’s upstairs in bed, so just go around the back of the house. I should be there soon, but well, could be a bit.”

“And the doorknob’s there? Or should I pick up a new one?” she asked, troubled that Grayson’s Hardware was surely closed by now. She thought she spotted Larry, the owner, at the town meeting seated beside Celia’s daughter, Carly. They’d been dating and things had been going very well between them.

“No, the doorknob's there, resting on the ground near the shoe rack. You can’t miss it.”

“Consider it done,” she said with a smile.

Kate climbed into her truck and turned the engine. Considering she was off to do a quick fix-it job, she could certainly use a cup of coffee, but surely Clara was at the town meeting. It was safe to guess all of Main Street had shut down for the town meeting, so she bit her lip and started off for Celia’s Johnson’s house.

The Johnsons’ house was a brick, two-story home with a red front door replete with s lion knocker and lustrous shrubs potted on either side of the entrance. She pulled up to the curb directly in front of the house and noticed there was a black SUV in the driveway. At first she assumed it was Ken’s vehicle. He was, after all, home sick, but as she walked around the side of the house to get to the back door, she remembered Ken drove a Mazda sedan. Maybe Celia had bought a new car, but if that were the case, wouldn’t she be driving it?

Kate put the thought out of her mind when she reached the back door. Just as Celia had indicated, there was a hole where the doorknob should have been. She eased it open and felt around the interior wall for a light switch. It was deeper along the wall than she would’ve imagined, but once she found it she flipped up all three switches on the panel.

Scanning the shoe rack just inside the entryway, she spotted the doorknob resting on its side, but in a flash her gaze darted to something much more jarring.

A body.

A man.

Kate approached using quiet steps. The man lain on his side. His left arm was draped over his face. His knees were bent nearly into the fetal position. She didn’t see any blood, and when she angled her gaze over the man—his hair, brown and buzzed short—a terrible feeling began to grow within her.

Carefully, she rolled him onto his back, causing his arm to fall limp from his face.

She gasped. It was Ken Johnson. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, as she kneeled beside him and felt for a pulse along the side of his neck. Feeling for it, she reminded herself he’d had a fever. Perhaps he collapsed. Perhaps he was only unconscious, but her greatest fears were realized when feeling, pressing, feeling in a different spot, she determined he had no pulse.

Ken Johnson was dead.

Chapter Two

It was an hour before the ambulance arrived. Kate had called from the kitchen phone. The call had rang and rang until finally the 911 operator picked up. She’d sounded bewildered and disoriented, and Kate had imagined her listening to the local radio in some tucked-out-of-the-wayside room, trying to keep up with the broadcast of the town meeting. She’d assured Kate she’d send an ambulance, but the medics, like most of the doctors and nurses at the Rock Ridge hospital, were at the town meeting. It seemed not only had Main Street shut down, but the entire town had—emergency responders, as well. This was certainly the worst time to die, or, Kate considered, the most opportune time to kill someone. As much as she tried to wrestle that notion down (after all, she had no reason to believe Ken had been murdered with no proof or even blood present at the scene), she couldn’t help but assume the worst. She’d come across too many bodies to be naïve.

When the ambulance did arrive, she’d been waiting out front in her truck and puzzling over the Johnsons’ driveway. The SUV she’d discovered when she’d gotten there earlier in the evening hadn’t been there when she’d walked back out to her truck.

“He’s in the back,” she told the two medics, who both barely looked to be in their twenties. One wore a baseball cap snugged low on his brow and the other was still listening to the town meeting, which could be softly heard coming from the radio receiver on his shoulder. As they started after her, she paused and mentioned they might need a body bag. “He’s definitely dead.”

Collecting the gurney and body bag and rolling it after her, she also mentioned that, according to his wife, Ken had been suffering from a fever. “The flu. He's been sick in bed for three days.”

“He’s in his fifties?” one of the medics asked and Kate confirmed that he was. Nodding, he noted, “Too young to die from the flu.”

Kate had to agree. Even the most severe virus usually only killed very young children and the elderly.

“We’ll take it from here,” the one in the baseball cap said when they reached the back door and swung it open to find Ken on the carpet where she’d first found him.

“Are the police on their way?” she asked.

“They should be,” said the other. “A lot of us at the town meeting had silenced our cell phones. Give them time. I know Miranda had driven over to the town hall to get Gunther and Garrison.”

Gunther and Garrison were two police officers who were quite friendly with Scott. They’d even joined his band, The Law, and played at Carly’s birthday party last month.

Kate’s heart sank. Carly. How was she going to take the news that her father had died?

Kate hadn’t been able to reach her. She’d called her cell phone three times and every time it had gone straight to voice mail. Kate hadn’t left a message, though, other than to say please call me back. She thought leaving a message that her father had died would be completely insensitive, not to mention an act of cruelty. This kind of bad news had to be delivered in person.

Though it made sense that Carly was unreachable since Kate had seen her with Larry at the town meeting, she couldn’t reconcile why Celia’s phone had been shut off, as well. Celia certainly hadn’t been heading back into the town hall. She’d mentioned, what had it been? An errand? She needed to take care of something? She’d be a few hours, she’d said. She’d been fairly dressed up in that rhinestone shawl. Far too fancy for the town meeting, and for a Monday night it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. What had she been doing and where was she now?

Seated as she was behind the wheel of her truck, she finally saw a police cruiser roll down the street. Its lights were flashing, but its siren didn’t blare. Behind it she saw Scott’s pickup truck. It was never a good sign when the police chief, himself, was a first responder. His arrival usually indicated suspicions of murder. However, the fact that Scott and Ken were close, having worked together and socialized quite a bit, she decided that could be the reason he’d come.

She stepped out of her truck and shut the door just as the cruiser pulled up to the curb with Scott’s pickup behind it. She half expected to see Celia in the passenger’s seat, but Ken’s wife was in neither vehicle.

She met Scott, as he stepped out of his truck.

“I’m in shock,” she said, hugging him. When he urged her back she added, “Celia told me that Ken had the flu for the past three days.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been at the precinct.”

“But I found him just inside the back door. Why would he venture to the back door if he were sick? I could see him going into the kitchen, maybe, or even spending time in the living room to watch TV, but why would he go down the hallway? There’s nothing down there but shoes and winter coats.”

“Why were you here?”

“Celia caught me outside the town hall just after I left you. She needed the doorknob reattached on the back door. Apparently, it fell off.”

“Okay,” he said. His eyes were fixed on the medics who were rolling Ken on a gurney towards the back of the ambulance. “Go home,” he told her, as he rushed off towards the medics. “Don’t move him! We haven't had a chance to investigate!”

“But,” they stammered, “he died.”

“We don’t know why he did,” he pointed out.

“It didn’t look like anything suspicious,” one of them objected.

“You don’t work in law enforcement. You wouldn’t know one way or the other!”

“Should we put him back?”

“No, no, just stop. Let me look at him.”

Kate watched the scene unfold and felt a bit lost. How was she supposed to simply go home? Go to sleep? She was too riled up and there would be no way to rest peacefully knowing her best friend Carly, as well as Celia, had yet to learn about this latest tragedy.

She sat down in her truck and kept the door open. The cold, fresh air helped her to keep her head straight. Her thoughts kept locking on to the fact that Ken had played some kind of role in the anarchist land development out east. Maybe he hadn’t been a part of the project, but according to what she’d overheard Clem Tully say over the phone, at the very least Ken had a hand in assuring those behind the deal not to worry. The deal had gone through, so maybe they didn’t need him anymore. He might have known too much, just like Meghan Tully, who had also been killed. Kate also couldn’t help but obsess over the uncanny timing of it all. Dean Wentworth had gotten voted in as mayor, and now Ken was dead? The previous mayors, brothers Dudley and Harvy Stuart, had both voted in support of the anarchists’ land deal. Maybe the anarchists felt that Ken had a responsibility to them to get the right person elected as mayor, and when he failed his life had been taken.

She had to stop this. She was driving herself nuts. So she grabbed her cell phone out of the front pocket of her overalls and tried Carly once again.

As her cell bleated its ringtone in her ear, she hoped Carly would pick up. Surely the town meeting had adjourned by now. Again the outgoing voice message came on. She hung up, sent a brief text saying that Carly must call her, and then dialed up Larry, who she hoped was with Carly.

Her call to Larry also went through to voice mail, but she left a brief message and sent a text. Then she tried Celia again as a last ditch effort before she went home.

“Kate?” Celia asked after picking up.

“Celia! I couldn’t get ahold of you!”

“Yes, sorry about that. I must not have heard my phone ringing in my purse.”

She sounded so calm that Kate dreaded telling her the bad news.

“Did you get the doorknob on well enough?” she asked.

Kate thought she heard a man say something in the background, but it was too garbled to tell.

“Well, no. Look…” She sighed, trying to find the words, but there was no good way to say it. “I think you should come to the house.”

“Oh?”

Celia sounded completely natural, and Kate hated to blindside her.

“Has Scott called you?” she asked. She could assume he hadn’t or else Celia probably would’ve been in a ball of tears, if not on her way over.

“No, why?”

“Ah,” she groaned. “I hate to be the one to tell you this...” When she trailed off, Celia didn’t become urgent or demand to know what was going on. “When I came in through the back door, I found Ken on the ground.”

“On the ground.” It sounded like a statement, and Celia remained calm.

“He’s dead, Celia. I’m so sorry.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Celia?”

“Well, it sounds like I should get over there,” she said easily.

“I’m sure Scott would appreciate that,” Kate said, though in the back of her mind she wondered why Celia hadn’t flipped out. Maybe she was just being stoic. Sometimes devastating news took a while to hit a person. She might just be stunned. “Are you okay to drive? I mean, this is terrible news. I could pick you up—”

“No,” she interjected. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll be there soon.”

“Scott asked me to leave, but I can wait for you, if you like.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary.”

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with Carly—”

“I’ll call her. You’ve done enough, Kate, thank you.” Again, her tone was without a shred of distress, as though she was thanking Kate for cleaning her garbage disposal.

Kate then said, “If there’s anything you need—”

But she heard a click. Celia had hung up.

She gave Carly one more call with no answer, then started up her truck. It wouldn’t be easy getting to sleep tonight, so before she drove off she sent Scott a text message asking him to please get in touch when he found out what was going on, no matter how late.

When she got home she suddenly wished her boys were there. They were both at Penn State, and during the academic year she rarely saw them. She was proud they were doing so well and knew she must have done a decent job raising them, since they were achieving high marks and thriving in their independence. Yet she really wished she could be around them now. They calmed her and reminded her of what was really important in life. She realized Ken’s death had cut very close to home. It was reminding her of when Greg had disappeared and the years she spent with her boys, worried and wondering where her husband had gone, what had happened, if he was dead. They’d spent months trying to reconcile the worst of it, wrapping their heads around the daunting possibility that he really was dead.

Carly would soon be told that her father was dead, and Kate dreaded that her best friend would be filled with a sense of anguish similar to the kind that had once consumed Kate.

Kate went into her kitchen, found a bottle of red wine in the cabinet, and uncorked it. She poured a generous glass then went into the bathroom and drew a hot bath. Getting to sleep wouldn’t be easy, but this should help, or so she hoped. She kept her cell nearby on the counter and within reach just in case Carly or Larry called her back. Most of all, she hoped Scott would call. He hadn’t responded to her text yet, but that was understandable. Her highest hope was that Ken had died of natural causes. Her greatest fear was that he hadn’t.

Chapter Three

The next day, Kate woke with a start well before her alarm went off. Lifting out of stressful dreams about Carly, Ken, and Celia’s chilly lack of emotion, it took her a moment to get her bearings and remember that she was only in bed and not desperately running around Rock Ridge in search of her best friend.

The sun had barely pierced the sky and her bedroom was dim. These days, with autumn in full swing, she awoke to a cold room and dreaded getting out from underneath the warm covers, so it took her a moment to muster up the nerve to dash to her closet where her thick robe was hanging. Next, she slipped her feet into her slippers and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. There were no missed calls, no new text messages, which concerned her, but perhaps Scott would get in touch today. It was only 6:00 a.m. after all. He was probably still sleeping if he’d been up all night.

In the kitchen, she put on a fresh pot of coffee, and while it percolated she reviewed her day calendar. She’d gotten so busy over the past month that she now kept a small calendar-book, each page was a day with time slots in rows. Justina’s business, Carnegie Real Estate, had also been booming, and, because of it, Kate had a lot of homes to stage. She was still learning the ropes and getting a knack for how best to stage the homes. Too much furniture was off-putting, too few flowers and accents caused a home to look dreary. It was all about striking the right balance. She noted she had to stage Jessica Wentworth’s house. Though Harvy Stuart and his wife, Kendall, had been interested, they were both now in jail, and Jessica’s house had been sitting on the market untouched. The difficulty was that it was quite costly since it was one of the largest estates in Rock Ridge. Curiously, Kate wondered if perhaps Jessica would want to move back in with Dean now that he was the mayor, but she reasoned against it. There were probably too many memories there for Jessica to feel at peace.

Kate poured her coffee into a mug and drank it black while staring at her cell phone. Grayson’s Hardware would be open soon, but Kate was more interested in swinging by the library to pick up a number of books she’d reserved on decorating homes for the real-estate market. Unfortunately, the library wouldn’t open for another hour, and when it did, she was fairly certain Mrs. Briar would be there. Kate didn’t exactly get along with Mrs. Briar.

She felt like she’d been lazing about a bit too long once she’d drank her second cup of coffee, so she hopped in the shower and then got dressed in her usual fair: overalls with long johns and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, work books, and a flannel. She pulled on her heavy Carhartt coat and was out the door.

Bean There, her favorite coffee shop, was the only business open at this hour. Clara, who owned the shop, was in the habit of getting in at 5:00 a.m. and opening the doors an hour after that.

Kate pulled up to the curb out front and glanced in through the windows. Clara had decorated the shop with autumn leaves and pumpkins, the fall spirit in full swing, which Kate appreciated. Some of the bigger chain stores had already put up Christmas decorations. It was downright ridiculous.

“You’re up early,” said Clara behind the counter. She was setting out pastries under the glass display from a large plastic bin. “Are you blown away about our new mayor?”

“Surprised, certainly. But I think Dean will do an excellent job.” Kate watched Clara pour dark roast into a large to-go cup for her, which she then set on the counter.

“Fresh bear claw?” she asked. “Oh! Cookie dropped off yogurt muffins! You have to try one.”

“Yogurt muffins?”

“Yeah, instead of using butter, she uses yogurt so the muffin is healthier, more protein, less fat. And you’d never know it. They’re so fluffy. I have chocolate chip and blueberry.”

“I’ll try the blueberry,” Kate said, happy to have anything even remotely healthy. “Hey, let me ask you,” she began, but when she popped a corner of the top off the muffin and tasted it, she was momentarily speechless. “Wow, this is great!”

Clara beamed. “Cookie’s working on a lot more healthy breakfast options, and I’m thinking about getting bagels in here, too. Nothing like a bagel with your coffee. What were you going to ask me?”

“Do you happen to know anyone in town who drives a black SUV? A souped-up one? I’m not sure they make.”

Clara took a moment to think it over. “I’m really not sure. This is more of a pickup truck kind of town.”

“I know,” Kate said, thrown. The only other person she’d known with an SUV was Kendall, who was in prison. Besides, the vehicle she'd seen at the Johnsons’ last night couldn’t have been Kendall’s, because it didn’t have those gaudy hubcaps—the gold-rimmed ones.

Before Clara could ask why she had inquired, Kate paid her for her breakfast, thanked her, and was out the door.

As Kate made her way to her truck, a disturbing realization took hold. What if Kate had been in the house with the killer? The SUV had been in the driveway when she showed up, and was gone by the time she left. She kicked herself for not looking at the license plate, but it hadn’t occurred to her.

When she got to Jessica’s house, intent on rearranging the furniture according to some Internet research she’d done a few nights back, she noticed the morning paper was rolled in a plastic sleeve and resting against the front door. She grabbed it then let herself in.

Jessica’s house was chilly, so she kept her coat on. She sat on the living room couch, which was positioned awkwardly in the corner. Kate had read about placing certain furniture pieces in the corner of rooms, facing them towards the center. It rounded off the hard corners, she’d read, and made the flow of the room more appealing. But Jessica’s couch was much too long to make sense here. She’d realized that two seconds after she’d dragged it over. She’d have to move it back under the windows and perhaps set the bookshelf in this corner. The bookshelf was narrow, though tall, and if she set a small, potted plant atop it, it could do the trick.

In the meantime, she drank her coffee and opened up the paper. She’d gotten in the habit of flipping to the back whenever the paper arrived at her house. It was a compulsive need to see her ad space. Her divorce attorney, Arthur Joseph, had instructed her to run a notice of divorce in the paper for three weeks to publicly notify Greg of the divorce proceedings. Of course he hadn’t responded, and soon Arthur would take the next step and file the actual divorce papers with the court. That day was fast approaching.

There it was in the back: a small two-by-three-inch ad. She read Greg’s name. It was as surreal as ever, but at least it was running. Then she closed the paper and set it on the coffee table, which was also set awkwardly, to the side of the couch. It reminded her of how much work she had to do before Justina could have a second go at showing the house.

As soon as the paper landed on the table, the front page caught her eye. There, in the upper-right corner, was a black-and-white photo of Ken—a classic cop in full uniform regalia. The headline said Rock Ridge’s Finest Found Dead. Gosh, she hoped this wasn’t how Carly would find out.

Munching on her muffin, she began to read. Her heart skipped a beat when she found her name, but of course she’d be mentioned in the article. She’d been the one to find Ken, after all. She hadn’t seen any reporters last night, however, and she couldn’t help but feel somewhat irked that one of the officers had mentioned her to a reporter.

If she read any further, she was sure she’d lose her appetite, so she stopped, noting the reporter who’d written the article—Eric Demblowki. The name wasn’t familiar. Was he new in town? Perhaps he was an out-of-town reporter who’d drafted and submitted the article to the Rock Ridge Tribune. But if he was from out of town, and Kate felt certain he had to be, why on earth would one of the responding officers tell him anything? Then again, word traveled fast. If Gunther said anything to his barber, the news was sure to spread like wildfire. Still, between last night and the wee hours this morning, there would’ve been no time for gossip to spread. Even Clara at Bean There hadn’t mentioned Ken’s death, which could only mean that she hadn’t heard about it yet.

The morning sun was inching up the sky and brightening the room, which inspired Kate to hop to it. She threw away her muffin wrapper and empty to-go cup in the kitchen, and began rearranging the furniture. She liked how creative staging homes could be, but she wasn’t naïve to the fact that she was still pretty green. After forty-five minutes and a lot of sweating and cursing, she realized the furniture was exactly where Jessica had placed it when she’d lived here. Ugh, Kate grunted. Well, if that’s how it looked best, then that’s where she’d keep it, but it’d be hard to justify to Justina her bill when technically she hadn’t changed a thing. She reasoned that more fresh flowers would spruce the place up, figuring Sunshine Florist would be open by now, and, at the very least, Kate needed to connect with Carly who worked there. She was about to head out when the doorbell rang.

It crossed her mind that it could be Justina at the door, but Justina usually called or texted when she needed to see Kate.

Kate opened the door and found a strange woman standing under the portico. In a word, the woman looked like money. She wore a sharply tailored skirt suit that reminded Kate of tea in the queen’s palace, as well as a wide-brimmed hat. Her makeup was precise and her hands were gloved. She was head-to-toe white, though her skirt suit had black trim.

“Can I help you?” Kate asked, trying to recall what time it was.

“I’m Lily van der Tramp,” she announced in a well-articulated, sing-song tone. “I noticed the realtor’s sign on the lawn and I’d like to see the house.”

Lily looked Kate up and down then frowned.

“I’m Kate Flaherty,” she said, feeling embarrassed in her overalls. “I’ve been fixing the place up. Did you call the realtor, Justina Anastasi?”

“Did I say I called the realtor?” she said curtly. “Now step aside, I’d like to see the property.”

Kate didn’t move, she was so taken aback by Lily’s rudeness.

“Excuse me, do you know who I am?”

“Lily van der Tramp,” she said dryly.

“The famous designer,” she stated then again looked Kate up and down. “No, of course you don’t know who I am. Why would you?”

Lily was not the kind of resident Rock Ridge needed.

“I think we can both assume,” Lily went on, “that the owner of this house would like to sell it. I’m interested. What’s the problem?”

Though the woman was unpleasant, Kate couldn’t argue with her logic, so she stepped aside.

Lily boldly crossed through, taking her gloves off as she went into the kitchen. Kate trailed behind her.

“I’m still in the process of staging the house, so you’ll have to excuse it if it seems in disarray,” Kate explained.

“I don’t care about that,” she said. “I care about the architecture, the land taxes, the neighbors.”

“Let me give Justina a call then,” said Kate, knowing she wasn’t actually equipped to answer such questions. “Justin knows every last detail about this house.”

Ignoring her even though Kate had her cell to her ear, Lily asked, “Who lived here prior? The former mayor?”

“Well, technically the mayor before the former mayor. Dudley Stuart and his wife at the time.”

“Ah, that’s right. And how much are they asking for it?”

“Well, it’s only Jessica who’s asking—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted without so much as glancing at Kate. “I care how much they want.”

“Right, well, Justina will know.”

As Lily wandered into the living room, turning her nose up at various details, Kate walked towards the front door, which she realized she’d left open, and hoped Justina would pick up.

“Good morning, Justina!” she said urgently when Justina came through the line. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all.”

“There’s a Ms. van der…”

“Tramp!” Lily shouted from the living room.

“A Ms. van der Tramp here looking at Jessica’s house. She’s interested in the details, the asking price and all that.”

“Tell her on I’m my way,” Justina said excitedly then hung up.

Kate almost wished she hadn’t. She didn’t especially want to be alone with this woman.

Just as Kate turned to close the door, she noticed the vehicle in the driveway. It was a black SUV, and she was almost certain it was the car she’d seen in Ken Johnson’s driveway.

When Kate joined Lily in the living room she saw the woman in a whole new light.

“Well?” Lily demanded.

“Justina is on her way.”

“Ah,” she sighed. “She couldn’t simply tell you?”

“Where are you from?” Kate asked.

“New York. Isn’t it obvious?”

The only thing that was obvious was Lily’s lack of social graces.

“And what brings you to Rock Ridge?”

“I’m looking for a second home,” said Lily, easing her tone a bit so that it sounded more conversational and less like a tongue-lashing. “I love New York, but it's exceptionally noisy. It can really grate on your nerves if you don’t find ways to get out of the city.”

“I can see that,” said Kate, trying to sound pleasant. “But why Rock Ridge specifically? We’re not exactly written up in Town & Country magazine.”

“I attended boarding school up north not too far from here when I was a little girl. We used to take class trips down to the campsite, and I have many fond memories. If I live here, I’m sure I could maintain a low profile, and that’s just what I need right now, to slip away every few months, breathe some fresh, country air.”

“So you must know some people in town?”

“Not really. It was many years ago, not that I look it.” She laughed. The woman certainly thought highly of herself.

“So you don’t know Ken Johnson?” Kate challenged.

Lily’s face drew long and her eyes narrowed. She looked as though she could spit or, at the very least, say something insulting, but Justina barreled through the door, winded yet thrilled to have a prospective buyer.

“Ms. van der Tramp!” She exclaimed as though they were old friends. Judging by the look on Lily’s face, Kate determined they were utter strangers, but Justina had a knack for making complete strangers feel like old friends. With Lily, it wasn’t working very well, however. “Let me give you a tour. I hear you have a lot of questions.”

As Justina ushered Lily through the living room and down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder at Kate, indicating Kate could come back later.

Before she climbed into her truck, she held her cell phone in front of the SUV’s license plate and took a picture.

If Lily had been at Ken Johnson’s house last night, then Kate had every intention of finding out exactly what had happened.

Chapter Four

It was starting to drive her nuts that Scott hadn’t gotten in touch, and she couldn’t imagine proceeding to stage the next house on Justina’s list before she spoke with Carly, who also hadn’t returned her calls. She reasoned she could stop by Sunshine Florist to see if Carly was there and pick up an order of flowers, which were needed as the final touch on Brent Townsend’s house.

Sunshine Florist was open by the time she was walking up the sidewalk. She’d opted to park a block away to get some fresh air and exercise. When she got to the door she saw that it was propped open. There were a few early morning customers smelling certain bouquets as she passed through to the register counter, but where she hoped to find Carly, there was only Greta Mann, Carly’s new assistant.

“Hey, Greta, is Carly around?”

Greta looked suddenly forlorn. “Carly’s dad died,” she said regretfully.

Immediately, Kate’s heart sank. If Greta had heard about Ken, it meant Carly knew, as well.

“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Carly.”

“She’s taking the day off. She’s at her mother’s,” said Greta. “I’m sure she’ll end up taking the week off. How tragic.”

“His death comes as quite a shock,” Kate agreed.

“And that he was poisoned,” said Greta, shaking her head. “Who would think to do such a thing?”

“Where did you hear that?” Kate asked, stunned, though she had feared he’d been killed.

“It was in the paper,” said Greta, a bit taken aback that Kate hadn’t read it.

She recalled setting it aside. She hadn’t gotten further than reading her own name, and even that had been too much.

“It was in the paper,” she echoed now that the timeline was dawning on her. The paper was generally printed at three in the morning. It took a good few hours to print off the thousand copies required to fulfill distribution, then a good hour to package and distribute to the delivery boys who were contracted to deliver between five and six in the morning. Ken had been found dead around ten o’clock at night, and it’d taken the medics an hour beyond that to even show up. That meant that the reporter, Eric Demblowski, would’ve had to know the full story by around midnight in order to start writing the article. How could he have possibly learned the fact of Ken’s poisoning in that short window of time?

“Right,” said Greta, “the paper. You didn’t read it?”

“Not all of it, no.” Shaking herself out of deep thought, Kate said, “I might as well pick up Justina’s order for Brent Townsend’s house. Is it ready?”

“Ah,” said Greta, glancing in the books. “Yes. Give me a sec.”

Greta disappeared into the back, and as Kate waited she wondered about this Eric Demblowski. He wasn't a resident and yet seemed to know an awful lot. Lily van der Tramp also wasn’t a resident, and her SUV had definitely been parked outside Ken’s house. Kate had been exposed to too many murders to overlook a coincidence like this. Did the two know each other? Had Lily killed Ken with Eric’s help and then Eric conveniently wrote up the article? Kate really ought to read that article. If it threw suspicion on someone, maybe Eric had used the article to do just that, throwing suspicion off of himself.

Greta returned with two giant bouquets of roses, one pink and the other red.

“Can I help you get these out to your truck?” she offered.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Once Greta helped her set the bouquets in the front seat, she gave Kate a weary smile then started off down the sidewalk. Kate climbed into her truck and drove across town to Brent’s house where she set the bouquets in the kitchen and living room. She wondered how Justina was doing with Lily. The fashion designer was abominable, to say the least, and Kate hoped Lily wouldn’t buy the house. Rock Ridge didn’t need her kind. Especially if she is a killer, Kate thought.

Kate was sure to lock up Brent’s house on her way out, which included checking that all the windows were locked, as well, then she drove off to Celia’s house.

Celia came to the door when Kate banged the lion-head knocker. She was dressed in the same black shawl as last night, and as she spoke, Kate was bothered that Celia didn’t look quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Celia.”

“Come in,” she said, downtrodden. “I’m glad you’re here. Carly’s in shambles.”

As Kate followed Celia into the living room, Kate realized why Celia didn’t look quite right. She hadn’t appeared to be crying. Her eyes were clear and bright and not red and puffy, though Celia certainly looked depressed.

Carly, on the other hand, was sobbing where she sat on the couch. She blew her nose into a tissue, sighed, and then a fresh swell of tears overcame her when she realized Kate was there.

Without hesitation, Kate joined her and put her arm around her.

“Oh Carly, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand it,” said Carly, sniffling. “How could this have happened?”

Kate grimaced sympathetically and then looked at Celia. “Has Scott said anything?”

“Only that he’s actively investigating,” said Celia.

“You didn’t happen to read the paper, did you?” Kate asked, treading carefully.

Carly was the one to indicate they had. “Poisoned? How could that have possibly happened? He was home alone, sick! Who could’ve poisoned him?”

“Well, the back door was wide open,” Celia supplied.

“Which doesn’t make any sense,” Carly blurted out. “That door was fine.”

“Oh please, Carly,” said Celia. “I know you’re upset, but the fact of the matter was that you always came in the front door and you were barely here.”

Carly didn’t argue, but Kate believed her friend. What if there had been nothing wrong with the back door? Why wasn’t Celia upset?

“Celia,” Kate started, “do you know a woman named Lily van der Tramp?”

Celia went blank then said, “I don’t think so, why?”

Kate wondered if tipping Celia off when even she wasn’t certain Lily had been involved in Ken’s death would be a good idea. Celia was known to gossip, not that she would in this instance since the subject related to her own family, but still. Kate debated for a moment then asked, “Ken wouldn’t have known her?”

“What is this about, Kate?” she asked impatiently.

“I should talk to Scott. He hasn’t returned my calls yet.”

“I’m sure he’s very busy with this case,” Celia suggested.

Then Carly asked, “Who is Lily van der Tramp?”

“Well, she came to look at Jessica’s house, but...well, I don’t want to worry you. I should really talk to Scott first, but when I came here last night I noticed an SUV parked in the driveway. I didn’t think anything of it because I was preoccupied with deciding which screwdriver I should use. Anyway, when I left after calling the police I noticed the SUV was gone.”

“You should definitely tell Scott,” said Carly emphatically.

Then Celia chimed in. “What does Lily what’s-her-name have to do with that?”

“When she came to Jessica’s I noticed the same SUV. It’s hers.”

“And you didn’t tell Scott?” Carly was stunned. “Kate, how could you not tell him?”

“I don’t know. I was in shock. My main concern was getting in touch with you two. I’ll do it now,” she said, getting up. “Would anyone like coffee?”

“Please,” said Celia.

In the kitchen, Kate put on a fresh pot, as she pressed her cell to her ear. Scott’s cell only rang, so she dialed up his desk phone at the precinct. He didn’t pick up there, either, so she left a message mentioning the SUV and Lily van der Tramp and then immediately dialed the general number for the precinct. When the receptionist picked up, Kate immediately asked where Scott was.

“On a case,” said the receptionist.

“Well could you please tell him to call me back? Kate Flaherty,” she said, spelling out her last name. “I’ve tried his cell and his desk phone. Tell him this is in regard to Ken Johnson’s murder.”

“I certainly will,” said the receptionist before hanging up.

Kate carried three mugs into the living room and set them out on the coffee table then made a second trip with the coffee carafe, cream, and sugar, which she set out and poured coffee in all three mugs.

“Did they tell you what poison was used?” Kate asked.

“I really can’t talk about this,” said Celia. It would’ve been understandable if she was a mess of tears, but Celia seemed only angry. “Carly and I have a lot of arrangements to make for the funeral, relatives to call…oh this is a nightmare.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Kate offered.

“That’s very kind of you,” said Carly, drawing a blank.

Kate felt her cell vibrate in her overalls and was fast to answer since she’d been expecting Scott to get back to her. She answered without even looking at the screen, and was surprised when she heard Dean’s deep voice come through clear as a bell.

“Kate,” he said excitedly, which gave her the impression that he might not have heard the news about Ken. How could that be? Celia was the mayor’s receptionist. “I’m in the mayor’s office! I mean, my office. I’m the mayor! Can you believe it?!”

Kate didn’t want to sound too happy in front of Celia and Carly, but she congratulated him. “What can I do for you, Dean?”

“This office is falling apart, and I figured it’d be easier to have you take a look rather than me spending time on these repairs. I’m a bit overwhelmed, as you can imagine.”

“Certainly,” she said. “I’ll be right over.”

As soon as she returned her cell to her overalls, she apologized for having to take off.

“Please call me if there’s anything you need,” she said then hugged Carly. “Celia, I’m so sorry for you loss.”

Politely, Celia said, “Yes, thank you.”

“Did you not tell Dean what happened?” she asked, getting up from the couch.

Celia sighed. “After Dudley’s murder and Harvy’s arrest, I had to ask myself, what am I doing there? And now with my very own husband murdered…well, I called in this morning and left Dean a voice message that I quit. I’m sure I owe him an explanation, but quite frankly, I didn’t have it in me to detail all that over the phone. Besides, I’m sure he reads the paper. And I’m sure he won’t have a hard time replacing me.”

“You do what’s best for you,” Kate said understandingly. “No one can fault you.”

Celia cracked the first smile Kate had seen all morning.

It took a bit longer than Kate would’ve liked driving across Rock Ridge through the midmorning traffic. It was certainly a sleepy town, but since many residents got to work between ten and eleven, if they weren’t an up-with-the-sun type, the roads were a bit crowded, especially Main Street.

As she parked in the lot in front of the DPW building where the mayor’s office was located along with the police station, Kate made a mental note to swing by the homicide department to see if Scott happened to be there.

She found Dean with his sleeves rolled up, standing in the center of his new office. He was turning about and trying to make sense of a mess on the floor, There were old boxes packed to the brim, odd slots of wood that Kate realized were shelves, and most of the paintings on the walls hung off-kilter. She realized she hadn’t set foot in here since the previous mayor had been arrested. Clearly, the police had done a thorough job of tearing the office apart searching for evidence.

Kate set her toolbox just inside the open doorway, which got Dean’s attention.

“Hey! Thanks for coming by,” he said. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, too hopped up on the thrill of having been voted mayor to get a decent night’s sleep. “I think the shelves are the worst of it. You tell me if you can repair them, otherwise we can buy a new unit at Grayson’s.”

Kate stepped carefully through the mess and inspected the boards of wood. Some were cracked badly, but a little woodworking glue could do the trick. Lord knew the town didn’t have a dime to spare on brand new furniture fixtures, even if she did get a discount at Grayson’s Hardware.

“I think I can salvage this,” she said, straightening up. “What are you going to do about your receptionist?”

Dean met her gaze finally and his face went long. “It’s just terrible news,” he said. “Not to mention that Celia had become the heart and soul of this office. She knew where everything was. She knew every detail of every correspondence and item up for review. It’s going to take a lot of time to get up to speed.”

“I can imagine.”

As Kate began lining up the boards and gluing their cracks, taking time to assess the shelving unit that was still set against the wall, she asked Dean what she could. They were close, and she felt anything she opened up about or let slip wouldn’t backfire. He was good at keeping things to himself.

“Have you talked to Scott at all?”

“Not other than when he congratulated me last night,” said Dean, settling in behind the desk. “See, I don’t even know the password on this thing,” he grumbled, typing angrily into the keyboard. “Then he rushed off to Ken’s house. I got the sense he took Ken’s murder personally.” Dean gave up typing and began sorting through some files on the desk. “They were close, you know?”

“Oh believe me, I know,” said Kate, as she slid the first repaired board into its slot at the top of the unit. “What I don’t understand is how that reporter, Eric Demblowski, got word that Ken was poisoned. That’s a really fast turnaround, if you think about it.”

“Well,” said Dean wryly, “Eric has his ways.”

“You know him?”

“Oh yeah, for years now.” Dean placed file after file into the desk drawer. “He wasn’t always a reporter. Back in the day, we used to go to heavy metal band shows together. I think it was Eric who showed me how to put on guyliner.” He chuckled at that. “Last I heard he was trying to make a name for himself in journalism in New York. Weird that he’s here. He owes me a dinner.”

“He was living in New York?”

“That was my understanding, but we fell out of touch. You know how it goes.”

Lily van der Tramp was also from New York, but how could either of them have possibly known Ken? Or had they not known him but knew they needed him dead? But then again, why?

“So,” Kate began asking as she slid another repaired board into its slot in the shelving unit, “any big plans as mayor?”

“I’ll tell you my plan,” he said proudly. “Running those anarchists out of town.”

Kate paused and gave him her full attention.

“Everyone knows they’re up to no good, and the last thing Rock Ridge needs is a huge corporate development. I happen to know Clem Tully has completely lost confidence in the project. They’re short on cash. The investors expect him to work miracles. His men are exhausted. And now that Ken’s dead, well, I’m more determined than ever.”

“What do you mean, now that Ken’s dead?”

“Right after Harvy got arrested and the mayor’s chair was open, Ken and I got to talking, casually at first. We were likeminded about that development out east. You ask me, Ken was terrified of it, but never really told me why. He just said he wanted someone in office to stop the project, run those hoodlums out of town. And I agreed. Then he made me a proposition. Well, maybe not a proposition. Proposition sounds like something out of The Godfather.” He laughed at the reference. “But he said that if I was committed to shutting down the development, he’d help me get into office.”

“Did he?”

“Of course I thought he was nuts. We were drinking buddies, you know. Nothing unhealthy, but most of these conversations took place at The Rail over a beer or two. I didn’t think he was actually serious. And, in fact, a few weeks ago we stopped talking about it. He got busy at the precinct and I was up to my ears in contracting deals. I thought he forgot. Then I got voted in last night! Crazy!”

It certainly was.

“Do you know if Ken mentioned this plan of his to anyone?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I guess I wouldn’t know. Bar talk and all.”

Anyone could’ve overheard, thought Kate. Also, if Ken felt that strongly about shutting down the development, he could’ve voiced his concern openly. Opinions spread like wildfire in this town. Anyone could’ve gotten wind of it.

“Hey, that looks really good,” said Dean, approaching the newly reconstructed shelving unit.

As she watched Dean inspect her work, she felt suddenly worried for him. If Ken was trying to shut down the development and someone had killed him because of this, then Dean was also at risk.

It had never sat right with Kate that upon Harvy’s arrest for killing Walter Miller, Mike Waters, the president of the Anarchist Freedom Network and the man behind the development out east, had never been arrested. Surely he was guilty of conspiracy, if not murder. Now that Ken was dead, she wondered if Mike could’ve been behind it.

That would mean that Lily van der Tramp and Eric Demblowski, two New Yorkers by all accounts, would have to be somehow tied to Mike Waters. At this point, she had no reason to believe they were.

Kate worked in silence fixing up Dean’s new office, while Dean scurried about, refiling papers and getting acclimated to his new role. Soon, she’d spackled over the old holes in the wall and helped Dean gather Harvy’s paintings in a box and cleaned up, carrying the boxes with him into one of the storage closets past the receptionist's desk. After an hour, his office looked good as new, though the walls were bare and could use a fresh coat of paint.

“I can swing by Grayson’s for some paint,” she offered.

“That’d be great. I’m thinking a soft blue, nothing too dark, just lively,” he suggested. “I trust your judgment.”

“That’s no problem, but I won’t be back to paint until tomorrow. Justina has quite a bit of work for me, and I’ve only been tackling it slowly.”

“That’s no problem,” he smiled. “What do I owe you?”

Kate wrote up an invoice and handed it to him. It took Dean more than a few minutes to locate the mayor’s checkbook then he frowned. “I’m not sure I’ve been added on the account yet.” He riffled through his pants pocket. “No matter. I’ll write you a personal check and worry about the city reimbursing me later.”

After he did just that, Kate tucked the check into her overalls and collected her tools.

“I’ll give a call tomorrow before I head over,” she mentioned as she took off through the anteroom and into the hall.

She wanted to drop her toolbox off at her truck, but Kate was so anxious to talk to Scott that she decided to walk over to the precinct right away to see if he was around.

The building was a bit of a maze to cross through the DPW department and into the police station, which assigned each department to its own floor. Homicide was located on the first floor, so she took the stairwell down since it was closer than the elevators. The stairwell put her at the back of the first floor hallway. She ventured along to the entrance to the homicide department, which was just shy of the building entrance.

When she circled in she stopped at the receptionist’s desk, but her eye was on Scott’s desk. It was empty, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the building.

The receptionist, a mousy woman in her early forties, regarded Kate with flat eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m here to see Scott York, if he’s around.”

The receptionist, whose name was Andy, glanced at his desk just as Kate had done and said, “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I know it doesn’t look like it, but could you find out where he is, please?”

Before Andy got the chance, Scott barreled through the open doorway with Gunther and Garrison. All three of them were hauling in Larry Stadt, and Kate almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Larry had been dating Carly for a while, and things had been going great. What on earth could he possibly have been arrested for?

When Larry saw Kate he locked eyes with her and began pleading, “I didn’t do it, Kate! I would never! I love Carly!”

“Do what?” she said, stunned.

“They think I killed Ken!” Larry tried to jerk free of the officers, but they held him too tightly.

Scott shot Kate a sorry glance.

“You can’t possibly think he killed Ken! He was at the town meeting with everyone else!”

“You don’t know what’s really going on, Kate,” he said sternly. “Please step aside.”

She did, but she wouldn’t leave.

Chapter Five

“Scott, this doesn’t make any sense,” she said once the officers had secured Larry in one of the jail cells downstairs.

“Not to you, no,” he said. “But we have evidence.”

“What evidence?” she demanded. Scott had taken her into one of the interrogation rooms so they could talk in private. Kate knew it was a measure he’d taken so she wouldn’t cause a scene.

“You know I can’t tell you that, Kate,” he said regretfully.

“But if Larry was at the town meeting when Ken died, I don’t see how—”

“It doesn’t matter that Larry was there. The coroner discovered the poison used to kill Ken. It was slow acting. He would’ve had to have ingested it in five hours before he died.” Scott sighed. “I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“What was his motive?” she challenged, and when he didn’t respond except to hang his head, she said, “He doesn’t have one. He wouldn’t. He’s been involved with Carly. He’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Kate, really, you need to leave.”

“Ken was sick at home for days. Celia would’ve known if someone came to the house.”

“Would she have?”

She didn’t like how Scott was looking at her, but his point was clear. Celia had been dressed up that night. She hadn’t seemed particularly torn up about Ken’s death. Maybe she’d been out a lot in the recent days. Kate suddenly wondered if perhaps Celia was having an affair, then she forced the thought out of her head. It was absurd.

“Look,” she began. “I should’ve told you the other night, but I was too riled up over Ken’s death.”

“What?” he asked but with no sense of interest.

“When I got to the house there was a black SUV in the driveway. Here,” she said, pulling up the photo she’d taken of Lily’s license plate with her cell phone. “The same SUV came to Jessica’s house to see it since it’s on the market. It belongs to a woman named Lily van der Tramp. She’s from out of town.”

“Okay,” he said, not as intrigued as Kate thought he’d be.

“Don’t you see? She was there at the house when Ken died. By the time I left the SUV was gone. I didn’t hear her in the house, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there.”

“Kate, we know Ken ingested the poison hours before his death. It wouldn’t matter that this Lily person stopped by.”

“Who knows how long she was there?” she pointed out. “Please, you have to look into her.”

“Kate, you have to leave,” he countered.

“Why won’t you look into this?” she demanded.

“Okay, fine. E-mail me the photo. I’ll look into it, but I don’t see why you won’t trust me on this. I’m not one to arrest people willy-nilly. We have proof.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve arrested people in the past and you’ve been wrong,” she said firmly. “And I’ve helped you in the past and I’ve been right.”

Scott held her gaze but didn’t argue with her. He knew she was right. He had to, but there was nothing more she could say. She pulled up the e-mail app on her cell and sent the picture to him right away, then left the interrogation room.

It pained her to think what Carly might be going through right now. It was bad enough she’d lost her father, but now that her boyfriend had been arrested she must be at the absolute end of her rope.

Rather than heading out to her truck, she made her way down one flight of stairs to the jail cells, making sure that Scott and the other officers didn’t take notice.

Larry was pacing his jail cell when she stepped up to the bars.

“Kate!” he said desperately. “What’s going on? How can they arrest me?”

“I don’t know. Scott won’t tell me anything. They didn’t talk to you?”

“They brought me in for an interview earlier today. I didn’t know why they’d need to talk to me, but I answered all their questions, and though I didn’t think I was very helpful, they seemed pleased and I left. Then out of nowhere Scott showed up at Grayson’s and arrested me! I don’t know what I said or how this happened!”

“Do you have a good lawyer?”

“Yes, I called him,” said Larry. “Why am I in here?”

“First things first. What did you tell them?”

“Mainly they asked where I was between two and five yesterday afternoon. I told them I was at the hardware store until one, and Carly had been worried about her dad, so I offered to go over there. I think I got to the house around two. Ken was feverish, so I made him some soup.”

“Oh no. You did?”

“Yeah, made it from scratch with ingredients I found in the kitchen. Why?”

Kate sighed. What an utterly terrible coincidence. “Scott told me Ken had been poisoned. He said the poison was ingested hours before Ken died.”

“What? I didn’t poison him.”

“But you used ingredients you weren’t familiar with.”

“Are you saying I did this accidentally?”

“No, I’m saying maybe someone else had planned to poison Ken, and you happened to pluck up the very ingredients they were planning on using.”

“But who would want to kill Ken? And…” He fell silent, putting the pieces together. “Celia is the only other person who lives there. You think...?”

“I really don’t know,” said Kate. Then she fished a scrap of paper out of her purse with a pen. “Do you remember exactly what ingredients you used? Can you write them down? Maybe I can get into the house and collect them.”

As Larry jotted down all he could remember, he asked, “Why doesn’t Scott search the house? Find the poison?”

“He probably will if he hasn't already, but I'll do my best. Did you mention you made the soup at the house?”

“I...I think...it’s all a blur. I don’t remember.”

“Well, definitely tell your lawyer when he gets here and don’t talk to anyone, not Scott or any of the officers until your lawyer gets here.”

“I won’t.” He handed her the slip of papers through the bars.

She skimmed it to make sure she could read his handwriting.

“You’ll get me out of this, won’t you? You’ll find the real killer? I’m begging you.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said. He looked so sad, completely hopeless. “Try not to worry. Your bail will be set soon. You’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Kate,” he blurted out urgently. “My dad was a killer. What if people don’t believe I’m innocent? What if, even if I do make it out of here, I lose my business?”

She took a deep breath. His fears were real and justified, but if she thought about them, it’d cripple her. “Try to stay positive,” she told him then gave him a weary smirk. “And don’t say anything.”

When Kate got out to her truck she realized that for the first time in a while she was legitimately stressed. It wasn’t just that her friend had been arrested and her best friend was grieving terribly and probably at a wild loss for why her boyfriend was in jail, but also because Kate had let Ken’s death consume her and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d found him. She was so busy with work for Justine that to let her tasks slide by even one day caused her a great burden.

She really needed to get back on track, get to Brent Townsend’s house and stage it for sale, and continue on down her list, but she did not have a clue how she’d be able to concentrate.

She reasoned she could spend a half hour and not a minute more dropping by the Rock Ridge Tribune to investigate the reporter Eric Demblowki, see if he had ties to Lily van der Tramp and try to assemble, if at all possible, a picture as to why anyone would want to frame Larry.

For all the years Kate had lived in Rock Ridge, she’d never had a reason to stop by the Tribune. Often their articles revolved around the quaint goings-on about town, if not updates of the town meetings and other light political strides, which she generally was in the know about since she regularly attended those meetings.

The Tribune was at the intersection of Main Street and Rock Ridge Road, and as soon as she turned the corner and had to slow down to make an immediate right into the Tribune parking lot, she experienced firsthand why there ought to be a traffic light there.

Nancy Rodell’s son, a proud teenager who’d gotten his license not two weeks ago, had gunned it, swinging out in front of Kate’s truck. He must have thought it was either his right-of-way, or that he could beat her to the punch. She had pressed the gas so that he wouldn’t clip her rear bumper, and then slammed on the brakes to make her turn into the Tribune, which the vehicle behind her must not have expected. It rear-ended her from seem out of nowhere.

Kate’s truck jolted forward then bucked to a stop at a hazardous angle on the sidewalk. As soon as her gaze snapped up to the rearview, she saw the airbag in the car behind her had deployed. Checking quickly around her truck to be sure she wasn’t obstructing traffic, she jumped out and rushed to the driver, giving a brief glance at her rear bumper when she passed it. There was virtually no damage except for a little bent, but the front end of the VW behind her was crushed.

“Are you okay?” she asked urgently, as the driver did what he could to crush down the inflated airbag. She popped his door open and got a good look at him. His face was covered in white dust from the bag and he looked disoriented. She was quick with her cell phone and dialed 911 immediately, while in the back of her mind she tried to recall who the driver was. He looked like he a teenager with sandy brown hair and big brown eyes.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say. “My shoulder hurts.”

“Well, stay put, don’t move in case something’s broken,” she said.

“I-I have to go. I’m late.” He was in a daze and clearly not thinking straight if he thought he could drive away from the scene of an accident or drive at all with his front end crushed. “Really, I can’t be here.”

“You can’t go anywhere, not until the police write up the accident report, and even then the only place you’re going is a hospital. What’s your name?”

Whether because of teenaged stubbornness or because he was out of sorts, the kid didn’t answer, but slammed his door shut and rested his head back on the seat.

“Don’t close your eyes,” she called through the door. “You may have a concussion, and if you doze off you could be in real danger.”

Kate milled a few steps in the street and waved the line of cars around, the drivers of which had stopped to rubberneck the accident. At least the VW wasn’t blocking traffic. She requested an ambulance as well as a police officer, reporting the accident to 911 once she sent the call through.

The ambulance arrived first and the medics immediately tended to the kid after helping him out of the car and settling him into the back of the ambulance. Officer Garrison pulled around the corner after that, parked directly in front of Kate’s truck, and hurried to survey the damage.

“If I didn’t voice my support of a traffic light,” Kate began, “then let me do that now. This is a dangerous intersection.”

“I agree,” said Garrison. “What happened?”

“I made my left-hand turn just as an oncoming car was speeding along. I gassed it just so that car wouldn’t clip me, but then had to hit the brakes to turn into the Tribune.”

“And the VW rear-ended you,” he supplied.

“You should take that kid’s statement. I can wait. He needs to get to the hospital, I’d imagine. Can I get the report from you in a bit? I’m in a rush and need to talk to someone at the newspaper.”

Officer Garrison agreed and started for the back of the ambulance.

The Tribune offices appeared as Kate had imagined. A small-town paper with few reporters, the offices looked more like a large room with interns bustling about. There was no receptionist to speak of, and other than a door in the back that had “Editor in Chief” written across its top, she couldn’t immediately identify who was in charge. Not only that, but no one seemed to take notice of her.

“Excuse me,” she said to a young woman who was hurrying down the aisle of desks towards a copy machine. “I’m looking for one of your reporters, Eric Demblowski.”

As if she didn’t have time for the interruption, the woman pointed with her elbow in the general direction of a desk where a man in his thirties was hunched over printed copy with three interns hovering around him.

Hesitant as she was due to the frenetic energy of the office, Kate approached and soon caught the man’s attention. He gave her a quick double-take then asked, “Can I help you with something?” She was about to answer when his eyes widened with recognition. “Kate Flaherty?”

“Yes, you’re Eric Demblowski?”

“I am.” He rose to his feet.

“You knew an awful lot about Ken Johnson’s death,” she said and he quickly ushered her into a room she hadn’t noticed. It had no windows and was cluttered with boxes, most of which said “Archive” with a year written on its side.

“This will give us some privacy,” he said, closing the door.

Eric was young for being a reporter, or so she thought. He looked in his early thirties and his style of dress—tight jeans, fashionable boots, and a casual sweater—made him look even younger.

“I assume you’re still reporting on Ken’s murder?”

“It’s the hot story right now,” he said easily.

“Who leaked the facts of the case to you?”

“Ha,” he laughed. “You know I can’t give you my source.”

She’d like to think it was someone in the police department, but he knew so many details. It was as if he’d committed the crime himself.

“I hear you’re from New York.”

“I am, though I’m not from there, not raised there. I worked there a few years.”

“Another New Yorker came to town recently. Lily van der Tramp.”

His expression told her he was drawing a blank, or rather trying to appear as though he was drawing a blank.

“Do you know her?” she pressed.

“I’ve certainly heard of her,” he admitted but folded his arms, brow furrowing as though he wasn’t sure where this was going or was uncomfortable with the conversation.

“You knew Ken was poisoned and that I was there, even though I didn’t see or talk to you. And yet you didn’t print that Lily van der Tramp had been there.”

He had no discernible reaction, which was odd. If this were new information, Kate thought he would’ve had a reaction.

“How would I know she was there?” he challenged then quickly added, “It wasn’t in the police report, which, by the way, is public information.”

“The police report wasn’t released until after your article had been printed.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m curious how you got your information and why you printed select facts and not the whole picture.”

“I’m a good reporter.” Before she could ask anything else, he took over the role off interrogator. “You have quite the reputation. I think it’s interesting that people turn up dead around you.”

That was phrasing it cleverly.

“And yet no one’s looked at you as a serious suspect.”

“They wouldn’t. I had nothing to do with any of the murders.”

“And yet you just happen to stumble upon them?” It was a rhetorical question. “I think you have everything to do with them.”

“I’m all over town because of my line of work, more than anyone else, probably.”

“I know about your husband,” he said. “That’s the story I’m interested in. I don’t necessarily care about these small-town murders, except that they filter into a much bigger picture.”

Curious what he might know, though she doubted it was more than she knew, she cocked her head.

“The development,” he stated plainly. “I think there’s a much bigger story here.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The murders are all stemming from it. I can’t print anything yet. Obviously I can’t throw around gossip and speculation, but I’ll have something soon. I’ll print it. And you and your husband will be at the very center of it.”

“I have nothing to do with my husband anymore. If you were a worthwhile reporter, you’d know that. I haven’t seen a trace of him in almost six years. Plus, I’m in the midst of divorcing him.”

“Yes, I know. I work at the paper that's been running your ad,” he said dryly.

“Do you think Ken was killed because of the development?”

“In fact, I do. And I think you do, as well,” he said, no longer her adversary but sounding more like a confidant. “Maybe we should compare notes sometime.”

“I’m not going to feed you information,” she said. “I’m not going to be one of your unethical sources.”

“At this point I’m confident I know much more than you.”

“Like what?”

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “We’ll have to make a deal. You tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, “but it won’t be in that order. You’ll have to tell me what you know first.”

“Just tell me when and where,” he said, handing her his card.

She glanced at it then tucked it into the front pocket of her overalls next to her cell phone.

As she turned to pull the door open, he said, “Be careful, Kate. This all ties back to Greg and you know it. Because you’re married to him, people think you know way more than you do. They assume Greg confided in you about everything, and because they think that they view you as a threat.”

She stared at him. “Who’s they?”

“When we sit down, I’ll tell you. Give me a call.”

Kate hadn’t seen that coming, and she didn’t like playing games, but she also knew he was onto something.

She walked through the busy offices and passed through the exit into the crisp autumn afternoon when she noticed Celia hurrying down the sidewalk. Celia was buried in her cell phone, so Kate tucked out of sight around the corner then spied Celia rounding into the Tribune. Kate would’ve liked to have told herself that Celia was marching in to give Eric Demblowski a piece of her mind for having printed all that he had, but that wasn’t the sense Kate got from her.

Celia was wearing large sunglasses and her head was wrapped in a scarf as though she were trying to disguise herself.

After a moment, Kate crept towards the glass entrance door of the Tribune. She saw Celia look around the office. Celia’s back was to Kate. Then Eric rushed up to Celia. It didn’t seem like the reaction of a stranger, but was actually quite intimate. They spoke and it appeared heated, then Eric ushered her by the arm deeper into the offices.

Did they know each other?

Was Celia having an affair with Eric?

“Kate!” shouted Officer Garrison from behind her. “Got that report for you!”

As she walked to meet him on the sidewalk, she saw that the ambulance was gone and a man from the towing company was hitching the VW to his truck.

“Clearly, the kid was in the wrong,” said Garrison. “Send this to your insurance company, and I’m sure they’ll get the damage covered.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, reading over the report. When she found the driver’s name of the car that had rear-ended her, she asked, “Toby Marks?”

“I don’t know him,” said Garrison, “but he listed his home address as the campsite out east.”

“Thanks, Garrison,” she said, as he walked her to the driver’s side of her truck.

When she climbed in, he shut the door for her and said “drive safe” through the open window.

Chapter Six

Later that afternoon, after dedicating a good three hours to getting Brent Townsend’s house in tip-top shape, she called Justina to let her know that the house was ready to show. Justina thanked her and mentioned she could come by for her check. Kate thought that sounded like perfect timing since it was just past four and she’d have time to deposit it at the bank. There was one more house to stage on Justina’s list, and Kate wasn’t sure how much work she’d get done.

She drove to Carnegie Real Estate where Justina was seated at her desk with Lily van der Tramp. It appeared as though Justina was walking her through mortgage paperwork, as Kate came through the office.

One of the other agents Tammy—a tall, blond woman whose face belonged on the side of a bus advertisement for real estate—cut her off.

“Hey, Kate,” she said, speaking quietly so they wouldn’t disturb Justina’s sale. “I have your check for you.”

“Thanks,” said Kate, taking it. Then she nodded towards Lily van der Tramp. “Did she buy Jessica’s house?”

Tammy smirked but rolled her eyes. “Quite a handful,” she explained. “Justina had to drop everything, Lily is so demanding, but she is, in fact, buying the house.”

“Well, someone had to buy it,” said Kate, disappointed. She was hoping Lily would find something wrong with it and move on to a different town. “Tell Justina I said thanks,” she mentioned then walked back to her truck.

Her bank, Rock Ridge Savings & Trust, was a few blocks away, but she decided to walk. She wanted to enjoy the fresh air and the light. Daylight savings was just around the corner and soon it would be dark at 4:30 p.m. As she made her way over, she composed a text message to Scott. He’d been hard at work on Ken’s murder, not that she agreed with his arrest, and she’d barely seen him. Dinner tonight might be nice, if he had the time.

Let’s get Thai tonight. You free?

She tucked her cell in her overalls and entered the bank. At the counter, she endorsed her check then made out a deposit slip and approached the teller at the window.

After some pleasantries about the weather, the teller deposited Kate’s check into her account and then handed her a receipt. Then she was off again.

Realistically, she wouldn’t have time to stage another house, and if she were being honest with herself, the last item on Justina’s list was daunting. Set off on the wayside near the west side of town, Meredith Joste’s house was a strange, angular, art deco home that had been stripped bare of all its furniture. If she wanted to do the style justice, she needed to pick up a reference book or two at the library.

She settled in behind the wheel of her truck and turned the key. Her cell vibrated right away. It was Scott.

Sounds good. My place?

She texted right back.

Great. Seven?

That would give her just enough time to shower and change into something a bit cozier.

Perfect. See you then, he wrote back.

She drove over to the library as the sun was waning in the sky, causing dusk to settle over Rock Ridge. Once she parked, her cell vibrated, but it wasn’t Scott.

“Larry?”

“I’m out on bail,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad to hear it. How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m anxious. I don’t see how I’m going to carry on. Who’s going to want to shop at Grayson’s when they think a murderer, a cop kill no less, is behind the counter?”

“Try not to worry about that,” she said. “I’ll certainly stop in multiple times a day.”

He sighed into the receiver. “Carly isn’t speaking to me.”

“You mean she actually believes you could’ve done it?”

“I don’t know. Her mother thinks so. Maybe Carly doesn’t want to upset Celia.”

“That could be true, but it’s no excuse. Celia doesn’t have to know.”

“And she’s been with her mother ever since Ken died, so it’s not like I can stop by. Think of how that would look.”

“This will all blow over soon enough,” she said, but it did little to reassure him, she could tell by his groan. “Hey, let me ask you. Do you know that reporter Eric Demblowski?”

“Not really, no.”

“Do you know if Celia knows him? Did you ever see them together?”

“I couldn’t say. Why do you ask?”

She didn’t want to get his hopes up, so she kept her explanation brief. “I just get a weird feeling from him, and I saw them talking. It didn’t sit right with me.”

“None of this is sitting right with me. Oh, here’s my cab. I’m heading home.”

“All right. I’ll talk to you later.”

Inside the library, Mrs. Briar was grumbling her way around a round table where a number of elementary kids were huddled around their schoolbooks, whispering through their homework. Mrs. Briar glared at them and kept hushing them even though, from Kate’s perspective, the kids weren’t making any noise.

Then Hazel approached with a stack of books in her arms.

“Let me help you,” said Kate. As soon as she saw Hazel, she relieved her of the books she was carrying. “How’s it going?”

“Well enough,” said Hazel. “I’m feeling much better. I drove here myself. And aside from the thirty-minute overlap with Mrs. Briar, I really enjoy working here, though it’s only been a day. So far so good, I’d say.”

“I had a few books reserved on staging houses, but I need one that deals with art deco architecture specifically. Do you have anything like that?”

“Hmm,” said Hazel, as she led Kate through the library. When they came up to the librarian counter, Hazel tapped her hand on its surface, indicating Kate could set the stack of books there. She did and then followed Hazel down one of the aisles. “All of our architecture and interior design books are down here.”

Hazel ran her finger across the spines of books then plucked one from the shelf and handed it to Kate. As Kate looked it over, Hazel pulled another book out and kept searching.

“Those are probably your best options,” she said. “Sorry, not the widest selection.”

“No, these are perfect,” she said, flipping through the first book. She wondered if she could drive to the Ikea store in the next county. Its furniture seemed to fit the style.

“Did you want to get those reserved books, as well?” Hazel asked, leading her through the library to the counter.

“Actually, these two should do it. Too much information will only confuse me.”

Hazel chuckled, collected Kate’s library card, and scanned the books into the system.

“We can only keep books on the reserved list for four days, so I’ll renew them for you in the system. Otherwise, Mrs. Briar will put them back on the shelf and we’ll have the hassle of having to find them all over again.”

“Thanks,” said Kate. “Really appreciate it.”

“I’m so torn up about poor Ken Johnson,” she said, looking grim. “What’s this town coming to?”

“I know. It’s just shocking.”

“And that Lily van der Tramp,” Hazel exclaimed, though quietly so as not to draw Mrs. Briar’s attention. “I heard Dean had plans to shut down that awful development, and then that woman swoops in and invests.”

“She did what?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Hazel leaned over the counter in a secretive manner. “Word around town was that Clem Tully was fed up with the development. He didn’t have the funds. Well, whoever’s in charge over there pulled in Lily as a new investor. The woman is loaded, but what she’d want with a bunch of anarchists is beyond me. Anyway, she put up the money. Dean’s at a loss, and the development is back on track. I heard it will be fully erect by Christmas.”

“Christmas? That’s unheard of. No one can build that fast.”

“I wouldn’t think so, either, but that’s what they’re saying.”

Kate thanked her for the information, wished her good evening, and started off for her truck.

Everything was starting to make more sense. Ken probably turned his back on whatever form of help he was offering Clem. Lily, who was either preparing to invest or had already, felt threatened that her investment would be all for naught if Ken wasn’t aiding, and she killed him. Ah, but the timeline was off. She believed Scott that Ken had been poisoned, and unfortunately, she believed that Larry had done it on accident using poisonous ingredients in the house. Could Lily have gotten in there sooner? Who’s to say how long she’d been parked in that driveway?

How all this related to the Celia-Eric connection was still foggy, but she’d get to the bottom of this.

As she set her library books in the passenger’s seat, her cell phone began to vibrate in quick pulses. She glanced at the screen.

“Shoot!”

It was a reminder to paint Dean Wentworth’s office. She hadn’t even picked up the paint!

Quickly, she dialed up Dean.

“I’m supposed to paint your office!” she blurted out as soon as he picked up.

“I’m still here,” he said easily.

“Okay.” She checked the time. She might have to move her dinner with Scott back by a half hour, but she could make it work. “I just have to swing by Grayson’s and I’ll be there.”

“No problem,” he said. “See you then.”

She tried not to speed as she raced over to Grayson’s Hardware. Larry’s assistant manager, Ned Armstrong, was just locking the front door as she pulled into a parking spot out front.

“Wait!” she said, jogging up to him. “I’m so sorry. I need two cans of paint.”

As she caught her breath, Ned looked anything but pleased, though he obliged her and unlocked the door. “Please tell me you know exactly what you want. I’m late for my kid’s little league game.”

“I do,” she promised, though it wasn’t entirely true.

She hurried down the paint aisle, and wasted no time scanning the colors. Dean had mentioned he’d like a soft blue, nothing too dark and nothing too bright. She found a pale blue can called Lazy River and thought it looked good, so she pulled two from the shelf and met Ned at the register.

“I’ll throw it on your tab since I already closed out the register,” he told her, as he quickly jotted down the SKUs.

“Thanks a million,” she told him then started off for her truck where she set the cans in the bed.

It took her less than ten minutes to get over to the mayor’s office. The paint cans were heavy, but she muscled them out of the truck bed and set them down when she stepped inside the elevator.

“I need to make one more trip,” she told Dean, as she placed the paint cans just inside his office. He seemed to be pulling his hair out over something he was looking at on his computer, not at all the easygoing, composed mayor he’d sounded like on the phone.

After going back down to her truck to get her paint tins, rollers, brushes, and cloth, she started laying out the cloth over his office carpet.

“How’s it going?” she asked Dean, who was grumbling at his computer.

“Ah, complicated. Not good. I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his eyes. Then he pushed his keyboard aside, seeming to give up on whatever he was wrestling with. “Cleaning up the mess of two corrupt mayors is daunting.”

“Any luck with halting that development out east?” she asked, hoping the question would get him to reveal what was really going on now that Lily was in the picture.

“They got more funding,” he said, just as she’d expected. “If you ask me, Clem has already checked out, but now he doesn’t have the financial excuses to put the project on hold.”

“I’d heard something similar,” Kate admitted.

“Yeah, well, leave it to family to swoop in at the eleventh hour and save the day.”

“Family?”

Dean snorted as though he was beyond fed up. “That woman who bought Jessica’s house, which, I have to say, has made me more conflicted than anything else I’ve ever experienced. Jessica is thrilled she sold the house. She loves Lily van der Tramp because of it. However, Lily is making my life a living hell. Sorry to vent,” he added. “But I can’t exactly vent to Jessica. She’s Lily’s biggest fan now.”

“Lily is family to...who?”

“The head of the project out east, Mike Waters.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Van der Tramp is her married name. She’s a widow.” Dean started typing on his keyboard then said, “Here, look.”

Kate set her roller down in the paint tin and circled around Dean’s desk to see his computer. A website was open, but at first all she could see was the anarchist symbol. Then she realized that the symbols were decals on gothic-looking, draping outfits.

“Lily’s clothing line,” he stated. “Cleverly called Killer Klothing.”

As Dean clicked through the thumbnails of various designs, a particular black shawl caught Kate’s eye.

“Hold on,” she blurted out. “Go back.”

“What?”

“That shawl,” she said, pointing to the one with rhinestones. “I know that shawl.”

“Her designs are very popular,” he said.

“No, it’s not that. I saw Celia Johnson wearing this shawl the night Ken was killed.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and I saw Lily’s vehicle at Ken’s house that night.” Kate suddenly got chills. “What if Celia knows more than she’s letting on.”

“Hey, as your friend, you better have some concrete evidence before you bark up that tree. The wife of a cop who was murdered? Tread carefully, Kate.”

She certainly would.

Kate kept an eye on the time as she painted Dean’s office, and she was especially careful when working on the wall around the window behind his desk. As she was wrapping up the final area, Scott texted her that he’d picked up Thai food and was headed home. She’d be on time, but wouldn’t be able to shower and change at home.

“Looks good,” he said, eyeing the walls closely.

“If you leave the window open, it’ll dry. I can do a second coat tomorrow.”

“You think it needs it?”

“Hard to say,” she said, glancing at the overhead light. “Once the daylight hits it, we’ll see if it’s patchy. I’d recommend a second coat either way.”

“Okay,” he said, “tomorrow it is.”

“Can I tuck these cans in your closet?”

“Sure.”

Dean helped her carry the remainder of the cans into the closet, and then Kate collected her materials.

“Really, Kate,” he said before she could leave, “tread carefully.”

She smiled her acknowledgment then headed down to her truck.

After loading her materials into her truck bed, she realized she had a missed call. It was her divorce attorney, so she called him right back.

“Just a quick update,” he began when she said hello. “I’ll be filing the divorce with the courts tomorrow, and we’ll have a date issued to us.”

“Great, thanks so much.”

“Not a problem. Have a good evening.”

Scott’s apartment was one of the larger buildings on Pennsylvania Boulevard where it was always tricky to park. He’d moved into the apartment after his ex-wife, Jackie, had been murdered, feeling he couldn’t bear to live in a house where someone’s life had been taken. As tough as he was as a cop, he was still superstitious about things like that, and so he’d been living in his apartment for a little over two months.

Kate found a spot, but it was a tight squeeze to parallel park. By the time she climbed out of her truck, she realized she was starving, but more than anything she could use a cup of coffee. Hopefully, Scott was well stocked with dark roast and she could make a pot.

Scott greeted her at his door on the fifth floor. His snow-white hair looked damp and he was already in his sweats. She was envious that he’d had a chance to shower.

“Katydid,” he said, urging her inside. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“You said it,” she said, pleased to smell fresh coffee in the air.

He led her through to the kitchen and served her a hot mug.

Though his apartment wasn’t large, it was handsome, and he’d certainly taken the time to straighten up. For all his excuses that his place was overwrought with case files, she didn’t see a single one in sight. The living room was neatly organized. The leather couch was clear, as well as the glass coffee table in front of it. His desk in the corner of the room was neatly organized, and she saw he had the sliding glass door to the terrace wide open. A crisp breeze blew in that wasn’t cold.

He invited her to have a seat on the couch then went back into the kitchen and set out the Thai food on plates. She took a moment to herself, drinking coffee, as he placed dinner on the coffee table. She liked the casual nature of eating at his place.

As they ate dinner, the fresh air breezing through his apartment, Kate had to hold herself back from bombarding him about the case. Instead, she struck up a far more pleasant conversation.

“Arthur gave me a call right before I got here. He’s filing the divorce tomorrow with the court, and I should have a court date soon.”

“That’s great,” he said, drinking his beer.

“And I heard Larry is out on bail.”

Too soon?

Scott’s brow fell into a straight line and he sighed.

“You really think he did it?”

“You know I can’t talk about this,” he said and took another sip of his beer.

“Larry told me he made that soup for Ken. He doesn’t deny it, but the ingredients were already in the kitchen. There’s no way he would’ve done it on purpose.”

“But you see why my hands are tied, right?”

“So you don’t think he did it?”

“Of course I don’t think he did it. But what can I do?”

“Drop the charges.”

“Letting him out on bail was the best I could do,” he said. “And it went against precedent since it looks like he killed Ken premeditatedly. Do you have any idea how much flack I’m getting from the entire department, letting a cop killer even have the option of bail?”

“Did you speak with Celia?”

“Several times.”

“About those ingredients, I mean.”

“Kate, are we going to enjoy our dinner?”

“That depends,” she said indignantly. “Did you talk to Lily van der Tramp, whose SUV was parked outside Ken’s house when I got there?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“She said she was lost.”

“She wasn’t in her vehicle, Scott. What if she was in the house?”

“What if she was walking up the block to get a better look at the house numbers? She’s in town buying a house, you know.” Again, Scott sighed. “You have to trust me that I’m not going to put the wrong man in jail for this.”

She nearly objected that he already had, but held her tongue.

“But you have to let me go about this my way.”

Kate pushed her chicken curry around on her plate, watching the white rice soak it up.

“I’ve also been digging deeper into what happened to Greg,” he said, changing the subject. “I found out Walter Miller was keeping a file on him, though it took long enough going through Walter’s office to find it.”

Walter Miller was Kate’s first divorce attorney who was murdered last month. The prior mayor, Harvy Stuart, had killed him when Walter backed out of his investment for the anarchist development out east—the investment that Lily had stepped in to fulfill.

“What did the file contain?” Kate asked. Her heart was in her throat.

“By the looks of it, Greg was spying on the anarchists, posing as an ally and reporting back to the US government since the Anarchist Freedom Network was suspected of domestic terrorism.”

“So Greg was one of the good guys?” She wanted to feel relieved, but when it came to Greg, nothing was a relief.

“You could say that. Apparently, Walter was keeping tabs on it. Perhaps Mike Waters didn’t trust Greg, and since Walter was working with the anarchists, Mike probably engaged him to spy on Greg.”

“What was Greg’s role or title, rather, in the government?”

“It looks like FBI. I’ve put a few calls in to the nearest bureau. I can only hope they’ll get back to me. The good news is that if Greg had nothing to do with the FBI, I have a feeling the FBI would’ve told me that outright. The fact that they’re stalling leads me to believe Greg is somewhere out there, perhaps working undercover. Maybe on a different mission. Maybe on this one. I’ve hit a wall. All I can do is wait for someone in the department I contacted to get back to me with something concrete.”

Chapter Seven

The following day, Kate woke bright and early at her house having decided not to spend the night with Scott. They both felt they had too much to do at work and their overnights tended to get late. After stopping off at Bean There for a large to-go cup of coffee and a yogurt muffin, which she was getting fast addicted to, Kate drove out of Rock Ridge towards Ikea. Based on thumbing through the interior design books she’d gotten from Hazel at the library, she was feeling confident about the pieces she could buy on Justina’s budget.

Once there, she bypassed the exceptionally long and windy showroom floor, heading straight for the warehouse at the side entrance. Using a large cart, she worked her way through the warehouse and pulled the boxes she needed from the industrial shelves. By the time she was loading up her truck, she had a dining room table, a desk, a bed frame and mattress, as well as a couch, each in their own box. Each would need to be assembled.

Meredith Joste’s house looked like five off-kilter cubes stacked at a precarious tilt on its right side, with rotund pillars on its left. Its many windows were large, and in a lot of ways the house looked as if it were made of glass.

She spent the greater part of the morning assembling the various pieces and placing them just so. She’d planned to pick up a number of bouquets from Sunshine Florist, but now that she had the rooms staged, she felt the overall appearance was much too futuristic for flowers. She’d give Justina a call and get a second opinion, she thought, as she collected the empty boxes and foam core and carried them out to her truck where she set them in the bed. She could swing by the dump on her way in to see Carly. She’d called her cell a few times as she worked, and finally Carly had picked up and agreed to lunch at Celia’s.

Depositing the trash at the dump was a quick stop, and soon Kate was pulling up to the curb in front of Celia’s house. As far as Kate had heard, the autopsy on Ken had taken longer than usual, which pushed the family’s funeral arrangements off. For Carly, it had become a big problem. Keeping busy was the only thing helping her to function, and the idle days had sent her plummeting into depression, or at least that was Kate’s take on the situation.

“Hi Kate,” Carly said gloomily when she opened the door. Her eyes were still pink and puffy and it looked like she was wearing the same sweatpants as the last time Kate had seen her. “Come on in.”

After giving Carly a hug, she followed her friend into the kitchen where Carly had a fresh pot of coffee waiting.

“This seems to be all I eat these days,” she said, as she poured Kate a steaming mug then another for herself.

Celia didn’t appear to be home, but then Kate heard someone walking around on the second floor.

“How’s your mom doing?” She asked.

Carly shrugged. “She’s been out a lot,” she said finally.

“Doing what?”

“Who knows,” said Carly a bit snappishly. “I’m glad to have the house to myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t know what I was thinking all but moving in here. But I guess my own house reminds me too much of Larry, and I couldn’t bear it.”

“He’s having a really hard time,” she said, but tried to be delicate about it. The last thing she wanted was for Carly to feel guilty on top of her mourning.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “The more I think about it, the crazier it seems that he would’ve done anything to hurt Dad. But,” she added, “the evidence is the evidence.”

Just then, Celia made her way into the kitchen. Interestingly, she was still wearing the black shawl she’d worn the night Ken died. It seemed a bit out of place for broad daylight, but it was chilly. In that sense, a shawl made sense.

“How are you doing, Celia?”

“Getting on. Going for a lot of walks. Trying to get back into my usual routine,” she said, though she directed the last statement to her daughter.

“I can’t just go back to my regular routine as though nothing’s happened, Mom,” said Carly, annoyed. “It’s not like you went back to work.”

“But I had a reason not to. You love working at the florist. There’s no sense in avoiding the things you love to do.”

Carly seemed to consider her point, as she sipped her coffee.

“I’m just glad the police are gone,” said Celia. “They mean well, but they made an utter mess of the kitchen.”

“You know that designer moved to town,” said Kate offhandedly, nodding towards Celia’s shawl. “She bought Jessica’s old house.”

“The designer of this shawl? How do you know that?”

“I came across her website. Do you happen to know Lily van der Tramp?”

“No,” she said, thinking about it. “Ken gave me this shawl.”

“He did?” asked Carly, surprised. Kate gathered from Carly’s reaction that Ken wasn’t one to give those sorts of gifts.

“I assume he did. I found it gift-wrapped on the table with ingredients and a recipe for Gazpacho soup. He was trying to spice things up, I figured.”

“When was this?” Kate asked, alarmed that a recipe with ingredients for soup had been left on Celia’s table and she hadn’t questioned it.

“The late morning of Ken’s final day,” she said easily.

“But Celia,” Kate said, trying to remain polite, “Ken had been sick for days. You think he went out and bought you gifts?”

Not to mention it didn’t seem likely that Ken would provide Celia with poisonous ingredients.

“Oh, I have no idea,” she said, laughing it off. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“Did you tell Scott?” she asked.

“It didn’t seem relevant. I mean, it’s a gift.”

“But Ken’s soup was poisoned,” said Kate.

Carly added, “Larry must have found it on the counter and thought to make him soup.”

Celia looked shocked, but Kate was even more so, mainly because it was hard to believe Celia could be so clueless.

“Celia, the real killer had to have gotten into the house and left those there.”

She was dumbfounded. “But—”

“And the back door was wide open. Anyone could’ve gotten in,” said Carly in an accusatory tone.

“Not necessarily,” said Kate. “They’d have to have known the back door was wide open. Who knew that? Did you tell anyone?”

Not answering the question, Celia rushed off, speaking over her shoulder as she went, “I’ll call Scott right away.”

“She’s getting up there in age,” said Carly, but it was a halfhearted excuse.

After a moment, Carly asked her what she felt like eating for lunch.

“Maybe we could drive over to Bean There,” said Kate, the thought of eating anything from the kitchen that had held poisonous ingredients making her squeamish.

“I’ll follow you.”

It wasn’t the healthiest lunch, but once they got to Bean There, Kate got another large coffee and muffin, as well as a bagel with cream cheese now that Clara had stepped up her game and stocked her café with more substantial options. Carly got the same and they found a table near the windows.

“I heard you got into a little fender bender,” said Carly, breaking off a piece of her muffin.

“Unfortunately,” said Kate.

“It was one of those anarchists, wasn’t it?” she asked, shaking her head. “My dad worked so hard to keep an eye on that development. He was afraid the anarchists would spill over into town, wreak havoc, and I’m afraid they are.”

“How do you know it was one of the anarchists?”

Carly leveled her gaze on her and asked, “Did you know the kid?”

“Well, no, I didn’t recognize him.”

She lifted her brows as if that were her point. “Rock Ridge is a small town. At this point, if you encounter someone you don’t recognize, it’s an anarchist. Did you know that by the time the development is finished they'll outnumber the residents two to one?”

“Is that right?” Kate swallowed hard. She didn’t like the sound of that.

“Trust me, the kid who hit you is one of them. I heard he refused to go to the hospital. He made the ambulance pull over, shouted all kinds of threats that they couldn’t take him against his will. Then he called for a cab, got his car, and drove off like nothing happened.”

Kate wondered how he could’ve driven his car with the front end crushed in, but maybe the damage was more superficial than it had looked.

“Well, well, well, Mrs. Flaherty,” said Eric, as he stalked towards their table.

Carly glanced over her shoulder to see who was interrupting them then scowled.

“My condolences,” he said to Carly.

“I’m not talking to you,” she snapped.

Eric seemed to smile right through her cold shoulder then addressed Kate, “Given any thought to a chat?”

Carly looked appalled. “You’re not going to talk to him, are you?”

“No,” said Kate right away. “Not about your dad, anyway.”

Carly seemed annoyed. She narrowed her eyes.

“Not at all,” Kate clarified.

“That’s too bad,” said Eric. “I got in touch with Neil Motley,” he boasted. “You know, the old police chief. He had quite a bit to say.”

Kate hated to seem highly interested. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Carly, but she couldn’t help it. Her expression gave it away.

In a huff, Carly wrapped up her muffin, making to go. “I owe Larry a visit.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go,” said Kate.

“No, no. I’ve been thinking about getting in touch with him, anyway. And if you feel the need to hear this vulture out, I won’t stop you. Just know whatever you say, he’ll twist it around then print it.”

“I’ll call you later,” said Kate, which Carly barely acknowledged before she started for the door.

“May I?” asked Eric, pulling out a chair.

“You talked to Neil Motley?” she asked skeptically. “He hasn’t spoken to anyone from Rock Ridge. He all but disappeared.”

“It’s amazing what a little money can do.”

Kate frowned.

“And a little lie. I told him I was with the New York Times.”

“And he believed you?”

“I had a few credits last year. Small articles. Low-rung copy editor, but still, he was able to check it out. I seemed credible.”

“And what did you tell him you were calling about?”

“In that regard, I told the truth,” said Eric, brushing off the muffin crumbs that Carly had left on the table. “I told him I was writing an article on the Anarchist Freedom Network, which is true, though I didn’t mention I had no idea when I’d have enough of the facts to actually get the green light from my editor to print anything.”

“So what did he tell you?”

Eric leaned over the table. “The only reason I’d tell you is if you tell me what you know.”

“That means you know less than I do,” she pointed out.

“I promise you I know things you don’t,” he countered. “Not to mention I need your help. I can’t go to the development and poke around. They know I’m a reporter. I’d get nowhere. But you’re a handywoman. You could go there for any reason.”

Kate was about to mention that his assumption was hardly true. The last time she’d gone, Clem Tully all but dragged her off the premises, but in order to get Eric talking, she agreed.

“Your husband, Greg, enlisted Neil’s help,” he said to stir intrigue. It worked. Kate didn’t even blink. “They left together.”

“When Neil abruptly quit and moved to North Carolina?”

Eric nodded.

“Neil said that?”

“He did. And he e-mailed me photos of them, e-mail correspondence, all kinds of proof that Greg was down south for a few years.”

“So where is he now? In North Carolina?”

Eric shook his head. “He hasn’t been down there in the past year. Neil said he disappeared. I believe him.”

“Disappeared where?”

Eric was momentarily distracted when his cell phone started ringing. He answered, and Kate faintly heard a woman through the line. It sounded like Celia. He said he'd call her back and then quickly hung up.

Kate glared at him. "Are you having an affair with Celia Johnson?"

Smugly, Eric said, "If I am, it doesn't mean I killed Ken."

"I can't believe you," she said, disgusted with him.

Eric gave her a moment to get over it and then said, “All Neil could say about Greg running off from North Carolina was that it had to do with Bradley Stuart.”

“Jessica’s son who went missing when he was four years old?” she asked with astonishment.

“If you find Bradley, you’ll find Greg.”

Chapter Eight

As Kate drove her truck towards the gate to the campsite, she wondered how in the heck Eric had roped her into doing this. Realistically, she didn’t have a prayer in hell of finding Bradley, but Eric had lit a fire in her. She believed him about Greg. And when he’d told her to poke around the campsite, it seemed like a good idea.

Now that she was passing through the gate and heading towards a humongous structure, she felt entirely conspicuous and had no idea how she was going to pull this off.

Far from the campsite it had once been, the acreage looked more like a corporate lot. It wasn’t paved and there were still tents here and there, but they were way off towards the tree line and there seemed to be less scrappy anarchists wandering around.

Tully Construction vehicles were all over, bulldozers and forklifts and cranes, all in operation. The construction workers shouted at one another, but she couldn’t spot Clem Tully anywhere, or Mike Waters. The trailers, where she assumed the temporary offices were set up, were still where she’d seen them last.

She rolled up to a row of parked cars and decided she might get further in her effort to nose around if she was on foot, so she pulled up between two cars and killed the engine. Then, as she got out of her truck, she noticed the crushed front end of the VW that had rear-ended her. So Carly was right. The driver, Toby Marks, was one of the anarchists.

She didn’t, however, notice that Toby Marks was rounding his VW until she nearly bumped into him.

He startled. “Look, lady,” he said, flying into a panicked defense. “I’ve already told my insurance company it was my fault. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Calm down, I don’t, either,” she said when he cowered, shuffling backwards. “I didn’t come here because of you, but maybe you can help me with something.”

His expression relaxed, but his eyes remained cautious.

She didn’t know why she was asking. The last time she’d asked one of the anarchists about Greg, the kid immediately called for Mike Waters, but she figured she’d give it a shot. Maybe Toby would feel like he owed her since he banged up her fender.

“Have you heard of a man named Greg Flaherty?”

Suddenly, he went white as a sheet, then his eyes widened. “Right, on the police report, your name is Kate Flaherty.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re related to Greg?”

Kate was stunned that he seemed to know Greg. “We’re married. Getting divorced actually.”

“I’m not going with him.” When he saw her confused look he asked, “He’s here? Is he here? That’s why you’ve come?”

“What do you mean you’re not going with him?”

“I’m old enough now,” he said, holding his head high. “No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Are you saying Greg made you do something you didn’t want to do?”

“You’re his wife. You don’t know?”

Kate didn’t want to say she hadn’t a clue for fear he’d clam up.

“He disappeared almost six years ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” he snorted.

Confusion swept over her until she realized he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“What’s your real name?” she asked. “It’s not Toby Marks.”

He fell silent and looked scared. “I’m not going with him.”

“Is Greg here?”

“If he were, I’m sure he would’ve grabbed me by now, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t on his way.”

Suddenly, Kate realized why he looked so familiar. He looked like Jessica.

“Bradley Stuart?” she asked, astonished.

“Keep your voice down.”

“What happened to you? You disappeared when you were four.”

“Kidnapped? Yeah, it took me a really long time to figure out that’s what was going on.”

“Tell me what happened,” she said sternly.

He glanced over his shoulder then all around. “Not here,” he said. “Let’s go in the woods.”

Kate walked beside him, as they ventured through the woods away from the campers and construction workers. Soon they came to a stream where Toby, or Bradley, as the case might be, kicked a stone into the water.

“It was that guy, Neil.”

“Neil Motley, the old police chief?”

“I knew him, sort of. He was friendly with my parents. I was so young I didn’t know what was going on. He just told me to come with him. My parents were at some kind of party, a benefit or I don’t know. Left me home with the babysitter, who I guess left early even though my parents weren’t back. Neil got me out of bed. Then it was all a blur. I was in a car then a plane. Then I was in the care of this family I didn’t know. It wasn’t until years later I understood it was witness protection. Greg had organized it. Apparently, my dad was some kind of anarchist criminal.”

Dudley Stuart, the second murder victim who was the mayor in secret support of the development.

“This guy Walter used to visit me with Neil and Greg sometimes. Walter was nice.”

“Did Neil take your photo with Walter?”

“Probably. They acted like my family. Then I was living with Neil and then Greg joined us. When I got older and started asking questions I found out what was really going on.”

Not that Bradley would understand, but Greg was probably trying to save him from the anarchists.

“As soon as I heard my dad died, got killed, I just had to come up here. I don’t believe he was a bad person. I want to be like him. This is where I belong, with the anarchists. I don’t care if Greg hunts me down. I won’t go with him. No one can make me.”

“Bradley, now this is very important,” said Kate. “When did you last see Greg?”

Chapter Nine

The more Bradley opened up about his fears that Greg would find him, remove him from his “people,” as he kept referring to the anarchists, drag him back down south to Neil Motley’s house, the more Kate felt for him. He was just a scared kid. He was confused. He’d built his father up in his head and had very little concept of how destructive the anarchists were to society and to Rock Ridge, specifically. But as Kate listened, she realized that she knew very little about the development, its purpose, and what specifically the anarchists planned to do in Rock Ridge.

Bradley told her that the last time he’d seen Greg had been right before he escaped from Neil’s house. The pieces were starting to fit. Dudley’s murder had been a catalyst of sorts. Like Bradley had mentioned, as soon as he learned the news, he fled North Carolina. His running away prompted Greg to go after him. All the while the land deal was waxing and waning, hanging on by a financial thread, as more and more residents of Rock Ridge had been murdered in its wake.

“So what are the anarchists planning on doing here?” Kate asked when it seemed Bradley had calmed down and become more comfortable with her. She knew his impression of the development was viewed through rose-colored glasses. He didn’t find anything wrong with the anarchist or anarchy, in general, but she believed Greg had been working for the US government and probably still was. Though in the past year Greg had become an anomaly, a stranger, someone who in reality wasn’t at all who she’d married, she’d still known him. He’d had a good head on his shoulders, and he was brilliant as a professor of Middle Eastern studies. If Greg, with the government’s support, had made it his mission to infiltrate the anarchists for the purposes of shutting them down, then she trusted they really did pose a threat to Rock Ridge. She just needed to find out what that threat was precisely.

Bradley threw a stone into the stream and glanced at the sky as though it held the answer.

“It’s going to be a community,” he said, which didn’t exactly answer her question, but she reminded herself he was more or less a child, not yet an adult, wavering in the hormonal flux of his teenaged years.

“In what sense, though?” Kate studied his face. He appeared annoyed that she didn’t get it. “If you think about it, it's already a community. You guys have been camping out here for almost a year. You’ve completely taken over the campsite. The residents in Rock Ridge don’t even think about taking their kids here anymore. Why does Mike Waters need to build a development?”

“Just what I said. It’s a community. It’s a business. There’s going to be a school. Mike is going to build a wall around the site. It's going to be an alternative to living in society. We’re going to emancipate ourselves from the town, from the government. We’re going to have our own militia.”

As he went on, Kate realized he was describing a cult.

“Mike’s recruiting scientists and philosophers. That’s how Greg was able to spy on the Anarchist Freedom Network. He approached Mike, talked himself up as a scholar, an expert on the Middle East. He said he could show Mike how to model the community on successful anarchists in those far-off countries. Greg even flew to the Middle East with Mike to show him firsthand how other anarchists were doing it.”

“Bradley, those are terrorist organizations,” Kate pointed out.

“But what is a terrorist really? Only someone who believes the government is a dictatorship they want to destroy.”

It suddenly struck her that Bradley had been completely brainwashed.

“Are the anarchists planning on harming the residents of Rock Ridge?” She asked, though she was afraid of what the answer might be. “Are they planning on bombing?”

“I’m sure they will if they have to. We’re going to live completely outside of society,” he explained. “We’re not going to follow the government like sheep. We’re not going to pay arbitrary taxes that the government imposes. We’re going to take back the land. And this is just one cell. All over the country more and more cells will start to form. Mike Waters has big plans for this country. As soon as the community here is established, Mike is going to branch out, build in other towns. You’ll see. Ten years from now, maybe even in less time, we’re going to take this country back.”

Or start a serious civil war, she thought.

“Why do you think this development interested people like Walter Miller? People like Harvy Stuart? Harvy was the mayor, after all. If you think about it, he had risen in the governmental ranks and held a prestigious position. And Walter was living the American dream. He had a successful law practice. Why would these people throw that away for anarchy?”

“They aren’t throwing it away,” he countered. “They’re improving upon it.”

It was almost hard to talk to him. Though they were communicating and he’d certainly opened up, it was like they were both looking at the sky and Bradley was convinced it was purple, whereas the fact of the matter was that it was blue and nothing but.

What confused her more than anything, however, was how the Anarchist Freedom Network could possibly be a business, so she questioned him about it.

His response was simply, “Books.”

“Books?”

“That’s one income stream, but there will be others. And don’t forget we’ll soon be completely self-sufficient. Grow our own vegetables. Have our own cattle and slaughter houses.”

“Gas and electric?”

“We’ll find a way. But until we get there we’re going to flood the market with our books. Nothing too obvious. That’s another reason why Mike recruited scholars and also artists. They’ll write nonfiction and fiction, and the message will be anarchy. We’ll introduce the general population to a better way of life, and they will come.”

“Bradley, that’s just propaganda.”

“Call it what you want. If you look around here, you’ll notice it’s working. There are almost two thousand of us. From what I heard, only six months ago there were less than a thousand here. We’re growing, and we won’t stop.”

Kate must have looked ill to learn all of this, because he immediately changed his tone, saying, “What? You asked. I didn’t have to tell you. I could’ve hollered and gotten a gang of guys to haul you off the property.”

“Yes, I know. I’m glad you told me.”

“If I knew more about where your husband was, I’d tell you,” he added. “But I’ll say one thing. He’s smart and I doubt it’ll be long before he comes here for me.”

In a way, Kate wasn’t sure how she felt about Greg’s determination to keep Bradley safe in this sense. Greg hadn’t fled with their twins. He’d left Kate behind, and yet he’d focused his efforts on shielding Bradley. It was puzzling and hurtful, and if she ever saw Greg again, she’d give him a piece of her mind and then some.

It was also difficult to reconcile the fact that all those years ago, Greg had acted like he was helping Jessica find Bradley. Why would he do that? It was almost diabolical giving her hope that he could find her son, when all the while he was the one who had orchestrated taking Bradley.

“Look, Bradley,” she began. “I know you want to stay here, and at this point, I’m not going to stop you. But I think you owe it to your mother to let her know you’re alive and well. Losing you was hands down the hardest thing she’s ever been through, and deep down she never recovered. In the back of her mind, she still worries about where you are. She’s tormented that she never knew what happened. Would you consider coming back with me just to see her?”

“That sounds like a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,” she insisted. “It’s only to set her mind at ease. I mean, don’t you want to see your mom? Haven’t you missed her?”

Bradley fell silent and kicked a rock into the stream.

“I can’t exactly drive my car,” he said, but it didn’t sound like an excuse so much as a request for a ride.

“I’ll drive you there and bring you back,” she offered.

“It better not be a trap,” he said again.

“You have my word.”

He held her gaze then lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing he had a gun tucked into his waistband, as he said, “I better.”

Being cautious no one would take notice, Kate and Bradley rounded up through the woods towards the parking area where she’d left her truck. They crossed the clearing quickly then climbed in and Kate was quick yet quiet while backing out, pulling a U-turn, and driving beyond the development gate undetected.

When they got to the main road, she pulled over briefly to send Jessica a text message to make sure she’d be at her apartment.

Yes, why? Jessica quickly responded.

In response, Kate sent a brief text telling her not to go anywhere and that she’d be there soon.

As they drove back to town, Kate said, “After your dad was killed, your mom ended up remarrying.”

Bradley tensed up but nodded. It made sense that he’d feel awkward about that.

“I know her husband well. His name is Dean Wentworth. He’s a contractor, but interestingly he just got voted in as mayor.”

“Just like my dad,” he said, perking up.

“That’s right. Dean cares a lot about Rock Ridge, and he’s going to do a lot of good in office.” Considering that Bradley had been struggling with perhaps a bit of an identity crisis where he’d gotten hyper-focused on his father, wanting to be as much like him as possible, Kate wondered if highlighting Dudley’s life before anarchy, she might be able to inspire Bradley to go the wiser path of his father instead of the worse one. “There are a lot of ways to make positive changes in Rock Ridge. Your father knew that as mayor. He tried to bring about the right kind of change when he was in office. Does working in that arena interest you at all?”

“Eche,” said Bradley.

“Maybe you could learn more about it and see the possibilities for yourself. I’m sure Dean would show you the inner workings of his position, if you wanted.”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” he said. “And you can save it.”

Though he sounded like a stubborn teenager, there was a hint in his tone that told her he was curious. She’d leave it alone for now and let him come around to his own ideas in his own time.

When they reached Jessica and Dean’s apartment, Kate pulled up to the curb.

“Your mom started a fashion business. It’s in the early stages, but she sells online. She has many talents.”

“The only fashion I’m into is Lily van der Tramp’s. Her clothing is made for anarchists.”

“Right,” said Kate, as they walked into the building and took the elevator to the top floor.

As soon as Kate knocked on the door, Jessica pulled it open and smiled. Then her smile fell when she saw Bradley, initially confused by the teenager and why he was with Kate.

Just as Kate was about to explain who he was, Jessica’s eyes went wide. She stared at Bradley, studying him, and Kate imagined her maternal instincts were taking hold. A mother always knew their own child, no matter how many years had passed.

“Bradley?” she said in disbelief. “It can’t be.”

“I go by Toby now,” he said, trying to keep an edge in his voice, but it faltered. Soon there were tears in his eyes, and Jessica was exclaiming how she couldn’t believe it, wrapping him into a huge hug.

Then, without taking her eyes off him, Jessica pulled him into the living room and Kate followed.

“You’re alive,” she said, astonished.

She sat him down on the couch, holding his hands and marveling.

“I need to know everything,” she said then turned to Kate. “Where did you find him?”

“At the development,” she said. “Let me put on some coffee. Toby, are you hungry?”

“You can call me Bradley,” he said, which Kate took as a very good sign. Maybe being reunited with his mother would make him reconsider his involvement with the anarchists.

Kate made coffee and set out some muffins she found in a plastic container on the counter, as Bradley explained everything that had happened to him. At times, Jessica got choked up and gasped. Other times she nodded in understanding and her eyes rounded with sympathy.

After nearly an hour, they’d drank the coffee, eaten the muffins, and Jessica was up to speed.

“I should really get going,” Kate said, remembering she needed to put another coat of blue on Dean’s office walls. “Bradley, I can take you back to the campsite, if you like.”

“I’d rather stay here,” he said then glanced at Jessica to see if that would be all right.

“Of course,” said Jessica. “Kate, thank you so much.”

Kate smiled. “It really is a miracle.”

As she left them, she felt really happy, and then a wave of determination washed over her. She had to find a way to shut the anarchists down.

Chapter Ten

At Dean’s office, Kate walked through the door with her paint rollers and fresh paint tin, and discovered Dean had gotten a brand new receptionist. Kate recognized her from Bean There. Mary-Anne had been one of Clara’s part-time baristas, and Kate was glad to see the young woman had found a position where she would be putting her degree to good work.

“Mary-Anne, congratulations,” she said. “This is a good fit for you.”

“Thanks,” said Mary-Anne, who smiled but also seemed a bit overwhelmed by the stacks of folders on her desk. “It’s a lot to get used to.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

So glad was she to receive the encouraging words that Mary-Anne didn’t mention if Dean was in his office or if Kate could go on in.

“I just need to paint on a second coat,” said Kate.

“Oh! Of course! I’m so sorry. Go on in. He’s working, but we were expecting you.”

“Thanks,” said Kate and she crossed through to Dean’s office door. She gave it a quick knock then pushed it open since it was already ajar.

“Come on in,” said Dean, who was again puzzling over something on his computer. “Don’t mind me. Feel free to do your thing.”

Kate wasted no time going into the closet to get the cans of blue paint. She laid out the painting cloth, covering the carpet, and then poured one can into the paint tin and stroked her roller through, getting a good amount of blue paint on it.

As she painted, Dean was in and out of the office, passing files to Mary-Anne to organize. They seemed like a good team. Mary-Anne was quick-witted and took to her duties with a sense of urgency. It was the perfect complement to Dean’s steadfast nature. Soon Kate had painted the entire office, and in the light of day that poured through the window, the color looked really great.

She began packing up her materials then opened the window so the office could air out. The paint fumes were strong and she was about to recommend to Dean that he should go out for lunch to give the room a chance to dry for a bit, when she realized Mike Waters and Lily van der Tramp had come into the anteroom.

Kate hovered in the doorway, but they didn’t take notice.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have an appointment,” said Mary-Anne.

“But he had to see this meeting coming,” said Mike. “We all have to get along, and I think if Lily and I can sit down with Dean and explain the good nature of the development, Dean will be more apt to support our cause.”

“That could be,” said Mary-Anne. “And if you would please have a seat, I can see if Dean would be willing to take the meeting.”

Mike was pushy, and Kate could see Mary-Anne’s frustration.

“We’ve been getting organized,” Mary-Anne explained, getting up from her chair. “He’s in the storage room. If you’d just give me a few minutes.”

Though Mike and Lily didn’t sit as they’d been asked, they at least piped down.

Then Mike and Lily realized Kate was standing there. Kate didn’t like how they were looking at her, and when her gaze fell she saw Lily had with her a crisp shopping bag that said Killer Klothing.

Dean barreled down the hall with Mary-Anne in tow.

“Mr. Waters,” he said, “Mrs. Van der Tramp.”

Dean shook their hands then saw Kate.

“Kate, let me write you a check,” he said. Then, to Mike, he added, “Excuse me one moment.”

Kate followed him back into his office where she handed him her invoice and he quickly made out a check.

He said quietly, “Whatever they’re here to convince me of, don’t worry, they won’t.”

Kate smirked then made her way through the anteroom and down to her truck.

She’d been meaning to call Scott to tell him about Bradley and the very real possibility that Greg could be planning on coming back to Rock Ridge to find him, if he wasn’t already here. She set her materials in the bed of her truck and climbed in the driver’s seat, ready to dial him up when her cell began vibrating.

She smiled when she saw it was Scott calling. They did that sometimes.

“Hey,” she said, starting up her truck. “You’ll never believe what happened to me.”

“Trust me, I will,” he said. “The FBI got back to me.”

“They did?” She was impressed Scott had gotten through. “And they told you about Bradley?”

“Not in so many words, but I figured it out. I was able to use the fact that Bradley was here as a bargaining chip of sorts.”

“Wait, how did you know he was here?”

“The accident report from your fender bender. I told the department to bust these anarchists on everything, no matter how small. When I was looking at his driver’s license I got a funny feeling. Then I ran it through face recognition on a composite of what Bradley would look like, you know, using the photo of him with Walter when he was seven. Anyway, when I told the FBI that Bradley Stuart was in Rock Ridge with the anarchists, the FBI let it slip that Greg was still on his mission and headed back to Rock Ridge with a government team to take down the development.”

“Take it down?” she asked fearfully. “How?”

Scott sighed. “They didn’t say, but I’m thinking SWAT, RAID, a full-blown ambush.”

“Scott, we can’t let that happen.”

“How can we stop it?”

“I don’t know, but they’re just a bunch of kids, for Christ’s sake.”

“The FBI has reason to believe they’re armed.”

“They could be, but they don’t have the skill to defend themselves. It could turn into an all-out war.”

“I’m with you, but my precinct isn’t bigger than the FBI. I can’t stop them.”

“If you arrest Mike Waters and hand him over, then the organization will collapse and no one has to get hurt.”

“Theoretically, but what can I arrest him on? He hasn’t done anything I can prove.”

Kate knew he was right, but refused to accept it. There had to be a way. Mike would have to slip up, or maybe he already had and it was just a matter of finding out in what way.

“Oh!” she exclaimed when she noted the time on her dashboard. “My court date!”

“That’s today?”

Arthur had e-mailed her that morning with the time she needed to meet him at the courthouse to file the divorce.

“Shoot, I have to go.”

“Let’s talk after,” he said.

“Dinner at my place?”

Scott hesitated, and she imagined he was looking at his calendar.

“Sure, let’s make it an early one, say six?”

“Okay, see you then.”

Refraining from speeding wasn’t easy as Kate drove through town to the courthouse on Liberty Way. It was a stately building with white pillars and a dome roof. As she pulled into a parking spot and jumped out of her truck, she thought about how lucky she was that she’d never set foot inside the courthouse. She had an excellent relationship with all of her customers. She’d never had to take anyone to small claims to collect on an unpaid invoice, and no one had ever been dissatisfied with her work to take her to court. Scott, on the other hand, had seen the inside of a courtroom many times. He’d testified in numerous trials, and had been divorced, as well, though that was back in Philadelphia. Hopefully this would be Kate’s first and last time here.

She wished she’d changed her clothes. She was in her overalls and who knew if she had blue paint in her hair. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to standing in front of a judge looking like this, but with all the commotion surrounding the anarchists, finding Bradley, thinking that Greg might come back to town, she hadn’t thought twice about her hearing. In fact, it had completely flown from her mind.

Arthur Joseph was waiting patiently inside the courthouse. He was dressed in a modest suit and tie, respectable looking but not at all flashy. He frowned when he realized her choice of dress.

“I know, I know, I’m embarrassed,” she said.

“No worries,” said Arthur. “Judge Pollard isn’t one to judge.” He chuckled at his joke. It was nice of him to make light of her attire, but she still felt like crawling into a hole. “Come now, they’re ready for us.”

Kate followed Arthur into the courtroom where Judge Pollard, a handsome woman in her early fifties with a tight perm and round spectacles, was seated at the bench, gavel in hand. Other than the bailiff, the room was empty, which made the courtroom especially echoing.

“Your Honor,” began Arthur when he reached his podium on the right side of the courtroom, Kate beside him. “We’re submitting for the court Kate Flaherty’s due diligence at locating her estranged husband, Greg Flaherty.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Judge Pollard, cutting him off. “I’ve read through the documents.”

Kate swallowed hard, as the judge perused the submitted documents.

Then Judge Pollard raised her gavel and said, “I see no reason not to grant you this divorce.” She hit the gavel, stating Kate was hereby divorced.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” she blurted out.

Judge Pollard barely cracked a smile then set off for her chambers.

Kate couldn’t believe she was divorced. It was over. She was no longer married to Greg. She was free, and she felt an incredible weight lifted off her shoulders. She thanked Arthur, throwing her arms around him, which surprised him, but he chuckled, saying he was happy for her.

By the time she left the courthouse the sun was lowering in the sky and the wind was picking up. She had a smile on her face, and as she drove back to her house, she kept the radio on full blast, singing along to every song that came on.

Because Judge Pollard had been far more efficient than Kate could’ve ever anticipated, it was well before six when she parked her truck outside her house. She’d have plenty of time to shower and put on a nice outfit. She was in full celebration mode and couldn’t wait for Scott to show up.

As she ran a bath and poured in heaps of lavender-scented bubbles, her cell vibrated on the sink counter. It was Scott.

Wine and Italian? I’m at Luciano’s.

She texted back right away, YES! Then she settled into the warm, bubbly water. When she breathed in the lavender scent and sighed it was like all the pent-up stress and worry that had accumulated in her body over the past five and a half years eased out of her, and she was finally at peace.

Then she remembered that Greg might come back.

What would she do?

What would she say if she saw him?

Would she break down or would she explode with anger?

What would she tell her boys?

Kate pushed those thoughts from her mind, got out of the bath and drained the tub, then toweled off and dressed in a nice pair of black jeans and a festive orange sweater that complimented her red hair.

As she put on a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, Scott rang the doorbell. Darn, she’d forgotten the alarm again. She never could remember to set it, but she reasoned that soon enough, once the anarchists were driven out of Rock Ridge, she’d no longer need it.

“Hey!” she said excitedly, as she opened the door.

Scott had a Luciano’s bag in his hand, a bottle of wine, and a giant bouquet of flowers.

“Awe, these are beautiful,” she said, accepting the bouquet and closing the door behind him.

They went into the kitchen where he popped the cork out of the wine bottle. “Congratulations,” he told her. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“Me too,” she said.

Together they set out the pasta on the dining room table and got settled with their wine. As they ate and drank, they discussed their day, the strange coincidence that Kate had gotten into a fender bender with Bradley, the vague information Scott had received from the FBI regarding Greg’s whereabouts, and what might happen if Greg and his FBI team got to Mike Waters before they did.

All the while, Kate kept glancing at the Luciano’s bag, which was resting on the kitchen islet within view. There was something about it that was nagging at her, its white paper-bag shape, its round handles, but she couldn’t put her finger on why she was getting preoccupied.

“Any new suspects?” she asked, though her gaze was on the bag.

“You seem distracted, Kate. What’s wrong?” Scott studied her for a moment. “Why do you keep looking at the Luciano’s bag?”

Kate thought about it before replying, “Someone got into Ken’s house and left that gift for Celia, the shawl and ingredients that were poisonous.”

Thinking about it, she suddenly realized why the Luciano’s bag seemed significant. It was the shape of the bag. It looked exactly like the bag she’d seen Lily holding when she showed up with Mike Waters at Dean’s office.

Killer Klothing.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“Killer Klothing!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lily’s clothing company.” Kate smiled and shook her head. “Killer Klothing, how literal!”

“Kate, tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.

“The Luciano’s bag reminded me,” she explained. “Celia told me she’d found a gift in the house. A black shawl and the poisonous ingredients.”

“Right, I talked to Lily. There was no proof.”

“Well there is now! Lily came to Dean’s office today with Mike Waters. She was holding a Killer Klothing bag.”

“It’s her company,” he said, playing devil’s advocate.

“Call Dean!” She jumped up and hurried to her cell phone, which she’d set on the coffee table then raced back.

“Why?”

“Lily probably gave him that bag earlier today. She was acting all good-natured. Well, I bet you anything it was just like the so-called gift she’d left for Ken.”

Scott was on his feet in a second.

“This is how we’ll bring them down, Scott!” she exclaimed with her cell to her ear. “Both Lily and Mike dropped that bag off today with Dean, I just know it.”

“Attempted murder I can link to Ken’s murder,” he supplied.

Kate locked eyes with him. “Let’s just hope it’s only an attempt.”

Chapter Eleven

“Hi! Jessica!” said Kate, as soon as her friend picked up the apartment phone.

She was in the passenger’s seat of Scott’s truck, as Scott drove wildly into town, his cherry-siren blaring atop the vehicle.

“Oh, Kate! Thanks so much for checking in. Bradley is still here. We’re having a lovely time.”

“That’s nice. Look, is Dean there? Put him on.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Is he there, Jessica?”

“No, he’s still at the office. I tried to get him home for dinner, but he said Mary-Anne left him with a nice meal and a silk tie, in fact. She’s so sweet.”

“Mary-Anne didn’t leave that for him! Oh God, Scott, step on it!”

Jessica became alarmed. “What’s going on, Kate?”

“I have to call Dean,” she shouted into her cell. “I’m going to try his cell and his office phone, so don’t call him. I don’t want the line tied up.”

“Okay,” said Jessica confusedly.

Immediately, Kate hung up. Scott pulled a hard U-turn then hit the gas, saying, “Damn, we were nearly at their apartment. Overshot his office.”

“Just hurry,” said Kate. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.” Quickly, she dialed Dean’s office line, but it just rang. Then she tried his cell but it went straight to voice mail. “Arg!”

“We’re here,” said Scott as though that might calm her down. He slammed on the brakes and skidded sideways, spanning three parking spots in front of the DPW building.

They jumped out and didn’t even bother shutting their doors, as they ran into the building. The elevator wouldn’t ascend fast enough, but soon they were racing up the hall and spilled into the anteroom.

Mary-Anne wasn’t there, but they were already barging into Dean’s office.

He was seated at his desk with a bowl of soup in front of him. His spoon was midway to his mouth, and Kate screamed, “Don’t!” She slapped the spoon out of his hand.

“Kate! What?”

“You didn’t eat any, did you?” She was breathless and desperate, and Dean only looked bewildered.

“No, why?”

“Oh, thank God!”

Dean looked at Scott for answers.

“The soup is poisoned,” he explained.

“What? Why would Mary-Anne poison me?”

“It’s not from Mary-Anne,” said Kate. “I saw Lily bring the bag.”

“The Killer Klothing one? I thought Mary-Anne left it on my desk as a gift.”

“She might have put it there,” said Scott, “but Lily brought it.”

“Can you give Mary-Anne a call?” asked Kate before turning to Scott. “She can give a statement and you can test the soup for poison, right?”

“Exactly,” said Scott. “We’ll have them arrested in no time.”

Chapter Twelve

With Mary-Anne’s statement that Lily van der Tramp had brought the Killer Klothing bag with Mike Waters’s help to Dean’s office, Scott was issued a warrant for Lily and Mike’s arrest. Scott dropped Kate off at her house so she could get her truck, then she followed him to Lily’s new house.

“You need to arrest Mike,” Kate said urgently when they’d climbed out of their vehicles behind the police cruiser driven by Officer Gunther.

“I will,” said Scott to quell her anxiety. “I can’t be two places at once, and Lily’s house is closer. Wait here.”

Scott ordered Gunther as well as Officer Garrison, who had driven with him, to approach Lily’s door.

Logically, Kate knew it wouldn’t take them longer than a few minutes to have Lily in custody, but then they’d have to drive her to the jail at the precinct. She was far too on edge to wait around. She knew how clever Mike Waters was. She had every reason to believe Lily might have tipped him off the second she saw a police cruiser with lights and siren blaring in front of her house.

As soon as Scott turned his back on her and started up the walkway, she jumped in her truck and peeled away from the curb. She thought she heard Scott swearing, realizing she’d taken off, but she didn’t care.

Rock Ridge was her entire life. She’d been born and raised here. It was where her kids had grown up and where they’d return to for the holidays. She knew she was being impulsive and maybe even reckless, but time was of the essence. She couldn’t let Mike Waters slip away, start another anarchist cell in another place, and wreak havoc in someone else’s peaceful town.

Just before she got to the gate at the campsite, she killed her headlights and slowed down to a crawl. She detected some movement near the tents. It was only kids, the young anarchists who had been brainwashed into believing Mike’s movement would be anything but terrorist destruction.

Instead of driving through the gate, she pulled off to the side of the road, steering her truck into the tall brush where it might go unnoticed. Then she got out, and quietly stalked through the gate on foot.

Bradley had been carrying a gun, so she had every reason to believe all the anarchists were armed. She would have to keep out of sight. She had no clue how she might detain Mike if she found him; she only knew she had to try.

As she walked behind the row of vehicles, making sure to keep her head down, she noticed a faint light far in the distance and tucked between the trees. She paused, listening.

Was that a walkie-talkie she heard?

Then she spied figures. As she squinted through the darkness, she determined the figures weren’t kids. Their statures looked bulky and they wore helmets.

Then she realized it was the FBI SWAT team. They’d formed in the woods. Would this turn into an all-out gunfight?

Maybe she should wait for Scott. It was crazy of her to be here. She shouldn’t put herself in harm’s way like some vigilante maverick. She must have lost her mind coming here.

She kneeled in the grass behind one of the cars and dialed Scott’s cell phone.

“Kate?” He did not sound pleased. “Where the hell are you?”

“I didn’t want him to get away,” she whispered, but then suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She dropped her cell, but could still hear Scott’s faint and tinny voice coming through the receiver as he yelled, “Kate! Kate!”

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost me?”

Mike swung her around and grabbed her. He looked crazed.

“Do you think you can stop us? You think we’ll give up just because Lily has been arrested? Is that what you think?”

He shook her then thrust her forward, pushing her through the campsite. She suddenly felt something hard digging into her back. She knew it was a gun.

When they reached the first trailer, Mike pushed her up the stairs then yanked the door open and threw her inside.

With the FBI SWAT team assembling in the woods, she knew they’d be here soon, but it didn’t give her much comfort. They looked heavily armed and no one knew she was in here. What if they threw a grenade through the window? Or tear gas? She’d be a casualty just like all the other kids here.

“Too many people have died,” she said, but her voice was trembling.

He held the gun on her and forced her to sit in a chair at the wall just in front of the trailer’s window.

“And many more will die,” he said. “We’ll never stop. I’ve beaten the government at every turn. Do you realize that? Even your husband couldn’t fool me.” Mike laughed, pleased with himself to have Kate at gunpoint. She got the feeling he’d enjoy killing her since he hadn’t been able to kill Greg. “And isn’t it interesting that the one boy he tried to save ended up coming back to me.”

“Why was Bradley so important?” she challenged.

“You mean more important to Greg than you were? Than his own children?” Again, he laughed. “Are you beginning to understand how small you are? How insignificant? Who will care when you’re dead?”

Kate felt tears well up in her eyes, but she reminded herself that the insults of a crazed madman were baseless.

“No,” she said. “You think Bradley is vital to your organization. Why?”

Mike frowned at her. “How would you like to die?”

“In my bed when I’m ninety next to my husband—my real husband, Scott. I know we’ll get married. This nightmare will be nothing more than a faint memory.”

He laughed. “I like your optimism, but I was speaking in terms of being shot in the head or the chest.” When she said nothing but only glared at him, he took on a strangely jovial tone. “You want to know why the FBI used a wealth of resources to keep Bradley from me?”

She raised her brows, interested.

“When Bradley was four years old his IQ tested off the charts. He’s a genius, scored upwards of 240. I was thinking long term. I was willing to wait twenty, even thirty years, developing him all the while, grooming and educating him. I need him to make a bomb. And not just any bomb. The Anarchist Freedom Network is going to go down in history as the terrorist organization that revolutionizes warfare. Bradley will create a bomb a hundred times more destructive than the atomic bomb. We’ll use it to wipe out tremendous chunks of the population, every city, every small town that resists our movement. A hundred years from now the US won’t exist, and the whole world will know this nation as the Anarchist Freedom Network.”

“You’re insane!”

“No!” he said, aiming his gun at her head. “I’m a visionary! And I cannot be stopped!”

Mike slipped his finger over the trigger and was just about to squeeze, ending her life, when the door crashed open and a man charged at Mike.

It happened so fast that it was a blur, and Kate barely understood what she was seeing.

Mike flinched then swung his gun at the man.

The man, who had dark hair, weathered skin, steel blue eyes, and was wearing combat gear, screamed as he careened into Mike. Just as they hit the ground, Kate realized it was Greg.

As soon as she did, a loud POW struck her ears and Greg went limp on top of Mike.

“No!” Kate shrieked.

As Mike wriggled free of Greg’s dead weight, an army of FBI SWAT soldiers stomped into the trailer and overpowered Mike, grabbing his weapon, flipping him hard onto his stomach, and twisting his arms behind his back to cuff him.

One of the soldiers grabbed Kate and hurried her out of the trailer and down the steps. She was shaking, overwhelmed and astonished that after so many years she’d come face-to-face with Greg, but there hadn’t been a moment to say a word.

The soldier escorted her to a safe distance then she saw Scott and the local law enforcement.

There had been no gunfight, no war, and no anarchist takeover.

“Katydid,” he said, taking her into his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

Chapter Thirteen

Mike Waters was charged with terrorism, criminal conspiracy, and the murder of Greg Flaherty and attempted murder of Dean Wentworth. With his arrest, the Anarchist Freedom Network collapsed and the development at the campsite ceased.

Eager to restore Rock Ridge to its peaceful sanctity, Tully Construction, with funding from the mayor’s office, tore down the structure at the campsite and returned it to its natural grace.

Bradley moved in with his mother, Jessica, and took a keen interest in Dean’s role as mayor, learning the ropes and applying his genius to help his new stepfather politically.

It was hard for Kate to tell her twin boys about their father. She called them home and Scott sat down with them. Together they explained Greg’s mission, why he had disappeared, and how, when all was said and done, their father had died a true hero.

Jared and Jason had mixed emotions, but were ultimately happy for Kate’s rescue, and soon came to terms with the truth of it all.

A few weeks later, her twins were home again for Thanksgiving. Kate had more or less returned to a normal life, running around town and providing her handywoman services to all who needed her.

She took a sip of red wine then opened the oven. The turkey smelled rich thanks to her specialty seasoned basting.

“How are those mashed potatoes coming?” she asked Scott, who stood over the stove with his sleeves rolled up, as he crushed the soft, hot potatoes and poured in cream when he needed the lubrication.

“Good,” he said, wiping his brow. “Man, I forgot how taxing this is.”

He took a minute to catch his breath and stole a sip of wine.

“Boys!” Kate called out towards the ceiling. “Come set the table!”

Jared and Jason lumbered down the stairs.

“Smells good, Mom,” said Jason, as Jared snuck into the kitchen and got down to business brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“You read my mind,” said Kate, smiling.

As they sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, Kate felt especially grateful. She had everything she could ask for. After Scott said grace, he started carving the bird, and Kate filled the boys’ plates with mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, and candied onions. When everyone was settled and digging in, Scott held Kate’s gaze and smiled in a funny way.

She got the feeling he was about to propose.

~~~

NAILED DOWN MURDER

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty stared up at the tangle of pipes and wished she didn’t have to hold her flashlight between her teeth. The cabinet under the sink where she was lying on her back smelled like cleaning products and mildew, and nothing she had tried in the past fifteen minutes had worked in terms of stopping the drip.

“Can I get you anything, Kate?” Marla Zook asked, speaking up in case Kate couldn’t hear, tucked under her sink like that.

Many tools crossed her mind, but she knew Marla wouldn’t have them readily at her disposal. As a single mother of two teenaged girls, Marla had called Kate for all of her fix-it needs, and it wasn’t because the hard-working woman had a toolkit lying around.

“No, Marla. I just need to muscle this washer closed and seal it,” she said, angling her gaze out from under the sink by crooking her neck sideways.

“A cup of coffee perhaps?”

Well, a cup of coffee went without saying. Kate shot her a crooked smile, wiped her forearm over her brow to brush her red hair out of her eyes and said, “That would be great.” Then she glanced back up at the leaky pipe, examining the crack beside the washer and wracking her brain for a temporary solution. If she could swing by Grayson’s Hardware, she could pick up a new washer of the correct dimensions, along with a bottle of sealant, and fix this drip in no time. However, Grayson’s was already closed, and if Kate couldn’t come up with a quick fix, Marla could very well wake up tomorrow morning with a pond-sized puddle in her kitchen.

She grabbed the wrench that she had laid beside her right hip, adjusted the dial to widen the wrench’s teeth, then angled it against the washer and tightened the wrench as far as it would go without pinching the washer out of shape. She wasn’t one for silent prayers, or prayers of any kind, but she took a moment—nonetheless—to beg this darn thing into obeying.

As she worked, she soon heard the melodic bickering of two teenaged girls billow out from the living room. Kate had raised twin boys, who in their teen years had fought just as badly, but the offenses and accusations were entirely different. The girls were arguing about a sweater one of them borrowed without the other’s permission. If it had been Jason and Jared, the grievance would’ve revolved around video games, one of them playing Xbox longer than the agreed upon duration. And they wouldn’t have been shouting. They would have been wrestling across the living room floor, knocking over lamps and vases in the tussle.

Kate smiled at the thought. Her boys were all grown up now. Two years had passed since her fleeting reunion with her husband Greg, who had been missing for years. Two quiet years since Kate had served as an integral force in shutting down the Anarchist Freedom Network and finally getting the answers surrounding Greg’s disappearance and how it tied into the vast number of murders that had cropped up throughout Rock Ridge.

She shuddered at the thought and focused on twisting the washer and its bolt as tight as it would go.

That’s how she handled the overwhelming thoughts that would sometimes creep up in her bones when she allowed her mind to wander into the territory of all that had transpired those years ago. There was no sense in looking back. Things had been going pretty great for Kate since then. Her twins had graduated college and moved back to Rock Ridge. Jared was working in the mayor’s office with Dean, a strong departure from his major in undergrad, but one that made him happy. Jason was working in construction—though in Kate’s opinion he could probably do a lot better. However, his job was making him happy as well—and that’s all a parent could really ask for, wasn’t it? That your child is content in their life’s decisions. Jason was probably as satisfied as he could be with his position as the new construction manager of Wentworth Contractors. Dean Wentworth used to run the company, and often gave Kate smaller fix-it jobs, while she referred her customers’ bigger jobs to Dean. But when Dean had been elected Mayor of Rock Ridge, he put his construction business on hiatus. Then when Jason had expressed an interest, Dean didn’t hesitate for a minute to turn the company over to Jason, trusting him fully by mere association. He was Kate’s son after all. Kate appreciated the vote of confidence.

“The coffee is brewed,” said Marla from the counter.

Kate had heard the pot percolate but had slipped into deep thought.

“Thanks,” she said, giving the washer one last twist before sliding out from under the sink.

When she got to her feet, she could smell the strong aroma wafting up from the mug of dark roast that Marla was holding out for Kate to grasp.

Kate took a sip, thankful to be getting a quick boost of caffeine before the long evening ahead, then explained, “It should hold for the night, but I’ll need to come back tomorrow to fix it once and for all. You need a new pipe, and since you called right after Grayson’s closed for the night, I did what I could, but it’s temporary and won’t hold longer than a day.”

“Okay,” she said, considering the information. “I’ve got to work tomorrow. Can you come around five in the evening? Will it hold that long?”

Kate took a moment to consider while she drank her coffee.

“It could go either way. I’d rather get here in the morning, but if that’s not possible, then what you need to do is check it first thing and set a pot under it if it starts dripping. I’m less concerned with the pipes, and more concerned about water damage. Pipes are relatively inexpensive, but if you get a mold problem that could really cost you.”

“I see,” she said, setting her own mug down on the kitchen table in favor of her checkbook.

“No need, Marla,” she said as soon as she saw the woman begin to write a check. “I’ll write you up an invoice as soon as it’s fully fixed tomorrow.”

“Can you give me an estimate?”

“Sure.”

Kate lifted her tool kit from the floor and set in on the kitchen table then pulled her estimate note pad from the box and drew up the projections for materials and labor. When she handed it to Marla, the woman smirked.

“It’s less than I would’ve thought.”

“I get a pretty good deal at Grayson’s,” she mentioned, closing her tool kit. “Just give me a call as you’re leaving work, and I can meet you here as soon as you’re home. And remember, set a pot under the sink if you notice it dripping tomorrow.”

“Will do!”

Marla walked Kate to the front door, passing her teenaged daughters who had finally settled down. They were seated on the couch and flipping through magazines while an entertainment news program murmured from across the room.

Kate waved at Marla over her shoulder then walked down the driveway. She had parked her truck at the curb, and even though dusk was gradually falling, the brightly stenciled ‘Mrs. Fix It’ lettering across the truck’s side was clear and visible.

Setting her tool kit in the truck bed, she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her overalls and cued up Scott’s number.

For a summer’s night, it wasn’t too hot, she noticed, as she climbed in behind the wheel and composed a text message.

‘Should I pick up a bottle of wine?’

It only took a moment for her cell to buzz with his response.

‘I’ve got everything here so no need. See you soon!’

After texting him back with ‘Great, thanks!’ Kate started up her truck and set off towards her quiet neck of the woods, driving along Main Street and cutting through the sleepy center of town before veering east to her windy driveway where her two-story house was tucked deep in the woods.

Scott had proposed to her a few years ago, right after Greg’s brief and fleeting return to Rock Ridge. The moment she had locked eyes with her husband, it felt like time stopped, and yet, in the next second, he was shot dead. Now she had a new husband, and while she knew no one in this world was more right for her than Scott York—they had dated in high school after all, and she never really stopped thinking about him—being married once again and being a wife who had a man to come home to, was vaguely bizarre.

Kate had been independent for years and really enjoyed her solitude. And because of this, she still felt like she was getting used to sharing her house.

After their wedding, Scott had moved into Kate’s home. It had a state-of-the-art security system that a police chief could appreciate, and since Scott had undergone a costly divorce years ago and had been living in an apartment in the center of town, the logical choice had been for him to move in with her. She was glad he had, but at times, she missed coming home to an empty house, a bottle of wine, and the sweet silence of knowing no one was around for miles and miles.

Kate was lifted from her reverie when she saw a vehicle stopped on the shoulder of the road a mile from her home. Its hazard lights were flashing, and it was parked at such a crooked angle that she instantly got a very bad feeling.

She slowed her truck, veering onto the shoulder, and as she neared the vehicle, which was a red VW bug, she realized it was Cookie Halpert’s car.

Everyone in town knew and loved Cookie for her baked goods, which she sold out of Bean There, the local coffee shop. And as Kate came to a stop, leaving her headlights on so she would be able to see, she hoped that nothing was seriously wrong.

“Cookie?” she called out, as she approached the driver’s side door. “Are you having car trouble?”

Kate didn’t see any damage to the vehicle, and she noted that the tires on its left side were intact.

But when she reached the driver’s side window and found Cookie draped over the steering wheel, her long, brown hair spilling over the dashboard and her arms hanging loosely, she got a very bad feeling.

Cautiously and using as little force as possible, she pinched the door handle then pulled, and the door sprang open.

“Cookie?”

The woman was motionless, and as Kate stared down at her back, the epic stillness told her the baker wasn’t breathing.

Had this been a car accident? Had Cookie hit something in the road and gone unconscious during the impact?

Quickly, Kate padded around the front bumper, but like the back of the car, she found no damage, no sign of a crash.

Nearing Cookie again, Kate leaned in and gently grasped her shoulders. Her body felt limp and heavy, but she managed to pull Cookie against the seatback. It was then that she saw that the baker’s chest was covered in blood.

Kate brushed the brown hair from Cookie’s face then placed her fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse, but there wasn’t one.

Cookie Halpert was dead.

Chapter Two

“What do you mean Cookie is dead?” Scott sounded alarmed, and she could hear Jason and his fiancée, Becky, laughing in the background.

“I mean I found her car on the shoulder of the road, and she was slumped over the wheel. When I pulled her upright, I saw her chest was covered in blood and she didn’t have a pulse.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse time to be a Good Samaritan,” he commented, but she could tell he wasn’t mad, only confused and possibly more so than her. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I did. I called you.”

“Alright,” he said, grumbling. “It sounds like she got into an accident and the other driver left the scene.”

Kate wished that were the case, but she doubted it.

“I’ll call dispatch and send a cruiser over to check it out. Can you hang on until then? I’ll let them know not to question you. We can deal with that later. You’ve got to get back here, or you’ll be late.”

“I know. Okay. Good plan,” she offered.

She was standing in the car door, which was still open, and gazing out at the darkening night. She knew she should be home by now. As well as Scott got along with Jason and Jared—her twins loved him in fact—he wasn’t the best host when it came to entertaining the soon-to-be in laws. All told, she wasn’t either, but together, they made a decent team, chatting up Lance and Amelia Langley—Becky’s parents.

“Did you happen to see the wound? The cause of the bleeding?” he asked her.

“You want me to look for it?” she asked, apprehensive. She might be good with a paintbrush and an electric drill, but examining a body made her woozy. She nearly laughed at the thought. She had certainly happened upon enough bodies in her lifetime. Maybe she should be used to it by now, but she wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

“A stab wound will be a slit. A bullet wound will be circular.”

Hearing just that much caused her legs to turn rubbery.

“How about you call that cruiser and let them tell you.”

“I’m dialing on the landline,” he said then quickly set his cell down to talk to the Rock Ridge 9-1-1 Dispatch, relaying the details and location as he understood them. Then he was back on his cell. “They’re on their way.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Kate, are you all right? You sound quiet over there.”

Am I? “Yeah,” she managed to say, but the fact of the matter was that she couldn’t be sure.

She closed the driver’s side door and walked back to her truck, finding a sliver of comfort in having Scott in her ear.

This was another drawback of now having a supportive husband who loved her. She had lost her edge, her toughness, and the part of her that could shut down after encountering a body and keep a stiff upper lip. There was something about being fiercely independent that kept her hard, cool, calm, and collected—since she had no one to hold her up. Now that she did, she found she was more apt to be affected by things, both big and small. Not in a bad way, it was just a difference she had noticed that made her wonder. Though it was possible that as her life had eased up, gotten easier, she might have also evolved. Having a husband missing for years, her sons gone year round, and dead bodies cropping up week after week could’ve also been the cause of her toughened attitude. It had been years since anything tragic had happened. And quite frankly, she was no longer used to it.

She heard sirens blaring and turned over her shoulder to find a police cruiser pulling onto the shoulder behind her truck. When the officers stepped out, she told Scott they were here then relayed it was Gunther and Tolland. Tolland was new to the force, having recently graduated from the police academy. He was the same age as her boys. They had all gone to high school together, and though she felt Jason could do better for himself than work in construction, she was glad neither of her sons had ever considered becoming a cop.

“Evening, Kate,” said Officer Gunther. “Cookie Halpert had a fatal accident?”

“I don’t know how much of an accident it was, but she isn’t breathing.”

“We’ll take it from here,” said Officer Tolland, who offered her a sympathetic smirk. “I’m told you’ve got an engagement party to get to.”

“So I’m told,” she said, thanking them before stepping up into her truck.

She waved to them, as she carefully rounded Cookie’s car, making her way into the lane, and then drove off.

Poor Cookie, she thought before a scarier one entered her head. She hoped this wasn’t the start of something big.

As soon as she started up her long and winding driveway, easing her truck over the bumps and bends in the road, she felt remarkably calmer. Scott would handle Cookie’s death. Hopefully it hadn’t been foul play.

She parked her truck beside Scott’s and took a deep breath, as she spied through the windows. Jason’s car was parked on the far side of her driveway near the garage, and Jared’s was beside it, but she didn’t see the Langley’s Cadillac, which meant she was still on time.

Inside, Jared and Scott were in the kitchen, setting an assortment of cheese onto a platter of crackers, and Jason and Becky were canoodling on the living room couch, nursing their glasses of wine and marveling the engagement ring on Becky’s finger.

“Hi guys,” she said, tiredly, as she padded through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Mom,” said Jason, catching her attention. “Tell me you’re going to change.”

“I’m going to change,” she assured him, taking a moment to glance down at her overalls, which she rarely parted with.

In the kitchen, Scott offered her a glass of red wine, saying, “Take a load off.”

“You think I can drink this in the shower?” she teased, taking a sip.

“I think you can drink it quickly,” he countered, then leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Try not to dwell on it. I’ll get to the bottom of things with Cookie.”

Heeding his advice, she nearly drank the whole glass then set it on the counter, kissed Jared on the cheek—though he was fully focused on making melon balls—and then started for the bathroom.

Her shower was short and rushed, and she should’ve used the time to figure out what she wanted to wear, but her mind kept going blank. The Langleys couldn’t be more different from her and Scott, who identified as hard-working, blue-collar residents of Rock Ridge. Lance Langley had inherited his family’s mustard business decades prior, Langley’s Best, which was considered an empire. And Amelia ran an inn called Over the Moon on the north side of town. They were nice people, but Kate had nothing in common with them…except that they all loved Becky.

She decided on a purple cotton dress she was sure she had worn at least a hundred times. She didn’t bother blow-drying her hair. It was warm enough that her red locks would dry on their own. But she did take a moment to stroke on a bit of mascara. Jewelry crossed her mind, but the notion was laughable. She didn’t have any of those things, and why would she? If she couldn’t wear it to paint a house or lay bathroom tiles, why buy it?

Satisfied that she looked respectable and wouldn’t embarrass Jason, she slipped her feet into a pair of flats that looked lady-like and joined everyone in the living room.

Just as Scott handed her a fresh glass of red wine, the doorbell rang and Jason hopped up from the couch.

“I’ll get it,” he said, padding through the living room and answering the door.

It never ceased to amaze her how much her boys looked and acted like Greg. The older they got, the more she could see it in their faces, hear it in their cadence, and detect it in their gentle strength. Greg had been a good man, and she had loved him, but his many secrets ultimately caused her to realize she might never have known who he really was. With Scott York, what she saw was what she got, and there was no fear his past would creep up and snatch him.

“Lance, Amelia,” Jason said from the doorway. “Come in. It’s so nice to see you.”

Jason led them into the living room, but Jared quickly mentioned, “We’ve set everything out on the back deck. It’s cooled off. Should be nice out there.”

As Jared led them through the back door that opened up onto a tiled patio, which Kate had laid down herself years ago, she gave Amelia a little squeeze then hugged Lance, happy to see them.

The evening unfolded easily. Becky was quick to bring out the various plates she had made with Jason for dinner, and Jared was mindful to refill anyone’s glass if it got low on wine.

Kate hung back in her chair. She was more comfortable listening and asking an occasional question than she was speaking freely about how her business was doing or how she was enjoying having her twin boys back in Rock Ridge for good, but when the Langleys asked about those areas, she answered lightly, kept her responses brief and pleasant, and quickly turned the tables back on them.

Scott excused himself a number of times from the meal to take calls and respond to text messages, all of which Kate sensed were in regard to Cookie Halpert.

Rock Ridge had virtually no crime, and ever since the Anarchist Freedom Network had been driven out of town, there had been no murders or serious crimes. Before tonight, Scott rarely left the dinner table for a call, because he didn’t receive many.

After dinner, Becky was going on about the wedding arrangements. Often she shot Jason a loving smile, taking hold of his hand and teasing him that he was more or less lost when it came to picking out paper for the wedding invitations or deciding on what flowers to choose for the floral bouquets. They had set the date for early autumn, which didn’t leave them much time, not that Becky seemed daunted. She hadn’t been working ever since moving in with Jason in his house on the other side of town, so she felt it would be no problem to fully focus and pull this wedding together in just a few months.

For the fourth time that evening, Scott excused himself after his cell phone started vibrating.

“I’ll bring out another bottle of wine,” he mentioned, before slipping through the door and into the house.

Kate excused herself as well and shut the door. When she reached the kitchen, she found Scott huddled into a secretive hunch over the counter, listening to whoever was on the other end of that call.

Making herself useful, she found a bottle of Merlot in the wine rack and opened it. By the time she pulled the cork out, Scott returned his cell to his pocket.

“Well?” she asked, eager to hear about any developments.

Scott sighed, gazing at the floor, and when he looked up and met her eyes, she knew what would come next.

“It isn’t good,” he said.

“Murder?” she whispered.

In a discreet tone, he confirmed as much, saying, “Shot in the chest.”

“So someone ran her off the road and shot her?”

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted. “It’s getting complicated and I’m afraid I’m going to have to head out.”

“Complicated how?”

He tilted his head in a manner she was all too familiar with. It was what he did to caution her out of his business, but Kate felt she had a right to know.

“I found her,” she pointed out.

“Like you said, there was no damage to the vehicle. So if she was run off the road, she didn’t put up much of a fight. Also, it’s peculiar that she was slumped over the wheel having been shot in the chest. I’m not sure how the killer would’ve managed the angle, placing a gun to her chest with the steering wheel six inches away.”

“Do you think she was killed elsewhere then placed in her car?”

“There’s no sense in guessing,” he said, dismissing her question. “I have to get over there.”

“I can’t imagine why someone would kill her,” she said.

“Then don’t. Or try not to at least. Can you apologize to the Langleys for me?”

“Of course,” she said. “When will you be back?”

“There’s no telling. If I’m really late, I’ll sleep on the couch so I don’t wake you up.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, brushing him off. He had made that offer several times when he anticipated his paperwork at the precinct would turn into an around the clock nightmare, but she was a heavy sleeper. “I’ll be fine.”

Scott kissed her goodbye then started for the front door, as Kate stared down at the bottle of Merlot in her hands and wondered who would have it in for Cookie Halpert.

Chapter Three

If Scott had come home, slept on the couch, and left again before Kate had a chance to get up, or if he’d never come home at all, having worked all night, she couldn’t tell, as she started from her bedroom for the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee was waiting for her.

She poured a mug and let the aromatic steam waft up. She blew on it then began drinking it, as she gazed through the kitchen window at her driveway. It was bright out, which meant it would be a hot day, and since Hazel had scheduled her to paint the outside of her house for the greater part of the afternoon, Kate knew she would have to dress light so as not to overheat.

She did just that after taking a quick shower, and then filled her thermos with the rest of the coffee she’d made, and headed out to her truck.

Grayson’s Hardware would be open in ten minutes or so, giving her just enough time to drive over and pick up the materials she would need for Marla Zook’s sink.

She kept the windows down as she drove into town and pulled to a stop in front of the hardware store just as Larry was unlocking the entrance door and flipping the sign from closed to open.

“Morning, Kate!” he said cheerfully, as he held the door open for her.

“Good morning,” she said, starting up the plumbing aisle.

“Let me know if you need anything!” he called after her.

Larry had been dating Kate’s best friend, Carly, and they were now happily married. It had been one of the few positive things to come out of the strange summer two years back where bodies had piled up week after week. Larry himself had been arrested for one of those murders, which he hadn’t been guilty of—and thank God Scott quickly realized that. Larry’s father hadn’t been so innocent unfortunately, but after years of Larry hoping the residents of Rock Ridge would gradually disassociate him from his father, the town had naturally done just that. And it seemed Larry could now live without the curious, sideways glares from people who were skeptical of him.

She collected the materials she had come for, crossed up the aisle, and set them on the counter, which Larry was behind, organizing a bin of impulse-buy items—measuring tape, duct tape, and painter’s tape. She guessed contractors bought tape willy-nilly.

“Should I put it on your tab?”

“Oh,” she said, debating. Kate used to have a high tab that kept climbing, but recently she had cleared it and always bought her materials out-right if she could swing it. She no longer had to help pay for her sons’ education since they had graduated. And she had even started a savings account. “That’s okay, I can get it all now. What’s the damage?”

He told her, and she forked over the cash, thanking him as he put her materials into a bag.

“Did you hear about Dean’s plans for the old campground out east?”

“No, I hadn’t,” she said, suddenly curious.

She hadn’t set foot on the old campsite since the night Greg was shot. All she knew about it was that the town council had leveled the structures built by the Anarchist Freedom Network, and that the area was considered a vacant lot.

“You should come to the town meeting tomorrow. He’s going to announce his idea to get a read on how residents might feel about it.”

“So he hasn’t officially told anyone what his actual plans are?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said, taking the bag from the counter. “I’ll swing by.”

During the drive to Grayson’s, Kate had downed her entire thermos of coffee, so she decided to stop off at Bean There for a fresh cup before heading over to the flower store that was owned by her best friend Carly—Sunshine Florist. Carly usually made her a fresh pot whenever she came by to fix a shelf or assemble a new table, but considering business picked up for Carly during the summer, she couldn’t assume her friend would hang around while she worked. She could be in and out, and if that were the case, Kate would need a tall cup to get her through the morning.

Bean There was located on Main Street in the center of Rock Ridge. Kate pulled her truck up to the curb and locked it, then headed inside where the morning rush of customers had formed a long line.

She touched eyes with Clara briefly, who was rushing about behind the counter. The barista was also the owner of Bean There, and Kate couldn’t imagine how she was holding up having learned her business partner, Cookie, had died the night before. That was, if she knew at all.

Clara quickly rolled her sleeves up, revealing the flower tattoos that covered her arms, and then tied her hair back into a ponytail, gathering all the funky colors with an elastic band, as she listened to her next customer’s order.

Gradually, the line shortened, and soon Kate was stepping up to the counter.

“The usual?” Clara asked, but then quickly grimaced, anticipating Kate’s response. Kate’s usual morning order involved at least one of Cookie’s pastries, which had dwindled. What little was set out under the glass counter had to be left over from yesterday since Cookie had been in the habit of baking fresh goods each morning.

“Just a coffee,” said Kate, before leaning over the counter so that she could speak quietly without being overheard. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Clara’s eyes grew wide and her mouth drifted open. “So it wasn’t merely an accident?”

“I’m afraid not, but Scott didn’t come home last night, so the last I heard, the blow to Cookie’s chest was what killed her.”

“I thought this town would never have to see another murder.” Riding the swell of the terrible notion, Clara turned to the coffee carafe behind her and lifted the spout. A dark stream of coffee poured into a large to-go cup, and once it was full, she set it on the counter and put a plastic lid on it. “She was doing so well,” she remarked, taking Kate’s cash and making change for her. “She’d gotten back together with her old boyfriend. She had started her online store and was in full swing, shipping cookies out to customers. When I saw her yesterday, she was on top of the world.”

Kate both was and wasn’t surprised by this. Cookie had always been a cheerful woman. It was inconceivable that anyone would have it in for her, and yet everyone had secrets. Maybe Cookie’s had finally caught up to her.

“If you think of anything, you’ll let Scott know?” she asked, figuring that often people closest with the victim could remember critical information long after the fact.

“Will I tell Scott?” she challenged with a wry smirk. “I’ll tell you.” In response to Kate’s look of confusion, Clara said, “Everyone around town knows you’re the one who solved most of those murders years back. And if it wasn’t for you keeping an eye on those terrorists over in the campground, their group would’ve never been run out of town.”

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly. She had never been good at taking a compliment. “But Scott is who you should contact if you remember anything.”

“Right, right, of course,” she said obligingly. “I’ll call Scott. And then you.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” said Kate, as she turned from the counter, after giving Clara a parting smirk.

After climbing into her truck, she set off for Sunshine Florist, noting the time as she went. It was just after eight in the morning, which meant Carly had been arranging flowers at Sunshine for a good hour.

Most of the residents of Rock Ridge kept normal hours. They worked their nine to five jobs and—if anything—were apt to stay up a little too late watching TV. But those people around town who ran their own businesses, like Kate and Clara and Carly, tended to get up at the crack of dawn to get a jump on their day, and Carly was one of them.

When Kate stepped through the door, she found Carly where she thought she would. Her long-time friend was pitched over an industrial sink in the back of the store, as she washed dirt off of long-stem roses. Most of the flowers Carly worked with were actually grown out back during the summer time, which kept her costs down. However, it meant she had to wash and sheer the thorns off the stems herself.

“Hey,” said Kate as she approached. “Where’s that shelving unit you’d like installed?”

“Oh hey,” said Carly over her shoulder. “It’s around the corner. If you could set it up where the last one was...?”

“Sure. Where are the old shelves?”

“They completely gave way. The top one collapsed and pulled the others down with it like a stack of dominos.”

As soon as Carly mentioned it, Kate saw a pile of broken shelves near the backdoor.

“I can clear those out for you as well.”

“Thanks, that would be great. I didn’t want to have to drive them to the dump, and there’s not enough wood to schedule a dumpster drop.”

“No, of course not. I’ll put it in my truck bed.”

In fact, once Kate put on her work gloves, she did just that, loading up as many broken pieces into her arms as she could and running them out the front door to her truck. It took five trips, but she placed the entire old shelving unit into her truck bed then started for the brand new unit that was propped and still in its box at the back of the store.

“Where did you pick this up?” Kate asked, as she used a box cutter to free the pieces before she began assembling them.

“I ordered it online actually,” said Carly.

It didn’t surprise Kate. Rock Ridge didn’t have a decent furniture store, other than a fancy-shmancy one that residents used to furnish their homes, but the items there were much too nice for any of the businesses around town to use for the back of their stores. If anything, Rock Ridge needed a decent office supply store. The nearest one was two towns away.

As she got to work, piecing together the shelving unit and wondering how Sunshine Florist was really doing since Carly hadn’t hired her to build a unit from scratch, Kate drank her coffee and more or less got lost in her work.

“Hey,” said Carly, as she set a fifth bouquet on a worktable behind Kate. The bouquet looked just like the first four and reminded Kate of her wedding to Scott, because they had the same white lilies and baby’s breath. She wondered what flowers Becky would pick out for her wedding to Jason. “Did you hear about Dean’s plans for the old campsite?”

“You’re the second person to ask me today, and no,” she said. “But Larry told me about the town meeting, and I’m going to make it if I can.”

“Dean wants to build an amusement park.”

That took Kate aback. “An amusement park?”

“That’s what I hear.”

“I thought he hadn’t told anyone his plan. That’s why he was holding a meeting.”

“Come on, Kate. It’s a small town and you know how quickly word travels. I’m sure he told his assistant and she told one person and there you go, news spreading like wild fire.”

Carly had a point. News did travel fast in Rock Ridge, so fast that word of mouth here could rival the speed of the Internet in any other town.

“Why an amusement park? This is a hard-working town. No one has money to blow on a roller coaster—even if they do get a day off.”

“It’s not for us,” said Carly. “Well, not directly anyway. Dean’s been trying to come up with ways to boost the economy, and he thinks building a tourist attraction at that campground will solve all our problems.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Kate, outraged. “People live in Rock Ridge because they like that it’s a quiet town, untouched by tourism and all the crowds and nonsense that come with it. Our economy is doing just fine. We don’t need an amusement park.”

“I agree. But Dean has other ideas.”

Kate was disheartened by this news. She had always liked Dean and came to truly respect him, but this idea of his was all wrong. She guessed the bottom line was that—even though Dean had lived here for a little over two years—he wasn’t from here and maybe he didn’t understand all that Rock Ridge meant to its residents. Maybe deep down Dean missed the hustle and bustle of bigger cities, and he wanted to bring a slice of that kind of lifestyle to her quiet neck of the woods. She really didn’t want a big, flashy amusement park coming to Rock Ridge and decided—no matter what—she would make an appearance at that town meeting and try to talk some sense into her good friend.

“Amusement park?” she grumbled to herself, as she pushed in the last shelf. Carly was smiling at her, but Kate wasn’t sure if it was in response to the shelving unit or because Kate was getting worked up over Dean’s plan.

“Looks good,” she said, planting her fists on her hips. “What do I owe you?”

Kate took a moment to write out an invoice, and when she handed it to Carly, she said, “No rush on that.” The bill was negligible, and if Carly didn’t have the funds to build a unit from scratch, then there would be no sense pressuring her for pocket change on her labor costs.

“Thanks, if you’re at the town meeting tomorrow, I’ll have a check ready.”

“Sounds good,” she said, as she packed up her tool kit.

As she straightened up, with her tool kit in her hand, her cell phone started buzzing from the front pocket of her overalls and Cookie immediately sprang to mind.

Figuring it was Scott giving her a call to let her know why he hadn’t come home last night or to make sure she still slept well, she swiped the screen without even looking at it to see who was calling.

“Mom?” said Jason in a worried tone the second her voice came through the line. “It’s Jason.”

“Hey, honey, what’s going on?”

Panicked, Jason cut in with, “Can you come to the house?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Upon hearing her shrill response, Carly neared her, growing worried.

“It’s Becky. Please, just come.”

“I will. I’m on my way, but if this is an emergency, Jason, then you have to call the police.”

“Trust me, I have. But something tells me Scott’s not going to know how to handle this. Come quick.”

Before she could ask one more question, he hung up, leaving Kate in utter confusion.

“What’s going on?” asked Carly, concerned.

“I have no idea, but I have to get going.”

The drive across town was a blur. Jason and Becky had moved into a quaint, one-story house on the east side of town where a small village of similar houses had been built a number of years ago. Affordable, the homes were occupied by mostly young couples and the elderly who were healthy enough to live without hospice care.

Kate pulled up to the cul-de-sac where Jason and Becky’s blue house sat between two identical ones, which were white, and as she did, she immediately noticed two police cruisers and an ambulance.

Scanning for Scott’s truck, she nearly overlooked it, distracted by the twirl of emergency lights, but then spotted it parked in front of the second police cruiser.

What in God’s name happened?

She rushed to the front door, which was open and then barreled into the living room where Jason was seated between two medics who were taking his blood pressure and fastening butterfly bandages over the bridge of his nose and cheek.

“What happened?” she asked urgently, as she made her way deeper into the room.

Scott was standing off to the side with his gaze fixed on Jason, as if he were patiently waiting for his turn with the young man.

“Mom,” said Jason, urging the medics off of him. “The house got broken into.”

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, finally seeing the living room window that was completely shattered into oblivion. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“It was only one guy, and no he didn’t hurt me...” he trailed off and his eyes widened with terror. “But he took Becky.”

Chapter Four

The medics cleared out, and Scott took Jason behind the house outside so his police officers could comb the house for evidence. Kate followed, closing the door behind her and sensing Scott would prefer to speak to Jason alone. But this time Scott wouldn’t be able to push Kate out for any reason. This was her son, her family, a part of her life that had become so important; she might lose sense of who she was without it intact.

“We have plenty of time, Jason,” he said, indicating the young man could have a seat at the patio table. “Go slow, and tell me everything.”

Jason looked worried and exhausted, as he lowered into one of the patio chairs. He planted his elbows on the table and plowed his fingers through his hair, hanging his head for a moment. Scott sat in an adjacent chair, and Kate slid into one at the opposite side of the table from her son.

When Jason looked up, he locked eyes with Kate, asking, “Her parents. They don’t know. What am I going to tell them?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Scott, speaking for her. “Right now, let’s focus on the event as it occurred. The more I know, the more effective I can be at finding her and bringing her home.”

Kate knew if it were anyone else seated at the table, Scott would have mentioned that the first seventy-two hours of an abduction investigation were the most critical and that time was of the essence. But doing so would only rile Jason up into a panic that would work against his effort to explain what had happened. She appreciated Scott holding his tongue to that effect.

Prompting him, he said, “Start from the beginning. You woke up this morning to the sound of someone breaking in?”

“Yes, I heard glass shattering in the living room. We were in the bedroom. Becky’s a heavy sleeper, so after I heard the windowpane break, I listened and heard footsteps, and then shook her awake and told her to be quiet.”

“Do you have an idea of what time that was?”

“Before my alarm was set to go off,” he said, offering what he could without mentioning an exact time. “I didn’t look at the clock, but my alarm always goes off at a quarter to seven.”

Kate took note of Scott furrowing his brow. She knew him well enough to have a strong sense of what he was thinking. The house had been broken into just before seven, and it was now fast approaching noon. What had taken Jason so long to call the police?

“What happened next?” asked Scott, urging him to go on.

Jason had slipped into a dissociative state, his gaze softening as though he was looking at nothing in particular, perhaps reliving the event in his mind. He blinked and then trained his attention on Scott.

“I told Becky to stay in the bedroom. I got out of bed, quietly pulled on my jeans, and grabbed a baseball bat from my closet. I thought maybe we were getting robbed, so I took a long moment to debate whether or not I should go out and scare him off, or let him take what he wanted and go. I mean, I was hoping he wouldn’t come into the bedroom.”

“Okay,” said Scott, waiting for more.

“Becky wouldn’t stay put. She whispered that she needed to get dressed.”

Kate considered this detail and completely understood. If Kate had been in her place, there would be no way she’d stay under the covers, undressed, and not ready to defend herself.

“So Becky threw on some clothes. Then I noticed that whoever was in the living room wasn’t rummaging around as though they wanted to steal something. They were walking slowly towards the bedroom.”

“Was the bedroom door open or shut?” Scott asked.

“Shut. But I eased it open.”

“Did you see the man?”

Jason clammed up.

“You said he was approaching the bedroom, so if you opened the door, didn’t you see him?”

“Yeah, no, I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I charged at him with the bat, but he overpowered me.”

“Did you hit him?”

Kate hoped he had. If he did, then the culprit’s blood might be in the hallway, and Scott would have a chance at finding out who he was.

“Not really,” said Jason, vaguely. “If I made contact, it wasn’t a good enough hit. He got the bat away from me.”

Kate interjected immediately, “So you can get his fingerprints.”

Scott met her gaze, but he frowned.

“He took the bat with him,” said Jason. “I didn’t realize it until after he was gone.” He quickly added, “He had a gun.”

“You saw a gun, but you didn’t see his face?”

“We were wrestling around. I didn’t see his face.”

“Did you get a sense of his ethnicity? His height? His weight?”

Jason thought about it, but he seemed unsure and didn’t answer right away. “White, I think. He was my height give or take a few inches. He was strong.”

“Why would he need to fight you if he had a gun?” Scott challenged in a way Kate didn’t like.

“I charged at him. I wouldn’t have done that if I saw the gun. It was like I had tunnel vision. In the struggle, he shot me with something.”

“Shot you?” Kate asked, surprised.

“I felt a needle in my neck. Then the next thing I knew I was collapsing and my vision turned black. When I woke up, I was tied to a chair. It took hours to get free. And when I did, I discovered Becky was gone.”

“Okay, slow down. So you think he drugged you?” Scott asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you show me where?”

Hesitantly, Jason offered Scott the side of his neck he thought the needle had plunged into, but his pointing finger seemed to guess vaguely at the precise location. Scott leaned in close, examining the area, but the frown on his face told Kate he couldn’t tell where the puncture was.

“Did you mention this to the medics?”

“Why would I?”

“Because we will need a blood sample to test for what you might have been drugged with. It’s fine,” he offered quickly so Jason wouldn’t feel like he’d done anything wrong. “Let’s get you to the hospital now before the drug leaves your system.”

“Do I have to go? I mean, Becky is out there somewhere. I want to help find her. I should do something.”

“Jason,” he said sternly. “The best thing for you to do is go to the hospital.”

Reluctant as he seemed, Jason rose from the table with Scott, and they made their way through the house and out the front. Kate followed behind them, eyeing the living room as she went and glancing up the hallway towards the bedroom when she could. There was absolutely no damage to the house that she could see other than the shattered window.

Outside, Scott opened the door on the passenger’s side of his truck for Jason to climb in since the medics and ambulance had left. After shutting the door, Scott gave orders to the police officers, as well as the two detectives who would be working the case—Garrison, who had been promoted a few months back, and Masey.

“Call me if you need to get picked up,” said Kate to Jason through the open window of the truck.

“Don’t you have a full day?” he asked.

“I can swing by the hospital and bring you home,” she explained.

When she rounded the hood of the truck, Scott was walking away from his officers towards the driver’s side.

“What do you think is going on?” she asked him.

He pressed his mouth into a hard line. “If the intruder took nothing of value in the house, then I’m thinking the guy believes Becky was the only thing of value. She’s the heiress to a mustard empire, isn’t she?”

“I really don’t know about that,” said Kate, folding her arms. “I’ve gotten to know Becky, and she wasn’t exactly getting a free ride from her parents. If anything, she and Jason have been struggling since she doesn’t work.”

“Is that right?” he asked, curiously. “I thought she didn’t work because she didn’t have to?’

“I think she doesn’t work because she is accustomed to not working, but I have to say, when Jason started dating her in college, her parents weren’t too pleased. When Lance and Amelia came over for dinner, I think they were being polite and keeping up appearances, but I was under the impression Becky didn’t exactly get along with them.”

“The kidnapper might not know that, however,” he countered, which she couldn’t argue with.

There had to be a reason the kidnapper took Becky, and so far, Scott’s hunch was the only logical theory.

“Let me know how it goes at the hospital?” she asked, as he opened the door to the driver’s side and climbed in.

“Of course.”

Kate stood on the curb and watched Scott’s truck pull onto the road and drive off.

Cookie Halpert had been murdered, and now Becky Langley had been abducted?

This was either an instance of “when it rains it pours”…or the two crimes were connected. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Checking the clock on her truck’s dashboard after climbing in, she saw that she was already late to start painting Hazel Millhouse’s home. Kate dialed her number on her cell, and as soon as Hazel picked up, she told her she was on her way.

Kate realized she was holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as she drove through town. She kept trying to relax, but it was proving impossible. It was nerve-racking to think Becky had been snatched from her home, and while Kate was grateful Jason had fought and hadn’t been taken, she wasn’t relieved by that fact. The kidnapper wanted Becky for a reason, and didn’t need to take Jason, but what if the kidnapper couldn’t get what he wanted as a result of taking Becky? Would they come back for Jason? Would they kill Becky? She feared to imagine.

Pulling into Hazel’s driveway, Kate pushed the disturbing thoughts from her mind, stepped out of her truck, and grabbed two cans of paint from her truck bed.

The front door was wide open, as well as the windows, and Hazel’s little toy dog—Mitsy—was flitting across the yard, yipping its head off and running circles.

“Hazel!” Kate called out, as she stepped into the open doorway, having set the paint cans on the walkway. “I’m here!”

Soon the older woman came into view, taking her time walking into the foyer. Hazel had broken her hip several times a few years back, but hadn’t had an incident since, so though her gait was slow, she looked strong and healthy.

“Glad to have you,” she said with a smile, as she passed through the doorway outside. “I hope you don’t mind Mitsy; she is getting a little fresh air.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she said, and then she noticed Mitsy lifting her leg to pee on Kate’s paint cans. “Oh hey!” she exclaimed, starting after the dog and scaring her off before she could.

“Eventually I’ll need all the sides painted, but for now, I’d like the front painted so the neighbors don’t have to look at this eyesore,” she explained.

Kate examined the peeling paint. The house could certainly use a fresh coat or two, but it wasn’t as bad as Hazel had made it out to be.

“Well, that’s no problem,” she said, kneeling and angling a wooden stick under one of the can’s metal lids to pop it off. “I remembered you have a ladder?”

“Oh, yes. Right this way.”

Kate followed Hazel around the side of the house, and when they reached the back, Kate noticed the ladder on its side, resting next to a wheelbarrow and some odds and ends that looked like old furniture pieces.

As Kate lifted the ladder and set it on her shoulder, Hazel remarked, “Shame about Cookie.” She shook her head and grimaced.

Kate wasn’t surprised the old woman had heard. Word traveled fast in Rock Ridge, and since Hazel had been working at the library, a virtual hub of gossip, it was no wonder she knew as many details as Kate, and then some.

“I won’t say I saw this coming,” Hazel went on. “But I had my suspicions.”

“Really? Why is that?”

They rounded the front of the house, and Kate set the ladder against the side of the house then leaned over, catching her breath and pouring blue paint into the tin.

“I didn’t know Cookie well, not beyond ordering her pastries online, which she always delivered to me herself. We had a few chats, but nothing too deep or involved, you know, polite chitchat and nothing too invasive. No prying.”

It sounded like Hazel was concerned Kate might assume she had pried.

“But she didn’t have a mean bone in her body,” she went on. “So when she checked out a library book on shooting guns, it caught my eye.”

“A book on how to shoot a gun?”

“That’s right. It was all about handguns.”

“That doesn’t sound like something Cookie would be involved in.”

“That’s what I thought. Then when she returned the book five days later, I logged it back into the system, and then checked the pages for damage. The library is really cracking down on that kind of thing, or I should say, Mrs. Briar is.”

Hazel shook her head at the woman’s name. Mrs. Briar was the other librarian, and the two of them rarely saw eye-to-eye. In fact, they were as different as night and day. Hazel tended to be warm and welcoming to the library patrons, while Mrs. Briar acted as though anyone who stepped through the door was a huge inconvenience to her.

“Anyway,” she went on. “As I was flipping through, I found a receipt for Drake’s Firing Line. It was itemized and Cookie had rented a handgun and one of the range lanes for nearly three hours.”

“Really?”

“If you ask me, Cookie knew something bad was about to happen and wanted to protect herself.”

“So why not buy a gun?”

“Who’s to say she didn’t?”

“Drake’s Firing Line,” she said, turning the name over in her mind. She hadn’t heard of it.

“I kept the receipt,” said Hazel, as she lifted a finger as if to say, “Wait right here.”

Kate rolled blue paint onto her paint roller, and by the time she was straightening up and angling the long pole of her roller onto the top edge of the house, Hazel returned with the crumpled receipt in her hand.

“It has the address and telephone number,” she pointed out, handing it over.

Eyeing it, Kate noted that the address said Rock Ridge. But when she considered the street number on Holloway Avenue, she realized the firing line had to be located on the very outskirts of town, nearly in the next county, and barely still in Rock Ridge.

“The only person who would really know what was going on with Cookie would be Clara,” said Hazel in a tone that implied Kate ought to have a talk with her.

“I already spoke to Clara,” she said. “She didn’t seem to know anything.”

“Does that sound right to you?” she challenged.

Kate tucked the receipt into the front pocket of her overalls.

“I’ll let Scott know.”

“What the heck for?” asked Hazel, whose expression reminded her of Clara’s. “You work faster, and you’re far more effective.”

“Just because I kept meddling years ago, doesn’t mean I should have,” she pointed out.

“Oh, nonsense. No one in this town wants a killer hiding among us. The sooner they’re caught, the better.”

Kate couldn’t argue there, but there was no reason to doubt Scott’s investigative skills. Focusing on her work so as not to incite Hazel into further debate, Kate began stroking blue paint up and down the house.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” said Hazel with a smile. “Come inside whenever you’d like a break.”

“Okay,” she said, laughing. “Sounds good.”

As Kate worked into the afternoon, stroking paint up and down the side of the house and taking coffee breaks whenever she craved caffeine, the temperature rose to uncomfortable levels and Kate told herself for the rest of the summer she would wear shorts. She was sweating like a pig. Soon she had the entire front of the house coated in a thick layer.

She went inside to let Hazel know and get one more cup for the road.

“All finished,” she said when she found Hazel in the kitchen flipping through a coupon booklet.

“Record time,” she said, smiling, as she rose from the table. Her purse was on the kitchen counter, and when she reached it, she fished her checkbook out and a pen.

Kate was quick to write up an invoice. Hazel was one of her most loyal customers, so she kept her labor costs as low as possible and charged her very little for the paint.

As soon as she handed Hazel the invoice, the woman began making out the check.

“I’ll let you know about the other sides of the house. I’m on a very fixed income and the library pays me bi-weekly.”

“No rush,” said Kate. “Just let me know and I’ll swing by.”

Hazel walked her out to her truck then took a moment to look at Kate’s work. “It looks like a brand new house,” she said, marveling. “Great work matching the color.”

“My pleasure,” she said, climbing into her truck.

She waved goodbye, and Hazel started for the door then disappeared inside, Mitsy charging after her and yapping her head off.

Jason had been on Kate’s mind all afternoon, and as starving as she was, she would rather pick her son up from the hospital than eat, so she gave him a call.

“Honey, are you finished up over there?”

“I’m at home.” He sounded exhausted. “Drawing blood only took a few minutes. I got a cab home.”

“So were you drugged?”

“Mom!” He snapped. “I know I was drugged!”

“Yes, I believe you. I mean, did the drug test find anything?”

“They sent it off to the lab. I think they’ll know by the end of the day.”

“Okay, that’s good,” she said, turning the key to get her truck idling. “I’m about to get lunch. I can come by. Have you eaten?”

“I really want to be alone.”

“Honey, don’t lose hope,” she said, worrying that Jason was falling fast into depression. “Scott knows what he’s doing.”

“I have to go.”

“Okay, talk later?”

But Jason had already hung up.

Concerned for him, she dialed her other son, Jared, who she knew was at the Mayor’s office and would be until six or seven that evening.

When she heard his outgoing voice message start up, she muttered a curse to herself then dove into her message.

“Jared, it’s Mom. If you could check in on Jason, maybe swing by his house for lunch, I’d really appreciate it. Give me a call or text me.”

She hung up and realized that as starving as she was, she would prefer to look into Cookie’s mysterious time at Drake’s Firing Line. Why would a baker suddenly feel the need to know how to fire a gun? Had she been debating buying a firearm? Why would she have felt the need to protect herself in that manner? Why not go to the police?

There were too many question, and she would have no way of guessing the answers, so she pulled out into the road, driving north towards the address of Drake’s Firing Line.

It was twenty minutes before she arrived at the firing line. The building looked like an old warehouse and was situated where the forest met with a small lake.

Kate stepped out of her truck and heard the muffled pops and bangs of guns going off inside. She wasn’t at all a gun person and never understood the appeal. When she had been married to Greg, they often went camping, and Greg had tried to convince her that it would be good for the boys to learn how to hunt. “Over my dead body” had been her reaction, though eventually she allowed Greg to teach Jason and Jared how to set traps for rabbits and other small game.

She was cautious when she pulled the glass entrance door open. Inside, the light was dim, and the sound of guns going off was much louder, but she realized the actual shooting range was set off from the lobby.

A registration desk was situated at the back of the lobby, and she saw a man behind the counter. He appeared to be cleaning a handgun, which was dismantled, its pieces strewn across the counter.

As she approached, she noticed that the man had a nameplate pinned to his chest, which read: Drake. He looked about fifty with weathered skin, an old flannel shirt, and worn out jeans. His fingers were thick, but he worked the grease out of the gun’s chamber with ease and was in such deep concentration that it wasn’t until Kate cleared her throat that he glanced up at her with a surly grin.

“First time here?” he said, as though it wasn’t a guess, but an instinct.

“Yes, but I’m not here to shoot.”

That caught his attention, and he set down the metal chamber and rested his gaze on her with an air of curiosity.

“I was hoping you could tell me about one of your customers,” she began, taking the crumpled receipt from her overalls. “A woman named Cookie Halpert was here a few days ago. She was about my height with long brown hair. She’s a baker.”

He cocked his head then asked, “What’s this about?”

“She was killed the other day.”

“You don’t look like a cop,” he remarked.

“No, I’m not a cop. I’m a handy woman.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to make the connection for him.

“It would seem Cookie knew someone was after her, which was why she showed up here to learn how to shoot a gun. Do you remember her?”

Drake sucked his teeth and pulled his ratty baseball cap off his head as though it would help him think. To jar his memory, Kate pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, found Cookie’s website on the browser, and then tapped onto the “About Me” page to show Drake her photo.

“This is Cookie,” she said, angling the cell for him to look at.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he said. “I remember every female customer since we don’t get many. She was a terrible shot.”

“So you taught her how to use a gun?”

“I tried. She was so jumpy and skittish, I didn’t have much of a chance.”

“Did she mention at all why she felt the need to learn how to use a gun?”

“Look, lady, I’m a marksman, not a shrink. I don’t ask, and they don’t tell. The running assumption is that whoever steps through those doors has a healthy respect for the second amendment and a love for weapons.”

Kate drew in a deep breath and wondered why she had thought this might be productive.

“I did sell her a gun though,” he said, offhandedly.

“You did? Can I have a copy of the information?”

He frowned at her then shrugged, as though he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

“Let me pull it up.” He took a moment to type into the computer then printed out the serial number and registration for her handgun and set it on the counter. “That woman was behaving strangely. She came every day for three weeks to shoot her gun, and then one day I’m in the firing range, keeping an eye on all the customers and helping them out when they asked for it, and I see a man pass through the back of the range whom I didn’t recognize. It meant that Jeffrey, who sometimes works the counter here, had stepped out for a cigarette and didn’t get the guy’s information. Then, as soon as your friend sees him, she gets really weird. Tries to hide behind the partition of her firing line, packs her weapon up fast, then rushes out the back door, not the front. I never saw her again, but the guy came a few times.”

“Do you know his name?”

“No, he was a weird one, too. Other than the time he slipped past Jeffrey, I was behind the counter, and as soon as I asked him for his driver’s license—we keep a record of everyone who shoots here, you see—he refused to give it. He tried to convince me to let him in anyway, and when I wouldn’t, he rushed off without saying another word.”

“And you didn’t report this?”

“What’s there to report?” he challenged. “He didn’t break the law. He’s just a weird guy, and quite frankly, we get a lot of those.”

“Do you have security cameras here?” she asked urgently. She knew in her gut the man had to be Cookie’s killer.

Drake lifted one of the handguns that was resting under the glass countertop, held it up demonstratively for her, and said, “This here is the only security I need.”

“Right,” she said dryly. “Do me a favor,” she went on, pulling out her business card from her wallet and offering it to him. “Would you give me a call if you see him again?”

Drake grumbled, taking the card, but agreed.

After thanking him, she made her way out of the lobby, eager to get away from the warehouse full of shooters.

She had just enough time to swing by Bean There for a fresh cup of coffee and a little late lunch, but as she drove along Main Street, her cell phone vibrated with an incoming text message.

Pulling over to the curb so as not to have an accident trying to read the message, Kate brought her truck to a complete stop then swiped the LCD screen on her cell and Marla Zook’s number came up with a brief text message that read: I’m home!

Marla must have gotten out of work early. Kate knew it would be in her best interest to eat, but she had been worried about Jason, and if she could wrap up her day hours earlier than expected, it might settle her nerves. Instead, she texted Marla back that she was on her way, hit send, and checked her side view mirror, pulling a U-turn to start back towards Marla’s house.

“Fixing her sink properly shouldn’t take much time,” she said out loud, mostly addressing her grumbling stomach, but also promising herself she’d stop by Bean There before heading over to Jason’s. He had said he wanted to be alone, but she knew he didn’t really mean it. That was just how he was, how he’d always been. She remembered when Greg had disappeared that Jason had reacted in the same way, walling himself off in his room, listening to loud music, and refusing to talk. She’d had to nag him into opening the door, and when he finally did, she knew she had done the right thing. Jason had dove into an outpouring of emotion, and after hours of talking, he felt much better, the depression lifted, and he was able to come to terms with his father’s disappearance.

Kate knocked on the door of Marla’s house and heard her teenaged girls arguing inside the house. Then the door sprang inward, and she was face to face with two skinny blondes, who were shoving at one another.

“Hi girls, I’m here to fix the sink.”

One of them shouted over her shoulder for her mother, and the other thwacked her arm, saying, “You know she’s in the shower. Come on in.”

Kate followed the girls into the kitchen and couldn’t help but notice she was staring at the coffee maker and not the sink.

“Is there anything you need?” asked one of the girls.

She lifted her tool kit. “I’ve got it all right here. But would your mom mind if I helped myself to a cup of coffee?”

“Whatever,” said the older of the two, before stomping into the living room.

“She won’t mind. She’ll be right out anyway,” said the other, who then joined her sister in the next room.

It only took a few minutes to scoop dark roast grinds into the maker, fill it with water, and get it percolating. Once the carafe filled with dark coffee, Kate helped herself to a mug then found the cream in the refrigerator. Ordinarily, she liked her coffee hot and black, but considering how hungry she was, a good three tablespoons of heavy cream should hold her over—or at least quiet her grumbling stomach.

Then she got to work, lying on her back under the sink and using her wrench to remove the old pipe and replace it with a new one.

As she worked, Marla padded into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that, Kate. I was filthy. Did you hear about Cookie Halpert?”

“I did,” she said, twisting a new washer and matching bolt onto the pipe and securing it tightly.

“If you ask me, it was that new boyfriend of hers.”

Kate’s ears perked up at that, but she finished her work. Once the pipe was on tight, she slid out from under the sink, dusted her hands off, and collected her tools into her kit.

“Clara mentioned a boyfriend, as well,” she remarked. “But I thought they were getting along.” Kate hadn’t known the guy—or even heard of him, other than Clara’s brief mention.

“I don’t know for sure. I only heard what I heard, and you know how gossipy this town can get, but apparently Cookie had been in a relationship with him years back, in high school. They lost touch and then all of sudden he shows up here right out of the clear, blue sky. That’s when Cookie started getting secretive and acting strangely. Again, not that I observed this, it was just something I heard.”

Strangely? thought Kate. Like how Drake had described her.

“Who did you hear this from?” she asked.

“Oh, all over. It’s practically a game of telephone out here.”

“Who, Marla?”

Marla looked taken aback by her intensity and frowned. “Celia for one,” she said, which made sense. Celia was the town gossip, as well as Carly’s mother. “And also Mrs. Briar, the librarian.”

“You talk with Mrs. Briar?” Kate was surprised. No one really liked Mrs. Briar, and Kate couldn’t imagine the grouchy woman holding a conversation with anyone about anything.

“I don’t know why people dislike her. She’s so nice to me,” said Marla, pondering the conundrum.

Kate figured she could speak with Celia. They had a good relationship, and there was no one in town easier to get going with gossip than Celia.

“Thanks for letting me know,” said Kate, as she began making out an invoice. When she handed it to Marla, she said, “That pipe should serve you well for the next eight years at least, but if it gives you any trouble, you let me know and I’ll take a look at no charge.”

“Thanks, Kate.” Marla made out her check and gave it to Kate then walked her out to her truck. “Thanks again!” she called out, as Kate drove off down the road.

By now she was downright starving and her blood sugar felt so low, she could snap at just about anyone, so she made a beeline for Bean There, knowing one of Clara’s sandwiches would hit the spot.

But when she pulled up to the curb, she noticed the entrance door was closed and the lights inside didn’t appear to be on. Hopping out of her truck and walking towards the doors, she saw that the “Closed” sign was out. There were a few people peering into the coffee shop, their noses pressed to the glass, and she had to assume they were as confused as she was.

“Bean There is closed for the day?” she asked an older gentleman, who had just turned around.

He shrugged as if he didn’t know, but then a younger woman, who Kate recognized from the Mayor’s office, touched her arm.

“Kate,” she said with a concerned smile. “I’m Mary-Anne. I went to school with your boys, remember?”

“Yes, of course. You work for Dean now,” she said.

“And closely with Jared.” Mary-Anne drew her away from the others on the sidewalk, then said discretely, “Clara’s been arrested.”

“What?”

Mary-Anne grimaced and nodded. “For Cookie’s murder.”

Chapter Five

Kate drove like a bat out of hell to the Rock Ridge jail, which was located beneath the police precinct in the municipal building not far from Bean There. She pulled to a screeching stop and jumped out of her truck then raced into the precinct. She was unsure of who she wanted to see first—Scott to get answers, or Clara to get information. Clara’s arrest had her thoughts scrambled. Having learned about a mysterious man rattling Cookie so badly at Drake’s Firing Line, plus hearing from Marla that Cookie had reunited with an old boyfriend, led Kate to believe Cookie’s killer was most definitely a man, and definitely not Clara.

She quickly greeted the first floor receptionist and told her she had to see Clara.

“She might still be going through booking, but I’ll check,” said the woman behind the desk.

Kate drilled her fingers on the counter, waiting, and when the receptionist set her phone down and said, “You can go downstairs to the jail cells,” Kate rushed off without a second thought.

As soon as she presented her ID to the guard standing post in front of the jail cell entrance, he gave her a smile and opened the door. Not everyone who worked in the precinct knew her well, but mostly all who read her name recognized her immediately as Scott York’s new wife.

She barreled up the cells and found Clara hunched on a bench in the last cell.

“Clara,” said Kate urgently.

She glanced over her shoulder, and hers eyes brightened to see Kate standing on the other side of the bars.

“Why on earth did they arrest you?”

Clara rushed to the bars and grasped them.

“I didn’t do it. I would never hurt Cookie. She was my best friend.”

“I know, but what do they have on you? How can they justify arresting you?”

Clara’s face went long. “Because I was the last person to be seen with her.”

“What does that matter? I found her alone in her car at the side of the road.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to believe I didn’t do this.”

“Okay,” she said, seeing the fear in Clara’s eyes and preparing herself for the fact that whatever Clara had to say, it wouldn’t be good.

“There’s a traffic camera along Mercer about two miles from where Cookie was found in her car.”

“Okay,” she said, not at all seeing how that could’ve incriminated Clara.

“It shows I was in the passenger’s seat of Cookie’s VW bug.”

“Were you?”

Clara nodded then let out a long sigh.

“We were fighting, not physically. It was only an argument, but I was leaning towards Cookie and she was shifted away from me. It looks like I was threatening her, but I wasn’t.”

“Clara, were you in the car when she was shot?”

“No!” she blurted out. “No. Cookie had been acting strange. We were supposed to go back to her place to go over our budget and look at the bottom line. Bean There has been doing really well, and we needed to figure out how to use our funds wisely for some local advertising. But then, all of a sudden, Cookie became terrified. She’d been becoming more and more withdrawn during the car ride. She kept checking her rearview mirror. So I called her out on it. I started yelling that she needed to get focused. She’d been acting more and more out of it at work, and she stopped participating in our business conversations. She started arguing back, and then for no reason, she pulled over and demanded I get out of the car. She said it wasn’t safe. By that point, we’d driven far beyond the traffic camera. So I walked home. No one saw me. No one can verify my whereabouts. And the police think our argument escalated into me killing her. But she was shot in the chest, and I didn’t have the means to do something like that. I don’t own a gun.”

“It shouldn’t have been enough to arrest you,” said Kate.

“No, it shouldn’t have been. But I made a stupid mistake.”

“What was that?”

“It was late when she pulled over. The road was dark. I didn’t want to walk without a light, so I opened her glove box after she pulled over. Kate, there was a gun inside. And I told the police.”

“So they took it as an admittance of guilt,” she supplied.

“Cookie was shot. I admitted there was a gun in the car. Now they think I shot her and want to know where the gun is.”

“What happened after you saw the gun?”

“Cookie flipped out. She snapped the glove box door shut and pushed me out of the car then peeled out, but I saw her swerve onto the shoulder again way up the street. I figured she was too emotional to drive, that she needed to pull over to collect herself, and since my house was in the opposite direction, I just started walking. I should’ve run up to her car. I should’ve tried to do something.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what’s happened,” Kate pointed out.

“No, but I can’t fix it either. I can’t go to prison for this, Kate. I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I have some information that might help. I need to talk to Scott.”

“Really? You think you can get me out of here?”

“I can try.”

It was a very long walk back up to the precinct. It wasn’t that Kate didn’t feel absolutely certain that Clara hadn’t killed Cookie. What she dreaded most was stepping on Scott’s toes when they had spent the last two years getting along beautifully. Looking back at the long, sordid summer the Anarchist Freedom Network had invaded Rock Ridge and bodies had turned up left and right, Kate remembered how she and Scott had been constantly at odds. They had tried so hard to get to know each other, but their effort to date had been strained by her constant need to find out the truth even after Scott had forbid her to meddle. Did she really want to strain her marriage after years of good times?

She really didn’t. However, she also knew there would be no way for her to sit on information that could very well draw suspicion off of Clara and onto the guilty party.

Reminding herself of that, she knocked on Scott’s doorframe to get his attention. He was seated at his desk, but looked up when he heard her.

“Kate, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said, easing the door closed behind her. “It’s about Cookie Halpert.”

She winced when she saw a look come over his face that she hadn’t seen in years. Scott’s eyes narrowed, and he was holding his breath.

“I’m sorry, but I have to bring this to your attention,” she went on, placing both Cookie’s gun receipt and a copy of her handgun purchase on his desk. “I went to Drake’s Firing Line earlier today. Cookie bought a gun there. She was going every day for about three weeks to learn how to shoot.”

Scott cocked one brow up at her. “So she took on a new hobby.”

“The owner, a guy named Drake, told me that Cookie stopped going the day a man came in. Drake said it looked like Cookie was terrified of him. She ducked out before he saw her. I also talked to a few people around town who said Cookie had a new boyfriend, a guy she used to know in high school.” Kate paused and took a moment to read Scott’s expression, but his face only hardened. “I’m afraid you’ve arrested the wrong person.”

“Kate,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes then looking up at her. “Bean There was doing terribly financially. Clara and Cookie had been arguing. Clara was in that car with her. She told me herself she found a gun and she took hold of it. It was enough to arrest her, and I’m pursuing it.”

“She took hold of it?”

“That’s what she told my officers. The gun wasn’t found in the vehicle, and we’re getting a search warrant to go through Clara’s house. When we find that gun, we’ll have all we need to put her away.”

“If Cookie was afraid Clara was going to kill her, then why did she let Clara in her car that night?”

“I don’t think Cookie saw it coming. Like you said, she could’ve been preoccupied with a new boyfriend.”

“Who she was terrified of, who she bought a gun to protect herself from—”

“You don’t know that.”

“Aren’t you going to look into this?” she asked, indicating the handgun license and registration she got from Drake. “Ask around?”

“Your future daughter-in-law has gone missing. Why are you getting fixated on Cookie’s murder? I’m handling it.”

“I’m afraid you aren’t.”

“Answer the question, Kate.”

But she couldn’t. She didn’t know.

“I’ve organized a search party for Becky. I have officers going door to door, canvasing all of Rock Ridge. If you want to do something productive, I suggest you see Celia who’s organizing an on-foot search party to go through the woods looking for Becky.”

Chapter Six

It wasn’t until Kate was filtering into the town hall with most of Rock Ridge’s residents that she realized Scott’s comment was having an effect on her. To be accused of essentially not caring about Becky’s disappearance—just because she appeared to be actively focused on Cookie’s murder—wasn’t fair. She knew Scott had meant only to get her to let go of her interest in Cookie’s murder, and he hadn’t necessarily meant to insult her, but she felt that he blamed for caring about the wrong thing.

Kate worked her way across one of the rows, which was already packed with residents, and as she took her seat between Carly, who was seated beside Larry and her son, Jared, she whispered to him, “Jason couldn’t make it?”

“He won’t leave the house,” said Jared, who quickly apologized to his neighbor on his right. The older woman was grumbling now that she had even less room.

“Scott has a search party organized, and also Celia is organizing a second party for the residents who want to help. Maybe Jason could get involved. It would give him hope and something to focus on.”

“I’ll let him know. I’m worried about him, Mom. He won’t get out of bed.”

“He hasn’t been working?”

“Not that I know of.” Jared quickly glanced around the town hall then asked, “Scott isn’t coming?”

“He has his hands full.”

Jared sighed, shaking his head. “Rock Ridge is too small a town for the police to handle a murder and an abduction. I think that’s why Jason’s getting depressed. No one’s going to care about Becky when Cookie was found dead.”

“You don’t know that,” said Kate, though she couldn’t help but notice Jared’s sentiment reminded her of Scott’s accusation. Was Kate one of the people who didn’t care about Becky simply because Cookie’s murder seemed slightly more pressing? She told herself, not at all, but deep down she wondered about the aversion she was having. Was this a form of denial? Was that what she was doing? Falling into denial? She hoped not.

Carly tapped her leg, as Dean greeted the residents from where he stood at a podium at the front of the hall.

“I have that check for you,” she said quietly.

“Thanks,” said Kate. “I’ll get it after the meeting.”

Dean cleared his throat then began addressing the residents.

“Thank you all for coming. The reason I called this town meeting is because I don’t want to make any major decisions on behalf of Rock Ridge, but rather pose my proposition to you all to gauge your response. As you know, the camping area on the east side of town has been vacant for almost two years. And I view this as a missed opportunity, but it doesn’t have to be. Going over the town budget, it has been abundantly clear that we could use more funds. Across the board, every department has been suffering, and though most of our stores are owned by the residents and not giant corporations, the economy here has been dwindling.”

Carly leaned into Kate’s ear and said, “We’ve been holding our own,” with a snort of disagreement.

Kate had to agree. In the past few years, she had been doing increasingly better and better. Fix-it jobs continued to filter down to her from Wentworth Contractors, and her customers had remained loyal. She’d also made an effort to diversify a few years back, adding some staging work for Justina, the local realtor who had several homes a month that needed to be furnished, decorated, and staged for sale. Kate wondered which companies in town had been suffering, or if perhaps Dean wasn’t being entirely honest.

“Looking at other towns in Pennsylvania who succeeded at boosting their economy, and realizing the potential of the camping area, I realized that we’re sitting on a possible gold mine, that is, if we’re all willing to embrace tourism.”

As soon as Dean used the word “tourism,” the crowd began grumbling their complaints, but he lifted his hand to silence them.

“Hear me out,” he said, waiting for their voices to fall quiet again. “I propose an amusement park.”

“I told you so,” said Carly, leaning in close.

Someone from the back shouted, “It’s a waste of money! How will the town afford the materials?”

“Hear me out, please,” Dean asked again, but sounded impatient this time. “If we bring in a major company like Six Flags or Luna Park, then the corporation will foot the bill.”

At once, the entire crowd of residents launched into outraged objections, which Kate thought would give Dean enough of an impression on how they clearly felt, but he disregarded the sudden outburst and began shouting over them.

“Please everyone! We will have a vote! I only mean to explain the proposal!”

Finally, they quieted, folding their arms, and he went on.

“The amusement park corporation, whether it’s Six Flags or another company, will hire a local contractor to build the park. Whether that be Wentworth Contractors or not, it would be an opportunity to decrease our unemployment rate. No matter your experience, you would be eligible for hire. I’m looking to increase jobs here. So that’s the first bonus. The second is that as soon as the park is built, it will be hiring employees. And the greatest boost to our economy would be the tourists that the park will attract. Potentially, an extra five hundred to one thousand individuals per day every summer. Those are people who will be staying at your inns and bed and breakfasts, who will be eating at your restaurants, buying garments in your boutiques, and going to your coffee shops. The possibilities are endless.”

As he went on, Kate noticed the majority of the residents were coming around. They relaxed their posture and leaned forward, interested in how tourism might help their businesses flourish. But Kate didn’t particularly feel the same way. As helpful as tourism might seem in terms of the economy, she knew having an extra five hundred people in Rock Ridge would ultimately change the type of town this was. It would no longer be quiet and sleepy, but could very well become overwrought. What she liked most about Rock Ridge was that for the most part no one knew about it. It was no secret that those who visited often fell in love and ended up moving here, like Dean Wentworth himself and so many others. She feared to imagine the impact an amusement park could have on her beloved town over the years. What if everyone fell in love with it, moved here, and suddenly high-rise condos were going up left and right? No, she liked things just the way they were, and she’d certainly be voting against the park the first chance she got.

“What do you think of all this?” Jared asked, leaning in close and speaking quietly.

“A lot,” said Kate. “You?”

Jared worked for Dean in the Mayor’s office, but he had also grown up here, so his opinion could easily fall on either side of the divide.

“I really don’t know,” he said. “Crowds put me in a bad mood, and I would hate to think of myself dreading the summer months just because we had an amusement park here. But I went over Dean’s budgets and projections for the park. There’s no doubt in my mind that it will bring in a ton of money.”

Dean continued from behind the podium. “I’d like for everyone who cares to weigh in on this to vote at the end of the week. We will post the date and hours the voting booths will be set up here, on the Rock Ridge website. For now, does anyone have any questions?”

Someone standing in the back of the hall began asking if Dean would post the projections per business on the website as well, and when Kate glanced over her shoulder to see who was asking, she noticed Scott edging into the room from the entrance at the very back.

She caught his attention and smiled, and he nodded curtly at her. It was nice of him to make it, but he looked ragged. Kate wondered how Scott would ultimately feel about an amusement park and all the out-of-town characters it would attract. More people would mean more crime, especially if Rock Ridge was suddenly flooded with teenagers.

The meeting was soon adjourned, and Kate rose to her feet. Jared gave her a quick hug, excusing himself so he could chat with Dean, and then Carly handed her a folded check.

“Thanks again,” she said. “The unit looks great.”

“Kate,” said Larry after she tucked the check into the front of her overalls. “Do you think you’ll get additional business if there’s an amusement park here?”

“Not directly,” she said then considered the possibility more closely. “If I did get more work, it’d have to be because the increase in people would cause damage to the businesses around here. Overall, that’s not the kind of business I want.”

“Same here,” said Larry. “I doubt it will increase sales at Grayson’s, but Carly, your store might pick up.”

She shrugged, as if she wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t think it’s fair of me to vote no,” he went on, “until I’ve talked to shop owners who are in more of a position to profit.”

Kate thought that was generous of him. Maybe she should do the same.

“Like Clara, for example,” he continued. “A coffee shop like that could quadruple its sales over the course of a summer. I’m not sure it’s my place to stand in the way of that.”

“How’s she holding up?” Carly asked her.

“She’s hanging in there as far as I know,” said Kate, who then excused herself when Scott got her eye.

As she began weaving her way through the crowd that was only gradually thinning out through the doors and making her way to Scott, she overheard Joe Swenson, the head of the town’s financial department mention to Bobbie Hamden how profitable the amusement park will be. Bobbie, a tough woman with a level head, who worked in the permit office, nodded but looked skeptical, which resonated Kate’s sentiments exactly. Jessica Wentworth, who was now married to Dean, was dressed the part, voicing her praise for her husband’s proposal, but Kate avoided her easily enough as she cut through a few more people.

“You made it,” she said as she arrived in front of Scott.

“This amusement park is a goddamn terrible idea,” he grumbled, which made her smile. It was one of the reasons she loved him. They were always on the same page. Well, almost always.

“So you’ll be voting against it,” she concluded.

But Scott sighed. “Is it fair to?”

Just as she had felt after Larry’s remarks, she wasn’t sure herself.

Kate spied Bradley, as he rushed over to his mother Jessica, beaming a proud smile. Bradley, who for years had gone by Toby, had been the center of much controversy two years back when he resurfaced in Rock Ridge. Decades prior and when he had been just a boy, he disappeared from his bed one night having been abducted, and it had nearly shattered Jessica. In a stroke of good luck, Bradley had made his way back to Rock Ridge during the height of the Anarchist Freedom Network’s stronghold on the camping area, and it had been Kate who had worked hard to extricate him from their cult and return him to his mother. It was nice to see that he was continuing to bounce back. Last she had heard, Bradley was enrolled in the Rock Ridge Community College, studying engineering.

“I thought Lance and Amelia would be here,” Scott remarked, as he scanned the crowd looking for Becky’s parents.

“You did?” Kate asked, confused. She had never noticed them at any of the town meetings and had always figured that since they were part of the upper echelon of society, they thought they were above the various decisions the Mayor decided for Rock Ridge. “Has there been a development with Becky?”

Scott’s expression smoothed out until she recognized his poker face.

“Fine, don’t tell me. But this is the case you wanted me to focus on.”

“They had added Becky to one of their credit cards, but when my officers asked Lance for access to check her card and perhaps track any new transactions, he seemed willing, but never got the information to us.”

“That’s strange.”

“He’s a very busy man, what with his mustard empire and all,” he said dryly.

Kate felt eyes on her, and when she glanced through the open doorway that separated the town hall from the lobby, she saw Drake, the owner of Drake’s Firing Line staring at her. Strange, she thought. She was certain she had never before seen him at a town meeting or in Rock Ridge for that matter since his shooting range was on the outskirts of town.

“You’re not going to pull another all-nighter, are you?” she asked, returning her attention to Scott.

“I hope not, but it’s hard to say. I’ll let you know.”

Scott motioned towards the exit, and Kate walked with him, feeling Drake’s eyes on her as she passed through the lobby.

Outside, people were filtering towards their vehicles and clearing out, and Scott kissed her cheek before making his way to his truck.

“How did they take it?” she asked, catching his eye before he climbed in behind the wheel of his truck. “The Langleys?”

“Amelia seemed shocked and Lance was stoic, but I could tell he was holding himself together. Becky’s their only child and I’m sure they’re devastated.”

“I wonder if I should introduce them to Jessica,” said Kate. “Give them hope.” When Scott cocked one of his eyebrows up in response, she clarified, “We all thought Bradley would be gone forever, but he made it back and was for the most part unscathed—except for emotionally.”

“I think what will give them the most hope is knowing I’ve got a lead on finding their daughter, which at the moment I don’t.”

Ever pragmatic, Scott shot her a weary smile then shut the door, and she watched him pull out of his parking space before she turned for her own truck that was parked a number of spots down the lot.

“Flaherty,” she heard a man say, just as she was opening her truck door. When she turned, Drake was approaching her vehicle. “That’s your name, right? Kate Flaherty?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, shutting the door and meeting him in front of the bumper. “Did that man come back to the range?”

“He did.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

“I thought it would be more important to collect his information since he finally wanted to register with us to shoot,” he said, producing a scrap of paper, which he handed to her. “He presented his driver’s license, and that’s the information.”

“Delaware?” she asked.

“Driver’s licenses are good for ten years, but maybe you can use the old address to find his new one. The photo looked exactly like him, and the ID checked out when I logged it into our system. It’s real.”

“Clifford Green,” she said, reading the ID then studying the man’s face. He had light brown hair and an oval face with a strong jawline and tight brown eyes that reminded her of every gas station attendant she’d ever crossed paths with when she’d buy candy for the road.

“I tried chatting him up a bit, get him talking, you know?” Drake went on. “But he’s not a friendly guy. Wouldn’t say where he was staying or how long he would be in town. I’ll try again when I see him next. Some people need more time to warm up.”

“Thanks for this,” she said, finally meeting his gaze.

Drake glanced around, looking at the library steeple beyond the parking lot, and the quaint architecture and friendly residents.

“It’s nice down this way,” he remarked. “I’d hate to see it all get shot to hell because of an amusement park.”

Kate snorted a laugh. “You and me both.”

“Take care, now,” he said, starting off through the parking lot.

Climbing into her truck, Kate pulled her cell from her overalls and checked her schedule to refresh her memory. It was nearly four o’clock, and she needed to drive over to Meredith Joste’s house. Years ago, Meredith had put her house on the market for sale. Justina, who ran Carnegie Real Estate, had hired Kate to stage Meredith’s art deco house, but after months of no offers, Meredith decided to refinance her mortgage and stay. Meredith had called her last week about building a new outdoor patio behind her house. She had already bought the materials and stacked them in Meredith’s garage, so she shot her a quick text message to say she was on her way. Since it was summer, she had a good four hours’ worth of daylight before the sun would fully set. Until her schedule cleared in a few days, she would have to donate the late hours to Meredith.

As Kate drove across town to the art deco house, she told herself that this was just one more reason why an amusement park in Rock Ridge would be completely unnecessary. She only wished the other business owners thought so.

Soon, her thoughts turned to Clifford Green. Even though she had his driver's license information, she wasn’t entirely sure how she might put it to good use. If she passed it along to Scott, the fact of his arrival in Rock Ridge could very well go uninvestigated—since Scott was convinced he had the killer and that the killer was Clara. Who else did she know who worked in a position to dig deep and help her? All Kate needed was a current address, even if Clifford was staying at one of the motels in town.

Then it occurred to Kate, though she knew it would be a long shot, that Amelia might have an idea. Rock Ridge had few motels, and the ones here tended to be on the outskirts of town, but Amelia’s inn, Over the Moon, was situated in the heart of town. If Clifford was bold and Kate was lucky, he might be staying at Amelia’s establishment. It was certainly worth a call to find out.

Kate pulled into Meredith’s driveway, staring at the two-story monstrosity that was her art deco house. Maybe Kate was traditional or old fashioned, but she liked older architecture and didn’t quite understand the appeal of these modern styles. Meredith’s house looked more like an off-kilter stack of cubes than a home where people lived. Although she wouldn’t want to live there, she was certainly glad for the job.

Quickly, she dialed Amelia to see if she might be able to catch her, but after a number of rings, the voice mail to her inn came through so Kate left a brief message that centered mostly on how Amelia was holding up then simply asked for her to give her a call back whenever she had a chance. Then Kate stepped out of her truck and collected as much of her materials as she could hold in her arms and made her way to the front door to ring the bell.

Meredith, a woman in her early forties, who made a decent living as a periodontist and had cleaned Kate’s teeth on more than one occasion, answered the door, wearing a big smile and relaxed-fit jeans. She tossed her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, saying, “Come on in!” She stepped back for Kate to pass through the breezy foyer that arched into an expansive living room.

“I’ve moved everything into the backyard for you,” she mentioned, as she led Kate to the sliding glass door that separated the living room from the backyard.

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I could’ve gotten it,” said Kate.

“It’s no trouble.”

Kate paused, while Meredith slid the glass door open. The backyard appeared to have been mowed recently, and the area where Kate was to lay down marble for the patio was leveled flat since the grass had been dug up. It looked like compacted soil.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said before quickly adding, “I’ve got a pot of fresh coffee. Heard a rumor it was required whenever you showed up to work.”

“Ha!” said Kate. “You heard right.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just black, thanks,” she said, before assessing the tiles she would be working with.

Kate organized her materials. She’d pulled out cans of putty and her measuring level, and setting those down, she began laying out the tiles she would have to lay. The patio would be fourteen feet by fourteen feet once installed, and Meredith wanted a wall of stone along its perimeter. All told, it would be a three-week job at least, but whenever Kate had a large project like this one, as daunting as it was, she felt a frenetic surge to rise to the occasion. She’d laid down only a few patios in her life, and this one would certainly be a far bigger job than the others, but she loved throwing herself into a long-term task.

As she got started, Meredith slipped through the sliding glass doorway and set a fresh mug of black coffee on top of one of the tiles, but Kate was so concentrated she barely realized.

Soon, she was in the throes of scraping down putty, laying tiles, and working in full swing. She grabbed the mug and drank down a long haul, thankful she’d spotted the mug before the dark roast could get cold. It was hot in fact and gave her just the boost to carry on with her task.

By the time her cell phone was vibrating in the front pocket of her overalls, Kate had set down six ceramic tiles, which made up precisely a tenth of the overall patio.

She startled with excitement when she saw Amelia’s name across the LCD screen. She swiped her cell fast to answer the call.

“Amelia, hi,” she said eagerly, as soon as she had her phone pressed to her ear.

She heard the woman ease out a long sigh, as she said, “Hi Kate. How are you holding up?”

“I was going to ask you the same.” When she didn’t respond except to sigh again, Kate said, “Celia is organizing a search party for Becky. And the police are on it as well. I’m planning on joining the group led by Celia if you’d like to come with, though I think you should feel no obligation to get out there. Whatever you need to do to make it through this difficult time will be understandable.”

“Yes, I heard about Celia’s effort. Honestly, Lance and I are trying not to hold our breath, but we aren’t sure we have the energy or the stomach, quite frankly, to stalk out through the woods looking for her. We’re praying she’s alive and fine, and if the search party finds evidence of the contrary...” she trailed off and her voice went thin.

“Yes, of course, I understand. There’s no need to explain.” When it seemed Amelia had calmed herself on the other end, Kate went on. “I was actually calling about your inn. Do you happen to have a handle on your guests?”

“It’s a small operation, and if I don’t check a new guest in myself, at the very least I see their name in our reports. Why?”

“I was wondering if you had a guest by the name of Clifford Green?”

“This isn’t about Becky, is it?”

Amelia’s question sounded hopeful, as though she had pitched forward into the phone, eager to hear that Kate had taken a highly personal interest in Becky’s disappearance. Though Kate was deeply concerned for Becky, and though she sensed Amelia must have heard about her incessant meddling years prior, she wasn’t sure she should give Amelia false hope, or worse, shatter the hope she might be harboring that her daughter would be found.

“No, it’s not about Becky,” she said finally. “Just a general curiosity. With Becky having been abducted and Cookie Halpert having been killed, I think it’s fair to scrutinize anyone in town who isn’t a long-time resident of Rock Ridge.”

“I agree,” said Amelia. “Certainly. But I’m not at the inn at the moment. I can log into our online system, but it will take a little bit. You said the name is Clifford Green?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” she said, and Kate heard a pen scratching through the receiver, as Amelia jotted the name down. “I’ll text you if I find anything.”

“Thank you so much,” she said. “And Amelia?”

“Yes?”

“Becky’s out there. I have full faith that Scott will find her alive and well.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, sounding small and downtrodden. “But I’m so afraid you aren’t.”

Chapter Seven

The next day, Kate woke to her alarm, which was set an hour earlier than usual. Scott was fast asleep beside her, and knowing how hard he worked, she took painstaking measures not to disturb his deep sleep as she climbed out of bed and made her way into the shower. After a quick rinse to wake up, she found a fresh tin of dark roast in the kitchen and put on a pot. As far as she knew, Clara was still in the holding cell at the jail and Bean There was closed for the time being. She hoped Clara was okay, but how could she be? She had handled Cookie’s gun, the very weapon rumored to have killed the baker. That fact mounted with the one of Clara being the last person seen with Cookie alive, didn’t bode well for her release. But Kate had a few tricks up her sleeve to help Clara out, and those had everything to do with Clifford Green and the correlation between his arrival in Rock Ridge and Cookie’s untimely death. She was still waiting for Amelia to get back to her.

Jason seemed to be hanging on by a thread by the time Kate arrived at the dog park behind Jason’s house. Celia, who had organized the resident search party for Becky Langley, had decided the best place to start would be as close to Jason’s house as possible, and since he and Becky lived in the center of the suburbs, the closest location to gather the residents was the Motley Memorial Dog Park half a block away.

Jared had convinced Jason that being proactive would be the best thing for him, and as Kate strode through the grassy park towards her twin boys, she saw Jared jab his brother on the shoulder.

“We’ll find her,” Jared said to him, trying to lift his spirits.

“I’m not so sure they will.”

“Think about it, Jason. Whoever took her, didn’t take anything else in the house, and even by your account, the man was wearing a mask so it’s not like he had to take her because she saw him.”

In terms of what Jason had told Scott and her two days prior, the assailant hadn’t been wearing a mask, but the case was that Jason simply hadn’t seen his face, so Kate’s ears pricked up at the detail.

“So he has a reason for holding her,” Jared went on. “And sooner or later that reason will come to light.”

“Then what is everyone doing out here? How will searching for her help?”

Kate joined the conversation, saying, “It just will.”

Jason glared at her, as though she couldn’t possibly understand, but nothing could be further from the truth.

“I know what you’re going through,” she said, countering his furrowed eyes. “I had to keep a stiff upper lip for years when your father had gone missing.”

“Yeah?” he challenged. “If you remember, so did I. So did both of us,” he said, flicking his eyes at Jared. “I shouldn’t be going through this again.”

She couldn’t agree more, and her heart went out to him, but she could also tell she wouldn’t be able to say anything to lift his spirits. And she didn’t blame him. She had felt the exact same way after Greg had first gone missing. She’d spent weeks and months worrying each and every night that he was being harmed or worse. It was the not-knowing that had crippled her all those years ago, and it barely got easier as she had pushed herself to go on living.

Celia was wearing a bright red baseball cap, which Kate took as her way of announcing she was in charge. She was holding a clipboard firmly against her chest and began grouping the residents who had shown up to help search for Becky into groups of seven, every so often referencing her clipboard. Kate had to assume she was looking at a map. Since the dog park was situated in front of the western woods they would be searching, it was fair to assume each group would fan out into the woods beside one another to cover as much ground as possible.

Kate approached her with a grave smirk and said, “I’m here to help, Celia. Just let me know what I can do.”

“Excellent,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. I know Becky was about to marry into the family.”

“She was, and we’re eager to have her back home, safe and sound.”

“And your boys are here,” she marveled when she lifted her eyes from her clipboard, spotting Jason and Jared.

“Better to stay proactive than to sit at home letting your imagination run wild.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Why don’t you be one of our group leaders,” she suggested then indicated a cluster of six residents who were waiting patiently to get started. “Everyone, you know Kate Flaherty, our resident handywoman? Kate will be leading you through the woods directly across from this park.”

The group gave Kate a collective smile that struck her as both determined and weary. Before she set off with them, she made a discrete effort to ask Celia about all that she had heard throughout town.

“Celia,” she began, speaking in a low voice. “You heard about Cookie Halpert, I assume?”

“Of course,” she said, shaking her head and keeping her tone quiet. “I never would’ve expected something so tragic to happen to Cookie. Everyone loved her.”

Kate couldn’t agree more. “I heard from a few people around town that Cookie had reconnected with an old high school boyfriend.”

“Yes, I’ve seen them together a number of times, and if you ask me, that husband of yours locked up the wrong person.”

Kate didn’t want to speak ill of Scott’s police work, but she couldn’t agree more. “Did you happen to see anything that might shed light on their relationship?”

Celia’s eyes brightened as they always did when someone came to her for gossip. But Celia shied away, saying, “I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

“I won’t tell Scott. I’m just curious.”

“And why’s that?” she asked, intrigued.

Kate had a bit of friction with Celia years back when Celia’s husband Ken Johnson had turned up dead. He had worked as a detective and was very close with Scott, and though Scott never suspected Celia of foul play, Kate certainly had. In the end, Celia had appreciated Kate’s passion and tenacity to find Ken’s killer, but it also strained their relationship for a good number of weeks. Now that the heat was no longer on her, Celia seemed eager to learn all that Kate might be intending to do with whatever information she would fork over.

“Why’s that?” Kate echoed, as if she might stall the woman into no longer pressing her for her reason she was once again meddling. “I think what matters most to everyone is that Cookie’s killer is caught, and while Scott pursues his own suspects, I’ll be checking out others who might not be suspicious enough to warrant Scott’s time.”

“I knew it,” said Celia, pointing her finger at her.

“Oh, please.” Kate wanted to laugh it off, but they both knew Celia’s intuition was right. “Tell me what you know.”

Celia glanced at the group Kate was meant to lead into the woods. They looked impatient, even by Kate’s estimation, when she glanced over her shoulder at them, but they could wait. They would have to.

“Years ago,” she began, “way back when Greg was with us, which is probably why you don’t remember Cookie and Clifford—that’s his name, her old boyfriend is Clifford.”

“Yes, I figured that out,” she said, impatiently.

“Well,” she went on, leaning in and happy to hold court—even though it was a small one with only Kate as her audience. “Cookie and Clifford were the most popular couple in the high school. You and Carly had long since graduated, but Ken and I would still go over to the high school every fall to watch the football games and partake in a little school spirit. Granted it was more to Ken’s liking than mine.”

“Celia,” she said, implying that her best friend’s mother really ought to get to the point.

Celia frowned at the interruption then went on. “They were the couple everyone loved. Clifford was the football quarterback, and Cookie, well back then Cookie was a size two and one of the most nimble cheerleaders on the squad.”

Kate wondered where this was going.

“Then, I’m not sure you recall—”

“It’s safe to assume I don’t, Celia,” she said dryly.

“Right, well one day about five of the scales went missing from the science department. It was a big hullabaloo at the school, because the faculty knew almost instantly why someone would want to steal the scales.”

Kate hadn’t the foggiest, so she asked, and Celia’s eyes widened as if to say, “It’s a good thing you’re getting this information from me.”

“High schoolers? Missing scales? Why, how else would a young drug dealer weigh his product?”

“What?”

“That’s right. Are you kidding me? Those high tech scales are hundreds of dollars each at least. Well, that was the beginning of the end for Cookie and Clifford. Clifford had fallen in with the wrong crowd, bad influencers if you know what I mean. He was an innocent kid, but the fact of the matter was that when one of his out of town friends put him up to it, stealing the scales, he went right along with it. He was caught, of course, and he wasn’t kicked out of school though he got suspended and then spent the rest of the year on academic probation, but he really didn’t learn his lesson. Cookie dumped him of course, but that only sent Clifford deeper into his new world of friends. Long story short, he ended up leaving Rock Ridge, and the last I heard, he wound up in prison.”

“On drug charges?”

“On something bad,” she offered though she didn’t know the exact crime he had committed. “Then he gets out and comes running home to Cookie as though they might pick up where they left off. And bless her heart, the poor girl must have really loved him, because she got sucked right back in.”

An older gentleman in the group sighed impatiently, and Celia shot him a curt smile.

“You better get going,” she said, handing Kate a map. “Just cut through the woods there and head straight. If you see anything,” she went on, handing Kate a walkie-talkie radio, “just press the side button and give me a holler. The police are otherwise occupied on their own search, but Scott promised that if we saw anything he’d send a squad car over right away. You know Becky well, so if you see a piece of jewelry, or a scrap of clothing, don’t hesitate. Even if you think it might not have to do with her, we’d rather rule it out than overlook it.”

“Right,” said Kate. “No problem.”

Kate’s group, which included Jason and Jared, was inching up behind her, so she crossed into the woods and her group fanned out, forming a wide line beside her.

The sun gradually rose in the sky, and as the woods thickened around them, they slowed to a snail’s pace.

“This is a waste of time,” she heard Jason mutter to Jared.

“How do you know?” he countered. “You didn’t say you heard a car. The kidnapper could’ve taken her through here on foot.”

“When she was drugged?” he asked. “He carried her? I don’t think so.”

“If you know so much about it, why haven’t you told Scott?”

Jason had nothing to say to that, but Kate could tell he was holding his tongue rather than indicating he didn’t have an answer.

When it seemed their brief confrontation had concluded, Kate veered over to Jason.

“How were you and Becky doing during the past few weeks?”

“Fine,” he said curtly.

“Her behavior was normal? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Yeah, totally normal,” he said impatiently. “Why are you asking me this?”

“She was targeted for a reason,” said Kate, echoing her other son’s sentiment. “It’s possible you don’t know everything there is to know about Becky.”

Jason stopped and gaped at her, his mouth parting then hanging open, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I’ve known her for years, Mom. We were practically inseparable in college, and then we moved in together after graduating.”

“But you spent many summers apart. I’m just saying it’s possible she had secrets. And sometimes when a person can’t manage their secrets, they get irritable. Their mood changes. You didn’t notice anything like that?”

To avoid the question, Jason started off again, this time walking briskly and weaving through tree trunks that jutted up in his path. Kate kept up to assert she wouldn’t let the topic go so easily.

“I know you think that because you found Dad and because you nosed your way into all those murders and solved them that you’re some kind of expert, but you’re not. And you should really stay out of it.”

Kate slowed up, giving Jason his space to trek ahead, and when she met Jared’s eye, he gave her a sympathetic shrug.

Checking her cell phone after pulling it from her pocket, she noted the time. It was barely eight in the morning, and as well as Celia had organized the search party, Kate could’ve really used a cup of coffee. But edging deeper and deeper into the woods, she knew her next cup would be hours from now if she were lucky. She had a few fix-it jobs lined up in the late morning, and then she would have to drive over to Meredith Joste’s to continue working on her patio. All told, Kate was looking at a very long day.

Suddenly, Jared, who was a good five yards to her right, called out, “Hey, Jason!” And her other son stalked over to where Jared was pointing then kneeling on the ground. “Isn’t this Becky’s?”

Making her way over, Kate saw Jason’s eyes widen before she saw what Jared had found on the ground. But Jason’s expression didn’t strike her as shocked or even confused, but agitated, as though he would’ve preferred his brother had found nothing at all.

When Kate was finally standing over them and peering down at Jared’s hand, she saw a thin, gold chain dangling from his finger. It appeared to have snapped, and if it was Becky’s necklace, it was now missing the heart pendant that usually hung at its center.

“I think this is Becky’s,” said Jared, looking up at her when Jason refused to confirm it.

“It could be anyone’s,” he pointed out.

“Why are you being so negative,” Jared demanded. “I think this is Becky’s.”

“Here,” said Kate, taking a Ziploc bag from her pocket. “Let’s get this to Celia.”

Obstinately, Jason quipped, “I’m not walking back through the woods.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I will. Jared can you lead the group onwards? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“Sure, Mom,” he said, dropping the necklace into the bag as she held it open.

When she tucked it into her overalls, she pulled Jared in close. “Keep an eye on him. I’m worried.”

“I will.”

Turning, Kate started out through the woods, heading back towards the dog park where Celia was holding down the fort, offering water and Gatorade to whoever drifted back and waiting to call in to the police any items the various search groups might find.

The temperature was rising, and by the time she spilled out through the tree line that separated the woods from the dog park, Kate felt slick with sweat. Today was shaping up to be a hot one.

“Celia!” she called out when she spotted the woman lifting a jug of water from beneath the refreshment table to set it on top. “We found something!”

Celia met her half way, and Kate caught her breath as she neared a sandy run where smaller dogs often wrestled with one another. As she pulled the plastic bag from her pocket, she noticed Hazel Millhouse setting down her yippy little dog, Mitsy—for her to run and play on the far side of the park.

“Jared’s convinced this was Becky’s necklace,” she explained. “But Jason doesn’t agree.”

“That’s okay,” said Celia. “Everything helps. Do you remember the exact location?”

“Ah, yeah I think so.”

“The police will need to know.”

Quickly, Kate dialed Jared on her cell and when he picked up, she said urgently, “Hey, can you stay put in the exact location where you found the necklace?”

“I’ll have to double back, but yeah.”

“Great. Jason can keep going with the group, but if you could stay put where the necklace was then Celia can get a police officer out to look around that area.”

“They’ll bring a dog!” Celia shouted. “Hopefully Becky’s scent is still strong around there!”

Celia wasted no time to do just that, dialing her cell and pressing it to her ear. As she did, Kate felt her own cell vibrating in her pocket and expecting it might be Jared, she answered it quickly, but Amelia came through the line.

“Kate?” She asked.

“Yes, hi, Amelia.”

“Sorry for the delayed response. I’m at the inn now, in the office. What was the name of the individual you think might be staying here?”

“Clifford Green,” she said quietly, as she turned her back to Celia and paced away.

Kate heard Amelia typing away on a keyboard then the woman said, “In fact, he is staying here.”

“Really?” Kate asked, excitedly.

“He checked in, let’s see, three weeks ago.”

Kate wondered how much money Clifford had. Over the Moon was not a cheap motel, quite the opposite.

“Oh, that’s strange,” said Amelia.

“What?”

“Someone’s been discounting him on the room. I’m scrolling through his customer account now, and it looks like every morning one of my employees has credited his account with the full amount of the night prior, as though he’s been paying per night. He has a zero balance. But when I click into the payment field, there’s no information.”

“Who would do that?”

“I have no idea. And I don’t know Clifford Green. But I can ask around.”

Kate wanted to handle this delicately, and if Amelia began inquiring, it could tip Clifford off, or his accomplice, and he could disappear, so she said, “Actually, why don’t you sit tight. I’d like to head over. Do you happen to know if he’s still there?”

“I can call up to his room and see?”

Again, Kate feared that if Amelia did such a thing, it could tip the guy off. “That’s okay. I’ll wing it and hope for the best. I should be there in about ten minutes.”

After Amelia agreed, Kate hung up, returned her cell to her pocket, and asked Celia if her search group could spare her for the rest of the morning.

Celia didn’t look pleased, but in the next second a police cruiser pulled into the sandy parking lot at the edge of the dog park, and she lost all focus on Kate as she rushed to the officer, Gunther, who was stepping out.

“Officer Gunther!” she shouted then patted the police dog that hopped out of the passenger’s seat. “We found Becky’s necklace.”

As Celia went on to explain Jared Flaherty was waiting in the woods where the necklace had been found, Kate started off for her truck and then climbed in.

Over the Moon was a three-story, Victorian house set at the foothills on the south side of Rock Ridge, where a creek rushed through. Likely the most picturesque area of her beloved town, Over the Moon had a storybook feel to it that reminded her of Thomas Kinkade paintings.

She pulled to a stop out front then looked up and down the row of parked cars, scanning for a Delaware license plate, but she didn’t find one. It was possible Clifford had taken a rental, but if he had, he wouldn’t have done it in Rock Ridge, since to Kate’s knowledge there wasn’t a car rental service in town. However, none of the vehicles out front looked like a rental car.

Then Kate remembered that if Cookie had been killed when she was in her car, after swerving onto the shoulder of the road, it was possible Clifford didn’t have a car. Maybe she saw him walking alone and pulled over. She tried not to let her imagination run wild, but rather ducked into the inn and met Amelia at the reception desk.

Using a discrete tone, Amelia said, “He’s on the second floor, room #5.”

Kate thought about how she might handle this. Was she going to simply knock on his door and demand answers? Why would he tell her anything?

“His room has a window, I assume?” she asked, thinking out loud.

“Yes,” said Amelia, cocking her head with curiosity for a moment before she grasped where Kate was going with this idea. “If you round the right side of the inn, his window is on the second floor to the far left.”

“Okay,” said Kate. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Leaving the inn, she walked around the right side of the inn as Amelia had indicated. The grass was soft under her feet, and the sun was beating down. It had to be at least ninety degrees already, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

When she glanced up at Clifford’s window, she realized the angle was too steep to see into his room, so she backed up by about ten yards until she could see inside.

Not only were the curtains drawn to the side, but his window was open, and she noticed a woman standing inside. The woman was facing away, but there was something oddly familiar about her. It was her hair. Kate noticed streaks of funky colors and then saw a flower tattoo on the woman’s arms.

A man stepped into view, who had to be Clifford. He looked just like the driver’s license Kate had seen. He turned the woman and immediately kissed her.

That’s when Kate realized who she was looking at.

It was Clara.

Chapter Eight

Shocked, Kate rushed around the inn to get to her truck as quickly as possible. Why would Clara meet with Cookie’s old boyfriend as soon as she got released on bail? Why would she kiss him? Cookie had been her best friend, what was the real story behind all of this?

Complicating matters were the facts as Scott York saw them: Clara’s fingerprints had been found on the gun, she was the last person seen with Cookie alive, and according to Scott, she had been arrested for a reason.

As fiercely as Kate had defended Clara, she had to wonder if her instincts had been completely wrong.

What was the real reason Cookie and Clara had gotten into a fight in Cookie’s car that night? Had it really been because Clara was confronting her about the fact that Cookie had become withdrawn, on edge, and secretive? Or had their argument gone much differently? Had it been Cookie who had confronted Clara about her relationship with Clifford? Had Cookie not feared for her own life but feared for Clara’s, and that’s why she allowed Clara into her car that night?

And how could someone Kate had known for years and years manage to keep such a colossal secret from her when Kate was the only one willing to help Clara clear her name?

Kate was so long in thought, hovering along the front bumper of her truck, that she didn’t realize Clara was stepping out of the entrance door of the inn until Clara exclaimed, “Kate!” as though she was excited to see the handy woman and not at all concerned she might have been caught.

“You made bail,” she said, trying to sound upbeat so as not to give away all that she had spied through the window. “What are you doing here at the inn?”

“Avoiding my house, you could say,” she said grimly.

It amazed Kate how Clara could lie so easily. Her performance seemed flawless.

“They found Cookie’s gun with my prints on it,” she stated as though she might cry.

“At your house?”

“In the trash bins outside my house,” she clarified. “As if I would be stupid enough to stash a murder weapon at my own house. Clearly I’m being framed.”

“By who?”

“I really don’t know,” she said.

Kate neared her and tried to keep her tone even.

“Is it possible Cookie’s old boyfriend did this and is framing you?”

Clara’s eyes shifted, and as they did, Kate thought she saw the light dimming out behind her pupils, and it chilled her.

“I don’t see why he would,” she said in a dead voice that Kate didn’t trust.

“I don’t know how well you think you know him,” said Kate, keeping her tone sympathetic to instill she was on Clara’s side now more than ever, even though it was far from the truth. Everything had changed the second she saw Clara kissing Clifford. “But I heard some rumors about Clifford, that he fell in with the wrong crowd in high school, that it strained his relationship with Cookie, and that Clifford wound up in prison.”

“Rumors,” she snorted. “I thought you would be the last person to fall prey to rumors, Kate.”

“I’m being cautious. Did you know Clifford did time?”

Clara’s voice hitched in her throat, and when she answered, her tone was too high. “I don’t know anything about him.”

It sounded like a lie.

“Clara, I’m trying to help you. If you haven’t noticed, I’m the only person trying to clear your name, but if you keep things from me, if I don’t know the whole truth, then there won’t be anything I can do for you.”

“What are you saying, Kate?” she challenged. “Are you saying I’m lying to you?”

She held her gaze, as tension rose between them, and Kate pressed, “I wonder if you are.” After a beat, she added, “What are you really doing here at the inn?”

Clara said nothing, though her widening eyes seemed to have a lot to say.

“Look, Clara. Right now Scott thinks you did it. I think Clifford Green did it. But if you protect him, if you withhold information, then I’m going to start to think you both did it together.”

“I told you I don’t know him.”

“Then what were you doing kissing him in his room?”

Clara’s jaw dropped.

“He’s staying here. I saw you. Explain.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Kate. You’ve lost your touch.”

Clara motioned to get to her car, but Kate grabbed her arm, and when Clara jerked free, she said, “I’m going to find out whether you tell me or not.”

“I told you I didn’t do it.”

“Stop telling me what didn’t happen and start telling me what did,” she demanded.

“All right,” she said, tiring. “Clifford didn’t come to town to hurt Cookie. And Cookie didn’t buy a gun to protect herself from Clifford.” She sighed, folded her arms, and came out with it. “I asked Clifford to come. I asked him to help me with Cookie. I knew she was still in love with him, and I knew she would listen. It’s my own fault I got involved with Clifford. I suppose I shouldn’t have, but we didn’t make that leap until after Cookie was killed. The point being...” she trailed off, collecting her thoughts. “Cookie had been acting weird ever since she became close, secretive friends with Becky Langley.”

“What?” Kate asked, astounded.

“That’s right. Becky,” she repeated. “Becky who drives a red Fiat. A red Fiat that looks a hell of a lot like Cookie’s red VW bug.”

“Cookie was killed the night before Becky was taken,” said Kate, thinking this through.

“My guess is that whoever ran her off the road that night thought she was Becky. And when they realized she wasn’t, they couldn’t simply let her go on living.”

“Becky and Cookie look nothing alike,” she countered.

“Which tells you that the killer and the kidnapper don’t know either of them—other than their names and cars.”

After holding Kate’s gaze for a long moment, Clara diverted her eyes, walking briskly to her car and climbing in. Kate watched her drive off. Was Clara telling her the truth, or creating a smokescreen that she and her secret boyfriend could hide behind? The notion that Cookie’s death was at all related to Becky’s abduction was mind-bending, and yet, she couldn’t help but sense it was true. It would be too much of a coincidence that two major crimes could’ve taken place within a day of each other and not be connected. She had thought that from the very start, but for some reason hearing Clara suggest the connection out loud made it seem all the more ludicrous.

Kate felt her cell phone buzzing in her front pocket, but when she glanced at the screen she didn’t recognize the number that was flashing. She swiped it anyway, answering the call.

“Mrs. Fix It, Kate speaking.”

“Kate, hi! It’s Marly Jones, how are you?”

Kate hadn’t spoken to Marly in nearly a year. The woman lived on the outskirts of town near the Pennsylvania State Game Lands, kept to herself, and rarely ventured along Main Street. Every call Kate had received from Marly was in regard to her chicken coop, which foxes and other small scavengers had various ways of damaging in their attempts to get to her hens. In a few short words, Marly indicated this was the reason she was calling.

“Do you have any time today?” she asked, hopefully.

“I can squeeze you in,” she said, wracking her brain for her schedule. “I have two quick fix-it jobs at Daisy’s Luncheonette, but I can swing by after. How bad is the damage?”

“I think it was a fox,” she mentioned. “The little sucker tore up an entire wall of chicken wire, so it needs to be put back in the ground, but the actual wall of chicken wire is intact, so no need for new materials.”

Kate wasn’t sure if that would be true. She’d probably need to bring a few wooden posts to anchor the chicken wire to, but that would be easy enough.

“I’ll see you in a few hours then,” she said, and once Marly thanked her, Kate hopped off the call and stared at the entrance to the inn.

Clifford Green was upstairs, and she might as well dig deep and see if she couldn’t get an answer or two out of him.

Kate passed through the entryway and found Amelia behind the desk. Pausing at the counter, she asked, “Do you happen to know how Clifford Green found out about the inn?”

“I really don’t. I’m usually not here,” she said frankly, “but sitting at home was driving me crazy and I don’t have the stomach to join one of the search parties. God willing they’ll find what they need to locate Becky, but I don’t have it in me to witness directly what they come across.”

“I understand. Do you know if Becky was close friends with Cookie Halpert, the baker?”

Amelia blinked and appeared to be at a loss. “The only person Becky ever talked about was Jason and how thrilled she was to be getting married.”

“Right,” said Kate. “Well, if you could look into which of your employees was doling out that nightly discount, it would be a huge help.”

With that, Kate started for the stairs where she climbed to the second floor and began checking the doors for Room #5. Remembering where Clifford’s window was situated from outside, she made an educated guess to turn left, and soon she found his door.

First, she leaned her ear against the door and listened. The sound of footsteps crossing the room was apparent, and then she heard Clifford closing the window. Drawing in a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

“I don’t need my room straightened,” he called through the door.

“This isn’t the maid service,” she said.

For a moment, the room on the other side of the door fell silent, and then she heard a few footsteps and the door sprang inward, revealing Clifford on the other side. Up close, he looked like the rugged version of his driver’s license photo, and it wasn’t hard to see why two women would be charmed. But Kate wasn’t like most women.

“Who are you?” he asked, furrowing his brow and looking down his nose at her.

“I’m Kate Flaherty, the local handy woman,” she announced, to which he became instantly confused.

“There’s nothing wrong with my room, and no one told me a fix-it person would be coming by.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Clifford only looked more confused.

“You were involved with Cookie Halpert, who was killed, and now I see you’re involved with Clara, who was arrested. Why are women falling into trouble after getting involved with you?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to talk to you.”

“But you should.” After a beat, she pressed, “Where were you the night Cookie was killed?”

“Like I said, I don’t have to talk to you.”

“If you came to town to help Cookie, then you should care about catching who killed her, and if you don’t, that gives me all the more reason to wonder if you did it,” she stated firmly.

“And you’re the local fix-it woman?” he challenged. “What exactly are you trying to fix?”

“This town. I don’t take kindly to outsiders who show up right before people get killed.” Feeling bold, Kate barreled into his room while he grumbled objections, and then she shut the door.

“It sounds like you know everything I do,” he pointed out, but she wasn’t buying it. “I came to town because Cookie was in trouble according to Clara.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Just that she was acting strangely,” he said.

“Other people have said she started acting strangely because you came to town. She all but ran out of Drake’s Firing Line when she saw you walk through the door.”

“That was for a different reason,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I had been direct with her that I was interested in Clara,” he stated plainly. Though it didn’t exactly coincide with Clara’s account, it also didn’t contradict it.

“Clara just told me—”

“You talked to Clara?”

“Yes, does that surprise you?”

He looked bewildered.

“If you had any idea how small Rock Ridge is, you wouldn’t look so shocked. I know Clara well. And I also knew Cookie. Clara suggested that Cookie had been confused for Becky Langley. Do you know Becky?”

“Look,” he said, sighing. “I used to live in this town, and I know a thing or two about it, but my perspective is a hell of a lot different. From where I’m standing, the outsiders aren’t the problem. The police are. And the worst one of all is Scott York.”

Chapter Nine

Kate slogged through the rest of her day, unnerved that Clifford Green, the prime suspect in Cookie’s murder in her opinion, had suggested that the Rock Ridge Police Department was corrupt and that her very own husband was the worst of it.

As she laid down new tiles in the men’s room at Daisy’s Luncheonette, she reminded herself that it made sense an ex-convict wouldn’t be the biggest fan of the Rock Ridge Police Department. As she moved on to fixing the locks on the stalls in the ladies’ restroom and waiting for the tile putty to dry in the men’s, she told herself not to get rattled by all that Clifford had said, and instead she ought to turn over what she’d learned, even if amounted to mere gossip, to Scott so that he could look into it.

But she couldn’t let it go. And the conundrum was at the forefront of her mind as she handed her invoice over to Daisy, the owner of the luncheonette, and received her check in return.

“Here,” said Daisy, handing her a to-go bag that was steaming hot. “A little lunch for the road.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, immediately lifted out of deep thought by the smell of a fresh hamburger and a cup of coffee. She had been getting lax about eating lunch on time and a proper breakfast for that matter, so when she climbed up behind the wheel of her truck, she was sure to take four big bites of the burger and wash it down with hot coffee before setting the cup in the cup holder and easing out onto the street.

It was a long drive south to Marly Jones’s ranch-style house near the Pennsylvania State Game Lands, and Kate challenged herself not to ponder the strange, convoluted facts as relayed to her by Clifford and Clara.

As she arched around the eastern bend, driving along the old campground site, she noticed there were a number of bulldozers spanning the area, as well as a high stack of materials—wood and concrete blocks and piping set out near the tree line.

If the Mayor, Dean Wentworth, had told the town his office was in the midst of organizing a day where the residents could vote on the issue, he had lied. Clearly, Dean had decided to move forward on the project regardless, and Kate became furious because of it.

Soon Kate was pulling up to Marly’s house, and as she did, she spotted Marly darting across the yard after a handful of chickens that were squawking and sprinting this way and that.

“Marly?” asked Kate, as she stepped out of her truck and jogged over.

“The coop came down!” she yelled, scooping a chicken into her arms as it fought and clucked. “Don’t worry about me. They won’t get far. If you could get that chicken wire back in the ground, then I’ll toss them in one by one.”

“No problem,” she said, rushing to the coop with her toolkit in hand.

Assessing the chicken wire, Kate saw where the wall had been torn up from the earth, and Marly was right that it had been a fox. Kate could see claw marks in the dirt, but at least the soil was loose enough that she would be able to wedge the grate back into the ground and pack dirt around it tightly. She did just that, which took a little less than ten minutes, and then she began angling wooden stakes into the ground from where they had fallen haphazardly across the grass.

Once she was finished, it looked stable, so she fashioned a number of support beams against the stakes and nailed them together.

Marly began tossing her chickens back into the coop, and soon the yard was free of roaming hens.

“To prevent this from happening in the future,” said Kate, eyeing the coop carefully. “I would suggest you let me dig a little trench along the wall. If I fill it with cement then angle the chicken wire in, there will be no way for a fox to dig under it and get into the coop.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Marly, considering the proposition.

“Tell you what, if you can email me an estimate, I’ll let you know when I have the extra cash.”

“Sure thing,” she said. “But I wouldn’t wait too long. The hotter it gets out here, the more aggressive the scavengers will become at night.”

After Marly wrote out a check and handed it to Kate, Kate set off towards Meredith Joste’s art deco house, eating the rest of her hamburger as she went.

She worked on the outdoor patio until dusk settled across the landscape, and as she was packing up, she gave Jared a quick call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, how did the rest of the search for Becky go?”

“In terms of the police dog picking up her? Good. In terms of how Jason handled the long morning? Terrible.”

“Where is he now?” she asked, concerned.

“At home. He’s completely shut down.”

“Why? Didn’t he find it promising that you found Becky’s necklace?”

“I guess not.”

“All right. I’m going to stop in on him, make sure he’s eating and not wallowing too badly.”

Kate didn’t want Jason to shut her out, which meant that there would be no point in calling ahead to see if he’d be up for a visit. Instead, she drove to his house and parked along the curb.

Night had fallen, and as she walked to the front door, she noticed the lights were off inside the house. Jason hadn’t even bothered to turn on the floodlights outside. His house looked as depressed as he was.

She knocked on the door then called out Jason’s name, adding, “It’s Mom. Honey, please come to the door.”

A long moment passed before the outside light flipped on overhead, and then the door open, revealing Jason, who looked as though she had woke him from a long nap.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, groggily.

“I thought you could use a drink,” she said, giving him the once over and breathing a sigh of relief that he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt—albeit a slightly rumpled one. “When was the last time you were at The Rail?”

Convincing Jason to hop in her truck to head to her favorite bar was less challenging than she would’ve thought. Either Jason was resigned and didn’t see the point in fighting her, or he was in need of a frothy beer, but he went easily, and soon they were pulling up to the entrance where there was a vacant spot.

Inside, Kate suggested a table in front of the windows, and when Jason sat down, gazing vacantly into the dark parking lot, she stole away to the bar where the owner, James Banks, was lazily drying off glassware with a towel.

“Hey, Kate,” he said, glancing up at her with round eyes. “Any leads finding Becky today?”

James had been in another search group that morning at the dog park and probably heard about the necklace, but like Kate, didn’t know much beyond that.

“Not that I’m aware of,” she said, before ordering the usual.

James filled two-pint mugs with a stout IPA from the tap and told her it was on the house. After thanking him, she carried the mugs to Jason and set his in front of him.

“I need to ask you a few things,” she said, sliding into the chair across from him.

“I really don’t feel like being interrogated. I already talked to the police... again.”

“You did?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, they went over all the same questions with me about Becky and the guy who broke in, and honestly, the fact that they were going over all this stuff I’d already answered gave me a really bad feeling.”

“You think they don’t believe you?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, what do they think happened if they don’t believe your account?”

“I don’t know, but one thing’s for sure, the result of the drug test came back, and I didn’t have anything in my system.”

“Is it possible you weren’t drugged?”

“You think I’d confuse something like that? A person knows when they’ve been drugged, Mom.”

“Then why did your test come back clean?” she asked.

“I have no idea, but because it did, Scott now thinks it’s suspicious that I took so long to contact the police after Becky was taken.”

“Jason, let me just set your mind at ease. Scott believes you. He wouldn’t think you’re a suspect. Period. He’s known you far too long to even consider such a thing.”

“You weren’t in that interrogation room, Mom. I was. And so was Scott.”

So Clifford Green had his reservations about Scott and how he ran the police department, and now Jason was questioning her husband’s ability to pull clues together. It didn’t bode well, but rather than challenge her son, who seemed beyond exhausted as he drank his beer and stared through the window at times, she decided to offer Jason her friendly company instead.

As they drank their beers, she went into humorous anecdotes about Marly Jones and her chicken coop to get his mind off things, and by the time they were heading out, Jason seemed like a more relaxed version of who he’d been these past few days.

“Would you like me to check in on you later tonight?” she offered, as she came to a stop in front of his house to drop him off.

“I think Jared’s going to swing by,” he said.

“You think or you know?”

“He mentioned it, but said he’d let me know. He’s been at the Mayor’s office later and later each night. So I kind of doubt he’ll have time.”

“You’re more than welcome to come back home with me and have dinner,” she said—even though she had already offered twice on the ride here and twice he had declined.

“Really, Mom. If anything, I would go over Mr. and Mrs. Langley’s for dinner, but I don’t even feel like doing that. I’m sure Scott will track me down for another interview soon enough.”

She gave him a little squeeze and then watched him climb out of the truck and head inside. When the door shut, she drove off, wondering just what in the hell Scott was thinking, interrogating her son.

It was less than fifteen minutes before she came to a stop in front of her house. As she neared the door, she heard music playing quietly inside, and when she passed through the foyer, into the living room, and then rounded through to the kitchen, she smelled spices, which she soon pegged as Thai food.

“You’re cooking?” she asked, surprised to see Scott in an apron and standing over the stove, as he stirred what appeared to be chicken masala.

Scott set down the ladle and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I thought it would be the least I could do since these cases are taking up all of my time and I haven’t been home much.”

She smirked and wondered how she would broach the subject of the Rock Ridge police giving her son a hard time.

“There’s a bottle of wine on the table outside,” said Scott. “It’s open if you want to help yourself. I thought we would eat out there.”

“Sure,” she said. “Need any help?”

“No, this is almost ready. Go on out and relax.”

She padded through to the sliding glass door then stepped onto the back patio where she found a bottle of red wine resting next to two wine glasses on the table. Pouring one for herself then a second for Scott, she had to ask herself if this display of thoughtfulness was genuine or the mark of a guilty man. Did Scott feel bad that he found Jason suspicious of Becky’s disappearance? Or was he merely trying to be a good husband on the rare occasion that he was home for a night?

As she sat, she couldn’t decide.

“Here we are,” he said, passing through the open doorway and setting the pot of chicken masala on the table. He had two plates tucked under his arms, so he set those out then quickly padded back into the kitchen to get utensils. When he returned a moment later, he handed one set to her then settled into an adjacent chair.

“This looks great,” she said, then wasted no time diving into her biggest question. “Why did you question Jason again today?”

Scott’s face grew long. “I don’t want you to be concerned about that.”

“Of course I’m concerned.”

“I was hoping to have a nice night with you.”

“This isn’t like Cookie’s murder. This isn’t like any of the murders that occurred two years ago where you were in the right to keep the details of the cases to yourself, Scott. This is my son, your stepson. How many years have you known Jason and Jared? How many fishing trips? How many dinners have we all had? How could you possibly think he had anything to do with Becky being abducted? And worse, how could you possibly think about keeping any of this from me?”

“Because I don’t want you to worry about it until I get to the bottom of it and know what’s going on.”

“If Jason’s worried, then I’m worried, and I think you scared the crap out of him.”

“Look,” he said, though his tone was kind. “Part of this process is ruling people out. The best thing I can do for Jason is to thoroughly scrutinize his statement, rule him out once and for all, and move on.”

“But why do you suspect him in the first place? Why would anyone?”

“Kate,” he said then paused to let out a long sigh. “You know how it works when a person is the last one who has seen the victim alive.”

She did, but her instincts were telling her that wasn’t the reason he was looking into Jason, and all she had to do was lift her brows at him to let him know what she was thinking.

“His story doesn’t check out,” he state frankly.

“Because he told you he was drugged and the test came back negative?”

“Yes,” he said, just as frankly. “He said the kidnapper stuck him with a needle in his neck and the nurse at the hospital saw no mark whatsoever. He said the abductor took Becky out the front door, but after finding her necklace in the woods, that also doesn’t add up. We found no sign of a struggle in his entire house. And if Becky had been drugged before the abductor stole her and if the abductor carried her out as Jason had said, then how could her necklace have possibly come off? How could the chain break? And who in their right mind would carry her through those woods? They spill out into a lake eventually. There’s nowhere to go.” Scott leaned forward in his chair and tried to take her hands. “Nothing Jason said adds up. Nothing.”

“So what do you think happened? Why would he lie? Who took Becky?”

“My guys are still out there looking. The search dog picked up Becky’s scent, and the team found a shoe of hers and about half a mile later a sweater.”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?”

“There’s something not right about it, Kate. Those articles of clothing, the necklace, the particular route through the woods... it all looked staged, fake, phony, just like Jason’s story.”

“So what are you trying to tell me?”

Scott fell silent and took a moment to drink his wine. When he set the glass on the table, all he said was, “Currently, I’m looking into Becky’s debit card, her bank statements—”

“But there was no robbery. We’re all in agreement on that.”

“I’m not looking into it because I think the abductor stole her credit cards. I’m looking into it to get a sense of her finances, and Jason’s.”

“Becky’s parents have a net worth of over—”

“I know how Becky’s parents are doing financially,” he interrupted. “And you don’t know if they were passing it along to their daughter. You don’t know if they were upset with her for getting involved with a blue-collar family. Jason works in construction now. You don’t know if they cut their own daughter off. You don’t know anything.”

“So how would Becky going missing gain them money?” she pressed.

Scott lifted his white-eye brows, holding her gaze.

“The second Becky turns up safe, you can bet every media outlet is going to be knocking on her door. Hell, they’re already floating into town, writing articles on the mustard princess gone missing in the one town in Pennsylvania where five murders took place two years prior. If and when Becky gets found, and I’m emphasizing ‘when’ and using the term ‘found’ loosely, she and Jason will be able to name their price for interviews. Twenty thousand for Fox News, fifty thousand for ABC. Heck, Barbara Walters could pay them five hundred thousand each for an exclusive. This is going to make national headlines.”

Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jason would never do such a thing. It would be immoral and unethical and downright despicable to waste police resources, and she was appalled at Scott that he was entertaining this outlandish theory.

But there was no sense arguing against him. She would have to put her time and energy into disproving him. And after she silently resolved to do so, she ate dinner and tried not to fathom that Clifford Green could very well be right about the Rock Ridge police.

Chapter Ten

The next day, Kate woke up with her alarm, and when she rolled over, she discovered Scott was already gone. In the haze of her waking mind, it slowly dawned on her all over again that her husband suspected her very own son of perhaps staging Becky’s abduction as some horrendous ploy to get money, and as it did, her stomach dropped.

The only thing that got her out of bed that morning was a sense of faith that she knew her son and because of it, she knew he wasn’t capable of doing anything like that. The truth would come out soon enough, and until it did, she would have to stay strong, be there for Jason as much as possible, and get to the bottom of this herself.

After a quick shower and changing into a pair of overalls that happened to also be shorts—each day felt hotter than the last—she made her way into the kitchen where she saw Scott had left her half a pot of coffee. She took a moment to smell it, checking that it wasn’t stale. It was fresh, so she poured the contents of the carafe into her thermos and started off into the warm day.

As she climbed into her truck, she felt her cell phone vibrating. Dean Wentworth’s number was flashing across the screen so she swiped to answer the call.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Hi, Kate. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Oh please,” she teased. “You know I get up much earlier than this.”

He laughed good-naturedly then said, “I know it’s last minute, but I could use your help. My office door all but fell off its hinges this morning. It was gradually reaching disrepair, but I’ve been too busy to fix it. Do you think you could swing by?”

Kate checked the clock on the dashboard. Grayson’s would be open, and she would need to buy new hinges. “I can make that work,” she said. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

After driving over to Grayson’s Hardware and chatting briefly with Larry, who mentioned he was leaning towards voting in favor of the amusement park, Kate started a tab for the hinges she needed to buy since she felt too pressed for time to write out a check.

“How do you think you’ll vote?” he asked, as he walked her out to her truck.

“I’m not sure it’s going to matter how anyone votes,” she said. “Have you driven by the camping area? Construction is already underway.”

Larry looked surprised to hear that, but she didn’t have time to discuss the matter further. She climbed into her truck and drove off towards the center of town where the Mayor’s office was located.

As she walked into the building and found her way up to Dean’s floor, she realized she was smiling. Seeing Jared—or either of her boys—was always a treat. After years of them being away at college and spending their summers abroad in various programs, it felt so nice to know they lived right here in Rock Ridge with her. She would never take for granted the fact that they were close.

“Hi, honey,” she said to Jared, who was carrying some files through the anteroom.

“You must be here about the door,” he said, kissing her on the cheek, as he juggled the files in his arms. “Go on in. Dean is wrapping up a phone call.”

Kate carried her toolkit back into Dean’s office and tried not to make too much noise as she investigated the problem with the door. It had come off its hinges at the top rungs, but not on the bottom, though those were hanging on by a thread.

Selecting the right screwdriver, a Philips-head, she began removing the bottom hinges, and soon the door was completely free of the frame.

Dean ended his phone call, setting his phone in its cradle.

“Can you salvage it without having to redo the molding?” he asked, stepping up beside her and examining the wooden molding that framed the doorway.

“I think so,” she said.

“Good,” he said, sounding satisfied.

As she got to work, he rounded his desk and sat.

She debated with herself whether or not to bring up the whole farce of voting on the amusement park, and finally, the itch had to be scratched.

“I happened to drive past the camping area the other day,” she began then shot him a glaring look. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Only that I’m glad to be getting my ducks in a row.”

“Is that what you call it?” she challenged. “Dean,” she went on in a leveling tone, “it’s obvious you’re going ahead with the build. Why did you host a town meeting and tell people there would be a vote when it won’t matter which way the vote lands?”

“Because,” he said with a sigh, “at the time I really was going to take a vote. But building the amusement park makes sense.”

“Financially, it might look that way on paper, but a giant park like that is going to change this town, and change it for the worst.”

“I disagree. It might change Rock Ridge, but only for the better. I truly believe that.”

She held her response, while she plugged in her electric screwdriver and angled the bit to the new hinges, drilling them in, screw by screw with quick, noisy blasts. Then she set the electric screwdriver down, and said, “One of your arguments was that literally building the amusement park would create jobs for the unemployed. So who is building the park if no one in town knows it’s going up?”

Again, he sighed. “That was a bit of a complication.”

“Complication?”

“A misunderstanding. When I spoke with Six Flags, I was under the impression we could hire people to build the park. Then after I signed contracts—”

“You signed contracts?”

“I had to. But I discovered the fine print was that only their union teams could build it.”

“Dean—”

“I know what you’re going to say, but it will still create jobs, and the real money maker is going to be the tourism it brings in.”

Kate was not pleased.

As if he could change the subject and she’d drop the argument, Dean said, “What do you make of Cookie Halpert’s murder?”

She let her eyes glaze over when she looked at him. “Seriously?”

“I heard you were looking into it,” he said innocently.

“I’m not dropping the whole Six Flags argument,” she countered. “I’ll get everyone in town to sign a petition if I have to.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said dryly. “Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m good at running this town. And you’re good at solving murders.”

She smirked sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “You mean fixing things.”

“If you want to make a pun of the situation, sure.” Dean stood, rounded his desk, and then sat on the edge of it, watching her attach the door into its new hinges. Then he said, “I wonder how Gunther’s holding up.”

“Gunther?” she asked, caught off guard by how random the comment was. “Officer Gunther?”

“Yeah. You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Gunther had a thing for Cookie.”

“He did?”

“She didn’t exactly reciprocate as far as I heard, but he definitely had a crush on her, and to get her attention, he offered to fund her whole website, hiring extra bakers to help fill her online orders, the whole nine yards. Gunther had to be her biggest supporter.”

“Really?” she said, highly curious.

“He must be devastated.”

As Kate began writing up an invoice, she wracked her brain for the precise date that Cookie had started her new website. It was about a month ago. Right around the same time she began getting agitated according to Clara. Then three weeks ago she bought a gun and incidentally Clifford came to town. What if Clara and Clifford were right? What if Clifford wasn’t the reason she was agitated and felt compelled to get a gun?

Then she nearly gasped when she realized what might have happened that night on the side of the road.

“Kate?” asked Dean. She turned to him and he added, “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just in a hurry.”

“Jared can handle writing out a check. Thanks so much for coming by.”

Grabbing her toolkit, she walked out into the anteroom, found Jared behind his desk, and set the invoice down.

“Just a second, Mom,” he said, buried in a financial report.

“It’s okay; you can mail the check or drop it off.”

“Sure thing,” he said without looking up, but she was already out the door.

It wasn’t connected. Cookie hadn’t been mistaken for Becky, as Clara had suspected. Kate could feel it in her gut. But feeling it and proving it were two entirely different matters. No wonder Cookie had kept her fears to herself. Whom could she tell? She wouldn’t have been able to go to the police. They were all friends with Officer Gunther. They’d known him for years, and likely wouldn’t believe that he could possibly pose a threat to Cookie since it was his job to uphold the law.

And Clara, being Cookie’s close friend, had only meant to help her friend and business partner by calling Clifford to town. But Kate suspected that it was Clifford’s arrival that set Gunther off. If Gunther had been harboring a dangerous obsession with Cookie and then discovered her meeting with an old boyfriend, it would stand to reason that he could’ve gone into a jealous rage, driven by her car on the side of the road that night, and done the unthinkable.

Kate realized she was driving at breakneck speed through the center of town, so she hit the brakes and eased up to the curb in front of the police station.

How would she possibly handle this? Could she call Scott? Or should she try a different tactic, one that would be more likely to catch Gunther doing something incriminating? Should she even trust this hunch? Or had she lost her mind? Had the stress of knowing Jason was under such scrutiny somehow scrambled her thinking so badly that she was inventing killers that weren’t there?

Kate leaned back in her seat and tried to still her racing mind. Suddenly, she had an idea. Using her cell phone and keeping her eye on the precinct across the street, she dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to Officer Gunther’s line.

“One moment, please,” said the receptionist, who was just green enough not to ask her what the call was in regard to.

When Gunther came through the line, stating his name, Kate wasted no time to set her trap.

“Hi, Gunther, it’s Kate Flaherty. I couldn’t get ahold of Scott, but I just received important information regarding Cookie’s murder.”

“Yes?” he said urgently.

“Well, I can’t say for sure whether this is total gossip or worth your time, but I feel compelled to pass it along.”

“That’s fine, Kate. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, I don’t want to name names—”

“It’s fine,” he snapped. “Please go on.”

Fashioning a quick lie based on all she knew about cars, she dove into the most believable trap she could formulate on such short notice.

“I heard Cookie had gotten so paranoid that she installed an audio recorder in her VW. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but if it is, wouldn’t it have recorded the killer taking her life? Maybe she and the killer exchanged words. You would know in an instant who it was.”

Officer Gunther fell silent on the other end of the line. Then all he said was a single word. “Where?”

“It was rumored to be inside the car alarm, you know the little box underneath the steering console?”

Rushing to get off the phone, Gunther said, “I’ll tell Scott right away,” and then hung up.

She stared at the precinct and held her breath. Not one minute later, she saw Gunther barreling through the front doors. He walked briskly to his cruiser in the lot, and then jumped in behind the wheel. Needless to say, he did not have his partner with him. And she was willing to bet money, he would hightail it to the impound lot where Cookie’s car was being held.

She watched his cruiser pull out into traffic, and then Kate pulled into the lane, two cars behind his. It crossed her mind to call Scott on the way, but she didn’t want to be accused of spouting fiction. Instead, she cued up the audio recorder app on her cell phone, being careful not to take her eyes off the road for too long. And by the time Gunther was arching into the impound lot, she was ready.

She tucked her cell phone, which was already recording, into the front pocket of her overalls then made a cautious left hand turn into the lot, as Gunther’s cruiser disappeared into one of the garages.

Kate pulled to a stop then hopped out of her truck and quickly jogged over to the garage, being sure to stay tucked around the corner to stay out of sight.

She listened, as Gunther got out of his cruiser and then she peaked around the corner, watching him approach Cookie’s red VW bug and then throw the driver’s side door open.

When he kneeled, placing himself in a better position to yank out the car alarm box, Kate tiptoed deeper into the garage.

Soon Gunther was grunting and swearing and wrestling the little black box off the console, and the second he freed it, wires twisting and snapping off, he slammed it onto the concrete and stomped on it with his boot.

If that wasn’t a guilty action, Kate didn’t know what was, but until she had a confession, none of this would hold up in a court of law.

“I should’ve mentioned on the phone,” she said, stealing his attention. “I listened to it.”

“You what?” he asked turning white.

“It was Clara who told me about the recording. Cookie had it hooked up to record into the cloud, and I listened to it.”

His eyes widened.

“So I know why you didn’t call Scott about it.”

Suddenly, Gunther was breathing heavily.

“How could you do it?” she pressed. “How could you do something like that when it’s your job to protect and serve?”

“You don’t know what she was like,” he snapped.

“I have an idea. No one knew about you two, so I imagine she was ashamed of you,” she said, hoping to instigate his confession. “She thought you weren’t good enough.”

“How could I not be good enough? I gave her thousands for her website. And the next thing I knew she got back together with her old boyfriend, a convict of all things?”

“Is that why you killed her?”

“No!” he yelled, and suddenly tears sprang to his eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill her!”

Kate held her breath. Was that enough? Was that a confession?

“I was only trying to get the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t hurt herself! So she wouldn’t hurt me! But she wouldn’t let go, and I had to twist it out of her grasp. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t realize it was pointing at her chest all of a sudden!”

“And you killed her.”

Gunther dropped to his knees, hanging his head and wailing, “It was an accident!”

It was all she needed. And Gunther had balled himself on the concrete, which gave her just the opportunity to get Scott on the phone. Easing backwards, tiptoeing away, she pulled her cell from her overalls, stopped and saved the recording, and then dialed Scott.

As soon as she heard his voice on the line, she said urgently, “You need to get to the car impound now. Gunther is here. He confessed.”

“What?”

“To Cookie’s murder.”

Then she hung up and kept her gaze on Gunther, praying like hell that Scott and the police would show up before the killer could lift his head.

Not two minutes later, Scott pulled his truck into the parking lot, followed by two cruisers with sirens blaring. As soon as Gunther heard the sirens, he jumped to his feet and motioned for the gun at his hip, but Scott was too quick, running from his truck into the garage and drawing his weapon on his long-time friend.

“Freeze, Gunther!”

Gunther’s eyes went dead, and in a cool voice he said, “What’s going on?”

“Oh save it,” said Kate, annoyed he thought he could play this off. She lifted her cell and let the recording play, and as Gunther listened, he turned white all over again.

That night, after Scott arrested Gunther, after she showered and Scott finally came around to thanking her for bringing down the killer in their midst, and after Jared twisted Jason’s arm into meeting them at Daisy’s Luncheonette, which had started serving dinner months back, Kate sat between her twins and Scott and glanced around the restaurant.

She hadn’t lost her touch at all. She knew exactly how to fix this town, and she was determined to fix this family, bring Becky home, and show Scott that when it came to keeping Rock Ridge safe, the best man for the job just might be a handywoman.

As everyone perused their menus, Kate glanced through the window at the sleepy night and a woman in the parking lot caught her eye.

Was that Becky Langley?

~~~

PAINT IT DEAD

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty made her way up the sidewalk, carrying her toolbox and wishing she hadn’t worn these overalls. She was in a hurry to get to Meredith Joste’s art deco house where she would spend the next six hours laying down patio tiles out back. The sun was beating down. It was only a quarter to eight in the morning, but already the temperature was climbing into the mid-nineties. Today would be a hot one, and Kate hadn’t done herself any favors when she threw on her long overalls. She had reasoned she would be doing a fair amount of kneeling so shorts wouldn’t be the best choice in terms of protecting her knees. But now that she was sweating her way up Meredith’s walkway, she thought scraped knees might be a fair compromise for staying cool.

Expecting her, Meredith pulled the door inward and greeted her good morning. She was still in her bathrobe and had curlers in her hair. Kate smelled fresh coffee then noted the steaming mug in Meredith’s hand, as she entered the house.

“Help yourself to coffee, as always,” said Meredith, who was quickly rounding through to the sliding glass door at the back of the living room, which led to the patio Kate had been working on. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “It’s looking good out there.”

“Thanks, it’s coming along,” said Kate, as she grabbed a mug from the kitchen cabinet and then poured coffee from the carafe, filling it to the brim. “I should be done by the end of this week.”

“How are you doing on materials?”

“Fine. I’ll need to stop by Grayson’s to get more putty tomorrow, but I have enough for today, I’m sure.”

From where she was now standing in the living room, Kate drank a long sip of coffee. It tasted like Colombian dark roast, her favorite.

“I’m planning on giving Justina a call,” said Meredith before blowing on her own mug of coffee then taking a sip.

Justina, the head agent at Carnegie Real Estate, had made an honest effort of trying to sell Meredith’s house a few years prior, but to no avail. Back then, with the sudden crop of murders—even though the housing market had been on a seller’s upswing—no one wanted to buy in Rock Ridge. It had been a few years since then, and there had been no significant crimes, so Kate figured if Meredith wanted to try again she would have better luck.

But only if word about Cookie Halpert’s murder hadn’t spread beyond this cozy town. It didn’t bode well that one of Rock Ridge’s finest, Officer Gunther, had killed her in a jealous rage. Certainly no prospective buyer would want to move to a town where the people expected to protect and serve were, in fact, murdering their own.

Not wanting to dash Meredith’s hopes by mentioning any of this—Meredith was already well aware of Cookie and Gunther—Kate simply said, “I’m sure I’ll be done by the end of the week, and even if Justina has an open house, I can keep the patio looking tidy until I’m finished.”

“That would be a huge help,” said Meredith, as she began pulling curlers from her hair and tossing them to the coffee table in front of the couch. “I might like your help staging the area, or perhaps Justina will hire you for that?”

Kate had expanded her business to include staging houses that were for sale—renting furniture and decorating, setting out vases of flowers, and making the houses look like homes.

“I’ll certainly make myself available,” said Kate, glancing around the living room. “But your furniture and decorations look great.”

Meredith rolled her eyes, smirking, as if to say, You’re too kind, and then made her way to the staircase at the back of the living room.

“Give a holler if you need anything,” she said airily, as she started up the stairs.

Kate refreshed her coffee, grabbed her toolbox from where she had set it down on the living room floor, and let herself out the sliding glass door.

The patio tiles looked good, and she had covered more than half of the area. It was safe to estimate she had three more days of work left, but if she concentrated and spent a few extra hours today and tomorrow, she had a decent shot of finishing in just two days. Kate liked the idea of that. Fixing up houses and doing little repairs for the residents gave her such a deep sense of calm that it was often easy to get through long hours. And she had noticed over the years that the more stress she felt in her personal life, the more of a workaholic she would become.

It was no secret that Kate was battling a fresh bout of stress. Her entire family was. Though life with Scott had been wonderful these past few years, and having her twin boys back in Rock Ridge now that they had graduated college brought her joy on a daily basis, the recent disappearance of Jason’s fiancée, Becky, had tipped their world off its axis.

According to Jason, Becky had been abducted when they suffered a home invasion last week. Kate had believed her son outright. How could she not? But Scott had developed his own theories. Though the Rock Ridge Police Department had organized a county wide search for Becky and though Celia had been at the helm of a separate search with many of the residents who felt a sense of urgency that they wanted to do something to help find Becky, it seemed that the more Scott learned about Becky’s kidnapping, the less he believed it. And he made no secret of this, which put him and Jason at odds.

From where Kate was standing, the best way to fix their relationship would be to find Becky and bring her home safe and sound. But if the Rock Ridge police hadn’t made much headway in that effort, how would she?

Complicating matters was the fact that when she, Scott, Jason, and Jared had all gone out to dinner at Daisy’s Luncheonette—which now served dinner, too—last night, Kate could’ve sworn she had seen Becky in the parking lot when she glanced out the window.

Fitting a square tile down on a fresh layer of putty, Kate told herself that her eyes had been playing tricks on her. It couldn’t have been Becky in the parking lot; it had been dark; and Becky wasn’t the most unusual looking young woman. Kate had to have been mistaken.

But if it hadn’t been Becky, then who was it?

Kate had lived in Rock Ridge long enough to know every single resident by face if not by name. The town wasn’t that big, and it might as well be the gossip capital of the country. If someone new had floated into town and they looked like Becky, she would’ve heard about it.

She decided she could either keep driving herself nuts over this, or she could concentrate on her work and enjoy the fresh air. So she chose the latter, drinking her coffee and setting her measuring level between two tiles to make sure they were perfectly straight.

As the morning unfolded and the sun angled above the treetops in the distance, hitting Kate with direct sunlight, she grabbed a tube of sunblock from her toolbox and lathered up her arms and face. As a natural redhead, her skin was fair and she tended to burn rather than tan. The last thing she needed was a sunburn.

When Kate set the tube of sunblock into her toolbox, she heard her cell phone rattling against the top compartment where she had left it. Picking it up, she noted the caller’s name flashing across the LCD screen. It was Carly, her best friend.

Carly probably needed a little help fixing a shelf or a chair. Her shop, Sunshine Florist, was constantly falling apart, and she was only able to spring for new items every so often, but not more than about four times a year.

Kate swiped the screen, answering the call with a friendly, “What’s up, Carly?”

“Kate!” She sounded panicked and out of breath, and for some reason her voice seemed muffled, as though she wasn’t holding her cell to her mouth. “Where are you?”

“I’m working,” she said then quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Can you get to Daisy’s Luncheonette?” she demanded.

“I’m at Meredith Joste’s house, so it would take me a few minutes, but I just got here—”

“This is an emergency, please come!”

“Did you call the police?”

“I need you, Kate! Someone’s dead! I know how things work around here when you’re the last person seen with someone who was killed or the first person to find them, and I need you here!”

“Who was killed?” she asked urgently, but Carly had already hung up.

Kate tidied up her tools, dropping them in her toolbox, and then stacked the loose tiles she had yet to lay down. Inside the house, she found Meredith vacuuming on the second floor now that she was dressed and her hair was styled.

“I have to go out for a bit,” she said when Meredith turned off the vacuum to hear her. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Well, I’m heading out, so I’ll leave a key in the flower pot outside, the one to the left.”

Kate nodded then padded down the stairs. After collecting her toolbox, she locked the sliding glass door, deposited her empty mug in the kitchen sink, and started for her truck that was parked halfway up the block.

The drive to Daisy’s Luncheonette was a blur, as Kate’s anxiety ratcheted up. She didn’t want Carly to worry. Kate, herself, had stumbled upon countless bodies two years ago and she had never once been suspected, but she also knew Carly would argue that had been the case because Kate was becoming involved with Scott, the police chief. Even still, Kate was sure Carly had nothing to worry about.

Or did she?

Though she trusted Scott’s police work, it hadn’t been sitting right with her that he was keeping his eye on Jason following Becky’s disappearance. If Scott could misjudge her very own son and believe him capable of lying about a matter as serious as Becky Langley’s abduction, then it was possible he could misinterpret how Carly discovered a body at Daisy’s Luncheonette.

She feared to imagine.

And what was eating her most was wondering who had been killed.

Kate pulled into the parking lot, driving slowly by the diner so that she could spy through the windows, but it looked as calm and cozy as ever. When she pulled her truck into a parking spot, however, she noticed Carly pacing with her arms folded at the far end of the lot. Daisy, the owner of the diner, was there as well—though standing with a drawn grimace on her face.

Hopping out of her truck, Kate waved at Carly, who began rushing towards her, while Daisy hung back, glaring at Carly in a way that Kate found strange and out of character.

“Thank God you’re here,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Kate.

After a brief hug during which Carly seemed to be hanging on for dear life, Kate urged her back and studied her face. “What on earth happened?” she asked. Carly looked pale and ill.

But Carly didn’t answer her, not in a way that made a shred of sense. “Daisy thinks I did it!”

“Did what? Killed someone?”

“She called the police!”

“Okay, try to stay calm. If someone was killed, the police should come and investigate.”

“Please,” said Carly, pulling her arm to get her moving towards the back of the parking lot. “Please take a look before they get here.”

Obliging by following along, Kate stated, “I’m not an investigator, Carly. There’s nothing I’ll be able to do.”

As Carly dragged Kate onward, Kate realized there was no body on the asphalt. Rather, Carly was leading her towards a vehicle where Daisy was standing off to the side.

“Look,” said Carly, indicating the driver’s side door that was open.

“Did you find the door open?”

“No, I opened it,” said Carly.

Kate didn’t have to ask why. She could see the reason. A man was slumped over the steering wheel, and there was a pool of blood at his feet.

“He’s dead,” said Carly, which went without saying.

But the fact that the man was slumped over the wheel made it impossible to see who he was, not that Kate had even gotten that far in her thinking. She was stunned. The scene was eerily familiar.

She had found Cookie Halpert dead in the very same manner.

“You really shouldn’t touch the body,” said Daisy, shouting at them from the other side of the car.

“Kate,” Carly whispered, “I opened the door. My fingerprints are going to be all over it.”

“You can’t worry about that,” said Kate. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But what if they think I did?”

“Only the police will be able to tell when this man was killed,” Kate pointed out. “He could’ve been killed last night for all we know, which would exonerate you since you found him this morning.”

“Right,” she said, wringing her hands and trying to stay calm.

“Not that you need exonerating, because no one thinks you did it.”

“Yet,” she pointed out.

“You really can’t think like that.” Kate studied the man then stepped back, eyeing the vehicle. To Carly, she asked, “Did you call Larry?”

“No. Just you.”

“I think you should give him a call. He can keep you company while you wait to give your statement to the police.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” she said, feigning a smile meant to calm her friend before she began walking around the car.

It was a black sedan, which she realized was a Toyota by the time she reached the front bumper. Then she saw the license plate. It was a Delaware plate.

Though it would have been far smarter to wait for Scott and the police, Kate had to know who the dead man was, because she already had a pretty good guess thanks to the license plate.

When she reached the driver’s side door, she ignored Daisy who was yelling at her not to touch the body. She thrust the dead man back his seat. His head lolled backwards on the headrest and Kate recognized him immediately.

It was Clifford Green.

And he had been shot in the chest—just like Cookie Halpert.

Chapter Two

It wasn’t long before Kate heard police sirens then saw the cherry light whirling atop Scott’s truck, as three vehicles pulled into Daisy’s Luncheonette.

Carly was standing next to Larry, who had closed up Grayson’s Hardware in order to rush over. Carly was no more calm than she had been, but at least she’d quieted her anxious fretting now that Larry had his arm around her. Daisy had been pacing, but now that the police cruisers were pulling to a stop in front of the black sedan, she padded over with an air of authority.

Kate neared the officers as well until Scott broke from the fray, locking eyes with her, as a confused look came over his face.

“Carly called me,” she explained when she reached him.

Scott barked at Officer Garrison. “Get started on getting Carly’s statement, would you?”

Garrison wasted no time leaving Daisy, as he walked over to Carly, which seemed to offend Daisy. She planted her fists on her hips and said, “This is my diner and I would like to make a statement.”

“Patience, Daisy,” said Scott without even looking at her.

“Excuse me, but Kate Flaherty wasn’t even here!” she complained. “Why are you talking to her?”

Ignoring Daisy, Scott guided Kate a few paces away so they wouldn’t be over heard.

“I suppose I should be glad you weren’t the one to find the body,” he said, “but I can’t say I’m pleased you’re here.”

“She called me!”

Scott glanced over his shoulder at the car.

“And you meddled,” he stated, which had to be a guess, but unfortunately, it was the right one.

Defensively, Kate said, “I didn’t open the car door.”

“Carly did?”

Shoot. She shouldn’t admit that.

“Carly told me she did,” she said. “But when I got here the door was open.”

“I think we can take her word for it.”

“She’s extremely worried she’ll be falsely accused of this.”

“She won’t be falsely accused,” he assured her.

“Why is he leaning back like that?” he asked, examining the dead body and its proximity to the pool of blood at the man’s feet. “You did meddle.”

“He was positioned exactly like Cookie.”

“We caught Cookie’s killer. Gunther is in jail right now.”

“I had to see who he was,” she explained.

Scott studied the man’s face.

“It’s Clifford Green,” she supplied when he looked thrown as to the victim’s identity. “Cookie’s old boyfriend. The man I thought had killed her until I discovered otherwise.”

Scott seemed to mull that over, but didn’t ask her to elaborate. Instead, he glanced over at Carly and Officer Garrison and then excused himself. After exchanging words with Garrison, the officer approached Daisy to finally get her statement. And Scott escorted Carly over to Kate.

“I understand you opened the door?”

“Yes,” she blurted out. “I’m so sorry.”

“What compelled you to open the car door before calling the police?”

“With the door shut, I didn’t realize there was blood on the floor. I didn’t realize he was dead. I wanted to help, but as soon as I opened the door and saw everything...” she trailed off, overcome with emotion.

“It’s all right,” he said. “We have your statement. You can go.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing in a deep breath.

“Maybe Kate can take you home or to Sunshine?” he suggested. “You can come back with Larry later for your car.”

When Carly looked momentarily thrown by the suggestion, Kate explained, “You probably shouldn’t drive until you feel better.”

“Right,” she said.

“What were you doing here so early anyway?” asked Scott.

“I was going to get pancakes. I’d put in an order with Daisy, but when I parked, I noticed the dead man.”

“I see,” he said before giving Kate a kiss on the cheek and starting off for Daisy, who was still giving an elaborate statement to Officer Garrison.

Kate turned to Carly. “Where can I take you?”

“Honestly, I think I need to sit with some coffee, maybe eat a little something. Not here, of course. Daisy completely turned on me!”

Kate hushed her, as they walked to her truck.

“It’s like as soon as she saw me standing next to the sedan she acted like I did it! But if I was the one to discover the body, how would she even know someone was killed out there?”

Kate didn’t have an answer. All she could think was that a man had been killed in the precise location of the parking lot where she could’ve sworn she saw Becky last night.

Maybe her eyes had played tricks on her. Maybe it was all just a strange coincidence, but one thing was true. She had a bad feeling about all of it.

After climbing behind the wheel and waiting for Carly to get settled in the passenger’s seat, Kate started up her truck and pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards Bean There.

Clara, the owner of Bean There was at the forefront of Kate’s mind. Clara had been secretly involved with Clifford Green, even though she was Cookie’s best friend. The twisted love triangle had been a total red herring, however, since Officer Gunther had turned out to be the killer. Regardless, Kate knew Clara obviously cared for Clifford. Kate was not looking forward to breaking the news that he had been killed.

She pulled along the curb in front of Bean There and cued up Meredith Joste’s cell number on her phone as she stepped out and locked her truck.

Meredith’s outgoing voice message came on, and Kate left a brief message explaining that something had come up, but she would be back to work on the patio as soon as she could. When she returned her cell to her pocket and opened the door for Carly, she remembered that Meredith had gone out. Kate might get lucky. If Meredith stayed out all day, she might be able to get away with spending a bit more time with Carly. It looked like her friend would need it.

Kate suggested a table near the windows and waited while Carly got situated.

“It’s on me,” she said. “What would you like?”

“A large coffee and how about a muffin?”

Kate nearly cringed, but managed to say, “I’ll see what Clara has.”

With Cookie dead, she had no reason to believe there would be any pastries for sale here. Cookie had been the baker who supplied Bean There with all of its sweets—and now that she was no longer living, Bean There could very well have been reduced to a straightforward coffee bar.

The line moved quickly, and soon Kate was standing at the counter across from Clara, who looked jumpy and withdrawn.

“Good morning,” said Kate with a sense of gravity, considering that Clara might have already heard the news.

“Hey, sorry. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Clifford.”

Kate really felt for her. Obviously, she hadn’t heard. “Clara—”

“I spoke with him last night, and he said he was going to come over and then he never showed.”

“I have some bad news,” she said.

“Oh no, what?”

Kate noticed one Clara’s baristas hurrying around behind the counter and thought to herself at least Bean There would be covered if Clara needed to rush off to the precinct after hearing what Kate was about to tell her.

“I’m afraid Clifford is dead,” she said in a quiet tone.

“What?”

“Carly and I just found out ourselves,” she went on. “He was found at Daisy’s Luncheonette, or in the parking lot rather. He was behind the wheel of his car.”

Clara slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide.

“I think Scott’s still there.”

“Scott? Why would Scott be there?”

Kate didn’t have to answer. It only took Clara a few seconds to understand that Clifford hadn’t died of natural causes.

“Who would’ve done this?” she asked.

Kate didn’t know, but the fact of the matter was that Clifford was an ex-convict, only recently released from prison. Complicating matters was the amusement park that was being built at the old camping area out east. The Mayor, Dean Wentworth, had reasoned the park would boost the economy, creating construction jobs and then tourism once the park was open. But the fact of the matter was that Dean needed cheap labor, and so the majority of construction workers that had been hired were also ex-cons.

It would seem Rock Ridge was being flooded with bad seeds. Who could’ve killed Clifford Green was anyone’s guess.

“I need to get over there,” she said, stripping the apron off her chest and setting it absentmindedly on the counter. “Mary-Beth?”

The barista turned and smiled, but when she saw the look of concern on Clara’s face, she immediately padded over.

“Can you help Kate? I have to go.”

“Sure,” said Mary-Beth. “Everything okay?”

“No...” she said trailing off. “No, nothing is okay.”

Clara rushed around the counter and slapped the door open, spilling out onto the sidewalk, as Mary-Beth collected the discarded apron, folded it, and asked Kate what she would like.

After paying for two coffees and a few packaged pastries, which looked like the grocery store variety, Kate returned to Carly at the window table and sat.

Carly thanked Kate for the coffee and didn’t so much as glance at the shrink-wrapped Danish on the table. After a minute of holding the silence with her friend, Larry entered the coffee shop and found them.

Kate immediately hopped out of her seat, offering him the chair.

“Oh, that’s okay, Kate,” he said, looking around as though there might be a free seat, but there wasn’t one. The late morning rush of customers was occupying every table.

“Really, I have to get back to Meredith’s. Carly, call me if you need anything, okay?” When she nodded, Kate added, “And don’t worry.”

After giving her friend a squeeze, she walked to her truck, but before she could unlock it, her cell began buzzing in the front pocket of her overalls.

“Jared?” she asked, answering as soon as she saw her son’s number.

“Hey, Mom. I’m at work, and Dean put it in the approval to convert an old storage closet into an office.”

“Meaning?”

It sounded like he was distracted. She could hear him rustling papers at his desk.

“Oh, sorry. It’s a mess over here,” he said like an aside, letting the papers go. “It’s going to be my new office! But it needs to be painted and a few shelves wouldn’t hurt.”

“Congratulations,” she said, though she wondered whether the storage closet had any windows, or if her son would be cooped up in a dark room for ten hours a day.

“Can you come by?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule. This weekend is definitely a possibility.”

“Okay, great, yeah let me know,” he said then wished her good bye.

As Kate hung up and returned her cell to her pocket, it occurred to her that Dean might be spending money he didn’t have. It was no secret he had high hopes for the amusement park, but all things considered, she doubted it would pull in a dime until it had been up and running for at least an entire summer. All told, it would take possibly a year to build, and if Dean had pushed for the park as his answer to the deficit in Rock Ridge, how could he afford to renovate an old closet?

She was happy for Jared regardless, but something wasn’t adding up.

She made it back to Meredith’s house in no time, parked, and then found the spare key in the flowerpot to the left of the door, just as Meredith had indicated. After keying in, she set the spare on the kitchen counter and then put on a fresh pot of coffee. It was nearly eleven, and having lost a little over an hour between Daisy’s Luncheonette and Bean There, she would have to either work faster on Meredith’s patio to stay on schedule, or stay an additional hour, and with Jason battling depression in Becky’s absence, the thought of being away from her family for even one extra hour was unacceptable.

As soon as the dark roast percolated, she poured a mug, grabbed her toolbox, which she had set on the floor next to the kitchen islet, and crossed through the living room and out the sliding glass door.

With the sun inching up in the sky, the one saving grace was that the bizarrely angled art deco roof was now shading Kate from direct sunlight and created just enough shade for her to work without being uncomfortable.

The hours passed and soon the afternoon heat was easing up. Kate had nearly finished the patio, and part of her wanted to push through, work extremely late, and get it done, but she knew doing so would only burn her out, making her far less productive tomorrow. So she organized the remaining tiles she had to lay down, collected her tools, placing them in her toolbox, and then locked the sliding glass door as soon as she stepped inside with her toolbox in hand.

When she reached the kitchen, she washed the mugs she had used and returned them to the cabinets. Meredith still hadn’t come home, so she dialed her, but again got her outgoing voice message.

She left a brief message explaining she was finished for the day and would lock the front door and leave the key in the flowerpot where she found it.

After doing just that, Kate set her toolbox in the bed of her truck and climbed in behind the wheel. As soon as she got buckled in, her cell vibrated.

“Finally,” she sighed, expecting Meredith’s number to be flashing across the LCD screen. But it was Amelia Langley, Becky’s mother. “Amelia?”

“Yes, Kate, I caught you,” she said urgently. “Can you come to the house? I’ve already called Scott.”

Kate gulped. The last call she had received asking her to quickly go someplace was because Carly had found a dead body. And she was dreading hearing the same from Amelia.

“Is this about Becky?”

“It is,” she said gravely. “But it’s not what you think.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Kate started her truck and peeled out, pressing the gas pedal down as far as it would go.

If anything, she hoped that Becky had been found. It would confirm her hunch that she had seen Becky outside of Daisy’s Luncheonette the other night, but hoping such a thing sent her stomach twisting with knots.

If Becky was in Rock Ridge and she had been in the parking lot of Daisy’s last night, did she have something to do with Clifford’s murder?

Before Kate could go there, thinking the worst, she pulled into Amelia and Lance Langley’s driveway and noted Scott’s truck was already parked along the curb.

She jumped out, racing towards the front door, which flew open the second she neared it. Amelia was on the other side. She looked so downtrodden and exhausted that Kate expected her to tell her Becky had been found dead.

But all Amelia did was offer her the piece of paper in her hand.

Taking it, Kate tore her gaze from Amelia and was immediately confronted with what she read on the sheet:

‘I have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, it’s going to cost you.’

Chapter Three

Scott was seated at the head of the dining room table where the family had gathered. Lance sat adjacent to the police chief, and Jason was on the other side. Amelia seemed too nervous to sit, though Lance indicated for her to take the chair next to him. It wasn’t until Kate lowered into a chair beside Jason that she realized Officer Garrison was standing in the room.

“What are we supposed to do?” Lance asked through a clenched jaw that told Kate he was barely holding it together.

“It’s a ransom note, isn’t it?” asked Amelia, bewildered.

Kate glanced down at the note again. It was handwritten and technically was not demanding money.

Scott took a deep breath then said, “We wait.”

“Wait?” Lance looked furious.

“It is a ransom note,” he confirmed. “But it doesn’t indicate an amount, or a time and location to make the exchange. Cash for Becky. So we have no choice but to wait.”

“It also didn’t say not to contact the police,” Kate pointed out, which she found odd.

Hearing that, Amelia’s jaw dropped, as she gasped. “What if the kidnapper sees the cruiser outside? What if he knows we told the police?”

“Try not to panic,” said Scott, who was glaring at Kate for alerting the Langley's to this complication. “I think it would be wise to put a tap on your land line here, as well as on your cell phones. If the kidnapper calls, then we can try to trace his or her location and hopefully get a jump on where Becky is being kept.”

Amelia and Lance were in instant agreement, nodding emphatically that this would be all right.

“Where did you find the note?” asked Kate, who had been keeping her eye on Jason. Not that she had ever been in this position before, but there was something implicitly hopeful about it. As soon as the kidnapper told the Langley’s the ransom amount, they would get Becky back. Kate would’ve thought Jason would be optimistic, but instead he was sitting in a hunch and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“It was slipped under the front door,” said Lance. “I noticed it as I was about to leave.”

“And what time was that?” asked Scott.

“I was working in the home office until about four then planned on driving out to the mustard factory.”

Officer Garrison made a note on his notepad then tucked it into the breast pocket of his uniform.

Scott indicated he would like the ransom note, so Kate quickly took a cell phone photo of it then passed it over to him.

She found it highly curious that it was handwritten. If the kidnapper had been careless enough to write by hand, maybe they had been careless enough to touch the note, leaving fingerprints. She asked Scott about this possibility.

To her surprise, Jason answered. “It’s Becky’s handwriting.”

Scott added, “We’ll dust it for prints, but it’s more likely that the kidnapped had Becky write the note.”

Again, Jason snapped, “It is Becky’s handwriting.”

Scott raised his brows at Kate, concluding the matter so as not to ruffle any more of Jason’s feathers.

“Let me walk you out,” he told her, which she nearly objected to, arguing she wasn’t going anywhere without her son, until she realized he wasn’t asking her to leave, but suggesting they have a moment to themselves.

Outside, Scott shut the door so they wouldn’t be overheard and walked with her a few paces down the walkway.

“I know you’re not going to want to hear this,” he began. “But this isn’t adding up.”

“What isn’t adding up?” she asked impatiently, but didn’t give him a chance to explain. “We’ve all been wondering what Becky’s abductor was after since he didn’t steal anything from their house. Now we know. He wants money, just like we thought he might.”

“So rather than call or mail the note, he dropped it off in person?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Amelia told me that Jason just happened to be on the block when she called him after getting the note.”

“You’re not suggesting Jason had something to do with this, are you? Because if you recall, I found the implication very offensive the last time you brought it up.”

“Look Kate, we’re taking this seriously. We’re going to proceed on good faith that as soon as the kidnapper gives the Langley’s a time and place, and tells them the amount, we’ll go through with the exchange. But we’re going to handle this cautiously, and make every effort to catch the guy—”

“As you should,” she interjected.

“I just want you to be prepared that the outcome might...”

He didn’t have to finish his thought. It was clear Scott expected Jason to be ferreted out as the person behind this.

“We looked into their finances,” he went on to further his argument. “They were doing terribly financially. And it concerns me that Jason hasn’t been working.”

“He’s an anxious wreck. How can he work? His fiancée is missing.”

“I looks to me like he’s acting like he’s got money coming to him, like he knows he doesn’t have to work.”

“Whatever you think it looks like,” she countered, “could you please keep it to yourself and your department? Jason doesn’t need the added stress of being falsely accused, not by his own family.” She turned for the door, but Scott grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t act like you’re doing the right thing here when clearly your instincts are way off.”

She could tell by the look on his face that he knew he wouldn’t be able to apologize or get her to understand. Releasing her, he stepped back and sighed, but she had already started up the walkway, eager to join Jason at the table and hopefully get him home without incident.

As soon as she stepped through the door, Jason met her in the entryway.

In a low tone, he asked with such a sense of urgency that she feared he had overheard them, “What was he saying to you out there?”

“Nothing important,” she said, but her answer didn’t land quite right. Jason wasn’t going to let her brush over the truth so easily. “He’s running his investigation his way,” she said as though her hands were tied. “But everything he told the Langleys is true. He’s going to put a tap on their phones. And the kidnapper is going to get in touch. We need to take it as a good sign.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head and becoming withdrawn.

“Can I give you a ride home?” she offered.

“I have to get over to the amusement park site,” he said.

She cocked her brow at that.

“I have to work,” he shrugged. “And Dean’s taking applications from local contractors.”

Kate smirked encouragingly. “I can drop you off. Just give me a minute to say bye to the Langleys.” As she walked back into dining room, she wondered if Dean collecting applications was another performance like the town meeting had been, or if he was actually in a position to hire. Last she had heard, Six Flags had a policy of only hiring their own construction team, a fact that Dean had completely overlooked. She hoped for Jason’s sake that the mayor had been able to pull a few strings.

After telling Amelia and Lance not to hesitate getting in touch with her if they needed anything, Kate returned to Jason in the foyer, and they walked outside where Scott was on his cell phone. She locked eyes with him, as she and Jason passed him on the walkway, and then when they reached her truck, she had an idea.

“Do you have to drop the application off at the site, or can you leave it with Jared at the mayor’s office?”

Jason considered this, as he got settled behind the wheel. I guess I could leave it with Jared and Dean.”

“Great, because I need to check out Jared’s new office anyway.”

Kate eased her truck away from the curb and started down the street, cutting through the center of town where Bean There was calling to her. She was long overdue for a fresh cup, but couldn’t afford the pit stop, not if she wanted to finish Meredith’s patio on schedule. If she had a free moment, it would be for family, not coffee.

“For the record,” said Jason, as he folded his arms and flicked his eyes at her. “I know what Scott thinks of all this, of me.”

“He’s just doing his job.”

“He grilled me for five minutes about why I happened to be near the Langley’s house. Why was I out for a walk? Where was my car? All this, while Amelia and Lance were seated in the next room. They could’ve easily heard every word. Can you believe that? Their daughter has been abducted and Scott’s giving them the impression I’m responsible.”

“Scott doesn’t think you’re responsible,” she said, but was quickly met with Jason’s dropped jaw. “Alright, look,” she went on, resolving not to sugarcoat it for him anymore. “He’s skeptical, but he’s skeptical of Becky. He knows you, Jason. I doubt he truly thinks you’re capable of this, but Becky was cut out of her parents' fortune. You guys have been struggling—”

“We’re doing fine,” he objected.

“Well, Scott is simply wondering if perhaps Becky orchestrated this and roped you in.”

“Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?”

She did.

Kate turned up Rock Ridge Road, taking a short cut behind Main Street to get to the municipal complex where the mayor’s office was located.

After a moment of debating with herself whether or not to mention what she had seen the other night at Daisy’s Luncheonette, she decided she might as well come out with it and see if she could gauge Jason’s reaction. But she waited until she was pulling into a parking spot in front of the mayor’s building before uttering one word.

She threw the truck into park and killed the engine, turning towards her son.

“I honestly don’t know what’s going on, honey, but when we all ate dinner at Daisy’s the other night, I glanced out the window to the parking lot, and I could’ve sworn I saw Becky.”

Jason’s expression went blank, and she couldn’t get a read on him, but she had to assume he was about to be furious.

“How could you have seen her, Mom? No one can find her.”

“No one else looks like her.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

At this point, she wouldn’t rule it out.

“Let’s say Becky orchestrated this whole thing to get money,” he went on, playing devil’s advocate. “If that were true, why in the hell would she show her face at Daisy’s? She wouldn’t.”

He had a point. And he was smart enough to suddenly realize the bizarre connection that Kate herself had already questioned.

“You think,” he started up again, this time laughing, “she came out of hiding to murder Clifford Green, a man she’s never met and has nothing to do with?”

“The bottom line is that I care about you and I’m worried about you. If there’s anything you’re not telling Scott and me...” she trailed off, not wanting to press her point since it would have to be delivered with the worst possible scenario that she couldn’t bear to consider.

“I’m being completely honest,” he asserted. “I’ve told Scott everything. And quite frankly, if I’ve made any mistakes, it’s the fact that I have been honest. It seems like the more I tell him, the less he believes me. God!” he blurted out, suddenly overcome with the emotion she had been expecting. “How long have I known him? How long has he known me? And he thinks I’m behind this?”

His outrage was rolling off of him, and Kate couldn’t blame him.

“Let’s see about getting your application to Dean,” she suggested, popping her door open and climbing out.

Jason followed, pulling out the application he had kept folded in his jeans and smoothing the pages open, as they made their way inside.

After a quick elevator ride, they stepped out on the mayor’s floor, and when they entered the office, Kate found Jared tucked behind his cluttered desk. The receptionist accepted Jason’s application, as Kate smiled at Jared, getting his attention.

“I thought I’d take a look at that new office of yours and make a list,” she said, giving him a hug.

“Definitely, right this way.” Jared plucked a pen and notepad off his desk then led her down the hall.

The storage closet was almost empty, but a stack of boxes remained at the back.

“We’re going to get these archived into our storage unit in the basement,” he explained, indicated the boxes.

“It’s a little dark in here,” she pointed out, worried for him that she had been right. There wasn’t a window. “I could paint the walls a bright color.”

“As long as it isn’t white,” he said. “With the fluorescents, I’m afraid the glare would be nauseating.”

“Grayson’s has a lot to choose from,” she suggested. “Maybe a light blue, something cheerful.”

“That sounds great,” he said. “Most importantly, I need shelves. I’ve ordered a couple units, but they’ll need to be assembled.”

“When will they arrive?”

“Tomorrow.”

“It’s going to take a full day to paint.”

“Whatever your timeline, we’ll make it work.” When she turned for the hallway, he said, “How’s Jason holding up?”

“You heard about the note?”

Jared leveled his gaze on her as if to say, “How could I not?”

“He’s applying to work at the amusement park, and I’m going to lean on Dean to get him hired right away. He needs structure and something to take his mind off of Becky. That is, if Dean is really hiring.”

“He’s going to do what he can,” said Jared. “We found a loop hole in our contract with Six Flags and the attorney is going over it, but it looks promising.”

Returning to the anteroom where Dean was in the midst of explaining to Jason the ins and outs of the amusement park’s construction timeline, Kate hung back so as not to interrupt.

“Hiya, Kate,” said Dean. “When can we expect you in to work on Jared’s office?”

“A few days. I’m wrapping up a big project now.”

“Right,” he said. “Meredith Joste’s house. I’ll be curious to see who ends up buying it.”

“I’ll be more curious to see where Meredith ends up living,” she countered.

“You didn’t hear?” asked Dean, who seemed to always have his thumb on the pulse of gossip before anyone else could get a read on it. He was nearly as bad as Celia. “She’s leaving Rock Ridge.”

“She is?” She was surprised that Meredith hadn’t mentioned a thing to her in all the days she’d been laying down patio tiles. Kate asked, “Where?”

“My understanding is that she’s sick of the long winters. She wants sun year round.”

Kate did not see that coming and made a mental note to ask Meredith about it.

“Wow,” she said, before turning to Jason. “Ready?”

Jared interrupted. “I can drive him home.”

“Yeah?” asked Jason.

“Yeah, I can take an early lunch.”

“Okay,” said Kate, please to have a few extra minutes now that she wouldn’t have to drive Jason to his house. “Have fun, kids.”

As she made her way down to her truck, she decided she could use the time to stop off at Grayson’s and pick up the paint she would need for Jared’s office. She was glad Jason had accepted his brother’s offer. As twins, they had always been exceptionally close, but over their adult years and especially since Jason had become involved with Becky, the two had less and less time for one another. And then when Becky disappeared and Jason fell into depression, it had seemed as if the brothers’ relationship was on the verge of shattering. But if Jason could get hired and focused, and make time for Jared, then Jared could help Jason deal with the mystery of what had happened to Becky.

After all, that was what Kate had done when Greg had gone missing. She had thrown herself into her work, kept busy, kept focused, and eventually time healed the wound.

Not that she wanted Jason to have to get used to any of this. Most of all, she wanted Becky home, safe and sound. But the longer Scott investigated and the more information was brought to her attention, the more skeptical she became regarding Becky Langley’s innocence in all of this.

What if Scott was right? What if Kate had seen Becky that night? And what if the bizarre ransom note was a very small piece to a much larger puzzle?

As she pulled into Grayson’s Hardware, it crossed her mind that Meredith might be concerned over how long Kate had been away from the house, but when she dialed Meredith and got her outgoing voice message for the fourth time that day, it occurred to her that something might be up with Meredith. She never seemed to be around. She was selling her house. And now, according to Dean, she wasn’t merely going to downgrade into a more affordable mortgage at a different house in Rock Ridge, but she was going to pick up and leave the town all together. Residents rarely left Rock Ridge. It was a beautiful town, and once people moved here, they simply didn’t consider leaving. Why was Meredith suddenly compelled to move away? It couldn’t be because of the weather, could it?

When she stepped inside the hardware store, Larry was ringing up a customer’s items behind the counter, but he still greeted her.

“I’m going to check out the paint!” she called over her shoulder, as she disappeared into the indoor paint section.

As she perused the options, the day she and Greg painted the twins’ baby room came to mind. Long before she started her Mrs. Fix It business, she had loved painting the house and fixing up what needed fixing. Even when she had been in her third trimester, waddling around with twins, she didn’t shy away from making repairs. She had painted the boys room bright yellow and stenciled animals in gray on the walls—elephants and giraffes and other safari creatures.

Kate found a color that Jared might like. It was a soft yellow shade, not too bright. She pulled two cans from the shelf and carried them to the counter.

“Jared’s getting a new office at the mayor’s,” she explained.

“Good for him,” said Larry.

“The room is about twelve by ten.”

“Yikes,” he said then quickly corrected his reaction. “I mean, cozy.”

She smirked. “I’m thinking I’ll need three more cans.”

“Yeah, that should cover it.” Larry turned one of the paint cans so that the label was facing him and read the brand and sku-number. “Tell you what, why don’t you pull your truck around to the back, and I’ll load the cans in.”

“I need some rollers and paint tins, as well.”

“No problem, I’ll get it all collected.”

Larry rang up the items. “Pay today or start a new tab?” he asked.

“Can I start a new tab?”

“Certainly.”

Kate carried the two cans she had with her out to her truck and set them in the bed then drove around to the back of the hardware store where Larry was waiting with more cans. She kept her truck idling as she stepped out and helped him load up the items into the back. Larry left momentarily then returned with the paint rollers and other materials she had mentioned, plus a few paint-stirring sticks and a drop cloth.

“How’s Carly doing?” she asked.

“Better now,” he said. “But she was really shaken up. Do you know if Scott has any leads?”

“He didn’t mention it.”

“I doubt she’ll really relax until he has the culprit in custody. That’s what she’s worried most about, that she’ll be arrested.”

“She won’t,” said Kate, reassuringly. “Scott knows what he’s doing, and he’s not going to arrest the wrong person.”

Larry narrowed his eyes on her. “Kate,” he said in a kind tone that also conveyed he begged to differ, “Scott has a long history of arresting the wrong people. I was one of them, remember? If people in this town have any faith in him, it’s because marrying you showed excellent judgment. I think the residents around here are counting on you to set him straight when he veers off the mark.” Larry paused to take a deep breath. “But I’ve got to tell you... people are getting really worried.”

She grimaced, having an idea of where he was going with this.

“At this point, he’s investigating Jason for Becky’s disappearance?” He had phrased it like a question, but it sounded like a statement. “If he can think such a thing about his own family, about his wife’s son, then what hope does Carly have of not being falsely accused?”

She didn’t know what she could say to set his mind at ease.

“You have to keep your eye on him.” She told him she would and was about to climb into her truck, when he stopped her, saying, “I did some asking around about Clifford. I don’t know who might have killed him, but I found out that Dean had hired him to work at the amusement park. Dean’s hiring a lot of ex-cons, cheap labor and all. It sounds to me that with Clifford’s history, there could be a long list of people who wanted him dead.”

“You’re probably right,” she said, making a mental note that she ought to drive by the site and check it out. “Give Carly my best.”

She hopped up behind the wheel and started off for Meredith’s house.

To Kate’s surprise, when she pulled up to the curb, she saw that Meredith’s car was in the driveway and the front door was wide open. After locking her truck and starting up the walkway, she heard Meredith speaking to someone. She gradually recognized the voice as Justina’s, the head agent at Carnegie Real Estate.

“Kate,” Justina exclaimed, as soon as she stepped through the door. “Just who we were talking about.”

“Yes?”

“As you know, we’re getting this house ready to put on the market. Are you available to stage it?”

“I can make myself available,” she said. “But as I mentioned to Meredith, the furniture looks great. I’m not sure what I might add.”

“The movers are coming tonight,” Justina explained. “It should be empty by tomorrow, and I’d like to start showing it this weekend.”

Taken aback, Kate scrambled to mentally view her calendar. “I have a job at the mayor’s office,” she explained, as soon as she’d wrapped her head around it, “but I can pick up furniture after hours. Most of the stores are open until nine anyway.”

“Great,” said Justina, clapping her hands together as if to conclude the conversation. “You can stop by Carnegie to pick up your budget. We’ve upgraded our system and have a credit card for you. Once you give us a breakdown of proposed expenditures, we’ll approve them and give you the card.”

All Kate heard was that she’d have to do a hell of a lot of pricing research before she would actually be able to get down to business, but she agreed, and Meredith saw her off.

Kate smelled fresh coffee in the kitchen, so she helped herself to a mug and then padded through the living room and let herself out onto the patio.

After gulping down more than half the mug, she set it on the ground and began laying out the remaining tiles.

Meredith widened the doorway and stepped out with her own mug of coffee.

“Looks good,” she said. “You’ll be finished tomorrow?”

“I’ll certainly do my best,” she said, sitting back on her heels to look up at Meredith. “So you’re thinking of moving out of Rock Ridge?”

Meredith’s face went slack, and then she threw her head back, laughing and then shaking it with a sly smile on her face. “This town,” she mused. “There’s no sense of privacy, is there?”

“Not really,” said Kate, who had worked hard to keep to herself so she could avoid being the center of the rumor mill.

“Yes, I won’t be staying in town.”

“What if it takes more time to sell the house?” she asked, remembering the difficulty Meredith had when she attempted to sell years prior. As beautiful as the art deco design was, it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and Justina had made virtually no headway getting anyone to buy it.

“This time it’s different,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I’m taking the plunge.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning…I’ve already found a cute little condo in Tampa.”

“Florida?”

“I can’t do another Rock Ridge winter,” she explained. “And the condo I found is quite reasonable. If worse comes to worse, I have ways of managing the rent down there and keeping up with the mortgage on this house. But I have faith Justina will work some magic and sell the place.” Meredith’s gaze wandered over the compacted dirt area where Kate had yet to lay tiles. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

And she did.

Kate fell into deep concentration, laying down tiles and carving putty between the cracks. But when she reached the far edge of the compacted dirt an hour later, she noticed that the soil looked loose.

She pressed her fingertips into it, realizing the loose soil was a circular area about eight inches in diameter. She hadn’t noticed it before, but then again she hadn’t scrutinized the edge of the area over here. However, it wouldn’t do. If the soil wasn’t compacted enough, then the tile over it was at risk for cracking if someone stood on it, so she grabbed her trowel and began pressing the dirt down, adding putty as she went, until the area was just as firm as the rest. As soon as it was, she laid down a tile and continued on, as the sun set on the horizon.

She was two tiles away from finishing, when her cell phone vibrated in her overalls. It was Scott, so she quickly answered the call.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he began. His tone was solemn, and it sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“Becky?”

“No,” he said quickly to put her mind at ease. “Carly.”

Stunned to hear her friend’s name, she asked, “What about Carly?”

“She lied. She didn’t go to Daisy’s Luncheonette that morning to pick up pancakes. There was no pancake order.”

“Scott, she didn’t do it. You can’t arrest her,” she warned.

“I don’t have enough to arrest her and I don’t know that I will. But she lied. And I take lying as a sign of guilt.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take her in for questioning. I’m telling you this so you don’t find out from her and go off half-cocked.”

Stoically, Kate listened to what he had to say, but in the back of her mind, she had no intention of minding her own business when it came to Carly. Quite the opposite in fact.

Chapter Four

Immediately after leaving Meredith Joste’s house, Kate drove into the center of town where Daisy’s Luncheonette was aglow. Night had fallen, but it wasn’t late by the time she stepped inside the diner and had a quick look around. There were a fair amount of customers, but the restaurant wasn’t crowded. Daisy’s Luncheonette was still very much considered a breakfast and lunch place, and though everyone in town knew Daisy had opened her doors for dinner service a few months back, few of them had caught on.

She saw Celia and Alex Demblowski, one of Rock Ridge’s reporters, who had moved to town a few years back and got swept into a whirlwind affair with the town gossip around the same time her husband, Ken Johnson, was murdered. Celia waved at her and Kate did the same before noting who else was in the diner. Hazel Millhouse was seated with her book club in the far corner, Marla Zook and her two teenaged daughters were in throws of some kind of hormone-induced argument near the windows, and Detectives Garrison and Masey were hunched over their dinner plates at the bar.

If Scott was planning on interrogating Carly simply because she’d said she’d ordered pancakes, then Kate needed to find out for herself whether or not her friend had lied. Kate knew that in Scott’s line of work, a single lie could unravel a whole new story, but in Carly’s case, she doubted it would turn into such a thing. Maybe Carly had been mistaken. Maybe she had told the truth, but Scott spoke with the wrong person at the restaurant, who knew? All Kate wanted was to give Scott a reason to spare Carly a nerve-wracking interview. Her friend had been high strung enough.

She made her way through the diner and rounded the far side of the bar where the hostess and waitresses often gathered, waiting for the hot plates that the cooks made in the back. She didn’t notice Daisy around, which made sense. As the owner, Daisy had the luxury of working normal hours and leaving the manager, Blair Courser in charge of the night service.

Kate didn’t know Blair behind his face and name, but she greeted him in a friendly manner anyway.

“Did you need a table?” he asked then glared at the hostess, who looked young enough to still be in high school. “Please stay at the hostess stand, Emily.”

The young woman rushed off, as Kate said, “Oh no, I was hoping to ask you about something.”

“Yes?”

The other waitresses grabbed a few plates that the cooks in the back had just set out on the ledge, and then they padded off to their respective tables.

“I wanted to ask you about a pancake order my friend Carly put in the other morning. I believe she’s in the system as Sunshine Florist.”

Blair looked momentarily confused, but asked, “Okay?”

“Could you look it up?”

“Come with me,” he said, leading her through the kitchen and into the office in the back. When he sat, he tapped on the space bar of his computer keyboard. “Carly...”

“Yes.”

“That was a crazy morning,” he commented. “That poor man.”

“I was concerned that in the commotion Carly’s order was overlooked.”

He stared at her then blinked. “You’re not here to pick up her pancakes, are you?”

“No,” she smiled.

“If something like that occurred, an error on our end, we’ll certainly reimburse her.”

“That’s not really the point of this visit.”

Blair went back to scrolling through the orders from a few mornings ago. “No,” he said. “No order was placed.”

Carly wouldn’t lie, but Kate didn’t point that out. Rather she asked, “Do you know who was working that morning?”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling the lap drawer of the desk open and grabbing a tattered schedule. “Daisy, for one,” he told her right off the bat.

Daisy had been highly accusatory that Carly had something to do with Clifford’s murder, so speaking with her would get Kate virtually nowhere.

“That early in the morning, we only have two waitresses and one cook working. It looks like it was Janet and Kendra waiting tables and Grady McMullen in the kitchen.”

“Are any of them here right now?”

“Janet and Grady are.”

“You don’t mind if I speak with them, do you?”

Blair seemed to be holding his breath, as he rose from the desk. “Try to catch them when they aren’t rushing around, okay? Dinner service hasn’t exactly caught on, and if people around town hear that the service is slow.... Well, then it doesn’t help our chances.”

“Right,” she said. “No problem.”

As she passed through the kitchen, she saw a number of cooks, but had no way of knowing who was Grady McMullen.

When one of the cooks, a young man with heavily tattooed forearms, neared her to get a bottle of olive oil, Kate asked, “Could you tell me who Grady is?”

“Yeah,” he said then glanced over his shoulder to indicate the man Kate was looking for. “Big guy near the grill.”

The kitchen wasn’t especially big, and she couldn’t see herself squeezing through to get his attention. “Would it be possible for you to have him come over here?”

The young cook looked at her quizzically, but obliged, crossing through to Grady and whispering something in his ear that Kate couldn’t hear. A moment later, Grady stalked towards her. He was big to say the least. Kate guessed that he had to be at least six foot four, and he was overweight to the effect that he looked more than a grizzly bear than a human being.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Kate Flaherty, the local handy woman. Mrs. Fix It? You might have heard of my small business?”

He didn’t look impressed. “So?”

“I just wanted to find out if you recall a pancake order two mornings ago?”

He snorted a laugh. “Look, lady, this is a diner. All we make is pancakes. I made a ton of pancakes that morning.”

“A ton?” she challenged, her eyes glazing over to show him that she wasn’t impressed.

“We weren’t that busy,” he admitted. “But sure, I made some pancakes.”

“Do you know the names of the customers?”

“It’s noted on the slips, but I don’t read all that, because I don’t need to know. I just get the food order and get on with it.”

“Do you recall an order that was made but never picked up?”

Perhaps sensing that she wouldn’t let the matter drop until he supplied concrete answers, Grady took a moment to wrack his brain. Then his eyes lit up, but what he said next wasn’t at all what she was expecting.

“I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“Why would you lose your job?”

He sighed. “Daisy has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to skimming.”

“You mean taking food?”

“Which happens all the time. Customers send plates back because they think something is wrong with it, and we’re just supposed to throw it away.”

“Did you eat pancakes that were never picked up?”

“Yeah.”

“Were they for a woman named Carly?”

“I have no idea, but Daisy almost caught me. When I walked away from the box, which I’d only had a bite of, she threw it away in the dumpster out back and told everyone not to mention it.”

“Did she do anything else that seemed strange that morning?”

“Yeah, but who could act normal? As soon as she dumped the pancakes, we all got word that some guy had been murdered in the parking lot.” Grady took a moment to think things through then said, “The strangest thing was that ordinarily the hostess arrives first and lets the cooks in. Usually, Daisy doesn’t show up for about an hour. Yet, that morning, she was the first one here.”

“Interesting...”

As soon as Kate had begun to contemplate the possible reasons Daisy might have shown up so early, she was startled at the sound of the woman’s barked tone.

“What are you doing back here?”

When Kate turned, she found Daisy staring at her with wide eyes and looking appalled.

“Just checking on the shelves I put in,” she said.

“The shelves you put in two years ago?” she challenged.

“That’s right.”

“The shelves that are on the other side of the kitchen?”

“Just being friendly,” she supplied, padding through the kitchen and into the restaurant with Daisy at her heels.

“You can’t believe a word he says.”

Kate turned to face her. “Why?”

“If you can keep it to yourself, I’ll tell you.”

Kate was the last person to gossip, and Daisy knew that, so simply holding the woman’s gaze was confirmation enough.

“The most affordable labor comes with hiring...men of questionable repute.”

It sounded familiar.

“Ex-cons?” she asked.

“I really can’t have the customers finding out,” said Daisy.

“Did you tell Scott?”

“Why would I?”

Kate had to stop her jaw from dropping. “Because Clifford Green had been released from prison recently. If you have ex-convicts working here, they could’ve known Clifford. One of them could’ve had a reason to kill him. Scott is wasting his time investigating Carly for goodness sake.”

“Please stay out of it, Kate.”

She held Daisy’s gaze for a beat then started through the restaurant for her truck.

When she reached it, she dialed Scott.

“Yeah?” he said as soon as the line opened up.

“Carly didn’t lie. Daisy did,” she blurted out.

“Can we discuss this tonight when we’re both home?”

“I don’t want you interrogating Carly,” she asserted.

“It’s not going to be an interrogation. It’ll be a conversation, and one I have to have with her.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because Carly knew Clifford Green.”

Taken aback, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. “How?”

“Let’s just say Carly was the reason Clifford got locked up in the first place.”

Chapter Five

Kate had every intention of speaking to Scott about his intriguing comment to her over the phone, but he never made it home that night. She sat up awake in bed for hours pondering how Carly, her best friend for the past three decades, could’ve kept something from her as huge as having been the sole reason a man was sent to prison.

The only reason she was able to eventually fall asleep was because Scott texted her that it was going to be another long night and that she shouldn’t wait up. Tacked on to his first text message was a second, which stated he hadn’t spoken with Carly yet.

The next day, Kate woke like a lark, bolting upright in bed with Carly at the forefront of her mind. But as she showered and got ready for her day, she wondered if it would be more productive to speak with Clara, the owner of Bean There who had been romantically involved with Clifford. Which woman would be more likely to open up to her? Kate would have liked to think Carly, but if her friend hadn’t mentioned it in all the years they’d known one another, she had little reason to believe she would explain the situation now. Carly had kept mum, after all, even in the face of finding Clifford dead. Kate reasoned that could have been because she didn’t want to implicate herself further. If she had been the reason Clifford was sent to prison, it would stand to reason that people would assume his release had driven her to kill him. But still, Kate wished Carly trusted her enough to tell her about all this in the first place.

At least with Clara, Kate could argue the barista owed her. Clara had been under Scott’s scrutiny last week when Cookie had been killed, and Kate had done a careful job of exonerating her. Maybe Clara would be more apt to talk.

So Kate drove to Bean There and hoped she could get a few moments alone with Clara.

Stepping through the coffee shop door, she noted it was just after eight in the morning. Clara was alone behind the counter tending to a few customers, but for the most part Bean There was pretty quiet. The morning surge had yet to flood through.

“Hey Kate,” Clara said in a heavy voice when she approached the counter.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

Clara sighed. “It comes in waves.”

“I really need to ask you about something if you have a few minutes?”

Clara glanced over her shoulder and shouted Mary-Beth’s name then the young barista stepped out, wiping her damp hands on her apron.

“Can you watch the counter for a few minutes?”

She stood post, inviting the next customer to step up and order, as Clara found a vacant table in the back.

When they sat, Kate took a moment to formulate how she might delve into such a sensitive topic.

“I need to ask you about Clifford’s history,” she began.

“What about it?”

“Did he ever tell you about the reason he was incarcerated?”

Clara seemed to clam up, but gradually said, “You’re referring to Carly?”

“So he did tell you?”

“Pieces,” she said admittedly. “He didn’t like to talk about it.”

“Can you tell me what he told you?” she asked when Clara fell silent again.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable speaking ill of the dead.” Kate didn’t want to have to point out that she’d saved Clara from going to prison for Cookie’s murder, but she had no choice, and as soon as she mentioned it, Clara said, “All right, okay. I’m sure you heard Clifford had gotten into some trouble back in high school and he ended up leaving town. Well, he ended up coming back, not to stay, but to try to sell drugs. All I know is that Carly saw something and she reported it. So Clifford fled, leaving town right away. Then he went to Philadelphia to try to sell there but got busted. It was minor though, and he should’ve gotten a light reprimand, but the investigating detective pulled up a record of every little report ever made about Clifford. Carly was all too willing to drive out and testify, and between these multiple minor offences he got put away.” Clara drew in a deep breath then added, “Carly probably didn’t mention it to you, because it might have been a small thing to her. But it was a big thing to Clifford. He hated her. And when he came back to town to try and help Cookie, I got involved with him mainly because I was spending so much time and effort to keep him away from Carly. He wanted to confront her, and I kept telling him that it would be a bad idea.”

“Even if he did catch up with Carly to confront her,” said Kate, thinking out loud, “she wouldn’t have killed him.”

“Whoever killed him had a gun,” Clara added.

“Which hasn’t been found as far as I understand.”

“Look, Clifford met a lot of bad people in prison. He went to federal and kept getting moved around the country to different facilities until he ended up right here in Pennsylvania. Any number of the convicts getting hired around town, especially at that amusement park, could’ve done it.”

Kate agreed, but she also couldn’t rule out the possibility that residents were catching on that convicts were migrating to Rock Ridge—and because of it, they made the perfect scapegoat. After all, that was what had happened when Cookie turned up dead. Kate herself had suspected Clifford. And the reality was that Officer Gunther had taken her life.

Was that what was happening now? Or had Clifford’s dark past finally caught up with him?

She thanks Clara for her time, as they got up from the table.

“Let me get you a coffee to go,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

Behind the counter, Clara poured dark roast in a large to-go cup and handed it to Kate.

When she reached her truck, she checked the time. She needed to get back to Meredith’s and finish the patio, then make a full list of furniture items and submit a budget to Justina, and on top of that, she would have to get into the mayor’s office to fix up Jared’s office. Just thinking about all she needed to do was daunting, and it didn’t help that she was in a constant state of worry over Jason.

No new leads had come in regarding Becky, and as far as she knew, the kidnapper hadn’t reached out to the Langleys. What was he waiting for?

Despite her hectic schedule, she felt it would be worthwhile to swing by the amusement park. If old prison associates of Clifford’s were now working there, maybe someone would know something and be willing to talk.

It is the Anarchist Freedom Network all over again, she thought, as she drove to the east side of town. People she didn’t know had been cropping up around town like weeds through concrete, easily unnoticeable, but rampant just the same. Convicts. And because they were taking jobs no one in town wanted—cooks and bus boys and construction workers—it was safe to assume the other resident of Rock Ridge hadn’t observed the infiltration either.

But again, she stopped herself from thinking the worst. Instead, she pulled off the main road, turning into the old camping area, which was now overwrought with bulldozers and cranes while construction workers operated various machines she had never seen before. They were building quickly. The last time she had swung by, there wasn’t an admissions building, but now its foundation and steel frame were erect.

Coming to a stop in the parking area, she felt for her cell phone in her overalls, making sure it was still on her, and then pulled her key from the ignition. She spied a trailer up the way. Its broad side was marked with the Six Flags logo, and its side door was open.

It stood to reason that among the construction workers who were also ex-cons, at least one of them would’ve known Clifford. The trick would be connecting to that person. She wasn’t sure her effort would be productive, but she had to start somewhere. Scott meant well, but she was losing faith in him. In the same vein, she didn’t want to strain their marriage further, so she promised herself—whatever she found out, if anything—she would turn it over to him, perhaps anonymously. That way, she could send him in the right direction without jeopardizing their dynamic, which couldn’t afford to falter any further than it had.

As she made her way towards the site, movement within the trailer caught her eye. The trailer windows were open, and there was nothing concealing her view. Dean Wentworth was inside, pacing with his fists planted on his hips as though something was wrong. Then a man in a suit came before the window and began arguing a point she couldn’t hear.

Quickening her pace so she wouldn’t be seen, she neared a stack of steel materials and ducked behind them. She scanned the construction workers. Some she recognized as residents, a good sign that Dean had followed through with his promise to employ those in Rock Ridge who had been out of work. However, the majority of men she saw definitely weren’t from around Rock Ridge, or at least they hadn’t been.

She startled when a man brushed by her from behind, mumbling, “Watch it,” as if she could’ve foreseen she would be in his way. He was wearing a hard hat, and though he was muscular, his stature implied he was getting up there in years.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting his attention. He pivoted and furrowed his brow to meet her eye through the glare of sunlight that was beating down.

“You lost?”

“Do you know a man named Clifford Green?” she asked, diving in without pretense.

He smirked and his expression shifted in a way that told her he thought she might be out of her mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Clifford’s dead.”

“Yes, I know that.” She neared him secretively. “I heard he was hired here.”

“So?”

“Did you know him?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Who are you?”

Grady hadn’t exactly been more apt to talk to her after finding out she was the local handy woman, so she answered his question with the more personal aspect of why she was here.

“I’m close friends with a woman whom the police are looking at for his murder, but she’s innocent.”

The construction worker eyed her for a long beat, then his face smoothed curiously with a knowing smirk.

“Hey, you’re the police chief’s wife, aren’t you?”

She was still getting used to people referring to her as Scott’s wife. Though being married to him meant the world to her, it often didn’t sit right that people didn’t see her as someone with her own identity, but rather as an extension of her husband. But she quirked her mouth into a confirming smirk.

“So your hubs is interrogating your friend?” He laughed, shaking his head.

To get him back on track, she stated, “Clifford did some time, and I wonder if he was killed because of something that happened in prison.”

He glanced around, saying, “Yeah, we’ve all done some time.”

“You were in prison with Clifford?”

“I was,” he said reluctantly. “But a lot of us were.”

“Can you think of anyone who would’ve had it in for him?”

“Look, most of us here just got out of prison. Why would we do something to risk going back?” he challenged, and it was a good point. “If it was anyone, it was one of you people. Do you have any idea how much of a hard time we’ve been getting? I’ve personally been refused service at several delis, bars, and a park.” He gaped at her, his mouth dropping to emphasize his point. “Can you believe that? I was at a public park and a cop asked me to leave. Said I was scaring the children.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, even though she wasn’t.

“I don’t want to get involved, and you’re not going to want to quote me on this because—quite frankly—the cops around here aren’t going to believe the word of an ex-con, but I saw this crazy woman arguing with Clifford.”

Kate cocked her head with interest. “Clifford got into an argument with a woman?” Clara came to mind.

“No, Clifford didn’t get into anything,” he corrected. “He was backing away and trying to get her to calm down.”

“What were they arguing about?”

“As far as I could tell... money.”

“So they knew each other well?”

“That’s what it looked like.” He took a moment to light a cigarette, as though he figured they would be talking for a bit. “Then when we were going to leave for the day, Clifford saw his rear tires were slashed. It was crystal clear the woman did it.”

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

“She was about your height. Wavy hair. She looked like she had money if you ask me.”

Clara has flower tattoos, and her hair is constantly changing colors, so it can’t be her, Kate thought.

“Then the boss broke it up. Sent her on her way. But…she didn’t leave, not until she slashed Clifford’s tires.”

“What boss? The construction manager?”

“No, the freaking mayor.”

Immediately, Kate peered around the steel pile into the trailer window. Dean was still in the throes of his heated discussion with one of the executives.

“Did the mayor seem familiar with her?”

“Familiar? I don’t know. I was trying to mind my own business. You should ask him.”

Kate started for the trailer then turned on her heel.

“What’s your name?”

“Bobby,” he said, but she waited for his last name. “Shank.”

“Your last name is Shank?”

He grinned. “They didn’t have to give me a nickname in prison.”

“No, with a name like Shank they wouldn’t need to,” she agreed then rounded the steel pile and padded up the trailer’s steps.

But the second she glanced into the trailer, she caught eyes with Jason, who was seated in a chair, observing the argument from his front row seat.

“Jason,” she said, interrupting Dean and the executive, who had discarded his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, quietly getting to his feet, as if her arrival might go unnoticed. “You’re not checking up on me, are you?”

“No.” She was so thrown to find him here, her mind suddenly jumping to the conclusion that her son would be working in the midst of all sorts of criminals that she didn’t think to apologize to Dean, who was now staring at her with wide eyes.

The executive looked even less pleased. “Is this how you’re running things, Wentworth? Random people encouraged to barge in on meetings?”

“It’s not how I’m running things,” Dean snapped. “That’s why we’ve got Jason here.”

Jason beamed a smile at Kate. “Hear that?”

“You’re going to be running things?”

“Dean doesn’t have time to manage Wentworth Construction and hold his seat as the mayor, so he just hired me,” he explained, but when Dean glared at him for still being here, he quickly guided Kate out of the trailer and down the steps.

“Honey, that’s great,” she said.

“I think so. It’ll give me structure.”

It would also give Scott a reason to back off of Jason’s case. If Scott suspected Becky and Jason had orchestrated her kidnapping as a ploy to exploit money from the Langleys, his theory would collapse in the face of Jason’s new income.

“I’m going to start tomorrow.”

“When did this happen? Dean approached you?”

“He gave me a call.”

“So what’s with all the yelling and screaming in there?”

Speaking in a low tone, Jason said, “Dean was supposed to put everyone on the payroll at minimum wage. It’s that guy’s money after all. But Dean didn’t think it would be right to pay residents with clean records the same as the ex-cons working here. It’s only like twelve guys who are getting better pay, but the suit in there is furious.”

Kate smirked. She always knew Dean was a good guy. She was glad he bent the rules. Yet, Dean had his secrets.

“So why are you really here?”

“Ah, I was hoping to talk to Dean about... Jared’s office. It’s going to be a lot more expensive to fix up than I thought.”

It seemed to make sense to Jason, who nodded then padded up the stairs, readying to catch Dean on her behalf.

When he returned, she could see Jason was in good spirits and she couldn’t be happier. His face wasn’t drawn like it had been, and he wasn’t lumbering about exhaustively. Being appointed the head of Wentworth Construction could prove to be the best thing for him, but it still concerned her that he would oversee so many criminals.

“I’ve got to head out. Get my affairs in order,” he said, to which she smirked.

“Affairs?”

“Well, errands—laundry, grocery shopping, stocking up the house since I’ll be working long hours. Damn,” he said, his smile falling, “Becky would’ve been so proud of me.”

“She will be,” said Kate. “As soon as she’s back.”

“I want to think that, Mom. But I know what they say about the first seventy-two hours a person is missing.”

“You can’t give up hope,” she said, turning serious. “Jason, she’s out there and we’ll find her.”

Relenting, he said, “Yeah, I know.” Then he shot her a sad smile and started towards the parking area.

A moment later, Dean stepped out of the trailer.

“Jared’s office is going to be pricey?”

She waited for him to descend the stairs before she delved into the issue at hand.

“No,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want Jason in our business.”

“So what’s up?”

“You broke up a fight between Clifford Green and a woman?”

The casual smile on Dean’s face drooped and then his expression hardened. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, reading his demeanor, which had her suddenly concerned. “Who was the woman?”

Avoiding the question with the same cadence she had used, he said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m afraid it does,” she countered. “If you know something, you really need to tell Scott.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t?”

She was willing to bet he hadn’t, but she didn’t say it.

“I know you think you’re helping,” he went on, “but just because someone gets into a verbal altercation doesn’t mean they’re guilty of murder. You should know that better than anyone.”

“All I know is that whoever killed Clifford is still running around town free as a bird.”

“I gave your son a job,” he said curtly. “One that pays quite well if you really must know.” To conclude, he added, “You’re welcome,” and then he padded up the trailer steps and disappeared inside, slamming the door.

Who was the woman who slashed Clifford’s tires? It wasn’t Clara, and she doubted it was Carly. Her florist friend had wavy hair, but like Kate, Carly dressed sensibly for working with flowers and soil. No one would characterize her as someone whose clothes screamed money.

Becky came to mind, but she forced the possibility out of her head. It was too outlandish, and she had already decided it couldn’t have been Becky she saw outside of Daisy’s Luncheonette that night.

Dean knows something, she thought, as she pulled out of her parking spot and headed into town. And if Dean doesn’t want to tell me, then maybe Jessica will.

Jessica Wentworth had a long history of being a mayor’s wife. Formerly married to Dudley Stuart, the prior mayor of Rock Ridge two terms ago, Jessica had lived quite a cozy life—except for the tragedy of her son, Bradley, having gone missing when he’d been only four. When Dudley had been murdered, Jessica reached an all-time low, not only mourning his death, but also because she had been accused of committing the crime. She had bounced back, however, when she became involved with Dean. And two years ago, she reached an all-time high—thanks to Kate, who had reunited her with her long, lost son.

Because of it, Kate felt confident that if Jessica knew something, she would let Kate in on the secret, so Kate put off price-checking furniture rentals for Meredith’s house to stop in on her.

As she pulled to the curb in front of the house, she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket and wasn’t at all surprised to find a text message from Justina asking her if she was planning on stopping by with her budget.

Give me until six o’clock? She responded then hopped out onto the street.

The heat was stifling, as she made her way up the walk. She knocked on the door then realized the house was too big for anyone inside to hear her, so she rang the doorbell. She could hear it chime faintly through the door, and a few moments later, Bradley opened it.

“Kate,” he said, surprised to see her on the welcome mat. “Is my mom expecting you?”

“No, I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure,” he said, widening the door for her to come inside.

As soon as she did, the crisp AC hit her, and she realized she must have been sweating terribly. Following Bradley—whose name still popped up in her head as ‘Toby’ because that’s who he had introduced himself as when she had met him years back surrounding the Anarchist Freedom Networks infiltration into Rock Ridge—she asked, “How are you enjoying college?”

“I’m enjoying the summer break,” he laughed. “But it’s going well. I’ve been helping out in the mayor’s office when I can, too. Jared’s hilarious.”

“Is that right?”

“Hey, Mom,” he said, hovering in the doorway of her studio.

Jessica had turned her flare for designing t-shirts, which had only been a hobby, into a full-fledged business a year ago and had since branched out into all styles of clothing. Her studio was a lively mess of cloth and scraps and mannequins in various stages of undress.

“Oh, Kate,” Jessica exclaimed, straightening up from her sewing machine. “What brings you here—besides a cup of coffee?”

She smiled and realized the mere mention of coffee had caused her mind to go momentarily blank.

Jessica was already approaching a table in the corner where a coffee maker sat with a fresh pot of dark roast. She poured a mug and offered it to Kate. And when she reached for it, she realized Bradley had silently excused himself. They were alone.

“Thanks,” she said between sips. “I needed this.”

“How is Jason doing?” she asked, concerned. “How are you doing for that matter?”

“We’re holding up.”

“I know the feeling,” she said. “But if I got Bradley back after more than a decade, there’s always hope Becky will be found.”

“We’re certainly trying to stay hopeful,” she said in agreement.

“I’m so glad Jason accepted the position at Wentworth Construction,” she went on. “I know it must have been hard for him. There’s a lot of guilt surrounding the idea of moving on after a loved one has vanished. But the fact of the matter is that you can keep your life going while remaining active in the search, you know?”

“No, I know,” she said. “He was getting so depressed, and now that he’s been hired, it’s like the life came back into his eyes.”

“That’s so good to hear,” she said, sitting on the edge of her table.

“So I’ll get down to it,” she began. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’m sure you heard about one of Dean’s construction workers getting murdered?”

“Of course. Clifford Green. Shocking.”

“I have to ask you...” she trailed off. She dreaded putting Jessica in a position to perhaps betray her husband.

“It’s okay, Kate. You can ask. If it wasn’t for you, I might be in prison right now, falsely convicted for Dudley’s murder.”

She was glad she didn’t have to point that out.

“I heard Dean broke up a fight between Clifford and a woman at the construction site,” she said. “And then the woman slashed Clifford’s tires. I haven’t heard any other account of violence against Clifford, and I know he did time, but I’d really like to know who the woman was. Dean wouldn’t tell me.”

Jessica’s expression didn’t give much away, but Kate couldn’t tell if that was because she was preparing herself to protect her husband, or if she simply didn’t know anything about it.

“Did Dean mention anything to you?”

“Kate,” she said, taking a moment to formulate her response before stating it. “If this was about anything else, you know I’d tell you everything I could. But...”

“Who was this woman, Jessica?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What if this is the person who killed Clifford? Do you really want her roaming free around Rock Ridge?”

“Well, I can safely tell you that an argument—”

“And slashing his tires.”

“Right, well, it isn’t proof she killed him.”

“Why are you two protecting her?”

“If you really must know, she made a sizable donation to the mayor’s office. It was historic. It’s going to cover Dean’s campaign for re-election, and it covered his investment in the amusement park.”

“He’s an investor?”

“He had to entice Six Flag’s to want to build in Rock Ridge. Look, I hate politics and it’s all very confusing. I’m sorry. All I can say is that there’s no way she had anything to do with Clifford’s murder.”

“Why were they arguing? How does a woman in a position to donate thousands—”

Jessica interrupted only to correct her. “Millions.”

“Millions? Well, how does someone like that know a criminal? Why were they arguing?”

“I really don’t know.”

Kate could tell by the look in Jessica’s eye that she was telling the truth in that regard, but it frustrated her to no end that Jessica was holding out on her.

“Please,” she said. “I won’t tell Dean you told me.”

Jessica slid off the table and squared her shoulders at Kate confrontationally.

“If my husband asks me to keep something confident, I keep it confident,” she stated, but her tone implied Kate didn’t hold the same values in her own marriage—and the insinuation nearly pitched her into a rage.

But she drew in a deep breath, calming herself, and then said, “Thanks for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

It was a very long walk to the front door, and when Bradley called out her name, wishing her a good day, she barely flicked her eyes in his direction.

Outside, the air was sweltering. She made slow work of shutting the door behind her, not quite willing to part with the crisp AC wafting out of the house.

The moment she did, her cell phone buzzed in her overalls.

It was Scott.

“Hey,” she said in an exhausted tone.

“I have some good news,” he said.

“I could use some good news.”

“It looks like the Clifford Green case is going to close. We made our arrest.”

“Who?”

“Daisy if you can believe it.”

Daisy?

She couldn’t.

Chapter Six

So after Daisy had pointed her finger at Carly, Daisy ended up getting arrested? Had Carly pointed her finger right back at her in retaliation? Kate knew Scott was a far better police chief than someone who would book a person on mere rumor, but it did beg the question, why had Daisy been arrested? Grady, the cook had mentioned it had been out of character for Daisy to show up at the diner before the employees that morning. Had she killed Clifford in the parking lot? Scott certainly thought so, yet he hadn’t confided in her that his team found the murder weapon. Wouldn’t he have mentioned it?

The day was getting away from her. There was less than an hour’s worth of sunlight, but luckily her go-to furniture store for renting items whenever she needed to stage a house would be open until nine o’clock.

She walked through the entrance of Corey’s Cabinets, a mom-and-pop store she favored over IKEA, which was on the outskirts of town. Though Corey, the owner, had needed much buttering up and prodding, she had managed to convince him a year back to allow her to rent furniture, even though his store wasn’t known for doing such a thing. To convince him that she would return all items undamaged, she had taken out an insurance policy. It had done the trick—though he wasn’t exactly doing her any favors with the prices.

She found Corey smoothing down a fresh mattress cover over one of the newer models. He was a portly man with a thin tuft of white hair sprouting from the top of his head and his spectacles always seemed to be slipping down his nose.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, rounding through the displays and heading towards the living room furniture. “Just pricing out a few items.”

“Evening, Kate,” he said when he had a moment to glance up. “Let me know if you need anything.”

What she needed was pictures of Meredith’s living room unfurnished. It was challenging to visualize the room. She hadn’t been back since the movers had cleared the house, and she couldn’t quite picture it empty.

She took her time perusing the floor display items, making notes as she went whenever she saw a piece of furniture she thought would work in Meredith’s house. The trick revolved around trying to match the pieces to the art deco style, which wasn’t easy. Corey’s Cabinets tended to be stocked with antique items, which would clash badly, but she managed to pick out a few choice items, noting their prices and tallying a total.

“Will you be around tomorrow?” she asked, approaching the counter where Corey was clicking through his computer.

“Shorter hours,” he said, glancing up at her. “But yes, I’ll be here until four.”

“I may swing by with a U-Haul to get a few things, if this budget is approved.”

“Another house for Justina to sell?”

“That’s the idea,” she said. “But it’s Meredith Joste’s art deco. It didn’t sell two years ago.”

“Well, you never know. I’ve seen a lot of new faces around Rock Ridge.”

So had Kate, but she doubted anyone recently released from prison would have the means to purchase a home as expensive as Meredith’s.

“Besides,” he went on, “Meredith has time.”

Kate cocked her head at that. “I’m not sure she does. She’s moving to Florida. She’s already emptied the house. I’m sure the last thing she wants is to keep up a mortgage while she’s paying rent on a condo down there.”

“I’m sure she can afford it,” he said offhandedly.

“What makes you sure?”

“Meredith’s quite well off. You didn’t realize that?”

She hadn’t.

“She downplays her wealth, but make no mistake, she should have no problem managing two homes.”

Then why is she moving? Kate wondered. She had been under the impression that Meredith needed to sell her home because it had gotten unaffordable. If she could afford it and then some, what was her rush to leave Rock Ridge and get down to Florida?

She handed him another list she had made, saying, “These are the items I’ll pick up tomorrow if Justina okays them.”

Corey read through her list, but before he could reach the bottom he said, “I only have one of these coffee tables, and I’m afraid I can’t spare it.”

“Shoot. Can you recommend something similar? A living room without a coffee table will look strange.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, as he emerged from the counter and began walking slowly through the store.

“Glass top,” she said. “Brass legs.”

“I know what the coffee table looks like,” he said impatiently.

She was impressed. She had only jotted down the SKU numbers.

“What about this one?”

Corey was pulling another glass coffee table out from beneath a larger table. She hadn’t even seen it.

“It’s the only one I’ve got, but it hasn’t sold in years, so I can live without it for a few months if need be.”

“This looks great,” she said.

“And I’ll rent it to you for half of what the other would’ve cost you.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

“In fact, if you feel like being a powerhouse,” he went on, “you could swing by tonight to get these. Truth be told, it’s an imposition having you on the weekends. The hours are short enough as it is, and when I’m off the floor helping you, I’m not on the floor selling.”

“Let me see what I can do,” she said. “I haven’t rented the truck yet.”

“There’s hardly anything on here,” he countered. “Use your pickup.”

“Corey, I’ve listed a queen-sized bed.”

“So you’ll take a few trips.”

Yeah, and I’ll never see my husband, she thought. Not with Corey suggesting she work into the wee hours, driving back and forth, delivering furniture to save him from one hour of inconvenience.

But she agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. How late will you be here?”

“We close at nine, but I’ll be doing the bookkeeping until eleven or midnight. Just give me a holler.”

On her way out, she dialed Carnegie Real Estate and one of Justina’s new assistants picked up.

“Hey, it’s Kate Flaherty.”

“You mean York?”

“No, I mean Flaherty, but yes, I’m married to Scott York.”

“Like I said.”

Kate tried not to sigh loudly. “Can I swing by to drop off my budget and get that credit card?”

“If you come right now. We’re locking up.”

“I’ll be there in three minutes.”

And she was.

Justina’s assistant, Veronica, who always seemed to be dressed in pink for reasons Kate feared to imagine, was waiting and tapping her heel against the floor just inside the anteroom.

“You were longer than three minutes. It’s Friday night, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” she said, handing the snooty young woman the list she had made.

“In the future,” she said, “you should submit this on a Purchase Order, with the list from Corey’s stapled in back of it.”

Kate didn’t point out that she meant Rental Order and not Purchase Order. She simply said that she would.

“It looks good,” she said. “Here’s the card.”

As soon as she had it in her hand, she saw the name on the credit card: Kate York.

“This says York.”

“That’s your name.”

“It’s not my name. It’s not the name on my driver’s license, or my mortgage, or any of my bank accounts or credit card statements, and if they ask me to show ID at the counter, I’m going to have a problem.”

The young woman pitched her eyebrow up her forehead with immense skepticism. “Why would Corey ID you?”

To end this irritating conversation, she stated, “Thank you,” in a sharp tone then yanked the door open and made her way out to her truck.

It was going to be a long night.

Doubling back to Corey’s Cabinets, she gave Corey a quick call, knowing she shouldn’t drive and talk on her cell phone, but the conversation was brief. She pulled around the back of the furniture store, and luckily, Corey must have wanted a good, long distraction from bookkeeping, because he was ready for her, as she rolled to a stop.

“I brought all the smaller items out, as you can see. But we’ll have to do the bed together.”

“Sure thing,” she said. “Should we get it now so I don’t have to bother you on my next trip?”

He shrugged, indicating it was a decent idea. They walked through the storage area in the back of the store and rounded through the bedroom displays.

Though she had full coverage insurance, Corey was only comfortable renting her the floor items, which had been chinked and chipped over the months from prospective customers.

When he reached the bed frame she had noted on her list, he supplied her with a screwdriver and they began disassembling the bed. Soon they were piling the pieces into the back of her truck. Next came the mattress, which they wrestled and maneuvered through the furniture store. When they set it in her truck bed, Kate needed a minute to catch her breath.

“I bet we could lay the smaller items on top.”

She widened her eyes as though he were insane.

“I have bungee cords. Trust me, I don’t want the furniture flying off into the street any more than you do.”

One trip would certainly be better than two or three, so she agreed, helping him carry piece after piece and loading up the truck bed. By the time they were done, the furniture was teetering precariously on top of the mattress, but Corey wasted no time anchoring it down with several cords.

She thanked him, as she hopped up behind the wheel.

“Take care,” he said, as she drove off.

Night was falling fast, and as she pulled into Meredith Joste’s driveway, she wrapped her head around the fastest way to unload her truck. If Meredith had truly moved out all of her belongings, then Kate should be able to simply put the furniture in the garage and arrange it another day.

It seemed like the most productive course of action considering she was ready to drop, so she climbed out of her truck and rang the doorbell, but Meredith didn’t seem to be home.

Where the heck did she go when she disappeared like this?

Kate sighed then searched around the flowerpots, hoping Meredith had left the spare key in the one on the left. She had.

Kate let herself in and was going to round through the foyer and into the garage to open it from the inside when she remembered she still had a few tiles to secure down on the patio.

Decisions. Decisions.

She reasoned she might as well finish the patio now. That way if Meredith got home, she could get formal permission to stow Corey’s furniture in the garage.

But the thought of working for even twenty minutes on the patio made her legs feel like rubber. She took a detour into the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee. As it percolated, the aroma revived her almost as well as her first sip, which she took padding out to the living room.

As she opened the sliding glass door and flipped on the floodlight outside, she immediately noticed one of the tiles was cracked. Letting herself out, she realized it was the tile that she had laid over that strange patch of loose soil. It shouldn’t have cracked, she thought, since I had covered the soil with a thick layer of putty.

She set her mug of coffee down and counted the remaining tiles she had. Luckily, she would still have more than enough to replace the damaged tile and lay down the last three, so she muscled a can of putty open, kneeled in front of the cracked tile, and began prying it up off the ground.

“Hey!”

Kate turned to find Meredith rushing through the darkened living room towards the open door. Startled, she froze, wondering why Meredith looked suddenly furious.

“I didn’t think you were home,” she explained. “I can have this finished in a half hour tops.”

“Leave it!” she ordered, her gaze locked on the cracked tile, which Kate had nearly pried off.

“Meredith, it’s got a crack down its center. I can easily replace it.”

“Just leave it,” she snapped. “It’s fine.”

“Well, it isn’t. Like I said, it’s cracked.”

“I don’t have time for this, Kate.”

Meredith was dressed up, she realized, as she glanced her up and down.

“You really should have called ahead.”

She didn’t appreciate the tone Meredith had taken. Rising to her feet, she asserted, “I’m not interested in dragging out this project. We both want it done, and I’m here now. Can I finish?”

Meredith drew in a deep breath and held it as a measure to calm herself then said, “Fine. Finish it. But leave that tile as it is.”

It was beyond her why Meredith would want her brand new patio to be so imperfect, but she didn’t argue. Rather, she asked, “My truck is full of furniture. I was hoping to leave it in your garage and come back tomorrow to stage the house.”

“I’m flying out tomorrow.”

“When?”

“In the evening, but I can’t have you bumbling about distracting me.”

“Meredith, what is wrong? You seem agitated, and you aren’t acting like yourself.”

“I’m fine except that I found someone on my back patio,” she stated, accusingly. “Just do what you have to do and lock up. I’m late as it is. And leave that tile! It’s fine!”

In mock response, Kate lifted her hands in surrender as if to say, ‘I won’t touch it, sheesh.’

As soon as Meredith left and Kate heard the click of the front door shutting, she grumbled to herself about Meredith’s volatile attitude and went right ahead with fixing the cracked tile anyway. This patio was an example of her work, after all, and residents from all over Rock Ridge and the surrounding counties could very well pass through those doors, interested in buying the place. Kate wasn’t going to allow her reputation to be tarnished, just because Meredith’s blood sugar had dropped too low.

Was that it? Had she sunk into a foul mood because she hadn’t eaten? Hadn’t had her coffee? Was she generally stressed about picking up and moving her entire life to Florida?

Whatever the reason, Kate wasted no time replacing the tile and laying down the rest. She was so rattled by Meredith that she finished in record time, locked the sliding glass door, and padded through the house into the garage where she opened the door.

Carrying each piece of furniture into the garage was no easy task. Often she longed for a fresh cup of coffee, but pausing to drink would only drag this endeavor out further, and she would rather be home with Scott. She was dying to find out what had possibly led him to arrest Daisy.

Soon the furniture pieces were tucked into the garage and Kate drew the door down. She was quick to lock the front door and hide the spare key where she had found it in the flowerpot.

As she approached her truck, she thought about giving Scott a call. Considering Jason had landed a great position at Wentworth Construction, it might be nice to get together for dinner, all four of them. Daisy’s Luncheonette came to mind, as she hopped into her truck. But then she cringed at the thought. Would Daisy’s even be open? Who was running the place now that she was in jail?

Deciding to simply get home as soon as possible, she thought she could give Jason and Jared a call after getting the scoop on Daisy from Scott. She put her truck in reverse and began backing out, but her tires were making a strange thumping sound.

She slammed on the brakes, knowing the problem.

After jumping out and rushing to the rear tires where the terrible sound had come from, she saw that her back left tire was flat.

Circling the rear, she discovered the right tire was also flat, and when she kneeled to closely inspect the rubber, she saw it had been slashed.

Popping up to her feet, she gasped.

The woman who had argued with Clifford and then slashed his tires, the woman who had donated to the mayor’s office, who Dean and Jessica were unwilling to name, had to be Meredith Joste.

Quickly, she sent a call through to Scott, and the second he picked up, she blurted out, “You’re not going to believe this.”

Chapter Seven

Scott stared down at the flattened tire.

“It was Meredith,” said Kate with conviction. “I know it was Meredith.”

“You know?”

“It had to have been.”

“Why would she slash your tires?” he challenged in a way that told her he had undergone a day as rough as hers.

She tried not to take it personally.

“She flipped out on me earlier, just before she left the house, all because I wanted to fix a cracked tile on her patio.”

Scott blinked then raised his brow, as if she had yet to make her point.

“Between the time I parked to the time I realized the tires were slashed, no one else was around. It was only an hour.”

“But you were in the house. Anyone could’ve come by.”

“To slash my tires? Who would want to do such a thing? Everyone likes me.”

His silence spoke volumes.

“I’m well liked,” she stammered. “Look, I did some asking around at the construction site, spoke with a contractor who is working on the amusement park. He knew Clifford, and he told me he got into a fight with a woman—”

“A fight?”

“An argument. And then he found his tires had been slashed. The rear ones, just like mine.”

“Did he tell you it was Meredith Joste?”

She didn’t want to have to say no.

“So all we really have here is a connection that the person who slashed Clifford’s tires, who may or may not have killed him, also slashed yours.”

“I think we have a little more than that,” she countered.

“Like what?”

“Like, why is Meredith in a sudden rush to leave Rock Ridge? If you ask me, she’s skipping town because she just killed someone.”

“Kate, this isn’t even circumstantial. It’s gossip, and the Kate I know and love wouldn’t get sucked into it.”

“Yeah, well, that was before someone ruined my tires,” she said, shaking her head at the sight and then checking her watch. “Where is triple-A?”

“They’ll be here.” After considering her far-fetched point for a moment, he asked, “What makes you think Meredith and Clifford even knew each other?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t a good thing, as he said, “I’m sure you will.”

“What makes you think it was Daisy?”

“That’s a whole other story.”

“I have time.”

“As it turned out, Daisy was renting him a room at her house.”

“I thought he was staying at Over the Moon,” she said, bringing up Amelia Langley’s inn. “And then moved in with Clara.”

“Never moved in with Clara. Apparently, Clifford stole cash from her bedroom. She confronted him and kicked him out. Then she went to the diner, and he approached her in the parking lot.”

“And?”

“One of the hostesses saw them in a heated argument. She overheard Daisy threatening to go to the police, then she walked into the diner minding her own business. She said maybe five minutes later she heard a gunshot.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes,” she argued.

“Not that much. Afterwards, she saw Daisy driving like a bat out of hell out of the parking lot. It was enough to arrest her, but we’re still pushing for a confession.”

Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t think Daisy was the killer, but a tow truck pulled up the street then began backing towards her truck.

“Damn, they’re going to tow me?” She didn’t wait for his response, but hurried towards the tow driver. “I thought you were going to bring tires?”

“You thought wrong, lady.”

“Come on, I have to get up early tomorrow to get to work.”

“I can give you a few donuts, but that’s all I have. You’ll have to bring your truck into the shop to get tires.”

“Fine,” she said. She padded back to Scott. “Next time I’m calling Donnie’s Auto and that’s final.”

“Look, Donnie is fine, but he’s not triple-A.”

“Yeah, well, Donnie would’ve brought tires. What is this, amateur hour at the nation’s best-known roadside service?”

She wasn’t sure what she was more annoyed at, Scott having arrested the wrong person, or the fact she wouldn’t be getting a new set of tires as she’d expected, but the safest course of action would be directing her annoyance at the tow guy. Anything to save her and Scott from a sudden blow-up.

“What did Daisy have to say for herself when you arrested her?”

“She did what all guilty people do…she refused to say and word and waited for her lawyer.”

Kate snorted a laugh. “Where’s the gun?”

“That’s the missing link. We can’t locate it. And if she doesn’t start talking, it won’t matter how strong a case we build. She’ll get off as soon as she sees the inside of a courtroom.”

Soon, the tow guy had patched Kate’s tires and filled them with air.

“I’ll drive behind you in case you get into trouble,” said Scott.

She thanked the tow guy and waited for him to pull out of the driveway. As soon as he cleared the curb, she backed out and waited for Scott to ease up behind her in his truck. Then she drove slowly and carefully back to their house.

As if he had devised his plan during the ride home, Scott made a beeline for the kitchen as soon as they stepped inside and was quick to open a chilled bottle of white wine. He poured her a glass and handed it to her where she sat at the kitchen table.

If there was one thing that curbed her constant craving for coffee, it was a cool glass of wine.

Scott poured himself a glass and said, “It was nice of Dean to hire Jason.”

“That reminds me. I wanted to have the boys over for dinner to celebrate Jason’s new position.”

“Do you have the energy to cook?”

“Barely.”

“Let’s order in. You call them, and I’ll put in an order for delivery with Gino’s.”

She took another sip of wine, nodding at the same time, then pulled Jason’s number up on her cell phone.

“Honey,” she said, wandering into the living room so she would be able to talk without being distracted by Scott’s call to Gino’s. “Congratulations again.”

“Thanks,” he said through the earpiece. “I’m feeling a lot better.”

Kate thought she heard Amelia in the background.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to come over for dinner? I’ll give Jared a call as well. Scott and I were hoping to celebrate.”

“Ah, I’m at the Langleys.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, could we all come?”

“Sure,” she said then shouted to Scott, “get enough for the Langleys, as well!” To Jason she added, “We’ll eat outside. It’s cooled off a bit. It’ll be nice.” As soon as she got off the phone, she padded back into the kitchen, asking, “Do I have time to shower?”

“You tell me.”

“I just need ten minutes.”

Scott looked momentarily ill; it was the way he tended to look whenever he was faced with the prospect of entertaining the Langleys alone.

“I’ll be two seconds.”

“You said ten minutes.”

“Split the difference,” she called out.

“That’s a big difference.”

But she was quick. Before she knew it, she tore herself from the hot, relaxing stream and made her way into the bedroom where she threw on a nicer pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt.

By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, Jason and Jared’s deeply booming laughter billowed into the hallway. It was good to hear them laughing, Jason especially, since she hadn’t seen him crack so much as a smile in the past few weeks other than when he was hired at Wentworth.

“Hi guys,” she said, joining them at the dining table. “Amelia, how are you? Lance?”

The Langleys offered her a solemn nod. Lance was nursing a beer, and Amelia gulped her white wine as if something about the evening was already making her uncomfortable. Kate wondered if Scott had made a pessimistic comment, which called to mind why the kidnapper hadn’t contacted them yet.

“What’s so funny?” she asked the twins, who were nestled at the corner of the table.

Jared spoke up, riding through a fresh wave of laughter. “Just reminiscing something stupid Jason did in college.”

“Ah, should’ve known,” she said just as the doorbell chimed.

Scott excused himself, noting it was Gino’s, and answered the door, while Kate busied herself to set plates around the table.

As soon as everyone settled around the table, Kate caught a curious glare Amelia was shooting at Jason—though he wasn’t aware of it.

She wanted to write it off as stress. Perhaps Amelia couldn’t allow herself to relax for one meal. However, Kate was getting a very different impression. Amelia was looking at Jason with suspicion, and Kate didn’t like it.

Angling to say something to lighten the tension she was sensing, Kate opened her mouth, but at the same time, Lance jolted, drawing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

She hadn’t even heard it ring or buzz.

He looked suddenly ill, staring at it, then his eyes snapped to Scott across the table.

“I don’t recognize the number,” he said, and in an instant, everyone was thinking the same thing.

Taking charge, Scott said, “Stay calm. Everything’s in place. Go ahead and answer it.”

Swallowing hard, Lance swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Yes?”

As he listened, his eyes widened, and Scott rose calmly from the table then rushed into the kitchen to place a call, presumably to his surveillance team who were listening in on the wiretap.

“Tell me she’s safe,” Lance demanded in a strained tone. But then he immediately fell silent, having overstepped his bounds with the kidnapper. “Tomorrow night? Yes, fine.”

When he snapped his fingers, Amelia was quick with a pen and scrap of paper, but as soon as Lance had it, he didn’t write anything down. He only said, “The amusement park? Where specifically?” Then he listened. After a long moment, he lowered the phone and Scott returned. “He wants me to bring half a million dollars out to the construction site at midnight tomorrow. He said if I don’t come alone, he'd kill her.”

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Kate woke with a headache that she hoped coffee would cure. If it was a tension headache, she wasn’t sure how she would get through her day. Slogging through the next fourteen hours until Lance’s arranged swap with the kidnapper—Becky in exchange for cash—would not be easy. She wanted it to be over already. She needed her peaceful life back. But even if getting her soon-to-be daughter-in-law back home went smoothly, would her life return to peace? How could it when in her gut she knew the wrong person had been arrested for Clifford Green’s murder?

She dragged herself out of bed, all too aware that Scott had already left for the precinct. In the kitchen, she groaned, discovering there was no more coffee in the canister. The carafe was dark with the dregs of luke-warm coffee. She would have to stop off at Bean There, but the prospect of driving over without already having drunk a cup was daunting. Complicating matters were her truck tires. She was lucky she had driven home last night without incident. If anything, she should drive to Donnie’s Auto and get her rear tires replaced, but before having a fresh cup of coffee?

She didn’t see that happening.

After taking a quick shower and dressing, she started for her truck. It was going to be another hot one. By her estimation, it was already in the low nineties and come noon the heat would be sweltering. At least she had finished Meredith’s patio and wouldn’t have to work outside. The art deco house would be cool and so would Jared’s office, which would be her first stop this morning.

Driving to Bean There, she kept the odometer below thirty and tried not to get frustrated as other cars pulled up alongside hers, the drivers rolling their windows down and shouting to ask if she needed any help.

Finally, she pulled up to the curb outside of Bean There and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t blown one of the donuts wrapping her tires. The fact that they’d held up this long was nothing short of a miracle.

As she padded into the coffee shop, she gave Donnie a quick call, making arrangements for him to have a few tires ready for her. She would swing by as soon as she had a little caffeine in her then head to the mayor’s office, finish her day at Meredith’s, and hopefully have time to be with the Langleys and Jason before Lance got swept off with Scott and the police team to make the critical exchange.

Clara was behind the counter when Kate stepped inside. She looked refreshed and her eyes were no longer puffy from crying over the death of her secret boyfriend.

Kate didn’t like the close connections that were forming between murder victims. Was it a chain of dominos? Cookie had been killed and then her old boyfriend, Clifford. Would Clara be next?

It pained her to realize she was considering there would be a “next” murder, but if the Anarchist Freedom Network had taught her anything, it was that when murders began cropping up, they were all interrelated. And it was only a matter of time before residents would put the pieces together. Rock Ridge had barely recovered from the stigma of being a playground for killers. In a lot of ways, Dean’s amusement park theory—bringing tourists in to boost the economy—should also serve to restore and preserve the reputation of this little town. But if more people were now being killed, what good would the park do? Who would come if word got out?

Groggily, she ordered a tall to-go cup of dark roast, as soon as she stepped up to the counter.

“You got it,” said Clara with a smile.

“You seem to be in a good mood.”

“Justice is being served,” she said simply. “I never would’ve thought it was Daisy, but now that she’s been arrested, I feel a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

At least someone was feeling relieved.

“Thanks,” said Kate, handing her cash for the coffee and telling her to keep the change.

As soon as she got to her truck, a fresh wave of anxiety rushed through her, but she wrangled the emotion, forcing it down into the pit of her stomach and then drowning it in coffee.

She drove to Donnie’s Auto, where her favorite mechanic was having a smoke outside. The auto shop looked quiet. There were only a few cars docked, which Donnie’s employees were tending to. It meant that having her tires changed shouldn’t dominate her morning.

“Pull her into the third bay,” he shouted, walking backwards and waving her car inside the garage.

When she stepped out, coffee in hand, she thanked him for taking her in on such short notice.

“Heard you got your tires slashed,” he commented, snubbing out his cigarette—boot to concrete.

“It was quite a surprise,” she remarked then took a sip of coffee.

“We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

And he did. The twenty minutes flew by, and before she knew it, she was heading back into the center of town. As soon as she parked, she called Jared’s office line and asked if he wouldn’t mind helping her carry up the paint cans she’d bought.

Moments later, Jared was jogging across the parking lot, as she released the truck’s backboard down and grabbed a couple of cans.

“If you could get the last two, that’d be great.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Jared hoisted them out and set them on the asphalt then locked the backboard into place. Following her with paint cans in hand, he asked, “So what color did you get me?”

“It’s a soft yellow. Should brighten the place up,” she said with a smile. In the elevator, she asked, “Is Dean around?”

“He’s been in and out,” said Jared. “I think he’s back though. We all expected him to be in the office for good now that Jason’s at the helm of Wentworth, but after the call last night...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Jason has plummeted. I stopped in first thing this morning, and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed. I doubt he’ll make it over to the construction site today. Until Lance drops that money off and we get Becky back, I don’t see how Jason’s going to concentrate or do anything.”

It was understandable. Kate felt like she was in the same boat, holding her breath until everything went back to normal.

“How close is Scott going to let us get?” he asked, leading her through the office and into the storage closet that would hopefully not look dreary after she painted and fixed it up.

“I really don’t know,” she said. “Scott’s taking this very seriously, and Lance is going to have to go in alone. I think he plans to keep the team in a van way down the street and get some officers in the woods to wait and swoop in as soon as Becky comes into view.”

“What happened to this town?” he asked, setting the paint cans on the ground.

She didn’t know.

He offered her a parting smile, but it wavered badly. “I’ll be out in the hall at my desk if you need anything.”

Kate made one more trip down to her truck to get her paint rollers, tins, and drop cloths, and then got to work in the storage closet.

As she painted, stroking on the cheerful yellow hue, which did wonders for brightening up the room, she listened to Jared’s various phone calls. A few hours passed and she had completed painting on a thick coat. It would need to dry before she rolled on the second, but with no windows in the room that could take a while. Ordinarily, she would get down to business installing the shelving unit Jared had ordered, but the paint fumes were much too strong.

She decided to stage Meredith Joste’s house and then come back to paint.

On her way out, after updating Jared of her plan, she poked her head into Dean’s office. She had heard him greet the receptionist on his way back in, and the thought that Meredith was the real killer was nagging her so badly, she needed to bounce the notion off of Dean to see if she couldn’t gauge his reaction. After all, he knew who the woman had been that got into an argument with Clifford.

“Got a second?” she asked, knocking on the doorway.

Dean lifted his eyes, though he was gripping his desk phone to his ear. He held up a finger for her to wait and then proceeded to leave a voice mail message for whoever he was calling, which to Kate sounded like Bonnie in the permits department two floors below.

“What’s up?” asked Dean, returning the phone to its cradle.

“What do you think of Daisy’s arrest?”

His eyebrows sprang up to his forehead. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I doubt she was the woman who got into an argument with Clifford,” she pointed out.

“And like I said, an argument doesn’t indicate a precursor to murder, Kate.”

“I think it was Meredith Joste,” she said bluntly.

“Kate,” he said, repeating her name, but this time in a warning tone, “you need to stay out of it.”

“Corey—”

“The cabinets guy?”

“The furniture store guy,” she corrected before finishing her point, “said Meredith had a lot of cash, enough to manage her mortgage and pay rent down in Florida. Was she the one who made a huge donation?”

Dean sighed, and to Kate, it was enough of an indication she was right.

“If Scott arrested Daisy,” he finally said, “then you have to trust she did it. Not Meredith.”

“Then why is Meredith packing up and getting the hell out of dodge?”

“Look, you got it out of me. That’s all I know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a heck of a lot of work to manage today since your son never showed up at the amusement park.”

“For the record, no one is going to come to Rock Ridge for your amusement park if murderers are running free.”

“Which is why I’ve paid every major news outlet in this county not to print anything,” he stated. “Again, thanks to Meredith.”

“So she kills people, then pays others to keep quiet?” she challenged. When he didn’t answer, she stopped pushing and said, “Don’t go in Jared’s office. The paint fumes with knock you out. I’ll be back later today to do a second coat.”

As Kate drove through Rock Ridge towards Meredith’s house, she didn’t know what she was hoping for more, that Meredith would or wouldn’t be home. The idea of being alone in a big house with a woman who very well could’ve shot Clifford in the chest was unnerving, but strangely, not as much as sensing she had also slashed Kate’s tires. Why come after Kate? And what the hell was so precious about that cracked tile?

Then an even more daunting prospect crossed her mind. By now Meredith would’ve surely noticed that Kate had gone ahead and replaced the tile anyway? Would she be irate? Would she yell and advance on Kate as she had on the patio? Would she attempt to do something worse than slash her tires?

As a precaution, Kate sent Scott a text message the second she parked in Meredith’s driveway, which stated: Finishing up at Meredith’s. If anything happens to me, she did it.

Two seconds later she got his reply: Katydid, I love you, but you’re out of your freaking mind.

For some reason, it made her smile. She wished she were out of her mind. But she knew she was dead on and no one believed her.

The front door wasn’t locked so she called out, “Meredith? It’s Kate!”

She thought she heard footsteps on the second floor, but Meredith didn’t reply. Nevertheless, she rounded through the foyer, entered the garage, and took stock of the furniture she had left there. Eyeing the doorway, she made a few mental notes about how she might get the bigger items through. Staging the living room wouldn’t be the worst of it, but getting Corey’s bed frame up a flight of stairs would be no easy task.

Reminding herself that thinking about it too much would only make her dread the long hours ahead, she began carrying the smaller living room items through the house and placing them where she saw fit.

Much to her surprise, arranging the living room was easy and the hours flew by. At times, she glanced through the sliding glass window, wondering about the patio and Meredith’s possible reactions to it. As soon as the living room was finished, she felt a surge of adrenaline kick in. She wanted to poke around outside. Meredith was still upstairs. It would be now or never.

But as soon as she worked up the nerve, Meredith padded down the stairs and found her standing in front of the couch.

“Look, Kate, I have to apologize?”

For yelling at her? For slashing her tires? For murdering an ex-con?

She wondered all of these things, but only said, “Yes?”

“Moving is very stressful. My money has been stretched too thin, and I felt I couldn’t afford the extra minutes it would have taken you to fix the tile.”

It sounded like a lie, but she held her tongue.

“I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology,” she offered, though it wasn’t easy. “I’m not sure you heard, but my tires were slashed yesterday.”

As soon as she said it, Kate didn’t dare blink she was so poised to read Meredith’s expression. But when her jaw dropped and she started stammering, Kate felt suddenly thrown. Was Meredith the world’s greatest actress, or was she genuinely shocked?

“When?” she asked, stammering. “Why? Not here, did it happen here?”

“I drove up your driveway just fine, but when I went to leave I had two flat tires.”

“I’m stunned,” she said finally.

Kate’s responding tone was a dry one. “I can see that.”

“Well,” said Meredith, clapping her hands as if this conversation would conclude so easily. “All the more reason for me to get out of this neighborhood.”

The neighborhood isn’t the problem, thought Kate. Meredith is.

“Did you know Clifford Green?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, taken aback.

Embellishing the truth to get a rise out of her, Kate stated, “A number of people saw you two arguing. Then Clifford’s tires were slashed. Then he was found dead. Should I be worried?”

Meredith’s eyes widened with such offense that it looked as though she had stopped breathing. When she finally spoke, her tone was shrill. “Maybe you haven’t heard, but Daisy was arrested.”

“I heard. Sometimes the Rock Ridge Police gets it wrong though.”

“Are you accusing me of murder?”

Kate lifted her brows to confirm.

“How dare you?”

“Why were you two arguing?”

“I don’t have to answer this!” Abruptly she started for the stairs, then turned on her heel. “Leave. Now. You’re fired.”

“Who’s going to stage this house?” she demanded.

“Anyone but you!”

By the time Kate reached her truck, she knew she had blown it. Why had she been so pushy? Frustration? The headache that should’ve disappeared with her cup of coffee? She climbed in behind the wheel and realized she had been putting so much energy into making sure Jason felt well and Scott felt supported and the Langleys felt they wouldn’t be alone in all this, that she hadn’t taken time for herself. The thought of doing so only made her feel guilty, if she was being honest with herself. But she had been working long hours, poking around a murder investigation in her spare time, and feeling overwhelmed that there wasn’t a thing she could do to get Becky back, not to mention the severe conflict that had been burning inside her chest at the thought she could’ve sworn she saw Becky outside of Daisy’s Luncheonette, which only made her feel more guilty.

Starting her truck, she eased out of the driveway then hit the gas, eager to get to Sunshine Florist where she was sure Carly would be working with a fresh pot of coffee at arms’ length.

She was right.

As soon as she stepped through the door, she smelled the rich aroma of hazelnut dark roast wafting in the air. Carly was behind the counter, ringing up a customer who was marveling over a giant bouquet of white roses. Kate hung back until the customer passed through the store and left.

“There’s so much to tell you,” she said, nearly collapsing, elbows to counter, in front of her friend.

“Jesus, you don’t look so good.”

Like a trauma surgeon, Carly poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of Kate as though it would save her from certain death.

“I’m coming apart at the seams.”

“I thought things were going better?” asked Carly, concerned. “Jason got hired. Daisy’s in jail. Are you having some lingering anxiety?”

“Overwhelming is more like it.” Kate straightened up from the counter and gulped down as much coffee as she could. It helped, but only by a fraction. “What I’m about to say, you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it, Carly. You know how rumors fly.”

“I would never. Come on, you can tell me.”

“The Langleys got a ransom note for Becky.”

Carly gasped.

“And poor Lance is supposed to go all by himself.”

“Scott knows, of course?”

“Yes, of course, but I have a bad feeling about it. And on top of that, I think he’s been too preoccupied with finding Becky to do an effective job with Clifford’s killer.”

“You don’t think it was Daisy?”

“I don’t.”

“Kate, you have to let that go. You’re scattered. If you focus on anything, it should be your family and this exchange to get Becky back. When is it happening?”

“Tonight. Don’t ask me more, though, because I shouldn’t tell you.”

Carly sighed and placed her hand on top of Kate’s.

After a moment of finishing her coffee and waiting for Carly to pour her a second cup, Kate asked, “How come you never told me about Clifford?”

“What about him?”

She was deflecting. Kate could tell.

“I spoke with Clara. She told me you were the reason Clifford went to prison. That you drove over to Philly to testify about what you had seen him do here in Rock Ridge.”

“I did. It wasn’t easy. And as you said, rumors fly in Rock Ridge. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“What else didn’t you tell me?”

“Let the whole Clifford thing go,” she suggested. “For your own sake. Scott arrested the right person. Daisy knew Clifford.”

“My gut’s telling me Meredith did it.”

Again, she sighed. “I don’t know the extent of their relationship, but Daisy paid his bail back then.”

“I heard he was also living with Daisy,” Kate supplied, desperate to convince herself it wasn’t Meredith—even though every cell in her body was screaming that it was.

“Is there any way you can focus on your work? Try centering that way? Keep it together until tonight so that you don’t waste your time and energy chasing red herrings that will only get you nowhere?”

“But that’s what I do,” she said with a humorous smirk that felt more heavy than comical.

“That’s what you used to do, years ago, and you were good at it. But it ran you ragged. And you can’t afford to be stretched so thin, not with your family in crisis.”

“You know why I can’t let it go? Because I sense they’re connected.”

Carly furrowed her brow, curious.

“It’s crazy and devoid of logic, but I sense it.”

“Then you shouldn’t be here talking to me. You should talk to Meredith if you think she did it.”

Kate snorted a laugh.

“You already tired?” asked Carly.

“And then some.”

“Then talk to Daisy.”

Kate searched her friend’s eyes and decided it wasn’t a bad idea.

Checking the time on her dashboard as soon as she climbed in, Kate figured she had at least an hour before she could paint another coat onto Jared’s office. She turned the key in the ignition, but her other son came to mind so she gave him a quick call.

Luckily, Jason picked up though he sounded like he hadn’t rolled out of bed yet. “Mom?”

“Just checking in. How are you?”

“I’m not getting up until tonight. If I’m not asleep, I’m a nervous wreck.”

“Would you let Jared and me come over for lunch?”

He groaned.

“In a few hours?”

He made a noise that could’ve been a cough or agreement so she decided it was the later.

“We’ll see you in a few hours then.”

He grumbled, “Christ,” under his breath then told her to bring pizza.

When she got off the call, she texted Jared right away to make sure he would be available for her impromptu plan. He was, she discovered as soon as she swiped her cell phone to view his responding text.

Good, she thought. They’d all be together.

The drive to the precinct jail went quickly, and as she pulled into a parking spot, she reminded herself to avoid Scott’s office and the entire missing persons floor where he would surely be.

The first floor was remarkably quiet as she passed through to the jail cells at the back of the corridor. The guard recognized her as everyone else did these days, as Scott’s wife and not Mrs. Fit It, but she let it slide, eager to confront Daisy.

But as soon as she passed through the doors, she saw Meredith Joste angling into the bars at the back of the row of cells. Meredith seemed to be seething and talking through her teeth, every word a threat. When Kate saw who she was trying to intimidate—Daisy—she startled and kept back, hoping to overhear something incriminating.

“I’m leaving,” she sneered. “You can’t stop me. I hope you rot in here.”

“You think you won? This isn’t over. I won’t go to prison for this.”

“I can make sure you do,” she threatened. “You think I don’t know what you’ve done? It doesn’t matter what happened. It matters how it looks, and right now the look of things are in my favor.”

The second Meredith turned from the bars, she locked eyes with Kate, taking her breath away.

As she passed Kate, rounding through to the exit doors, she spit her words through her teeth. “You didn’t hear nothing.”

The second she was gone, Kate rushed to Daisy’s cell. The diner owner looked exhausted and though she was about to sit back down on the bench, she returned to the bars.

“I didn’t do it, Kate.”

“I know. What was that with Meredith?”

“Meredith killed Clifford!”

“How do you know?”

“I would never hurt him. I was only eight years older than him when he started getting into trouble in high school. I took him in. I never gave up on him. I was his first call when he got out of prison, and it wasn’t only because I’d stayed in his life no matter what. He was afraid of Meredith.”

“But why?”

Daisy pressed her face between the bars. “They were her drugs.”

“What?”

“How do you think Meredith has so much money? Have you ever seen her working? She’s a dealer. She’s high up on the totem pole. Clifford was just a street thug, bottom of the food chain. When he got out and came back to Rock Ridge, she wanted to suck him back in. He refused so she killed him.”

“How do you explain the gunshot that happened that morning at the diner? Your hostess told police no one else was around, but you. And then you drove off.”

“I don’t know why she said it. I don’t know what’s going on. Meredith basically bought Dean. She can buy anyone.”

“Did you tell Scott?”

“I told my lawyer everything, and he said it looks so bad for me that I shouldn’t say anything. He only lets me answer certain questions.”

“Tell me how I can help.”

“I’m afraid to,” she said.

“Don’t be,” she said, encouragingly.

But Daisy clammed up.

Despite this, Kate suddenly knew what she needed to do and it had everything to do with Meredith’s patio and the cracked tile she had flipped out over.

Chapter Nine

Kate parked her truck three blocks from Meredith Joste’s art deco house and glanced up and down the street before climbing out. It was quiet. For the early afternoon, there was no one around. If Meredith had just been at the jail, she could very well be back by now. She could also be making further arrangements around town to fly out of Rock Ridge in a few hours. Or, God forbid, already on her way to the airport. Kate would have to hurry.

She walked briskly up the street, checking over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t being watched.

When the art deco house came into view, she didn’t see Meredith’s vehicle in the driveway, and with the bedroom furniture still in the garage, Kate doubted Meredith would be hiding her car in there. There hadn’t been enough time for her to be at the jail and move the furniture items to the upstairs bedroom. It looked as though no one was home.

Trusting no one was, she eased onto the lawn and started around the back of the house. She was momentarily blinded, as she stepped into a patch of sunlight.

The patio looks good, she thought to herself, wondering who in the world would ever buy this house.

Meredith was a drug dealer? It was alarming. She’d known Meredith for years. How could a drug dealer be hiding in the midst of such a quaint town for decades? It was unheard of.

Moving quickly, she crossed the patio and dropped to her knees in front of the new tile she had laid to replace the cracked one. She pulled a palette scraper from her overalls and used it to pry the tile up, which took more muscle than she had expected. She had sealed it on good and it did not want to buck up and away from the thick layer of putty she’d set.

She startled when she thought she heard something inside the house. Glancing up at the sliding glass door, she saw only her own reflection. The sun was too bright, the glare too stark to see into the house. She realized her heart was pounding, but she kept wedging the scraper further and further under the tile. When she sensed she had a good angle, she popped the scraper up, but it only caused the corner edge to crack off, leaving the majority of the tile intact.

She tried again and again, and more and more of the tile cracked off in pieces until finally she chinked the scraper deep into the hardened putty, getting a hefty angle. When she pried again, the entire tile popped off. She tossed it and examined the hard layer of putty.

Why did she have to do such a good job leveling the soil? She would need to crack through two solid inches and a palette scraper might not do the trick. She sighed and wiped her brow, realizing she would need a jackhammer, but knowing there was no time. Not to mention renting such a thing at Grayson’s, dragging it back here, and hammering away would draw all kinds of suspicion.

Using all her strength, she whacked the layer with her scraper again and again, trying to break up the hard layer, and it worked.

Soon she had cracked up enough pieces to flick them away, exposing the soft earth underneath.

Quickly, she began digging, chucking soil onto the yard, and wincing with each breaking nail. Finally, six inches down and just beneath the surface, she felt something metal.

She pulled the object out.

It was a gun.

The murder weapon. The evidence that Meredith was guilty of Clifford’s death and not Daisy.

Immediately, she called Scott and after three rings, he picked up.

“Katydid,” he said, sounding cheerful in a way that made her wonder what might have transpired in his investigation since last night.

“Scott!” she whispered urgently. “I’m at Meredith’s. I found the gun!”

“What?” he asked, as though she’d just spoken in a foreign language.

“I told you it was Meredith and not Daisy. I found the murder weapon. It was under one of the patio tiles I laid down. You have to get over here. I’m sure it has her finger prints all over it.”

“Well, don’t touch it.”

Damn, she had, so she set it on the ground.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. Wait, no! Or yes, come but you have to send an officer to the airport. Meredith is supposed to fly to Florida today. You can’t let her leave the state!”

“I’ll take care of it. Just stay where you are.”

“Are you going to let Daisy out of jail?” she asked excitedly.

“If this checks out,” he told her then got off the phone.

It felt like an eternity passing as she waited for Scott to arrive. Her heart was punching up her throat. What would she do if Meredith came back? Would the woman try to kill her to keep the secret? Would Kate have to use her own gun against her?

She feared to imagine, but before she sank completely down that rabbit hole, Scott began stalking around the side of the house towards her.

Jumping to her feet, she pointed at the gun and said, “It’s right there.”

A few officers followed after Scott. Officer Garrison used a clear evidence bag to collect the gun, and another, Tolland, asked about filing for a search warrant then asked Kate if Meredith was home.

“I don’t think so,” she said then turned to Scott. “Did you get Meredith?”

“My guys are on it. She won’t get away. But Kate, if we pull up the registration on the weapon and it’s not hers—?”

“It won’t be. She’s a drug dealer. Daisy told me as much.”

“If her prints aren’t on it—”

“I found it buried under her patio. Whose gun would it be?”

“If it’s not a match for the one that killed Clifford—”

This time it was Officer Garrison who interrupted him.

“It is. Twenty-eight caliber.”

Scott didn’t divert his focus from Kate. “There are a lot of I’s and T’s to dot and cross. This is a process.”

“Fine. I get it. And by the way, I told you so.”

Scott smirked at her. “You so enjoying being smug when you can, don’t you?”

“Very funny.” After a beat, she said, “I was going to have lunch with Jason and Jared.”

“I’m going to need a statement from you, namely, how you knew to look here under the patio tiles.”

“Can I swing by the precinct after lunch?”

“Don’t forget,” he told her, as she padded around the house for her truck.

Before she took off, she put in a call to Polly’s Pizzeria to pick up an extra-large cheese pizza, which was ready for her by the time she stepped through the doors.

After, she arrived at Jason’s house in record time and found Jared’s car parked along the curb, so she pulled up behind it and climbed out. As good as she felt having exposed Meredith for the murder, her struggle to restore peace in Rock Ridge was far from over.

She grabbed the pizza box and made her way inside where Jason and Jared were seated on the couch and having beers. Ordinarily, she would chide them for having a drink so early, but considering all they would face later that evening, Jason especially, more than anything a drink was in order.

“I hope you like plain cheese,” she said, setting the box on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen to get some plates. Cheese was no one’s favorite, but ever since the twins were little they had never been able to decide on toppings, so to troubleshoot wrestling matches she got into the habit of getting plain cheese. Strangely, no one happy was better than one of them being happy.

When she returned with three plates, she found them wolfing down their slices, which made her smirk to herself at why she had even bothered.

“I’m worried about tonight,” said Jason, setting his crust on a plate. He took a long haul from his beer, leaning back on the couch.

She didn’t want him to be anxious, but she was glad he was sharing his feelings with them instead of bottling it up and climbing into bed.

“You just have to stay positive, bro.”

Kate seconded the statement then her cell buzzed in her overalls. When she swiped the screen, she saw a text from Scott that said: Officer Hardy has Meredith. Tell the twins I say hi.

She replied simply saying, Thanks.

“Scott says hi,” she said.

After finishing her own slice of pizza, Kate went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, which she soon realized neither of them wanted. She drank a cup on the couch with them and then told them she had to go.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Making a point to connect with Jason, she looked him in the eye and added, “It’ll be okay. By this time tomorrow Becky will be rushing around, making wedding arrangements, and driving everyone crazy like old times.”

He smiled, but it wavered badly. “Thanks.”

Kate started off, driving down the street. The yellow paint on Jared’s office walls should be dry, and she had plenty of time to paint on a second coat and maybe see about assembling his shelving unit if the fumes weren’t too bad. It was wishful thinking, but if she could clear her plate, she would feel a lot calmer about the ransom drop off tonight.

When she reached the mayor’s office, greeting the receptionist with a smile, Dean rushed out of his office, gaping at her in astonishment.

“Yes?”

“In my office. Now.”

Taken aback, she cocked her head at his intensity, but obliged, entering his office. Dean shut the door behind her.

“Meredith Joste?”

“I found the murder weapon.”

“She didn’t do it, Kate.”

“You want to think she didn’t do it,” she countered.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, running his hands down his face as though he had come undone.

“I know she donated money, and I’m sorry for your shock, but—”

“Was donating money,” he said, correcting her.

“I thought you said she already donated.”

“It was a payment plan on a monthly basis,” he explained. “She didn’t want to give it all at once.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but she’s a killer. You don’t want her money anyway. She was dealing drugs.”

“I don’t know why you think that, but it sounds crazy.”

Kate refused to apologize further than she already had.

Dean sat at his desk and muttered to himself, “I’m going to have to find another donor.”

Stepping backwards, she said, “I’ll let you get to it. I’m going to be painting.”

She put a fresh paint roller onto her paint rod then cracked open a new can of paint and challenged herself not to think about Meredith or Daisy or Becky or anything for the next few hours, while she worked.

But it was impossible. Her mind started wandering then it started racing and though it made for efficiently stroking paint onto the walls—the higher her stress the faster she worked—by the time she was done she wanted nothing more than to connect with Daisy, the one person who would truly appreciate that she had exposed Meredith.

In a twist of good luck, or maybe it was the fumes making her feel chipper, she received a text message from Scott that though he was still questioning Meredith, Daisy had been released.

Figuring Daisy would go to her diner to make sure it was still standing after her absence, Kate headed in that direction after leaving the mayor’s office.

She got to Daisy’s just after four in the afternoon, pulling into the parking lot that was completely empty. Because it was, she circled her truck around, peering into the diner windows. The place looked closed, which was unheard of on the weekend. Angling out of the parking lot, she caught sight of movement in her rear view mirror and pulled along the curb, rolling to a stop. It was Daisy. She had just left the restaurant and was rushing to her car on the sidewalk.

Kate had an impulse to jump out of her truck and give her a hug, happy she had been released, but what she saw next prevented her.

Daisy slashed her own tires.

Chapter Ten

It didn’t make any sense. Daisy had been in jail when Kate’s tires were slashed. And Daisy didn’t match the description Bobby Shank had given her as the woman who had gotten into a fight with Clifford. So why was Daisy now slashing her own tires? It wouldn’t be necessary to further incriminate Meredith. She was already in with Scott being questioned.

Though it was beyond any logic Kate could figure out, it was just enough to compel her to follow Daisy when she began walking in the opposite direction down the street.

She popped her door open, stepping onto the sidewalk. Being sure to keep her distance, she trailed after Daisy, as she passed Bean There, Corey’s Cabinets, and The Rail, which happened to be Kate’s favorite bar.

Then Daisy turned into the alley between the bar and Harriet’s Hairdos.

Kate held her breath when she reached the corner of the alley and hesitated to peer around. What if Daisy looked over her shoulder and caught her?

Why was someone who was innocent acting so strangely?

Finally, she dared glance around the corner. Deep in the alley, Daisy was arguing with Grady, the cook, who was standing in front of a black van. The van was idling, and its side door was wide open. If Kate wasn’t mistaken, she thought she spied Bobby Shank inside arranging boxes.

Could it be supplies for the diner? If it was, why was the construction worker involved?

Suddenly, Daisy slapped Grady clear across his face, and Kate thought he might retaliate, but he did nothing, just stood like a statue and took it.

Then Daisy pointed her finger at him and he rounded the van and got behind the wheel. Bobby closed the side door and Daisy jumped in the passenger’s seat and then the van took off, barreling up the alley straight for Kate, who ducked back around the corner unseen.

As the van flew past into the street, she memorized the license plate number then started for her truck with every intention of following them.

By the time she was pulling into the street, the van glided through an yellow traffic light. Kate had no choice but to stop for the red, all the while she kept her eye on the van. It was heading straight, but if it turned, she would know it.

The light couldn’t turn fast enough, and when it did, Kate stepped on the gas. Her tires screeched then gripped the road, as the truck flew forward.

The van switched lanes, cutting off a sedan, and to stay on its tail, Kate cut the wheel and immediately heard a horn blaring. She swerved back and shouted, “Sorry!” finally seeing the vehicle in her blind spot.

Then the black van took a hard left turn onto Rock Ridge Boulevard where it picked up speed.

Maneuvering carefully, she eased into the left lane, and then cut the same turn. With hardly any vehicles on the boulevard, she was able to pick up speed, but didn’t dare get too close to the van. Her Mrs. Fix It truck was distinct, and if Grady glanced in the rearview, he might put together who was following them.

Which begged the question: What in the hell were they doing?

Was she chasing a red herring as Carly had warned her against? Or was this knee-jerk reaction to follow them a trustworthy instinct that would add one more piece to the puzzle she had been convinced she had solved?

The black van turned off the road, slowing and bouncing over the lip in the asphalt that separated the boulevard from a mustard packing facility.

MUSTARD?

She read the name clear as day on the side of the warehouse: Langley’s Best Mustard Since 1979.

Curving around the side of the warehouse, the black van disappeared from view, and if she followed after it any faster or closer, she would be in danger of being caught, so Kate pulled off and wedged her truck between a delivery truck and a beat up Volvo, venturing to take the next steps on foot.

She kept her gait quick and soundless, as she advanced around the warehouse, listening for Daisy and the ex-cons under the noises of the packing machines. Who knew making mustard could be so loud?

And why on earth had Daisy driven to Lance Langley’s facility?

Piling up in her mind were more questions than answers, and when Daisy came into view, as Kate peered into the packing plant, those questions became even more complicated.

Grady began unloading the boxes from the van, stacking them beside a crate of mustard jars, as Daisy snapped her fingers at the Langley employees who dared glance her way and it did the trick. With each snap, they diverted their eyes and kept to their work, minding their own business.

What gave Daisy the authority, Kate wondered? And why were the Langley employees obeying?

Kate realized Bobby Shank wasn’t in the mix, and she scanned her eyes through the facility, searching for him.

She startled, her stomach leaping up her throat, when she felt hands grabbing her from behind. Before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth, giving her left arm the freedom it needed to slam her elbow back into the ribs of whoever was seizing her.

He grunted, but yanked her backwards then slammed her against the side of the warehouse. It was Bobby Shank, she realized looking up at him.

“You think you’re smart, do you?” he said through his teeth, not at all the helpful passerby she had met at the amusement park construction site. “You shouldn’t have followed us.”

“Why did Daisy slash her own tires?”

He glared down at her. “You really want to mess with a woman who’s nuts enough to drive a knife into her own tires?”

“Is she nuts enough to have killed Clifford?”

“And bait you into getting Meredith locked up.”

Kate gasped. Scott had the right killer all along and Kate had messed everything up.

“But you told me Meredith had fought with Clifford that day,” she asserted. “She’s innocent?”

“No one in Rock Ridge is innocent.”

Before he could elaborate, Daisy appeared, stepping out from the warehouse with Grady.

Ordering Shank, she said, “Throw her in the van.”

“No!” Kate started fighting, trying to kick and elbow Shank to wriggle free, but he was far too strong and barely felt her blows.

To Kate’s shock, the Langley employees kept their backs to her, as Shank threw her in the back of the van and climbed in after.

When Daisy hopped into the passenger’s seat, Kate demanded, “Why frame Meredith?”

“I didn’t,” said Daisy. “Meredith and I had a deal. She wanted out, and I told her all she had to do was leave Rock Ridge.”

“Are those boxes filled with drugs?” she asked.

Daisy only stared at her.

“Why Langley’s?”

Laughing, Daisy told Grady, who was climbing up behind the wheel, to kill Kate.

“I am the police chief’s wife!” she yelled, finally embracing the title she had been resisting for the past two years. “You can’t kill me.”

“I can kill anyone,” said Daisy so easily that it set Kate’s teeth on edge.

“You’ll never get away with it.”

“I already have.”

“For drugs? That’s what this is about? I thought you said you would never hurt Clifford?”

“Sometimes, when you really love a person, you have to kill them to ensure no one will ever hurt them.”

My God, thought Kate. The woman’s completely insane.

“Why kill Clifford in the exact same way Cookie was killed?”

Daisy turned misty eyed, saying, “Because he wanted it that way. I gave him a choice and that’s what he asked for. He really loved that woman.”

“Meredith will turn on you. She’ll take you down with her.”

This time, Bobby responded. “She won’t. There are so many of us on the inside, our girlfriends in the women’s prison. She won’t talk, not without a world of misery coming down on her. And she knows it.”

“You actually thought you could kill Clifford without getting arrested for it?”

“You’re talking in circles,” Daisy pointed out. “But no. I thought Scott would be dumb enough to go after Meredith first and foremost.” Then she locked her eyes on Kate. “He’s better than I thought. And you’re worse.”

In protest, she suddenly began thrashing around, but Bobby restrained her. As she stilled under the weight of his stone grip, she felt her cell press into her chest and a faint digital tone.

Her heart leapt in her throat she might have accidentally dialed the last person she had texted, but then it sank again. If Bobby heard a voice coming through, she might be killed before they got to where they were going.

It had been Scott. He was the one who texted her last.

And the second she heard his voice come through, asking, “Kate?” she began screaming out the license plate number.

“Black van! Heading east from the mustard—”

Bobby’s hand slapped over her mouth, and he snatched the phone from her overalls.

“What do we do?” he asked Daisy.

“Kill her.”

“Now?”

“You heard me.”

“With what?” he asked, bewildered. “I thought we were going to drown her in cement at the construction site.”

Daisy yelled, “Get creative!”

But all at once, everyone realized there were sirens blaring up behind the van.

“It’s over,” said Grady, under his breath.

“It’s over when I say it’s over!”

But Grady was easing the van onto the shoulder.

When it came to a stop, Kate heard Officers Garrison and Tolland rushing towards the back of the van then the door popped open.

“Freeze!” they yelled, weapons drawn and locked on the convicts.

“Kate, come out,” said Garrison.

She crawled from Shank then stepped out for the police officers to arrest them all, and when she turned, she saw Scott’s truck pulling up behind the squad car.

Running towards the driver’s side door, as he stepped out, she said breathlessly, “You were right!”

“So were you,” he said, wrapping her into a big hug.

“Meredith confessed?”

“To her role and Daisy’s,” he said.

Chapter Eleven

That night, Kate could barely eat dinner. It was a struggle for everyone. Jason sat on the couch. He had been withdrawn with stress all evening. Jared kept by his side, but it did little to pull him out of his silent panic. They had gathered at Kate’s house with the Langleys. Amelia looked distraught and the expression on Lance’s face indicated that no one was more scared them him.

After Kate busied herself clearing away all the plates, which were stacked with Chinese food no one had the stomach for, Scott escorted Lance out to the surveillance van where he would be dressed with a mic and wire before getting into his Cadillac to meet the kidnapper at the amusement park site.

“I should be the one to go,” said Jason, boldly getting off of the couch, as Scott and Lance reached the front door.

Scott raised his hand to ward off Jason’s advances. “We have to play ball. The kidnapper didn’t ask for you. He asked for Lance.”

“I’ll be alright,” said Lance, struggling to meet Jason’s gaze. “The next time you see me, I’ll have Becky.”

Kate hoped he was right. She had a bad feeling about this. So much could go wrong. And the construction site was plagued with hiding places. There was no way Scott’s team could cover every inch of it. But she had to trust him. There was no other option.

“We’ve got cameras set up all over the site thanks to Dean,” Scott explained, meeting Amelia’s grief-stricken eyes. “You’ll be able to watch from the other surveillance van.

Breaking from Scott, Lance gave Amelia a hug and reminded her he would be fine even though neither of them believed it. Then he stepped through the doorway and followed Scott to the van.

Kate wasn’t sure how she’d feel sitting in a van with the police. She might have nightmares about being in the back of a van for months. At least Daisy, Grady, and Bobby had been arrested, but it was nagging her why they had left those boxes at the mustard packing facility. Did Lance and Amelia know their warehouse had turned into a rendezvous point for passing off drugs? Or were they completely in the dark? As the CEO and owner, Lance was at the very top of the pyramid, and other than making occasional visits to the factory, he conducted the majority of his business from the office if not at home.

But it did beg the question of why Becky had been kidnapped in the first place. What if Lance did know drugs were being run out of his warehouse? What if he put his foot down and tried to call it off, and kidnapping Becky was retaliation? Maybe whoever worked above Daisy had demanded the cash because it was how much they expected to lose no longer being about to deal out of the mustard factory. Or maybe Lance hadn’t known, but found out and Becky had been taken as a result.

Whatever the reason, she knew she wasn’t going to get it now, not in this moment. The best she could do was keep holding it together, be strong for her boys, and do all that Scott might require of her, even if it amounted to staying out of the way.

As soon as Lance was outfitted with the mic and climbed into his car, Kate kissed Scott.

“Be careful,” she told him.

“I will. You all can meet Garrison at the precinct. That’s where the other van will be.”

She watched him drive off in his truck after Lance and then invited Amelia to get into the passenger’s seat of her truck.

“I’ll be right behind you, Mom,” said Jared, as he and Jason started off for Jared’s car.

After climbing into her truck, she got situated and waited for Amelia to put on her seat belt. When she had, Kate backed out of the driveway and started down the long and winding road that connected with main road that would take them into the heart of Rock Ridge.

It suddenly struck her she might not get another private moment with Amelia once Becky was home. Amelia and Lance would probably want to shower her with love and wouldn’t have time for Kate’s probing questions. Drawing in a deep breath, she hoped what she was about to say wouldn’t be in poor taste.

“So Clifford Green was staying at Over the Moon,” she began, mentioning Amelia’s inn where the ex-con had holed up as soon as he got into town.

“Yes, that was weeks ago.”

“A convict staying in your inn, then others dropping boxes of drugs off at Lance’s warehouse...”

“Excuse me?”

“Any thoughts on that?”

“Yes, I have thoughts on that. I think you’re being appalling right now. I am hanging on by a thread to get my daughter back, and you think I had something to do with Clifford’s murder?”

“No,” she blurted out. “No, that’s not what I think. I think Lance, and people who were using your factory, are victimizing you. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of it.”

“Well don’t,” she snapped. “Not now. Please.”

When they reached the precinct, everyone piled into the surveillance van where Garrison was waiting. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it work, Kate sitting between Jason and Jared, and Amelia beside Office Garrison across from them.

Officer Tolland, who was behind the wheel, explained, “We’ll pull along the road about a quarter mile out.”

“You can’t get closer?” asked Amelia.

“Not without blowing our cover. We’ll have good reception to watch everything. And we’ll hear Lance through his microphone.”

Amelia turned stoic, lacing her fingers and keeping her gaze on the van floor.

Soon Tolland pulled the van to the side of the road and killed the headlight. Then Officer Garrison flipped on the surveillance monitors and Kate saw Lance’s Cadillac pulling into the dark amusement park.

“As soon as Scott sees Becky,” Garrison explained. “He’ll order our men to charge in and get her, hopefully the bag of money too, and apprehend the kidnapper.”

Kate was holding her breath.

Amelia started praying when, on the monitor, Lance stepped out of his car with the bag of money and began walking into the beam of light from the Cadillac’s headlight.

Lance began slowly walking further into the amusement park, calling out, “Hello? Lance Langley here!”

Jason was squirming beside her, his nerves getting the best of him.

From out of nowhere, a flicker of light arched into frame on the monitor.

“What was that?” Kate asked Garrison, suddenly alarmed.

Garrison leaned in close. There was a white object resting on the ground five feet in front of Lance.

Through the speakers, she heard Lance say, “It’s a note,” as he bent down to pick it up.

The beam of headlights must have caught the white hue of the paper, Kate thought. She was so jumpy over this ransom exchange that her eyes had played tricks on her.

Again, Lance’s voice blared through the speaker, though he was speaking quietly.

“He used a rubber band to tie a note around a rock,” he explained and immediately Garrison radioed Scott to see if he was locating where the kidnapper had thrown the rock.

Lance went on. “It says, ‘Drop the bag of money and get back in your car.’” After a brief pause, he began speaking directly to Scott.

“Oh, God. Where is Becky? Why does he want me to get in my car?”

Scott said, “Do as he says. He probably has her at another location.”

Though Lance was slowly making his way to his Cadillac, he said, “This was supposed to be a swap!”

“We have to do as he says,” said Scott calmly.

“Oh my God,” said Kate, her gaze locking onto a shadow on the monitor. “Is that a woman?”

Pointing at the shadow, her gaze darted to Jason then snapped back to the screen, as a woman eased out from behind a bulldozer far in front of Lance’s car. Examining her on the screen, Kate saw brown hair and when her face came into view, it looked exactly like Becky.

Urgently, she shoved Jason close to the monitor, switching seats with him and saying, “Who does that look like?”

But he wouldn’t answer.

Garrison drew him back to have a look and then radioed Scott, but the second his voice came through the walkie-talkie, the monitor blurred white, and Kate heard a deafening explosion billow out from the construction site.

Without a doubt, Kate knew it had been a bomb.

~~~

CLAMPED ON MURDER

Chapter One

Where’s Scott?

The explosion was deafening. She felt the ground tremble from where she sat in the back of the surveillance van. The monitors, which had shown Lance’s Cadillac idling at the amusement park, had turned to static. Jason looked stunned beside her, but not more so than Officer Garrison, who was in a sudden panic over how to proceed.

“Chief York?” he shouted into his walkie-talkie, his tone raw and distressed. “Chief?”

Kate wasn’t about to wait for a reply. She scurried, hunching over, to the back of the van and threw the doors open, jumping out. In the distance was smoke and fire, the sound of shrapnel raining down on asphalt.

As she ran up the road towards the park, she kept telling herself that Scott couldn’t have been anywhere near the explosion, but until she saw him and looked in his eyes, she wouldn’t believe everything was all right.

Forcing worst-case scenarios out of her mind, Lance Langley became her primary concern. She didn’t hear Officer Garrison calling her name and charging after her. She didn’t know Jason and Jared were at his heels.

Lance had barely reached his car when the bomb went off. Had it been a bomb? A grenade? Why the hell would the kidnapper blow up half a million dollars instead of taking it in exchange for handing Becky over?

There was no way Lance could’ve lived through that.

When she reached the asphalt parking lot where he had driven his Cadillac in, Kate saw Lance on the ground. Smoke was wafting through, obscuring her vision in clouds both thick and thin. Even so, she could tell he wasn’t moving.

“Kate! It’s not safe!” Garrison yelled, racing up behind her then grabbing her arm to usher her aside, as a swarm of police officers outfitted in helmets and bulletproof vests jogged in, sweeping their assault rifles through the dust and smoke.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her eyes wide and pleading, though she didn’t think anyone would have an answer.

Her boys reached her, Jared putting his arm around her and Jason halting at the sight of Lance and running his hands through his hair as if he were coming undone. In the background, Garrison called in an ambulance.

“Where is my fiancée?” Jason shouted into the night sky.

He had Kate’s full attention, but only for a moment.

Scott was walking briskly through the smoke, and as soon as she saw him, Kate ran then threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight.

When he urged her back, his eyes told her that he was just as stunned as everyone else was.

Bewildered, he said, “The kidnapper blew the cash up?” He scanned the area for Amelia.

Kate did, as well, and found her standing in shadows where the road met the parking lot.

She looked apprehensive, and Kate wanted to rush over and tell her it was okay, but was it?

“I’ve got a pulse!” Officer Garrison shouted. He was kneeling beside Lance, his fingers pressed to his throat. He placed his palm firmly on the mustard king’s chest. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”

It was enough good news for Kate to break from Scott’s arms and jog over to Amelia.

“An ambulance is on the way,” she said, out of breath as she reached her. “He has a pulse.”

“I’m not sure this is about my daughter,” she said in a faraway voice, her gaze locked on her husband’s motionless body. “It was an elaborate ploy to kill Lance.”

Amelia had such conviction that Kate not only believed her, but sensed the woman knew far more than she had let on.

Daisy and her convicts depositing boxes of drugs at the Langleys’ mustard warehouse came to mind.

“Who would want to do that?” she asked, stepping in close and offering Amelia the comfort of her hand on her arm.

Amelia didn’t answer. Instead, her expression hardened into the shape of revenge, and her eyes flattened.

Finally, blaring sirens and flashing red lights billowed in the distance, growing louder and brighter as an ambulance tore up the road and turned into the amusement park.

The medics were fast, jumping from their vehicle and taking command of the situation. Two slapped a gurney on the ground beside Lance, and in the next second they lifted him onto it, ascended its legs, and pushed it to the back of the ambulance where they forced the legs to collapse, hauling it inside. Shouting and critical directive ensued, medical terms Kate had only heard in movies, as the driver slammed the rear doors shut, raced to the driver’s side, and jumped in.

Scott neared Kate just as the ambulance peeled out of the parking lot, its sirens never having quieted.

“I think Amelia knows something,” Kate whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder, as he wrapped an arm around her.

She sensed more than saw Scott glance over at the distraught wife, but he only said, “Whatever you’re thinking, let it go, at least for tonight. It’s going to be a long one for all of us.”

Kate knew when to press Scott and when to ease up, and this time he was more than right.

Switching gears, he added, “Can you take Amelia to the hospital? I’ll meet you there.”

The very suggestion caused a lump to form in her throat. She hadn’t exactly rubbed Amelia the right way on the ride over, asking questions that had revealed Kate suspected her and Lance might have known about the drugs being dumped in their warehouse.

Instead of arguing, she suggested, “Jason will fit, as well.” Having her son sitting between them should be enough to dampen any animosity.

“If he wants,” said Scott. “I would think he’d rather go with Jared. Either way, I’ll be there as soon as I can. We have to get to the bottom of what in the hell just happened, and if forensics is going to work carefully, they’ll do it slowly.”

He gave her one more squeeze then stalked off towards his team. The officers were handling the singed money bag and setting down evidence markers, short yellow triangles that would alert forensics on where and what to investigate.

As Kate made her way to her boys, she prayed Lance would pull through. When she had watched the surveillance monitor, she could’ve sworn she spotted Becky Langley behind a stack of materials, but it was possible her eyes had been playing tricks on her. Lance had been close enough to know if he’d seen the woman lurking behind the pipes. If he died, it would be tragic, and in more ways than one.

Stunned though he was, Jason’s eyes looked sharp and clear as he said, “Scott better find out who was behind this. Why are they wasting time handling shrapnel? Why aren’t they searching the woods? The kidnapper can’t be far.”

Glancing over her shoulder at the police officers, she said, “Honey, I don’t know. But we have to let them do their jobs.”

He snorted a laugh. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Actually, she did. Whenever Kate bent or broke the rules, she didn’t tend to announce her plans to poke around against the police chief’s warnings.

“We’re going to find Becky,” she offered.

Angrily, he countered, “You don’t know that.”

“Come on,” she said in a gentle tone. “Let’s go to the hospital.”

Jared was in agreement and began guiding Jason through the parking lot and towards the road where they had parked behind the surveillance van.

Hanging back, Kate neared Amelia. “I don’t know what to say.” She didn’t have to invite her to come along to her truck. Amelia started off on her own and Kate brought up the rear.

Rock Ridge Medical was on the south side of town to best serve the entire county. As soon as Kate approached the admissions desk, the nurse behind the counter recognized her by name.

“The police chief’s wife,” she stated in a knowing tone, as she typed into her computer. “Lance Langley is already in surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“Yes,” she said, quickly flicking her eyes to Kate then returning them to her computer monitor as she pulled up the details on the screen. “He had four broken ribs—”

“That required surgery?” she asked, alarmed.

“No. As it turned out, we caught an embolism when we gave him a CAT scan. It would’ve killed him if untreated. In a very strange way, he’s lucky he got in when he did.”

“Really?”

The nurse, whose badge said Haley Powers, smirked at her. “We’ll keep you posted. There’s a waiting room on the second floor if you and your family would like to go up. The ER waiting room can be stressful.”

Kate glanced around. The ER waiting room was virtually empty, except for a woman and her screaming toddler. She thanked Haley, anyway, and turned for Amelia, who was hunched in a nervous ball on one of the chairs.

Jason couldn’t bear to sit. Instead he was pacing, but in a way that didn’t strike Kate as concerned for his future father-in-law.

“Let’s go up to the second floor.”

“Why?” asked Amelia, her eyes widening as though she feared the worst.

“I’m told Lance is in surgery for an unrelated matter.”

“What unrelated matter?”

“An embolism.”

“Just tell me if he’ll live or die,” she snapped.

“The nurse didn’t say.”

Reluctantly, Amelia got to her feet. “I can’t lose my daughter and my husband.”

“You haven’t lost either,” she said in a reassuring tone that only seemed to incite Amelia, though she walked beside Kate towards the elevators.

Once everyone was inside, they rode it up to the second floor and spent the next two hours waiting for any word on Lance’s condition. All the while, Kate expected to see Scott step out of the elevator, but he never did.

It wasn’t until four in the morning when the resident surgeon met them in the waiting area to tell them Lance would pull through just fine, but needed to stay at the hospital for a few days under observation. Amelia burst with happy tears, but Jason didn’t look nearly as relieved.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Chapter Two

The next day, Kate permitted herself to sleep in. She hit the snooze three times before giving up, turning her alarm off, and falling back into a deep sleep, only vaguely aware that Scott was not beside her.

By the time she woke, feeling well rested, the clock on the nightstand read eleven. She bolted upright. She hadn’t slept in like that since the rare occasions, decades prior, when her twin toddlers had made it through a morning without crying.

Getting out of bed, two things were on her mind—coffee and Lance Langley, and in that order. She hadn’t heard from Amelia or Scott, so she figured that no news was good news, but as she scooped coffee grinds, filling her machine, she cued up Amelia’s number on her cell phone.

The second the dark roast began tricking down, she sent the call through, holding her cell to her ear and hoping she wouldn’t wake Amelia.

When the line opened up, Amelia sounded exhausted. “Kate,” she said. “Any news?”

“Ah, no. Scott didn’t come home last night. If his team found nothing, he would’ve made it back, though, so I’d take this as a good sign.” After a brief pause, waiting for Amelia’s response and receiving none, she asked, “What about Lance?”

“Oh, he’s still resting. He woke up a few times, but these doctors have him on so many drugs, I’m not sure he knows where he is. I’ve been in his room with him. I slept on a chair. It’s been miserable.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s okay.”

“Listen, Kate,” she began, trailing off. Kate could hear her padding slowly across the linoleum of Lance’s hospital room. “I’m really not sure I have any say in the matter, but I question Scott’s competency.” She tried interjecting to assure Amelia that her family was in good hands, but Amelia immediately cut her off. “I don’t know how to get Becky back, but I know Scott isn’t the answer. He’s part of the problem.”

“No one could’ve foreseen this,” she said, though in a reasoning tone.

“I beg to differ.” She sighed. “Like I said, I’m sure I don’t have a say, but I’m telling you this, and you can tell Scott when you see him: Lance and I won’t be cooperating in the future. We can’t put our lives at risk. God forbid Becky had been there. What if she was killed?”

“Let’s not jump to the worst-case scenario—”

“Oh, I’ve jumped there. I built a house and pay taxes in the land of worst-case scenarios. I’m not putting my family at risk again. Just stay away from us. Please.”

Kate heard a click through the receiver.

As she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, she pulled up the calendar on her cell phone to refresh her memory as to her day’s schedule. Jared’s new office would need a shelving unit installed among other fixtures, and Jessica Wentworth had e-mailed her about helping her organize the business side of her home-based fashion company. She scrolled through the e-mail, noting the bullet points as detailed by Jessica and gleaned the job would require a trip to the Container Store and Grayson’s, since Jessica needed the wobbly legs of one of her work tables fixed.

Considering Jared might not make it into the office today in favor of spending time with Jason, Kate decided to handle that job first and swing by Jessica’s in the late afternoon.

As she finished her coffee, showered, and dressed, she hoped Lance’s hospital stay and the botched ransom wouldn’t derail Jason’s life once again.

Dean Wentworth, as mayor, had virtually no time to manage the construction of the new amusement park, which was barely underway. He had appointed Jason the head of Wentworth Contractors to see the job through. But if Jason didn’t show up for work, his title might not be his for very long.

Noting the time as soon as she hopped into her truck—the clock on the dash read a quarter to noon—Kate devised to make Grayson’s her first stop. It was a fair bet that Larry would be out to lunch, but she knew the hardware store like the back of her hand, and his employees could easily handle carrying the heavier items out to her truck.

She rolled the windows down and backed out, swinging around and starting off down her long, winding driveway. As hot as it was outside, the fresh air felt good. Cutting through the center of town, she noted all the pedestrians on the street strolling and pausing to glance through store windows. Outside of Bean There were a number of café tables, residents seated and enjoying their long, lazy lunch breaks. She could almost smell the dark roast wafting out of the coffee shop as she passed, and she had to fight the urge to stop in for a cup. She was late enough as it was.

To her surprise, Larry was not at lunch but behind the counter, she noticed as soon as she stepped into Grayson’s Hardware. The store sounded quiet, and she sensed he had no customers.

“Kate,” he said as if surprised to see her.

Clearly, he had heard about the shocking night she and her family had survived.

Preemptively, she shrugged, saying, “What else would I do?”

“So you weren’t hurt?”

“No, not at all. The boys and I were in a van down the road. Amelia Langley, as well.”

“Thank God,” he said, releasing a huge tension-filled breath. “We have to stick together.”

She cocked her brow at that, approaching the counter.

“You didn’t read the paper?” he asked, his eyes widening as he tucked the Rock Ridge Gazette under the table.

“I caught up on some sleep,” she said, nervously intrigued at all he was hinting. “We have a reporter problem?”

“In more ways than one. Demblowski ran a doomsday article this morning, plus I heard Over the Moon got booked up overnight. Reporters from out of town.” Larry shook his head. “This town is changing.”

“Let me see the article,” she said.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You know I can stop by any newsstand if I want.”

Hesitant as he was, he offered her the paper.

“Crime Climbs in Rock Ridge, No One Safe.”

Great, she thought, that’s just what Dean’s amusement park needs.

“No one’s going to want to live here, much less book vacations during the summer months.”

Considering his point, she wasn’t sure that was all that bad. If Kate worried about anything, it was tourists falling in love with her quaint town, moving here, changing things, and Kate waking up one morning to find she didn’t recognize a thing. If reporters were feeding into hysterics that would prevent her nightmares from coming true, it might not be a bad thing. Not that she wanted reporters swarming through her town, either.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Larry went on. “Tensions are rising. People around here are starting to worry about the convicts who have moved to town. And now we have reporters highlighting tragedies. I know I don’t have to connect the dots for you, but the good people of Rock Ridge could very well start pointing their fingers at all those ex-con construction workers over at the amusement park. We could have a real situation on our hands, and these articles only fuel the fire.”

Kate couldn’t tell him he was wrong, as she scanned the article and fantasized about punching the smug Eric Demblowski in the face. She had never liked the guy, and her feelings toward him only became tangled when she had discovered his secret affair with Celia Johnson. Larry was likely right in terms of the residents' knee-jerk reaction to articles like the one she was trying and failing to absorb. But the fact of the matter was that of the two murders that had befallen Rock Ridge in the last month—Cookie Halpert and Clifford Green—neither had been committed by the ex-cons, but the longtime residents of Rock Ridge, namely Officer Gunther and Daisy Meriwether.

Eric Demblowski’s article completely failed to mention the real killers. Instead, it sensationalized the probability that Rock Ridge could expect more murders and anyone could be next.

“Try not to feed into the hysteria,” she advised. “And don’t talk to reporters.”

“You know me,” he said with a chuckle. “I keep to myself.”

Larry did. Ever since he had been falsely accused of murder after his very own father had been arrested for doing such a thing, Larry was careful about what he said and to whom.

“I have a long list today,” she said, setting the newspaper on the counter and pulling her handwritten list out of her overalls. Jotting down a list of materials while maneuvering her truck along Main Street hadn’t been her smoothest operation, and Kate realized she could barely read her own jagged handwriting. “I’ll give a holler if I need anything.”

Kate padded around to the shopping dollies that were kept on the far side of the counter, pulled one from the bunch, and rounded up the building materials aisle where there was a variety of boards, planks, two-by-fours, and dowels, all of which could be useful in fixing Jessica’s work table.

As she collected what she needed for the day, pulling wood from the shelves onto her dolly, Kate sent a brief text message to Jessica proposing she aim to stop in at three in the afternoon and then hopped on the phone. Dean picked up on the first ring.

“You okay?” he asked urgently in a manner not unlike Larry’s.

“Yes, I’m fine. Scott is fine. Amelia and Jason and Jared are fine. Lance is going to be in the hospital a few days, but things are looking good.”

Dean sighed with relief into the receiver, but a distinct tension followed.

“Jason’s really fine?” he asked.

“In terms of life or death, he is,” she offered. “He hasn’t called you, has he?”

“Hasn’t called. Hasn’t shown up at the site. I need a construction manager at the top of this pyramid or else the whole thing is going to collapse.”

“Can you give him a day or two?” She winced as she asked, anticipating that Dean was already at the end of his rope with Jason.

“One day, Kate. Then I have to make a decision.”

“All right. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” he said, but he sounded disgruntled.

“And I’ll see you in a bit. I’m going to finish Jared’s office today.”

“Ah,” he grumbled. “He’s not going to like moving into the hallway.”

“He’s at work today?”

“Apparently. Look, I know Jason was the one whose fiancée was abducted and Jared isn’t shouldering the bulk of the burden—”

“I got it, Dean,” she said impatiently to get him to ease off the pressure. She had enough of that in her life already. “I said I’ll talk to him and I will.”

As she ended the call and tucked her cell into her overalls, she wondered about her boys. Jared wasn’t one to choose work over his brother, not at a time like this. So why was he at work? Jason’s reaction to the doctor’s update at the hospital crossed her mind. He hadn’t looked relieved. He had looked anxious. Why would good news make him anxious?

She wanted to believe this was all a classic case of Jason pushing his family away, but she was getting the nagging feeling that it might go deeper—much deeper than that.

After ringing up Kate’s materials at the register, Larry helped her load the items into the back of her truck.

“Be careful out there,” he said.

In response, she shot him a sarcastic smirk. The last killer had thrown her into the back of a van, not to mention Kate had stumbled upon countless bodies over the years. Careful wasn’t what she was, and yet nothing bad had happened. His warning was falling on deaf ears. But she told him she would watch her step and climbed up behind the wheel.

Pulling out of the loading area, she fought the urge to call Jason. First, she would talk to Jared and find out how Jason had spent the long night after they had left the hospital. Once she got a read on her darker son, she would devise how to handle saving his job with Wentworth Contractors.

She did, however, call Scott the second she pulled into a parking spot in front of the municipal building.

“Hey,” she said when his deep and comforting voice came through the line. “I’m working in your building today.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For a few hours, anyway. Got to finish Jared’s new office... We could get a late lunch slash early dinner in a few hours before I head off to Jessica Wentworth’s house.”

“We could,” he said, trailing off in such a way that indicated he would like to see her but probably wouldn’t.

“You never made it home last night.”

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I would’ve called or texted, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Lance is doing just fine.”

“I heard. Thank God. I’ve been reaching out to Amelia, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Yeah, about that,” she said, taking a stuttering breath and choosing her words carefully. “She kind of implied she wasn’t planning on cooperating. But she’s just scared, I’m sure. She’ll come around.”

“I’m not so sure she will.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say my team found a few things at the site, and matters have gotten very complicated.”

“Scott, don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t provoke me into doing something to cause a fight.”

“Kate, you’re getting a little abstract for me to follow.”

“Tell me what you know or else I’m going to go poking around. You know me.”

At this point, her impulse to solve murders was bordering on addiction. She couldn’t help herself, and Scott alluding to clues without sharing them would only incite her to drop everything and dig until she exposed every last detail.

“I have to get off the phone. I’m going into a meeting. We’ll talk tonight. Dinner?”

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“Definitely,” he said, but quickly revised his answer. “Probably. Can’t commit to a specific time, but I won’t be working all night. I promise.”

She couldn’t wait up for him. Last night had been a long one, and Kate’s life worked best when she woke up with the sun and got a jump on fixing all that was broken in Rock Ridge, but she didn’t pressure him into committing or mention her schedule, both of which could risk starting a tiff.

“Let me know,” she said. She told him she loved him and got off the phone.

When she rounded the back of her truck and evaluated the materials, the bulk of which were for Jessica’s fashion studio and not her son’s new office, Kate grabbed her toolkit and started for the entrance.

As soon as she got to the mayor’s office floor, she was hit with a wall of heat.

“It has to be a hundred degrees in here!” she exclaimed to no one in particular as she passed through the anteroom and found Jared grunting and complaining about once again moving his work station into the hall outside his new office.

He was covered in sweat, and though he had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, his shirt was stained dark from perspiration.

“You’re telling me?” he said, setting a filing box on his desk, which was blocking the hall at an awkward angle. “Not only has the air conditioning broke, but maintenance can’t seem to figure out how to shut the air off. It’s been blasting hot air from outside all morning.”

“Did you try opening the windows?”

Exasperated, he gestured to the window at the far end of the hall. It was wide open with a fan in front of it.

“Sucking ninety degree summer air into the office isn’t my favorite strategy,” he grumbled. “And after the night I’ve had, I don’t need this.”

Nearing him, she set her toolkit on the floor in front of his desk to free her hands.

“Want to tell me about it?”

He sighed. “Friggin’ Jason.” It took him a long moment of shaking his head and staring off into space before he thought of what to say. “He would not let me pull him out of his dark hole last night. We’re all devastated.” Jared locked eyes with her and Kate nearly teared up seeing the pain flowing out of him. Jared had always been so sensitive. If Jason were hurt, Jared would take it on in an effort to lessen his twin's burden. She was distraught for the both of them over this. “I tried everything last night, but of course he did his usual Jason thing, wallowing and snapping at me. He kicked me out, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, kicked me right out of his house, even though it's big enough for the both of us. He wanted a few beers after the hospital, so we stopped off. I drank. Then he kicks me out. I slept in my damn car for three hours to sober up then drove home, got a lousy three hours’ sleep. Now I’m here and it’s hotter than hell.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh! And I didn’t tell you the best part!” Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks, but he wiped them off with his forearm. “When I woke up after a horrendous three hours in my car, I went back in the house to see about sneaking some rest on the couch. I wanted to check in on him, too, you know. But he wasn’t there!”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” he said impatiently. “He wasn’t in his bedroom, the bathroom, the basement. He left.”

“Where did he go?”

Jared’s expression went slack. “Seriously?”

She sighed and recited, “I know you don’t know where he went. I’m with you...and I’m also stunned.”

“Me too, because before I came into work this morning, I stopped by the house. Jason was there, showering. I was pissed, you know? I asked him where he had been. I told him I was worried about him. And he says nothing. Nothing! I’m telling you right now, Mom. I love my brother, but Scott’s suspicions are starting to make sense. And trust me, I’m not overreacting because I’m mad. I’ve thought about this rationally all morning. Something’s up with Jason, and it is not good.”

Reeling now that she understood Jared’s new stance on the grand issue of Becky’s abduction, Kate forced herself to pick up her toolkit and make her way into Jared’s office. For not one moment during her entire life had she ever questioned the goodness of her sons. She had always believed they were wonderful boys who grew into amazing men. But if Jared suddenly had his suspicions about Jason...well, it didn’t bode well with Kate, mainly because she believed him. And believing him was hard to fathom.

Had Scott’s gut been right all along? Did Jason have something to do with Becky’s disappearance? Was it an elaborate hoax? Scott had wondered if the young couple might have orchestrated the ransom for Becky’s return out of financial desperation. But if the kidnapper, whoever they were—Becky? Jason? Both of them?—had blown up half a million dollars and nearly killed Lance, then what in God’s name was this about?

Again, Daisy’s drugs being deposited at the Langleys’ mustard warehouse came to mind, as she used a box cutter to free the new shelving unit that Jared had ordered online, but she couldn’t draw any clear conclusions.

If the Langleys had double-crossed a drug dealer and Becky had been abducted as the result, how would that make Jason guilty?

Unless the drug dealers were Kate’s very own son and his fiancée...

As if to save her from the harrowing notion before chills could rush down her spine, Kate’s cell phone vibrated in her overalls.

It was Amelia Langley.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said in a tone so steady, it set Kate’s teeth on edge. “I came to Over the Moon to check on things....”

“And?”

“Someone’s been murdered in room 5.”

Chapter Three

Kate told Amelia to call the police. That she was on her way. As she walked briskly through the mayor’s office, she avoided Jared who would surely recognize her panic if she showed any indication she was rattled. To no one in particular, she announced, “Off to lunch!”

Trying to remain calm, she climbed into her truck and eased out of the parking space.

Over the Moon was a colonial mansion just modest enough to seem like a farmhouse from the outside. Inside was a different story. With receptionists, maids, and administrative assistants dominating the interior, there was no mistaking the Langleys’ wealth.

When Kate reached the front desk, the receptionist rose to her feet and smiled as though she had no idea the inn’s owner had just found a dead body in one of the rooms.

“I’m Ashley,” she said. “Welcome to Over the Moon. Can I have your name?” Her fingertips were poised over a keyboard that was resting on the desk.

“I’m here to see Amelia. Kate Flaherty. She called me. If you could just tell me how to get to room 5?”

The receptionist looked a bit thrown, but explained that Kate would find it at the top of the stairs. “Just make a right and head to the end of the hallway.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Kate scanned the parking area through the windows. The police should have been here by now. Amelia probably hadn’t called them. But why?

She found the stairs and quickly padded up. At the landing, she noticed two details—it was unusually quiet and there were only three doors spanning the hallway. As she made her way, checking the room numbers as she went, Kate wondered if Over the Moon had been hit with the same fate as the rest of Rock Ridge. With reporters infiltrating the town and covering murders, businesses would begin suffering. It appeared as though the inn already was.

When she reached room 5, she quietly rapped her knuckles on the door and asked, “Amelia?”

A moment later, she heard movement within the room, footfall that sounded rushed. Then the door popped open, Amelia looking nervous on the other side.

“Why aren’t the police here?” Kate asked, easing the door open since Amelia made no effort to.

“This inn can’t take any bad press.”

Kate wasn’t sure there would be any way to avoid that. She closed the door, and when she turned to face Amelia, her gaze locked on the body.

It was a man. Slumped on the floor, he looked as if he had fallen out of a desk chair at the back of the room. As she neared him, it became clear he had been struck in the back of the head with a blunt object. When she scanned the room, she found a metal, bookend on the floor where the left side of the bed ran parallel to the wall. The bookend, a wrought-iron antique in the shape of a mallard, had blood on it.

“One of your guests?”

Amelia didn’t answer. She was wringing her hands and pacing the room as if caught in a terrible dilemma.

“Amelia?”

“I should tell you the whole story.”

“You should tell the police the whole story,” she countered.

“I’m aware of that,” Amelia snapped, as she sat on the edge of the bed. “If I could run the whole story by you, then you can tell me how I should phrase things to Scott.”

The fact that she seemed to be devising an angle told Kate that Amelia was perhaps concerned the murder would blow back on her. This wasn’t about her inn’s business faltering. It was about her. And Kate had to wonder why.

Though it unnerved her to settle into a sofa chair across from Amelia and waste time hearing her out when there was a dead person five feet away, she sat and gave Amelia her full attention.

“Remember when Clifford Green was staying here? I told you how I found out he had received a discount we don’t normally offer and I couldn’t figure out which employee did it because it was an old employee number?”

Kate nodded.

“I had my IT specialist look into it. Tommy Barkow. He did our website and installed our POS system a few years back.”

Kate wasn’t sure what that had to do with a dead man in the room, but she didn’t interject, only leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees.

Amelia went on, but prefaced her point with a qualifier. “I have no way of knowing if the two are connected....”

“Two what?”

“Oh God,” said Amelia, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t need this right now with Lance in the hospital.” Kate gave her a moment to compose herself. “Tommy found out that the employee number belonged to...”

“Who? To who?” Kate asked urgently.

“It was Becky’s number.”

Their eyes locked, but soon Amelia’s gaze fell to the floor. Kate said, “But Clifford checked into the inn after Becky was abducted.”

“Which is why I don’t want to tell Scott. It’s no secret he’s been suspicious of Jason, and no offense, but I think he has every right to be. But if he finds out Becky’s ID number was used...”

“These are two separate incidences,” Kate pointed out as a way to ease Amelia’s worry. “Aren’t they?”

Amelia glanced at the dead body and said, “That’s Tommy Barkow.”

So Tommy found out Becky’s number was used to discount Clifford and then he was murdered, thought Kate, drawing connections that only made the Becky sightings more plausible.

“Scott’s going to think Becky’s out there, and he’s going to think she killed Tommy,” said Amelia, her eyes widening with sudden panic.

Kate wasn’t about to encourage her not to tell Scott the whole truth, and it made saying anything at all a challenge.

Eventually, she asked, “Who could’ve gotten ahold of Becky’s number?”

“That’s a question for Tommy,” she said. “In terms of our computer system, archived information isn’t available to just anyone logging on. And all the numbers are private. Anyone who looks at the screen, whether they’re combing through reservations or the employee schedule, will only see names.”

“We don’t know that the person who used Becky’s number killed Tommy,” she offered, but it was a frail response.

“Oh please, Kate. It’s obvious the two are linked.”

“Not necessarily. You might have an employee who knew Clifford and wanted to cut him a break. This could have more to do with those convicts getting out than it does Becky’s abduction.”

“I don’t hire ex-cons,” she stated as if offended.

“Maybe someone fudged their paperwork, lied—it’s possible.”

“We do background checks.”

Kate wondered why Amelia was being adamant since it only served to suggest Becky was, in fact, in Rock Ridge, alive and well, and had killed Tommy.

“Amelia, it’s time to call Scott.”

Sighing from where she sat on the bed, Amelia nodded as if accepting the fact exhausted her. “Will you?”

Kate fished her phone out of the front pocket of her overalls and sent a call through to Scott’s cell. As she listened to the ringtone, she hoped he hadn’t set his phone on silent to focus on working the explosion scene at the amusement park.

Finally, he picked up.

She kept it brief. Amelia was gesticulating and whispering demands of what not to say, and when Kate got off the call and mentioned the police were on their way, Amelia got to her feet and neared the body.

“He was such a nice, young man,” she noted, standing over him.

Kate gently grasped Amelia’s arm and drew her away. “Let’s wait in the lounge downstairs.” As she guided Amelia through the hallway, she commented, “It’s quiet.”

“Those reporters,” she grumbled. “The few reservations we had got canceled and the guests that were here checked out.”

“What do you suppose Tommy was doing in that room?” she asked, as they crossed through the first floor to the lounge where a cocktail waitress approached and immediately asked if Mrs. Langley would like a whiskey sour.

Amelia waved off the waitress and sat on a couch in front of the windows. Outside, the sun was beating down, the grass looked so green that Kate wondered if it was sod, and the groundskeeper walked a wheelbarrow full of mulch across the yard.

“I have no idea why he was in that room,” she said. “Other than installing our Wi-Fi a good while back, Tommy only worked remotely.”

“Did you talk to the receptionist? Maybe Tommy gave her a reason for coming.”

When Amelia said nothing, but only stared vacantly out the window, Kate made a mental note to bring it up with Scott. Not that her husband needed her to micromanage the investigation.

As they waited for the police, Kate suddenly felt terrible for Scott. Rock Ridge had been coming undone with crime, and because of it, Scott had an abduction, an explosion, and now a murder on his hands. The fact that reporters were showing up would only make his efforts all the more cumbersome.

Most disturbing was the possibility that Becky could’ve had something to do with Tommy’s death. Kate knew she had seen Becky outside of Daisy’s Luncheonette a number of weeks back. And when she had watched the surveillance monitor, she had been certain it was Becky who had been lurking behind that stack of pipes. But Kate couldn’t let herself go there. Ever since Jared had expressed his distrust of Jason, any suspicion Kate had towards Becky was tangled in that of her son.

She heard the heavy stomps and commanding questions of police officers stepping up to the receptionist’s desk on the other side of the hallway. Recognizing Officer Tolland’s voice, Kate rose to her feet. “I’ll let them know we’re in here.”

In the anteroom, Kate found Tolland, Officer Garrison, and a rookie cop who looked far too thrilled. As she gave them her solemn greeting, Scott stepped through the door, nodded his thanks to the butler, and locked eyes with Kate.

“It’s the IT specialist,” she said in a low tone. “Room 5 upstairs.”

“She called you and not the station?” he asked.

“Apparently. You can ask her about it yourself. She’s in the lounge.”

When a pair of medics carrying a gurney passed through the entrance, Scott guided Kate out of their way. “I need you to keep this under your hat,” he said. “You know how rumors spread in this town, and there are too many reports for you to get away with even the most discreet comment.”

“Of course,” she said, a bit annoyed. She didn’t need to be told that. No one hated reporters more than Kate.

“Carly included,” he asserted.

“I can’t even talk to my best friend?”

Scott’s answer came in the form of his mouth pressing into a hard line.

“I’m going to tell Amelia I’m heading out,” she said, turning on her heel and crossing through to the lounge.

Amelia looked like a jittery mess, which explained why the cocktail waitress was setting a whiskey sour on the coffee table in front of her.

As Kate neared, preparing to offer some parting words, Amelia said, “I can’t have cops crawling all over my inn.”

“I’m sure they’ll work quickly and get out of your hair.”

Amelia snorted a laugh, as she pressed her cocktail to her lips.

Kate had the urge to tell her to look on the bright side. It wasn’t like the inn had any guests. She refrained, aware that making such an observation would only pour salt on Amelia’s wounds.

“I’m going to head out.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you? About the...ID number?”

“No,” said Kate. “I’ll let you do that. And Amelia? The more information Scott has, the better. You can’t keep things from him. He’ll find out.”

Amelia washed the point down with the rest of her drink, then set the glass on the coffee table and laced her fingers. “If you can let him know that I really must get back to the hospital...”

With a solemn smirk, Kate indicated she would and did just that as soon as she neared Scott, who was making his way to the stairs with his team.

“Go easy on her,” she said.

“A dead body in her inn only complicates a very complicated situation,” he said, implying that going easy on Amelia likely wouldn’t be possible. “I’ll see you tonight.”

As Kate made her way to the entrance of the inn, stepping into the hot afternoon sunlight, a national news van pulled to a screeching stop just shy of her toes, causing her to gasp and jump back.

The news crew jumped out. Kate didn’t wait for the reporter (a perky young blonde, who, in Kate’s opinion, was wearing far too much makeup) to hook up her microphones. “This is a private establishment!” she asserted. “You can’t be here.”

“Freedom of the press,” said the reporter with such an easy-breezy air that it set Kate’s teeth on edge. Not to mention the reporter was misusing the constitutional amendment she had referenced.

“How the hell did you even hear about this?” Kate demanded, blocking her entry to the inn.

With a coy smirk, the reporter said, “I never reveal my sources.” Then she confidently stepped around Kate, the news crew rushing after her, and entered Over the Moon.

By the time Kate reached her truck and climbed up behind the wheel, a terrible knot had begun twisting in her stomach. She couldn’t concentrate well enough to decide if she should return to the mayor’s office to finish her job there or head over to Jessica’s to get started on fixing her work table, so she headed towards the center of town, hoping she could sort it out while driving.

But as she neared all the little shops on Main Street, Kate still hadn’t come to a game plan for her day. Perhaps she was overwhelmed. Being strong for Jason and the Langleys in the wake of last night’s monumental disappointment had certainly taken a lot out of her. And now with Tommy Barkow having been found dead at Over the Moon, it seemed the tragedies were piling up faster than Scott could reconcile them. Why was it that so many murders in this town had linked back to Clifford Green? Even after his murder, the ex-convict was connected to Tommy’s murder, if only abstractly. Still, it was bothersome, but not more so than Clara’s consistent tight-lipped response.

Hoping to kill two birds with one stone, Kate edged towards the curb in front of Bean There.

Inside the coffee shop, Kate was alarmed to find it crowded. As soon as she had stepped in the door, she was met with a wall of people, and it wasn’t until she made her way to the end of the line, weaving through pressed bodies who had nowhere to sit, that she realized these weren’t residents but reporters.

When she finally reached the counter, Clara looked frazzled. Her barista assistant, Mary-Beth, was in no better shape.

“Hell of a day,” said Clara, wiping her brow with her apron and making no attempt to smile. “The explosion drew them in and I cannot wait for these reporters to get the hell of out town. What’s good for business isn’t always good for sanity!”

Kate couldn’t agree more, as someone shoved her from behind. When she turned to glare at the culprit, she found a weasely young man with tortoise-shell glasses and a mortified look on his face.

“I’m so sorry. Someone knocked into me.”

Furtively, Kate stared him down until he shrank then returned her gaze to Clara, who had already poured a tall, dark roast for Kate and set it on the counter. “Please tell me Scott’s making headway on finding whoever was behind that explosion. The sooner he solves the case, the faster these vultures will fly back to wherever it is they came from.”

All she could say was that Scott was doing his best, then added, “I need to ask you...when Clifford was staying at Over the Moon...he got a discount. Did he ever mention who did him the favor?”

Exhaustively, Clara sighed, planting her palms on the counter. “Kate, we’ve been over this. I already told you all I know. Can’t you get obsessed with the current crime and not dwell on past ones?” Kate only held her gaze, and soon Clara understood current and past crimes might be one in the same. “No way.”

“Not the explosion,” she clarified in a quiet voice. The coffee shop was plagued with reporters. If ever there was a place not to talk about Tommy Barkow, this was it. “But Clifford was staying at Over the Moon, and…well...”

Under her breath, Clara said, “Don’t tell me...”

Kate merely lifted her brows to confirm what they both were thinking.

“Who?” Clara asked.

Leaning over the counter, Kate whispered, “Tommy Barkow.”

“Tommy?”

“You knew him?”

“Everyone in town with a small business in need of a website knows Tommy. He put together Cookie’s site and one for Bean There, as well.”

“Did Clifford know him?”

Turning defensive, she snapped, “You need to get off Clifford’s case. He’s dead. There’s nothing to investigate.”

“I think Tommy was killed because he found out who gave Clifford that discount at the inn.”

“Kate, I love you, but you’re pushing it. I already told you what I know.” She pushed Kate’s to-go cup of coffee across the counter in request she pay up and be on her way. In response, Kate supplied her with the cash and turned, but Clara stopped her, saying, “At least the explosion is throwing the amusement park off schedule.”

“Is it?”

“How could it not?” she countered. “The cops have taken over the area. Dean must be freaking out.”

As Kate thanked her and turned for the door, it suddenly occurred to her that the botched ransom might have been botched for reasons she hadn’t considered.

What if the kidnapper hadn’t thrown the bomb as a means to kill Lance? What if the entire setup hadn’t been a ploy to get Lance alone at the site? What if a third party jumped on the opportunity and blew up the amusement park as a means to stop its development?

It made her head reel just thinking about it. The more Kate found out, the less sense it all made, and her chest felt tight because of it.

She drank her coffee as she walked to her truck. The temperature was climbing, which wasn’t a good sign for Jared’s office unless the maintenance crew at the municipal building had gotten around to fixing the broken AC. Assuming the problem hadn’t yet been solved, she sent a quick text to Jared, explaining that she would come by to finish his office in the early evening once it cooled off.

As soon as she was settled behind the wheel, her cell vibrated with her son’s quick reply. No problem, can’t blame you.

It crossed her mind to give Jessica a heads-up call that she was on her way, but Kate couldn’t stand to sit in her truck for a moment longer. The air was hot and muggy, and unless she got rolling, she would be in danger of sweating herself into puddle.

Kate had to watch her speed while driving to the Wentworth’s house. The faster she went, the more the wind blew through the truck, which felt so good she couldn’t help but step on the gas to maximize the relief.

When she reached Jessica’s house, she checked the road was clear in both directions then swung out, threw her truck into reverse, and backed up the driveway so that her supplies in the truck bed would be as close as possible to the front door.

It took some clever maneuvering to get her toolkit and the boards she would need. Realizing she would have to make a few trips, she started for the front door. As she did, she heard Jessica yelling inside the house, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She set her toolkit on the ground in favor of knocking on the door, as Bradley began arguing with his mother.

“Just wait until Dean gets home!” yelled Jessica as she opened the door.

Before Kate could greet her, Bradley stomped through the living room, shouting, “He’s not my real dad!” Then he raced up the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” said Jessica. “Teenagers.”

Was he? Technically, Bradley was eighteen, but if memory served Kate correctly, and it often did, he was a bit too old to throw a hormone-induced fit.

“Not to worry,” she said, brushing over the display. “I’m here to fix your table.”

“Of course, come in.”

“You can leave it open,” said Kate before Jessica could close the door behind her. “I’ve got a few more things to bring in.”

Leading Kate into her fashion studio that was set off from the living room, Jessica offered her a cup of coffee.

“I won’t turn you down,” she said with a smile, even though she was still hopping from her last cup of coffee.

Kate set her toolkit down and began examining the faulty table leg right as Bradley took to stomping around upstairs.

In an instant, Jessica snapped her eyes to the ceiling and yelled, “Quiet!” Then she apologized to Kate, once more.

“You guys were getting along great, I thought.”

“We were, and are,” she said with a long sigh. After taking a deep breath, she neared Kate and disclosed, “I happened upon some...items in his room. Now we’re in the midst of a cliché fight.”

“Items?”

“He says it’s not his.” Jessica rolled her eyes at how trite the conflict was. “Yeah, like I’ll buy that. Oh, but please don’t tell anyone.”

Kate shook her head, indicating she wouldn’t.

“It’s just that Dean is going through so much right now. And with all those reporters in town and his high hopes of being reelected...we can’t survive a scandal.”

Dean had been doing a fine job as mayor, but at the end of the summer, all of Rock Ridge would take a vote on whether or not he could serve another term.

“His whole plan with the amusement park,” she went on, “was to get Rock Ridge back on financial track. Clearly, that’s going to be a challenge, thanks to the recent destruction. Dean was up all night worrying he would lose the residents’ confidence, and if word gets out that Bradley is selling drugs—”

“Bradley is selling drugs?” she asked, alarmed.

Again, Jessica sighed. “I don’t know that he’s selling, but I found a large box filled to the brim with what appeared to be white powder packed in plastic bags. Why would he have that kind of quantity if it was a recreational habit?”

“My God,” said Kate, absorbing the magnitude of the situation.

It sounded an awful lot like the drugs Daisy had dropped off at the Langleys’ mustard warehouse.

Chapter Four

After a solid night’s sleep beside Scott, who had actually made it home in time for dinner, Kate woke with the sun five minutes before her alarm sounded, showered and dressed, and was out the door.

The plan for the day, which had been much easier to devise than it had been yesterday, was to finish up Jared’s office before the temperature rose and then swing over to Meredith Joste’s house. Justina of Carnegie Real Estate was proceeding to sell Meredith’s art deco house, but with all of the foot traffic passing through during her open houses, there had been damage to the upstairs bathroom. Though it was only Justina’s guess, one of the youngsters of a wealthy couple had thrown a waste bin against the bathroom mirror, cracking it straight down the center.

Using her time wisely, Kate drove to Grayson’s Hardware and hunted through the bathroom aisle for a mirror that matched the photo Justina had sent to her cell phone.

As she honed in on one that suited Justina’s specifications, Larry trailed after her.

“I heard about Tommy Barkow,” he commented as if to get Kate to spill details she might know. “He did Grayson’s website, you know.”

Facing him, she asked, “You have a website?”

“It was one of our larger expenses last year. No one uses it, though.”

It didn’t surprise her. Most contractors spent their days out on jobs and not hunched over their computers making online orders.

“He was a nice guy. Young,” he went on, ruminating the finer points of Tommy’s characteristics. “He went to MIT, I heard. He should’ve been a chemical engineer and not stuck in Rock Ridge making a living doing tech support.”

“I never met him,” she said. “Did he grow up here?”

Larry shrugged, implying Tommy had, which was the only logical reason he would stay in Pennsylvania after graduating from the world-renowned technical institution in Massachusetts.

Pulling a large mirror off the shelf, she said, “This one looks good.”

“I’ll get that rung up for you.”

“Hey, Larry?”

He rested the bottom edge of the mirror on his work boot and gave her his full attention.

“Would it be possible to start another tab with you?”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

She had been doing fine with her finances and splitting expenses with Scott ever since they’d gotten married. It had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders. But Jason hadn’t been working consistently. Dean had agreed to give Jason a day to shake off the blow of the botched ransom exchange, but one day of recovery was no guarantee her son would bounce back. He might need a little help with his bills.

Larry scanned the mirror into his computer and then typed away on the keyboard, entering the item under a new tab. “Need help getting that out to your truck?” he asked, as he slid the mirror from the counter, Kate gripping its sides to help him.

She tested the mirror’s weight then decided, “I can handle it. Thanks again!”

After opening the drop-door at the back of her truck, she gingerly slid the mirror into the bed. It wasn’t exactly resting flat since there was a shallow pile of wood beneath it, the materials she hadn’t needed to fix Jessica’s table yesterday, but Kate figured if she drove slow, the mirror wouldn’t crack.

The mayor’s office was quiet when she stepped into the anteroom with her toolkit. Dean was tucked in his office with the door open just a crack. She could hear him speaking, and it sounded like he was on a stressful telephone call.

As she passed through, glancing at the empty receptionist’s desk, she found Jared at his desk in the hallway.

“Oh thank God,” he said, popping out of his chair to give her a hug. “Please tell me you’ll be done in a few hours, so I don’t have to work in the hallway anymore.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said, as she felt cool air breezing through. “They fixed the AC?”

“Miracle of miracles.”

She set her toolkit beside the furniture pieces she would need to assemble in his new office.

Itemizing the boxes, Jared said, “All you have to do is the shelving unit, and I bought these two smaller ones. Also, I found this on the sidewalk.” He gave a coffee table a little kick with his foot and Kate smiled.

“You’re going to need a couch,” she commented, visualizing how to make his office cozy as well as an adequate workspace.

“Shocks me what people toss on the curb for the garbage man,” said Jared. “If you need anything, I’m right out here.”

“Oh hey,” she said, catching him. When he met her gaze, she asked, “How’s Jason doing?”

Jared pressed his mouth into a hard line and she was sorry she asked. “I don’t know how he’s doing. I can tell you what he’s not doing—answering my calls, responding to my texts, coming to the door when I stop by the house.”

“Please tell me that’s because he’s busy at work at the amusement park.”

“Not by a long shot. Truth be told, I don’t know where the hell he disappears to.”

“Okay, look,” she said, nearing him. “I don’t want him to get behind on his bills.”

“How are you going to prevent that?”

“I was thinking of swinging by the bank and paying for his upcoming mortgages. Maybe sending a check in to cover a few months of the electric and gas.”

“Mom, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

“I’m not going to let his life fall apart.”

Jared grasped her shoulders and offered a weary smirk. “I’m not sure anyone cares more than you. It’s your Achilles’ heel, you know that, right?”

She laughed but it wavered badly. “Yeah, I know.”

When Jared left her, she used a box cutter to strip away the packaging on one of the smaller shelving units and got to work.

In a matter of hours, she assembled all three units and then helped Jared carry his desk into the room. He seemed impressed, walking around his new office and taking in the overall feel of it.

“I think you’re right about the couch,” he remarked. “Oh, and I know your schedule might be hectic, but I put in a request for a window.”

“You did?”

“It’s getting bureaucratic, but management told me if I get a building permit, I can knock out a square in the wall right here and install a window.”

“You mean I can, if I get a permit,” she teased.

“Do you have time?”

“It’s a big job,” she said. “I’d need to check with the town to see if there’s asbestos in the wall. You might be looking at at least a week out in the hallway.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “I’m excited about my new office, and I don’t want it to feel like a dungeon.”

She couldn’t agree more, and as she lifted her toolkit she told him she would get the ball rolling.

Kate took her time passing through the anteroom. Her eyes were glued to Dean’s door and her ears pricked up, overhearing his conversation. It sounded like the mayor was pleading with an investor, and after the long night he must have had, coming home and learning of Bradley’s foray into selling drugs, Kate did not envy him one bit.

It seemed more lives than one were falling apart.

When she reached her truck, she gave Justina a quick call.

“You know where the key is,” she said in a rushed tone on the other end of the call. “I haven’t scheduled any open houses for the rest of the day, but would like to show the place around six. Can you be squared away by then?”

“Unless something unforeseeable happens.”

Justina grumbled about unforeseeable happenings being the trend around here, then hung up.

The drive to the art deco house across town was irksome. Every time the road cleared of traffic, a news van would cut in front of Kate’s truck and slow to a snail’s pace as if breaking news were happening on the shoulder. Several times she tried barreling up the double yellow to pass one of the trucks, but only once did she succeed.

When she finally reached Meredith’s house, her nerves calmed, but only by a fraction. It unnerved her to anticipate setting foot in the same place where she had found a murder weapon. But she reminded herself that Meredith Joste was in prison for her involvement with Daisy’s drug ring, the more prominent characters of which had yet to be discovered. Daisy had been incarcerated, as well, but Rock Ridge felt no safer because of it.

Shaking off her anxiety, Kate climbed out of her truck and rounded to the bed where she pulled on a pair of work gloves. With the mirror in her hands, she walked to the front door, found the key after propping the mirror against the house, and unlocked the door.

Once she placed the mirror in the upstairs bathroom, eyeing the cracked one on the wall—it looked like a kaleidoscope—she doubled back for her toolkit. As soon as she had it in her grasp, a white sedan pulled up along the curb on the opposite side of the street.

Thinking little of it, Kate made her way back through the house. When she reached the bathroom, she used a Phillips-head screwdriver to loosen the fixtures framing the damaged mirror.

She jolted, hearing a woman call up from the foyer. “Hello?”

Muscling a chunk of the mirror to the ground, Kate cursed herself that she had forgotten to shut the front door.

“Hello?” the woman called out again, her high heels clicking across the wooden floor. “I saw the for-sale sign in the front yard, is anyone here?”

“Hang on!” Kate said, stripping her work gloves off. Quickly, she padded down the hallway and descended the stairs to find a polished-looking woman standing in the living room.

By Kate’s estimation, the woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties, and she wasn’t dressed for the weather. Instead, she wore a dark, designer suit that seemed as fashionable as it was crisp.

“Are you with Carnegie Real Estate?” she asked, gesturing towards the door. “That’s who’s selling the house, correct? It’s on the sign out there.”

“I don’t work for Carnegie, no,” said Kate, taking a few shy steps towards the stranger. “I’m doing a little fix-it job upstairs. The house won’t be open to show until tonight, around six.”

“I’m here now,” said the woman with a quick blink. “Donna Kramer.”

“Nice to meet you, Donna.” Kate made an awkward attempt to shake Donna’s hand then shuffled back. “Like I said, Justina from Carnegie will be here at six.”

“Well, I’d like to make an offer.”

“And I’m sure she’d love to hear it...at six.” This was all too familiar. What was it about this house that attracted pushy, rich women? The fact of the matter was that Kate was as eager for this house to sell as anyone. She was sick of spending her days fixing it up. And it was this very sentiment that prompted her to ask, “What’s the offer?”

“Excuse me, do you or do you not work for Carnegie Real Estate?”

“If you give me a figure, I might be able to get Justina over here to talk to you,” she stated firmly.

“My figure?” she challenged. “I’ll tell you what my figure is. I’ll buy it for half the market value.”

“Half?”

Donna held her gaze with such conviction that Kate felt personally insulted. She might not know much about real estate, but any offer that was shamelessly presented at half of the going rate wouldn’t be a reason to get Justina on the phone.

“I may not be from Rock Ridge,” she went on, “but I’ve kept my ear to the ground. Once the press runs with the numerous stories cropping up around here, half the market value will be the norm, and a good deal at that.”

Kate used a curt tone, as she said, “All right, Donna. I’ll let Justina know you dropped by.”

But the woman wouldn’t be ushered to the door. Rather, she stood her ground.

“A drug dealer was living here,” she pointed out in response. “A murder weapon was found in the back yard—”

“Patio.”

“Whatever,” she cut in, waving the difference off as if it were a pesky fly. “I have cash.”

“And I have no patience,” she countered, leading Donna to the front door. “Come back at six or don’t come at all.”

Donna stepped outside, but turned, staring down at Kate. “You’re everything that’s wrong with this town. And I’m everything that’s right. Out with the old, Kate Flaherty, and in with the new.”

Chapter Five

Juggling multiple cases was taking its toll on Scott. When he finally got home, Kate had dinner ready. She had spent the better part of the evening cooking a casserole—his favorite—along with putting together a mixed-greens salad, all the while reaching out to Jason, an effort that totaled one call and three texts. Her son had only responded once, sending a text message that simply said, I’m back to work tomorrow. Don’t worry.

“How was your day?” she asked, as Scott joined her at the kitchen table.

He lumbered towards the chair adjacent hers, pulled it out, and plopped heavily down, grumbling to sum up a response.

“That bad, huh?” she asked, getting to her feet. She had bought a bottle of Shiraz she thought would pair nicely with the meal she had planned. As she listened to Scott’s take on his day, she opened the wine and poured two glasses, then returned to the table.

“Tommy Barkow wasn’t the kind of guy anyone would want dead,” he went on. “He has no relatives to speak of—living, that is. We found out his parents died a good eight years back and his distant cousins claimed they never met him. We haven’t been able to pinpoint a reason for him having been in that room at the inn. None of the employees checked him in or even saw him come.”

As she tallied the finer details of Scott’s uphill battle, Kate was itching to ask if Amelia had mentioned anything about Becky’s old employee ID number. Easing towards the topic, she asked, “Did Amelia say anything? Give you any helpful pointers?”

“No,” he said frankly before drinking his wine. “Only that he worked for her concerning Over the Moon’s IT needs, the website, all that. Most bizarrely, when we went through Barkow’s home, it was virtually empty.”

“Meaning he was about to leave town?”

“It didn’t look that way, no. More like he suffered from some form of OCD where he avoided furniture and belongings. The place was sterile, yet there were signs he lived there. I’m telling you, it was bizarre. The bathroom, for example, had one tube of toothpaste, one toothbrush and one bar of soap. Nothing else. No used towels. No waste bin or shower mat. And the bedroom looked the same. One bed, and it was made, but the closet was empty, no additional linen. He had two outfits hanging, two pairs of shoes, the bare minimum.”

“That is bizarre,” she said. Rising from the table again, she sipped her wine and set it on the counter. The casserole smelled ready, and as she opened the oven door, the timer on the counter chimed.

“I’ll tell you what was bizarre,” he went on, as she began serving two plates replete with a hefty portion of casserole and a side of salad. “We dusted the place for fingerprints. If the killer knew Barkow, and often the culprit has a personal relationship with the victim, then it’s possible that person could’ve been inside his home. My team dusted all day. And you know what?”

“What?” she asked, setting his plate in front of him and lowering into her chair.

“No fingerprints.”

“So the killer didn’t go inside his house.”

“No,” he said, locking eyes with her for emphasis. “I mean there were no fingerprints. It’s like Barkow never touched a single item in his house.”

“What?”

“No prints on the toothpaste tube, for example. None on the doorknobs. Tell me, how is that possible?”

“I have no idea.”

“Was the guy wearing gloves in his own house? And if he was, why?” Scott let out a carefully measured breath and picked up his fork. “Not that we needed to find Barkow’s prints. We weren’t even looking for them. But the fact that there weren’t any completely derailed our investigation today. We were so puzzled by it, we got obsessed.”

“What about Barkow’s body? I know everyone has fingerprints, but did the coroner look at his hands? Maybe he had an accident that burned them off.”

Scott smirked at her. “Always thinking,” he commented. “Yes, we called the coroner right away and Tommy’s fingers, hands, everything were perfectly fine.”

“And you dusted for prints at the inn,” she stated, just to cover the bases.

“We did and there were none, except on the wrought-iron bookend that killed Barkow. We got a partial print. It’s going to take time running it through the database, but I’m expecting news tonight. Unless the killer isn’t in the system...”

Scott looked suddenly tired. The conversation lulled as they ate. Kate sipped her wine in-between bites and soon realized she had drained the glass. She poured a touch of wine into Scott’s glass, though it was debatable whether or not he needed it. Then she refilled her own and drank a good portion.

“Any word on the explosion?” she asked after taking a long sip.              “We know that it was a homemade device and the primary explosive was gun powder. So whoever did it is savvy and has the education. The larger question is why would they thwart the ransom exchange? Why blow up the cash?”

Kate had been wondering the exact same thing. “And the kidnapper hasn’t reached out to the Langleys?”

“Nope. If you ask me, Lance and Amelia were involved in something and Becky became a pawn.”

She was dying to say, “I told you so,” except that she had only considered this possibility in her head and hadn’t brought it to Scott’s attention.

“So,” she began, “Jason’s off the hook?”

“Look,” he said, “I know you’re upset with me for even suspecting him. I was only doing my job.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just glad you’ve gotten past looking at him.”

“I have and I haven’t. This entire case is too unusual to rule anything out. Typically, when a person is abducted and it’s for ransom, then the ransom demand comes in relatively quick. For Becky, it didn’t. On top of it, once the ransom terms are set, the kidnapper usually fulfills them, or, at the very least, makes every effort to get the cash. That didn’t happen. So either the kidnapper caught wind that the cops were there or a third party intervened. But in this case, neither makes much sense. If the kidnapper really was tipped off, why show up to throw a bomb? And why throw a bomb and destroy the cash?”

Scott rubbed his eyes. “I can’t think about this anymore. I’ve got two cases with two dead ends on the horizon.”

Kate placed her hand over his on the table.

“Meanwhile,” he went on, “reporters are making a mess of things and the Rock Ridge PD is warding off the FBI. Ordinarily, it would be the police chief who calls in the Feds, but with all the media coverage, the Feds are reaching out to take over, which is the last thing I want.”

Kate had been avoiding the paper, making a point not to read it beyond the headlines. “You’re not saying someone in your department is leaking information, are you?”

“No, not the department. But people are talking. When that reporter from the national news—”

“The blonde I saw outside of Over the Moon?”

“Yeah. As soon as she got inside the friggin' receptionist told her Barkow hadn’t checked into the room. I’m sure the girl meant well, but before she opened her mouth, no one knew the victim’s name or any details. Details like that, no matter how small, can spiral out of control. And the press has been printing every detail they get, even when it’s seemingly insignificant.” Scott let out a shuttering breath then grumbled. “I just said I couldn’t talk about this anymore, and here I am talking about it. Let’s turn on the TV. I need to shut my brain off for a while.”

“You got it.”

As Scott made his way into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, Kate collected the dishes, scraped the dregs of their meal into the trash, and rinsed the plates. When she joined him, a football game was blaring on the TV. She nuzzled into his shoulder, as he hugged his arm around her, and they spent the rest of their evening trying to relax. Though neither talked about the cases that had plagued Rock Ridge, both thought about the quizzical details and how nothing seemed to make sense.

The next day, Kate was craving some Carly time. After a quick call, she arranged to meet her best friend at Sunshine Florist for coffee and some much-needed venting.

As soon as Kate stepped through the glass door, the bell chiming overhead, she caught the rich scent of dark roast in the air.

From behind the counter, Carly smiled, throwing up her hands as soon as she saw Kate. “I’m not putting you to work, I swear.”

“What broke?” she asked knowingly.

“No rush, but the drawer under the counter has been sticking.”

Kate quirked her mouth into a smirk. “Not putting me to work, huh? Give me a second.”

She kept a bottle of WD-40 in the glove box of her truck and had mainly used it on the drawers in Hazel Millhouse’s kitchen. She grabbed it, shaking the can. It was down to the dregs, but she figured there would be enough to smooth out Carly’s drawer.

When she returned, Carly handed her a mug of coffee and gave her a little bow. They switched spots, Kate rounding behind the counter and Carly lingering only to point out which drawer was causing all the trouble.

As Kate yanked the drawer out, cleared the contents onto the counter, and began spraying the metal track, working the WD-40 into the rungs, she took sips of her coffee with her free hand and explained, “I had a hell of a time at the bank yesterday.”

“I thought you and Scott were doing well?”

“We are. It’s Jason. He’s been working inconsistently so I stopped in at the bank to pay his mortgage. Did you know you can’t pay someone else’s mortgage?”

“I’ve never tried.”

“There’s so much red tape. I had to guilt trip the bank manager just to expedite it.”

“Randall?”

Kate rolled her eyes as if the man’s very name irked her. The drawer was running smoothly and no longer sticking, so she returned the scattered contents inside and shut it.

“On top of it, Jared’s trusting Jason less and less, and Scott’s been run ragged at the precinct.”

“Ut-huh,” said Carly, wagging her finger. “My turn.”

“Ha,” said Kate. Their venting sessions included taking even turns and alternating between their qualms. “I’m all ears.”

“So apparently,” she began, leaning over the counter as though what she was about to divulge was alarming, “Tommy had some kind of invoicing fail-safe in place. Basically, all of his customers like Sunshine Florist, Grayson’s Hardware, even Over the Moon were paying a tiny, monthly admin charge, nothing really, just a few bucks to Tommy as a sort of retainer to keep our websites going. I was on an auto debit so I’d never have to think about it. Well, this morning I got an e-mail that my payment didn’t go through. I have plenty in the bank, so when I looked deeper, it seems that Tommy hadn’t initiated the charge. I don’t really know about these things, but I guess he did it manually from his end each month. Whatever. The point is, he died, didn’t initiate the charge, and somehow this prompted an automatic lockdown on my site.”

“Automatic lockdown?”

“My site is down. As soon as I realized this, I had Larry check the Grayson’s site. It’s down. I called Harriet’s Hairdos, their site is down.” Carly laughed as though this was unfathomable. “Is this town not having enough trouble keeping its doors open? These murders aren’t helping. The disaster at the amusement park isn’t helping. And now no one can find us online!”

Kate was glad she never invested in a website.

“Well, I did some digging,” Carly went on. “I think you might be proud of me.” She smiled for a beat then elaborated. “I asked around, and apparently Tommy sometimes went to Over the Moon to get some work done in one of the rooms. Amelia didn’t know, neither did the employees.”

“So how did you find this out?”

“The groundskeeper. He let Tommy in. The two were close, I guess. But when I asked the man about it—his name is Chucky, by the way—he clammed up. It gave me the impression that Tommy was doing more than a little work at that inn.”

It certainly was curious.

Kate shared another cup of coffee with Carly. They chatted about lighter topics, though none seemed as pressing as the killings in Rock Ridge. Soon Kate needed to get a jump on her day, so she gave Carly a hug and started for her truck.

Knowing how eager Jared was to have his office finished once and for all, Kate drove to the municipal building to apply for a building permit, as her son had mentioned.

Bobbi Hamden was fanning herself with a stack of papers, as Kate stepped up to the counter, offering her a friendly greeting.

“How’s it going?” Bobbi asked. “I’m roasting down here.”

“Is the AC out again?”

“It was never fixed on this floor,” said Bobbi. “It’s downright miserable.”

After explaining to Bobbi the ins and outs of the job, Bobbi got her started on the necessary paperwork. When she returned it, she was told, “I’ll send this up to Dean for his signature and let you know. Shouldn’t take longer than a few days for the permit to come through.”

Kate thanked her (though she had expected a much shorter waiting time) and left the building.

Carly’s comment about the groundskeeper at Over the Moon had been nagging her. How would Chucky have the means to sneak Tommy into the inn without anyone taking notice? And why would he, for that matter? Wouldn’t doing so violate the rules and risk his position?

To quench her curiosity, Kate drove over to the inn. As she pulled into the parking lot, she spied only a few vehicles, none of which were the Langleys’ Cadillac. As far as she knew, Lance was at the hospital, but would be released that evening. Most likely, Amelia was with him, if not making arrangements at home.

Kate pulled the key from the ignition and tucked it in her pocket, stepping into the hot late-morning air. It was muggy again today, and this afternoon was expected to reach the upper nineties.

As she neared the entrance, she caught sight of movement in her periphery. Where the corner of the inn was flanked with rosebushes, a man hunched, pulling his trowel through the soil.

“Excuse me,” she called out, as she approached. “Are you Chucky?”

The man froze, but peeked at her through the rosebush branches and sneezed, which prompted a terrible bout of sniffles.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, getting to his feet and tapping clumps of dirt from the teeth of his trowel.

“No, no problem,” she said, feigning a smile. “I understand you knew Tommy Barkow.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shrugged as though passing this entire exchange off as casual. “Something I heard.”

“If you have a problem with your room, you can take it up with the staff,” he said curtly.

Again, Chucky sneezed then sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve, and Kate saw that his eyes were red.

“Having some allergies?”

He furrowed his brow at her. “They’re not allergies.”

“Why were you letting Tommy up into rooms here whenever he wanted?”

Chucky turned pale, except for his red eyes, and tried to escape the conversation by saying, “I have a lot of work to do.”

“You know he was killed, right?”

He frowned at her, indicating he knew.

“Did you let him in that day?”

“The room was vacant. There was no harm in it.”

“But why would you do him the favor?”

“I’m not talking to you,” he said, annoyed, then turned on his heel and started off for the back yard where a wheelbarrow full of mulch was set near a bubbling fountain.

Kate watched him go, wondering how a man like Chucky, a simple groundskeeper who seemed to avoid friendly chats, and a tech savvy web designer and IT specialist like Tommy Barkow could forage a secret relationship.

She rounded through the entrance, preparing to come up with a fib for the receptionist that would enable her to get into the room Tommy had been found in, but discovered the front desk was vacant.

Voices billowed out from the lounge down the hallway. Thinking fast, she walked briskly to the stairs and padded up to the landing where the floor was just as quiet as it had been the day she met Amelia here.

Nearing room 5, Kate noticed yellow, crime-scene tape spanning the door. The two narrow bands barred across the upper and lower width of the door, but she was able to duck between the two, as she opened the door and quietly stepped inside.

Slowly, she walked deeper into the room. What would Tommy be doing in here? Why would he need to come to the inn to work instead of working from home or at each business, as she presumed he would’ve been in the habit of doing?

Tommy had been found dead on the floor right next to the desk, which told her he had been sitting in it when the killer snuck up behind him and struck the back of his head with the wrought-iron bookend that happened to be in the shape of a mallard.

Examining the desk, Kate scanned every nook and cranny, before pulling out the drawers, all of which were empty. The room itself was clean, neat, and organized for what little items it had, though she double-checked, walking the perimeter and searching for hiding places and trapdoors, loose floor boards, anything that could conceal Tommy’s secret. Not that his secret would necessarily include an item, but her gut told her it did. Why else would he come here, to the inn, of all places?

There was nothing. Defeated, she sighed, returned to the desk, and sat on the chair, looking out the window. Outside, the lush scenery looked picturesque, but she was jarred from the general sight of it, when she realized there was a shed where the edge of the lawn met with a sparse line of trees. At that very moment, Chucky lumbered towards the shed, glanced over his shoulder conspicuously, and disappeared inside.

Rising out of the chair, Kate watched the shed. Of course it was reasonable that the groundskeeper would often go in and out of the shed, but there was something about Chucky that struck her as off.

A few minutes passed and Chucky emerged, sneezing and sniffling. He rubbed his nose and suddenly his eyes turned wild, as he grew more and more jittery.

That was it!

Tommy didn’t want or need to be in this room for any other reason than to keep an eye on the shed, and Kate knew exactly why.

She hurried down the stairs and slowed only to peer around the corner at the receptionist’s desk. If the receptionist had returned, she might have some explaining to do, but the area was just as vacant as it had been when she snuck in.

Quickly, she passed through the door and started across the yard. Chucky had turned to his wheelbarrow at the fountain, so she threw the shed door open and slipped inside.

It was dark, but strips of daylight shone through the cracks between the wooden sidings. After a minute, her eyes adjusted and she could see.

Edging gradually deeper inside, she noticed a wealth of gardening tools, bags of fertilizer, and some odds and ends she couldn’t identify, except that they looked like old car parts. But in the back, she soon saw a stack of boxes, not old ones that would indicate tattered storage, but brand-new boxes.

Anxiously, she climbed over a mess of old bicycle parts towards the pillar of boxes, the highest of which just about reached her chin.

When she reached it, she noticed a white, powdery substance, the faintest residue, on top of the box. She had a pretty good idea of what it was.

Wasting no time, she pulled the top box off the pillar. It was heavy and she nearly dropped it, as she set it on the ground. Tearing the packaging tape off that lined the seam, she opened it and discovered the same white powder in plastic bags.

She gasped and sat, staring down at the drugs. Were these the same boxes she had seen Daisy drop off at the Langleys’ mustard warehouse? Was this an operation? Bradley came to mind. Jessica had said she had found a similar substance in the teenager’s room.

Meredith had been arrested for her role in a larger drug ring that Scott hadn’t been able to unravel. Daisy, as well, and the former luncheonette owner hadn’t named names. Was Tommy Barkow a part of this? Or had he tried to get out? Who killed him and why?

She thought she heard a twig snap on the other side of the shed door and she startled. Frantic, she closed the box, affixed the packaging tape, and returned it to the top of the pillar. As soon as she squared it off so that it wouldn’t topple over, she noticed a stamped address on the side of the box.

Scanning box after box, working her way down the pillar, she saw the exact same address on all of them. There wasn’t a recipient name, only the initials KD. Quickly, she pulled her cell from her overalls and snapped a pic then hurried through the shed.

When she reached the door, she pressed her ear to it, but heard nothing other than the faint trickle of the fountain in the distance.

After easing the door open and slipping out, she couldn’t get to her truck fast enough. As she opened the driver’s side door, a young woman, who she recognized as the Over the Moon receptionist, padded towards the entrance, carrying a tray of Bean There coffee in her hands.

“Good morning,” she called out to Kate, juggling the coffee tray to muscle the door open since, evidently, the butlers weren’t on the job.

Kate was too nervous to respond, though she smiled and gave the woman a nod.

She was quick to get behind the wheel and shut the door. In the privacy of her truck, she opened the photo of the address on her cell phone and memorized it. 28 Pennsylvania Road.

It wasn’t an address she recognized. The Langleys lived on Rock Ridge Boulevard and their mustard warehouse was on Route 12.

She started the engine and carefully backed out of her parking spot, arching backwards. When she eased on the gas, leaving Over the Moon and heading towards the address, one fact was undeniably at the forefront of her mind—the Langleys were selling drugs and using their warehouse, as well as the inn, to move the illegal product.

It felt like an eternity lapsed before she reached the address, which she discovered was a modest colonial house set back from the road. There were no neighboring houses around, and as her truck crawled up the driveway, she guessed the property had about five acres behind it. Not too shabby.

She threw the truck into park, but kept it idling. The garage door was open, and as she leaned over the wheel, spying through the darkened garage, she saw a white sedan inside.

The initials on the address were KD.

But Kate had seen that sedan before.

It wasn’t KD.

It was DK.

Donna Kramer.

Before Kate could throw her truck into gear, Donna stormed out of the house, shouting, “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

Chapter Six

The threat of panicking was all too real. Kate wanted to peel out of there and never look back. She didn’t know Donna Kramer, but had a bad feeling about the woman’s capabilities. If Kate stuck around to talk her way out of this, the danger of finding out those capabilities firsthand would be inescapable.

Kate began backing out, acting as calmly as she could, but Donna stepped behind her truck, forcing her to slam on the brakes.

“Excuse me, Flaherty,” she said in a demanding voice. “This is private property. What are you doing here?”

Cracking the window so she wouldn’t have to shout, Kate watched Donna nearing her. “I’m supposed to be on Pennsylvania Avenue,” she lied. “For a fix-it job. Got the address wrong. Sorry!”

Donna looked put off, but dropped her grievance and glared at Kate as she resumed her careful U-turn out of the driveway.

As she drove down the road, she cued up Scott’s number in her cell phone and sent the call through. After three rings, his outgoing voice-mail message came through and she groaned. As soon as she heard the beep, she rushed through her message, telling him to drop everything and meet her at the Langleys’ house.

When she got to the house, Scott’s truck was nowhere in sight. Neither was Amelia’s Cadillac.

Just as she was about to climb out of her truck, she felt her cell phone vibrating in her overalls. When she saw the caller ID, she answered it immediately.

“Where are you?” she asked urgently.

“I got your message. Amelia’s not at the house.”

“Fine, at the hospital? I’ll meet you there. There’s no time to explain.”

“Just hang on a second, Kate.”

“This is important!”

“So is this. I arrested Amelia.”

Taken aback, she asked, “For drugs?”

“What? Drugs? No. Why would you think that?”

“That’s why I want to meet you. What did you arrest Amelia for?”

“You know the partial print we got from the murder weapon? It belonged to Amelia.”

“She’s in jail?”

“She is.”

“You really think she did it?”

Scott sighed into the phone. “I had my doubts, but forensics doesn’t lie.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Why would you think Amelia was arrested for drugs?”

“Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this in person.”

“Fine,” he said. “Come in through the back.”

“Why?”

“There’s a wall of reporters at the front door. Leading the charge is Eric Demblowski. I’m telling you, he’s hungry for blood and anyone passing in and out is going to wind up in one of his outlandish news stories.”

“Got it. See you soon.”

Following Scott’s advice for when she reached the municipal building, she overshot it then turned up a side street, working her way around to the alley behind the precinct where a few parking spaces were vacant, mainly used for freight deliveries.

She parked and hopped out, and soon she was working her way through the bowels of the building, ascending the back stairwell until she reached the homicide floor of the police department.

Police officers rushed through the station, each seeming pressed for time and all the more irritable because of it. Kate paused at the receptionist counter, but didn’t have to ask the woman behind the desk for Scott.

“Katydid,” he called out, stealing her attention, as he wove his way through the cops. “It’s a bit of a madhouse today. Come into my office.”

Just as he was turning, she grabbed his arm. “Anything I should know about?”

“I’ll tell you in my office.”

“I mean about you. Are you all right? You look gaunt.”

He calmed for a moment and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Satisfied, she followed him to his office at the far side of the room.

As soon as she shut the door, giving them privacy, Kate asked, “Couldn’t Amelia’s fingerprints have been on the mallard for a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with her being guilty of Tommy’s murder?”

“I’d like to think so, but it’s not looking that way.”

“Then I have to tell you something.”

Scott eased into the chair behind his desk, encouraging Kate to take a seat, as well. When she did, she pressed her mouth into a hard line, debating the best way to frame her discoveries.

“I should’ve told you back when Daisy and her croonies snatched me and threw me into that van...”

“Yes?”

“I followed them to the Langleys’ warehouse. That’s where they grabbed me. I saw them dropping off boxes. Boxes I believe contained drugs.”

Scott narrowed his gaze, contemplatively.

“Then earlier today,” she went on, “I went to Over the Moon and I happened to find the same boxes out in a shed near the inn. I opened one of the boxes and found drugs. It looked like they were packaged professionally. What if the Langleys are involved in some kind of drug ring? We know that’s why Daisy and Meredith were arrested. It’s too much of a coincidence that two of their establishments have hidden boxes of the stuff. And worse...” She trailed off and drew in a deep breath to wrap her head around coming out with the next piece of information. “Jessica told me she found Bradley with similar packages.”

Scott remained silent and worked his jaw, mulling over all she had divulged. When he spoke, his tone was low and even.

“Amelia’s not talking.” He let his statement hang for a long moment then added, “She’s waiting for her attorney. She’s not going to talk to me even with the family relation and how well we’ve gotten to know each other. She doesn’t trust cops.”

“Am I supposed to be surprised by this?”

“Just a minute, now.” Scott rapped his thumb on the desk, thinking. “I hope I don’t regret this....”

“What?”

“I’d like you to talk to her.”

“Me?”

He furrowed his brow and she laughed.

“You never want me talking to anyone when it comes to one of your investigations.”

“True,” he said easily. “Which is why I said I hope I don’t regret this. It’s a last-ditch effort and we need it. The partial print was enough to arrest her, but quite frankly, if this goes to trial with what little evidence we have and the muscle behind her high-powered attorney, I’m afraid the DA won’t get a conviction. I have to think long term, here.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?”

“This new drug angle,” he said, fragmenting his point with a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t know we know. If you tell her and act like you can help protect her from me and the department finding out, who knows? Maybe she’ll start thinking she can cut a deal, give us information we want for a reduced sentence.”

“Will you grant her that?”

Wavering, he said, “It depends on the information. All I know is that she thinks we’re looking at murder, and we were until you stepped into this office. So she’s been holding out. But if she learns from you that she could soon be looking at drug trafficking on top of murder, she might get nervous and admit it all in exchange for a deal.”

“You never cease to surprise me, Scott York,” she said, rising out of her chair. “What do you make of Becky’s abduction now that we know this whole new drug angle?”

“Speculation will get me nowhere,” he said, getting to his feet, as well.

“So she didn’t tell you that she had Tommy look into the whole Becky thing?”

“What whole Becky thing?”

Kate took a moment to explain to him how Becky’s old employee ID number was used to discount Clifford Green at Over the Moon and that directly after Tommy alerted Amelia to this fact he was killed.

As stunned as he was, he kept a lid on it. “Kate, you have to stop keeping things from me.”

“I know. Amelia asked me not to say anything because she thought it might incriminate Becky or her or...” She shrugged. “Now you know everything I do.”

Two floors below, the jail cells were well lit, thanks to the windows that lined the upper edge of their back walls. After presenting the guard with her driver’s license, Kate walked through the empty cells and found Amelia in the last one on the left, seated on a bench. She looked stoic, more annoyed than self-pitying, which Kate had to give her credit for. But was Amelia’s self-righteous attitude evidence of her guilt in this situation?

If it were, why kill Tommy?

Had he discovered those drug boxes going in and out of the shed that day? Had Amelia walked in on him witnessing such a thing and impulsively killed him? If so, what had he been doing in that room in the first place? If Chucky could be trusted, then Kate had to assume Tommy knew about the operation, and that was his reason for being in room 5 in the first place.

If Amelia and Tommy were on the same side, why would she kill him?

Amelia lifted her chin, declaring, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I think you should reconsider.”

She snorted a laugh and reminded Kate that the only person she would be willing to talk to is her attorney.

“I didn’t tell Scott about Becky’s ID number,” Kate pointed out. “I was trustworthy then and you can trust me now, because I have information you’re going to want to hear.”

She used a condescending tone to ask, “And what’s that?”

Kate wrapped her hands around the bars, getting as close to Amelia as possible, not that it helped. The woman was sitting on the far side of the cell.

“The drugs. I’ve known since Scott solved Clifford’s murder.”

Amelia snapped her sharp green eyes at Kate.

“Yeah,” said Kate, driving her point home. “I know about the drugs at the warehouse. I know they’re in the shed at the inn. And I know Tommy died, because he had something to do with it.”

Amelia rushed to the bars, her attitude having completely shifted. Her eyes widened with fear and she seemed out of breath, not because she had hurried across the floor, but for what she was about to disclose.

“We couldn’t stop them,” she blurted out. “I’ve been dying, just dying keeping this secret.”

“What secret? Tell me everything.”

“And Lance kept saying, ‘We have to tell Scott. We have to tell him this is why they’ve taken our daughter.’ But I was too afraid.” She sobbed then sucked in a deep breath, collecting herself. “He kept saying that to me,” she repeated, “and the next thing I know, Lance is in the midst of an explosion!”

“Who? Who is behind this?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But whoever he is, whoever they are, they’re close and they’re always listening.”

“I want to believe you, but—”

“I didn’t kill Tommy, I swear. And the thing of it is, I don’t know why he was killed. But he had to have been involved with the higher-ups, the ones we don’t know.”

“How did this all start?”

“Innocently enough,” she said. “Our warehouse manager was approached by a man who offered a sizable fee in exchange for looking the other way when boxes were delivered. Lance and I didn’t even know about this arrangement until a few months back when Lance stopped in at the warehouse and discovered a set of boxes. He’s close with the warehouse manager, who said he had been accepting cash for nearly a year. Harold is his name. He was terrified. He told Lance no one could stop it, that Lance had to let them do what they wanted. You know Lance. He isn’t a brave man, so he promised not to say anything.”

Amelia nearly broke into tears again. Her bottom lip was quivering and Kate felt terrible for her.

But she was able to continue. “It was Becky who tried to stop it. And two days later, she was abducted.”

“My God,” said Kate, her voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry I suspected Jason, but I don’t trust anyone. No one in Rock Ridge is safe, and no one can be trusted. And I’m telling you, these convicts getting out of prison and taking these lowly positions around town...they’re the bottom of the same food chain. They all have something to do with it. This town is rotting from the inside out.”

“But what role could Tommy have possibly been playing?”

“If I knew I would tell you. All I know is that I didn’t kill him.”

“But Amelia, you don’t have an alibi.”

She fell silent. When she finally spoke, her voice was a thread. “Lance was in the hospital. I’ve been drinking a lot. I’m fairly certain I was either on my way to the hospital after being at the house or vice versa, but I really can’t remember.”

“Why won’t you tell Scott any of this?”

“Kate, I can’t! You don’t know how dangerous these people are! They could be anywhere. They’re everywhere! And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’d be safer in prison than walking down the sidewalk in broad daylight should they ever find out I spoke with the police. It’s bad enough we accepted Scott’s help for the ransom exchange, and it’s also no wonder it went badly. You have to promise me you aren’t going to tell him any of this. Not one word.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“You have to! Or it’ll be my life! Lance’s life! God only knows what they’re doing to Becky at this very moment! Please!”

Kate didn’t have the heart to affirm she couldn’t keep a secret like this, or any secret, for that matter, from Scott...not for long, anyway. So she said nothing and offered Amelia a sad smirk, telling her it would be okay.

To avoid lying to Scott, she walked through the back of the building rather than return to the homicide floor. Though it was hard to imagine, she actually believed every word Amelia told her. It made far more sense than assuming the Langleys were a pair of kingpins running a drug trafficking ring.

But who was behind the ring? And what did it have to do with Tommy Barkow’s murder?

She was shaken from the thought when she saw Becky pass along the sidewalk at the other end of the alley.

Becky?

Stunned, Kate took off running through the alley, desperate to catch up to the young woman who had been the center of so much controversy.

Chapter Seven

As Kate rounded onto the sidewalk, spying Becky eight yards up the sidewalk, she slowed her pace to a brisk walk so as not to draw attention to herself. There were a number of people about, strolling lazily down the block and pausing to glance in store windows.

Weaving her way through pedestrians, Kate closed in on Becky, who she noticed was dressed differently than her usual style. Rather than wearing a sundress or skirt, which was her preference, Becky donned jean shorts and a loose-fitting, though trendy, tee shirt. Her hair looked a bit different, as well. Its brown shade wasn’t quite as dark as Kate remembered.

Becky reached Harriet’s Hairdos and stilled on the sidewalk to glance at her wristwatch, giving Kate just enough time to catch her before she could duck inside the salon.

Grabbing her arm from behind, Kate said, “Becky?” The young woman whipped around, startled and confused.

“Excuse you!” she objected, yanking her arm free, just as Kate flinched at the sight of her.

Now that she was staring at the woman—her bright blue eyes, the particular scoop of her button nose, the grimace on her face that couldn’t hide the fact that her mouth was much narrower than Becky’s—Kate realized she hadn’t found her son’s fiancée at all, but a random stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate stammered. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Well I’m not,” she snapped, put off by the interruption.

Shifting her tone, Kate said, “I’m sorry, but you look like Becky Langley.”

The woman stared at her a beat, as though Kate had two heads, and then reached for the salon door but didn’t yank it open. Kate was still holding her arm.

“I’ve seen you around.”

The woman didn’t look amused.

Kate unhanded her, but immediately asked, “Why were you at the amusement park when that bomb went off?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m late for my hair appointment.”

“You were there,” she pressed, holding the door closed with her palm to bar the woman’s entry. “I saw you on a surveillance monitor. You were hiding behind a stack of pipes. What were you doing there?”

“It’s a free country.”

“It isn’t,” she countered. “And the police had cleared the entire park that night.”

“Oh, sure,” she said sarcastically. “Give the ex-con a hard time. Did it ever occur to you that all of us are staying out of trouble and turning our lives around?”

It hadn’t, but stating as much would likely end this conversation, if Kate could call it that.

Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

Skeptically, she said, “Gillian. Gillian O’Reilly. Now let me through.”

“Tell me what you were doing there that night.”

“And you’ll let me in?” She snorted a laugh. “What makes you the gatekeeper?”

Kate cringed at the thought of playing a bully, or worse, using her marriage to intimidate, but she had been spotting this Becky imposter around town for weeks. The moment was too precious to let it slip through her fingers.

“I’m the gatekeeper, if you want to call me that,” she stated frankly. “I’m the police chief’s wife, so you can either tell me what you were doing there or you can tell Scott York. Either way, you’re not getting around this.”

Gillian folded her arms and took a step back, sinking into her hip like a sulking child, who knew she wouldn’t get her way.

“I didn’t have a choice, all right?”

“Why?” Kate tried to ignore the knots that were twisting in her stomach. No choice? There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

“I was supposed to get the cash.”

Stunned, Kate asked, “Are you a part of the kidnapping?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” she quickly interrupted. “I just do what I’m told. It wasn’t easy getting released from prison. You could say I made a back-alley deal. I just do what I’m told when I’m told. That’s it.”

“Who tells you what to do?”

“Anonymous notes left at my apartment.”

“What else have you done?”

“Nothing bad...that I know of. I don’t ask questions. It’s not like I interface with these people. Mainly I’ve been doing things for Tommy.”

“Who was killed.”

“I know he was killed. He was a slave.”

“Stop being vague,” Kate ordered.

Gillian stared at her for a long moment. “You might not be aware of it, but Rock Ridge has a hell of a drug problem. It gets sold elsewhere, but manufactured right here. And Tommy was making it.”

Suddenly, Tommy’s chemical engineering degree from MIT made a great deal of sense.

Gillian went on. “I don’t know anything, not for sure, but I would guess the higher-ups lost money on a shipment. Maybe someone storing the product got rid of it, and I would guess that someone is Becky Langley. So they took her and got nowhere. So they tried to get the money from her parents. All I know is that I was supposed to get the cash and that explosion was completely unexpected. I’ve been worried sick these past few days that they’d come after me to kill me because of it.”

“Was Becky there that night?” Kate wasn’t sure why she needed to torture herself like this, but it was killing her that Becky could’ve been within arm’s reach, yet the police failed to grasp hold.

Gillian frowned. “No. No one was there. As far as I could tell, whoever’s behind this, whoever is at the top of this twisted pyramid had no intention of upholding their end of the deal. Which is why I wouldn’t cross them. And if you tell your police chief husband about any of this, I’ll deny it outright. I’m not going back to prison. And I sure as hell ain’t getting killed for it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my hair dyed.”

Gillian thrust the door open and disappeared inside the salon.

If Tommy was the chemist making the drugs and even Gillian didn’t know who was controlling her, then it stood to reason Kate might never find out who killed him. And in the same vein, she might never find out who had taken Becky.

Jason might never get Becky back.

It was with a heavy heart that she walked back to her truck, opened the door, and plopped behind the wheel. Drawing her cell phone from her overalls, she considered what she might tell Scott. The only concrete information she had gotten from Gillian was that Tommy was making the drugs, which was a huge piece, but didn’t allude to who he had been working for, presumably the same person who had taken Becky.

She composed a text message to Scott and sent it through. His response was a call and she picked up right away.

“You left without telling me what Amelia said.”

Kate sighed. “She’s terrified. Lance and she are being threatened. I doubt she killed Tommy.” As Kate detailed the ins and outs of her conversation with Amelia and explained Gillian O’Reilly’s role, she turned the key in the ignition and left her truck idling.

Once during their call she heard a call-waiting beep, but ignored it in favor of listening to Scott’s take on the situation. One thing was for certain. The more they learned, the less it all made sense.

When finally he let her go, she listened to the voice-mail message that had come in. It was Bobbi Hamden in the permits department telling her she had been cleared to put in a window at the mayor’s office.

Kate took a deep breath, trying to shake off the mysteries that swarmed her. At least she would be able to spend a little time with Jared. The thought was just enough to keep her going, as she drove to Grayson’s Hardware, making a mental inventory of the supplies she would need to tackle the complex job of knocking out part of a wall to install a window.

By the time she arrived at Grayson’s and noticed Larry in the gardening aisle helping a few customers decide on the best fertilizer, she knew exactly what she needed to buy. She made a beeline for the dollies beside the register and took to the window aisle.

Larry called out, “I’ll be with you in a sec, Kate!”

“Take your time!” she said, as she began eyeing the various window options. When she found one she liked, she eased it off the shelf, setting it gingerly on the dolly.

Larry jogged towards her and wiped his brow, as he came to a stop.

“I got the go-ahead to knock out Jared’s office wall to put in a window, so I’m going to need to rent an electric saw and possibly a handheld jack.”

“Christ, did you get the blueprints to avoid electrical wiring?”

“They’re in Bobbi Hamden’s office.”

Larry whistled. “It’s a big job. The municipal building is brick and mortar, literally.”

“Hence the jackhammer.”

“Doesn’t sound like a one-woman job to me,” he mused.

Until he had said it out loud, she had been denying the possibility.

“Damn,” she grumbled. “You’re right.”

“I’d get that skilled son of yours to help.”

“Pull him away from the amusement park? I don’t want to get him in trouble with Dean.”

“Dean’s doing great,” he countered. “You didn’t hear?”

Hear? No, she hadn’t. It seemed the mayor’s mood rose and fell as starkly as the roller coaster his park was attempting to build.

“They’re back on track,” Larry went on. “They got new funding, hired three times as many laborers. That park’s going to be open by the end of the summer.”

“Great,” she said dryly. Just what Rock Ridge needed—a booming autumn tourist season right when unknown drug lords were flooding this town with cocaine.

“You don’t sound happy,” he observed. When she shrugged, he offered his two cents. “I decided it’ll be a good thing, having the amusement park. Happiness is a choice, you know?”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Let me get you squared away with the rental equipment,” he said. “Bring your truck around back?” He took the dolly from her. “You need a window frame.”

“Yeah, it’s higher than I can reach,” she said, indicating the frame she wanted.

Carefully, Larry drew it off the shelf and delicately set it beside the windowpane. “I’ll get all this on your tab.”

“Thanks, Larry,” she said, glad she didn’t have to ask.

As Larry made his way down the aisle, pushing the dolly towards the register, Kate jogged ahead, climbed in her truck, and drove it around the side of Grayson’s where she left it idling and lowered the drop-door, ready to help Larry load her up as soon as he appeared with the rental equipment.

Passing through the back door with the equipment on a dolly, Larry made slow work of nearing the back of her truck. Together they lifted the handheld jack into the bed, followed by the rest of the equipment. The window frame and pane were last in the truck bed, and soon Kate drove off through the center of town.

Larry’s suggestion for her to get Jason’s help installing the window was a good one, but she would prefer Dean approve it first and foremost, which was why she asked him right away as soon as she stepped into the anteroom.

“He’s just starting to get back on track,” Dean grumbled, glancing up from the report in his hand.

“It simply isn’t a one-woman job,” she countered as if she was between a rock and a hard place. “Two hands aren’t enough to fit a window into the frame. I could drop it onto the sidewalk.”

“How long would you need him?”

“I’ll prep everything by myself,” she said, quickly calculating. “Maybe just an hour?”

“Plus driving here and back,” he added, thinking out loud. “What time would you need him?”

“Don’t make him do this on his lunch break.”

“I’m not cruel, Kate Flaherty,” he said with a chuckle.

“Then right after his lunch? Say, around one?”

“Fine. One o’clock, one hour. Make it work.”

As soon as Kate stepped inside Jared’s office, he rose out of his chair.

“Jason’s going to help?” he asked, as he neared her, rolling up his sleeves. “Need help with the supplies?”

“Honey, your desk can’t be there,” she said, noting he had positioned it right in front of the wall where the window would be going.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanted to enjoy it for a day.”

It took three trips to bring all of her materials up to his office. After organizing them and her tools on the floor, she called Jason and listened to his ringtone blaring in her ear.

Jared said quietly, “I doubt he’ll pick up.”

“I’m his mother,” she said impatiently. “He’ll pick up.”

“I like your confidence.”

Surprisingly, he did. She kept the call brief, and though he bitched and moaned, he agreed to swing by in the early afternoon.

Kate worked tirelessly until then, carefully scrutinizing the blueprint Bonnie had faxed up to the mayor’s office, aiming her tools with precision so as not to clip the electrical wiring, and hammering out a square in the wall. Just as she was finishing up sanding the perimeter of the square hole, Jason stepped into the doorframe, which prompted Jared to rise from his desk.

“What do you think of my new office?” he asked his brother.

“Looks good. I like this yellow.”

Kate set the electric sander on the ground and gave him a hug.

“Let me guess,” Jason went on, “yellow was your idea?”

“I thought he’d like it,” she said in response to his teasing tone.

With a jab to Jared’s shoulder, Jason said, “He would.”

Jason seemed to be in good spirits, and she couldn’t be happier to spend time with both her boys. While Jason assisted her in angling the metal frame into the hole, Jared offered directional pointers, and soon they had wedged the frame flush inside the perimeter. The windowpane was next, but with Jason’s natural strength, they easily fit the pane into position and clamped it, tightening the bolts around the metal frame.

Just as they were finishing up, Kate noticed a buzzing sound coming from Jason’s slacks.

His high spirits plummeted, as he scrambled to answer the call. As soon as he pressed his cell to his ear, he walked briskly from the office.

Kate padded after him, peering around the corner, and saw him yank the anteroom door open and step out into the corridor.

“What was that about?” she asked when Jared stood beside her.

“I’d say that’s Dr. Jekyll. Mr. Hyde is far less mysterious and often resembles my brother.” Kate met his gaze and he added, “Watch, he won’t come back and no one will hear from him for the rest of the day.”

It worried her.

Kate gathered her tools and Jared helped her carry the heavier items down to the parking lot, but when they started for her truck, the blonde reporter she had encountered at Over the Moon chased after her.

Turning her head just as the reporter broke from the fray of journalists crowding the municipal building entrance, eager to question detectives and cops heading in and out of the precinct, Kate told Jared, “Let’s be quick. I think she wants to talk to us.”

As quick as they were, the perky blonde reporter thrust her microphone in Kate’s face and the cameraman flipped on a bright light attached to the top of his camcorder.

“Kate Flaherty,” she asserted. “What is your response to allegations that Amelia Langley murdered Tommy Barkow?”

“No comment,” she said, throwing her truck door open.

“Your son is engaged to Becky Langley, the missing woman, is he not?” When Kate said nothing, but climbed up behind the wheel, the reporter shouted, “Are the two crimes connected, in your opinion?”

Avoiding the reporter’s penetrating gaze, Kate locked eyes with Jared who was backing away from the commotion. His eyes widened, growing round as if he couldn’t believe how aggressive the journalist was acting. Kate waved him off, implying he should escape while he could. As soon as he did, she began backing out, despite the reporter’s incessant and often offensive questions.

Driving along Main Street, Kate should’ve been thinking about lunch, stopping into Bean There or, at the very least, grabbing some fast food, but her stomach was in knots.

It was bad enough criminals had infiltrated Rock Ridge. But reporters? She couldn’t take it. She drove straight to the Rock Ridge Tribune, fully prepared to give Eric Demblowski, and anyone who stood in her way of reaching him, a brutal piece of her mind.

In a matter of minutes, she pulled up to the curb outside of the Tribune and killed the engine. Her heart was pounding, as she jumped out of her truck and stalked across the sidewalk. When she reached the door she reminded herself that Eric and his paper were only part of the problem. But if anything, the Tribune should use its articles to combat the vicious rumor circulating this town, not contribute to them.

Barreling past the receptionist area and ignoring the young woman behind the desk, Kate locked her gaze on Eric. He was in the midst of laughing with his wife, Celia. Years prior, Celia had been married to Ken Johnson, one of the better detectives in Rock Ridge, until his untimely murder. Now Celia had attached herself to a younger man and seemed to have all too easily shed her long-standing concern for Rock Ridge.

“I need to talk to you,” she demanded, staring at Eric and disregarding Celia’s guffaw at the interruption. “Now.”

“Fine,” he said curtly before giving his wife a peck on the lips.

Celia glared at Kate as she followed Eric into his office.

Just as Kate shut the door, she heard Celia call out, “Nice seeing you, too.”

“What’s this about?” Eric asked, innocently enough.

“These reporters everywhere. It’s too much.”

“You know I’m not responsible for every single reporter in town, right? The Tribune only has two out in the field. We’re a small paper.”

“Yes, but if you haven’t noticed, a lot of these larger news outlets are printing secondhand information. Information they’re obtaining from this office.”

“I can’t help that.”

“This is your opportunity to be the voice of reason—”

“Kate,” he cut in. “The issue you’re taking is that you’re at the center of this. I can’t help that. If reporters are asking you questions, it’s because they know you’re in a position to answer.”

She suddenly realized how futile this crusade was.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve only printed facts. And quite frankly, I could’ve printed a lot more.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No,” he said plainly. “Just telling you the truth. Jason has had a spotlight on him ever since Becky disappeared, and it doesn’t help that people are anonymously calling our tip line with accounts of his strange, if not incriminating behavior.”

Aghast, her mouth dropped open, but she managed to ask, “What accounts? What has he been doing?”

Dodging her question, he stated, “I haven’t printed any of it, because I can’t substantiate it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

He opened the door for her, but she didn’t move.

“What accounts?”

“Kate,” he said and let out a long sigh. “Since you’re the police chief’s wife, you would be carrying a hell of a burden if I told you. I’m not going to put you in that position. Please. Let me get on with my day.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re good at catching killers, Kate. But you're blind when they’re hiding in your own family.”

Chapter Eight

The implication that Jason could be a killer was nightmarish. Kate fell into an icy daze as she left the Tribune, and it didn’t lift all night, but grew colder, darkening her world throughout dinner with Scott and hardening her with a deep freeze as she lay awake, waiting for the seconds to tick slowly by until the sun dawned on the horizon beyond her curtained window.

She was no better slogging through her morning. She was on autopilot making coffee. She showered and dressed like a robot. And when it came time to drive to her first fix-it job, she was so deeply bogged in anxiety that it wasn’t until she reached the center of town that she remembered she didn’t actually have a fix-it job to go to. She had finished Jared’s office, having painted and installed the window. She was embarking on a rare day of quietude, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. The last thing she needed was to be alone with her thoughts.

When her cell vibrated in her overalls, she leapt to answer it, shifting her gaze from the road ahead to her cell, as she eased onto the shoulder. Anything to take the call.

“Justina?” she said as soon as she pressed her phone to her ear.

“Great news! I sold the Joste house!”

“Congratulations,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize. She sounded hollow and brittle.

“Thank you!” Justina sang. “I really didn’t think it would happen. Who moves to Rock Ridge to live in an art deco house? Anyway, the buyer wants to move in as soon as possible, so I need you to make arrangements to transport the staging furniture back to Corey’s Cabinets.”

“I’m on it,” she said. “And again, congrats.”

“If you’d like to swing by Carnegie by the end of the day with your invoice, we’ll be around until about seven.”

“Sounds good,” she said then returned her cell to her overalls. “Good,” she said to herself. “Something to do besides driving myself crazy.”

The idea of carrying a four-poster bed down those stairs brought Jason to mind. She could use the excuse of needing her son’s help to gain some alone time, maybe get him to open up about just what in the hell he had been doing around town to cause residents to call the Tribune tip line. But she didn’t want him risking his position at Wentworth Contractors. Dean had risen into a good mood now that the amusement park was back on its original timetable. And Jason had looked well when she’d seen him last. She decided to send him a “no pressure” text message to see if he might be willing to use his lunch hour to help her out. As soon as she hit send, she started towards the U-Haul facility. Renting a cube truck would be the first step in jumpstarting her day.

In less than an hour, she arrived at the art deco house, found the key in the flowerpot outside, and let herself in. First, she rounded up the smaller furniture items, depositing them in the foyer and then carrying each piece, one by one, out to the U-Haul. When she returned to the living room to address the bulkier pieces, her cell began vibrating.

It was Jason.

“Damn, Mom, you need an assistant,” he said.

“Ha, true, not that I can afford one.”

“Come on, you’re doing great, financially,” he pointed out.

“I was talking about emotionally,” she teased. “You know I’m a loner.”

“A loan-er, maybe,” he said.

“Ah, honey, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. But you didn’t have to cover my mortgage payments through October. I’m going to pay you back.”

“Well, you can start by giving me a hand with moving a queen-sized bed down a set of stairs,” she suggested, and he laughed.

“Sure, what’s the address?”

She recited it for him and Jason told her he’d head over in about ten minutes.

Good, she thought, returning her cell to her overalls. It would give her the chance to find out what was really going on with him. And she hoped like hell he would dispel all rumors and give her the ammunition she would need to fight the Tribune, Eric Demblowski, and all the reporters who were just itching to tarnish her family’s reputation.

To pump herself up, she made her way into the kitchen, saying a little prayer that there would be a coffeemaker tucked in one of the cupboards. Justina had always been one to offer fresh coffee during her open houses, and if luck was on Kate’s side, the bubbly real-estate agent had left it behind along with a canister of dark roast.

“Yes!” she exclaimed when she found a Mr. Coffee machine in the cupboard beneath the sink. “Come on, dark roast,” she mumbled, hunting through every last cabinet spanning the kitchen counter. Again, she breathed “yes,” plucking a bag of ground coffee off the shelf. Vanilla Bean—a bit fancy, but her mouth was already watering.

As the coffeemaker finished brewing, Kate heard the front door pop open and high heels click across the wooden floor.

“Hello?” she called out, filling a mug since a caffeine boost was her number one priority.

“Who is in my house?” a woman asked as she stomped through the living room and filled the kitchen doorway. Suddenly, Kate found herself staring at Donna Kramer, who added, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I staged the house,” Kate said. “I’m removing the furniture today. You bought this place?”

“Is that a serious question?” Donna glared at her like Kate was some kind of moron. “How long are you going to be here?”

“Help is on the way. An hour tops?”

“Well, don’t dawdle. I have my own movers heading this way with my furniture.”

“What happened to the house on Pennsylvania Road?”

Donna pinched her mouth into a sour pucker then said, “I collect houses, not that it’s any of your business.”

“With a winning attitude like that, how could you not?” she retorted sarcastically, as she passed through the doorway.

In the living room, she sipped her coffee and considered hiding in the upstairs bedroom until Jason arrived, but she refused to admit defeat. So she placed a quick call to Corey at the furniture store and made arrangements to drop off the items later that day. In response, Corey dove into a grumbling game plan, estimating how long it would take him to evaluate the furniture for dings and dents before returning her deposit, not that the timeline made much difference to Kate. It’s not like she had another job to tend to. She listened politely and was only marginally distracted by the sounds of Donna clicking around the kitchen and opening and closing every cabinet.

When finally her conversation with Corey concluded and she pocketed her cell, Donna emerged from the kitchen, asking, “What if I wanted to keep some of this furniture?”

“Then you’d have to call Corey’s Cabinets and buy it.”

Donna took a moment to consider, and just as she was about to say something insulting or offensive—Kate had gotten a good read on the woman and how she conducted herself—Jason stepped through the front door and smiled at Kate.

“Hey, honey,” she said, waving him into the living room.

His smile wavered badly the second he saw Donna, and instantaneously Kate noticed a bizarre tension rise between them.

“Shall we see about that bed?” Kate asked, all the while stunned that they seemed to know each other.

Abruptly, Jason whipped his cell out of his pocket, glanced at it, and blurted out, “Damn, I have to go.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I have to go.” He was out the door in a flash, and as Kate trailed after him, she caught sight of Donna grinning wickedly from the corner of her eye.

Outside, Kate rushed to Jason’s car, which was parked on the curb. As he rounded the front of it, she demanded, “What has gotten into you?”

He said nothing, throwing the door open and jumping behind the wheel. When his car peeled out, it burned rubber, leaving streaks on the asphalt.

It was a very long walk back into the house. She was tempted to call Jared, if for no other reason than to get a hand with the furniture, but deep down she needed someone to help her make sense of Jason’s bizarre reaction to having seen Donna Kramer. Not that Jared would make sense of it in terms of Jason’s innocence, which was what she most needed to hear. Jared had been growing more skeptical of his twin’s abrupt disappearances, and now that she had witnessed such a thing firsthand, Kate feared she might suddenly cross to the other side of the divide, no longer blindly trusting her son’s innocence.

Biting the bullet, she called Jared. He didn’t even have to think twice, but told her he was on his way.

In half the time she had anticipated, she saw his dark sedan cruising down the road. He pulled up to the curb and cheerfully climbed out.

But when he neared her and gave her a hug, and Donna stepped outside and made her way to her white car, Kate got an idea.

Keeping her eyes on Donna as she slipped into her vehicle, she asked, “Let me borrow your car.”

“I thought we were going to move furniture?”

“Ah,” she said in frustration. “Damn. I’m torn. Your brother’s up to something, and that woman is playing a role.”

“So you want to follow her like you’re in an episode of CSI: Miami?”

“It sounds insane when you say it like that,” she said urgently, as Donna’s white sedan pulled into the road. “Quick, she’s getting away!”

“Seriously?”

“I won’t be long, I promise!”

“What if she drives to Canada?”

“Then I’ll turn around before the border,” she offered with such a sense of immediacy that Jared was compelled to drop his car keys in her hand.

“Thanks, hun!” she called out, jogging to his car. “Coffee’s in the kitchen! Be back in a jiffy!”

Throwing his hands up, not that she could see, he grumbled, “Am I the only sane person left in this town?”

The second the engine started purring, she hit the gas. The white sedan slowed and made a left-hand turn about one hundred yards up the road, but Kate was gaining on her. She banged the same turn, letting out a stuttering breath of relief. She was only ten yards behind Donna. There was no way she’d lose her.

The journey seemed promising as Donna drove through the heart of Rock Ridge, but when she veered west then cut onto the freeway on-ramp, heading north, it dawned on Kate that the whole Canada joke might end up coming true.

They were only on the freeway for fifteen minutes, though. Donna’s white sedan jutted off at Exit 19 where the off-ramp merged into a quiet road, cutting east on the northernmost edge of Rock Ridge.

Soon Kate spied Drake’s Firing Line in the distance, and with no other businesses around, it was a safe bet the shooting range was Donna’s destination.

But why?

Well, thought Kate as she slowed the car to a crawl so as not to be spied by Donna should she glance in her rearview mirror, every good drug dealer needs a Glock.

CSI: Miami, indeed...

It wasn’t lost on Kate that Cookie Halpert had been seen in the very same establishment. The numerous crime stories weaving their way through Rock Ridge were tangling into a hell of a tapestry.

She rolled to a stop along the shoulder just shy of Drake’s parking lot and watched Donna hurry out of her sedan and disappear inside.

Hitting the gas, Kate rounded into the parking lot and was sure to park at a distance from the white sedan.

As she did, she suddenly remembered what Scott had told her. The explosives used to blow up the amusement park had been packed with gunpowder, and according to Scott’s forensics team, the device had been homemade.

Could Donna have been responsible? Was she on one side of the drug war, the man who had taken Becky on the other?

She wouldn’t get answers sitting in Jared’s car, though she was enjoying the chilled leather seats, which were so state of the art that they had their own cooling system. Reluctantly, she hopped out and walked briskly inside.

Just as she stepped through, she saw Donna in a heated argument with Drake, the owner of the firing line. They were standing at the far end of the corridor. Muffled pops and bangs sounded in the next room where the shooting range was.

As she neared, making her way up the corridor, Drake put his arm around Donna and led her through a door at the very back. When it closed, Kate’s hopes of finding out what in the hell was going on were dashed.

She reached the counter at the back, which barred the corridor from the back room they had disappeared into. To her right was a door marked Shooting Range. Curious, she pushed open the range door and saw rows of marksmen aiming handguns at targets at the back of the range.

She jolted after hearing Donna’s voice cut through the corridor, “I don’t have time for this, Drake!” Thinking fast, Kate ducked into the range and shut the door. She pressed her ear against it, but the pops and bangs of the range were deafening. The only sound that carried through was Donna’s high heels clicking down the corridor.

When she emerged, Drake was standing behind the counter and looking more than unnerved. He looked downright ill.

“Hey,” he said, locking eyes with her. “You can’t be in there without ear protection! You can’t be in there at all unless you sign in!”

She slipped out, shut the door behind her, and joined him at the counter, as it gradually dawned on Drake that he knew her.

“You’ve been here before. Kate, right?”

“That’s right,” she said and immediately launched into her first question. “Did you sell gunpowder to that woman?

If Drake had looked ill before, he looked thoroughly nauseated now, swallowing hard and avoiding eye contact.

“Drake, the amusement park was bombed. The explosion almost killed someone. If you know who did it, you have to say something.”

“It wasn’t Donna,” he said, interrupting her. “It was a man, a young man, but I don’t know his name.”

“You collect every last detail about everyone who sets foot in this place,” she pointed out. “You make copies of their IDs. How could you not know?” When he refused to answer, pressing his mouth into a nervous line, she itemized the facts. “Becky Langley was abducted. There are drugs at the Langley mustard facility. There are drugs at the Langleys’ inn. Tommy Barkow, the drug manufacturer, was murdered. And Donna Kramer’s address was on every box of cocaine. The very same woman who obviously has you under her thumb. A lot of people in Rock Ridge are scared and they aren’t talking. It’s time to be the guy who talks and shuts this operation down before it destroys this town.”

A glint of determination fired behind his bloodshot eyes. Drake leaned in close and said, “Two words. One name. And when I tell you, you’ll be just as immobilized as I am.”

Kate was so poised to hear the name, she wasn’t even breathing anymore.

Finally, Drake opened his mouth and said, “Dean Wentworth.”

Chapter Nine

It was unfathomable. Had the old man lost his mind? There was no way Dean Wentworth could’ve had anything to do with the explosion at the amusement park. It was his amusement park, for God’s sake. But as Kate walked out to Jared’s sedan, it occurred to her that if Jessica had discovered a box of drugs in Bradley’s room, Drake’s account provided some semblance of an explanation. Even still, it was hard to swallow.

She drove slowly and carefully back to the art deco house where Jared was waiting patiently. Inside, she found him at the kitchen table with his laptop.

“I’m back,” she told him, rounding through the kitchen, giving his shoulder a squeeze, and walking straight to the counter where the coffeemaker sat.

“How did it go?” He glanced up from his computer to look at her.

Whispering, she asked, “Is she here?” Kate hadn’t seen Donna’s white sedan outside, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“No, she didn’t come back.”

“She went to Drake’s Firing Line.” Kate poured herself a mug of coffee. “Want one?”

“Ah, no, I’m good,” he said, lifting his mug off the table. “A shooting range? That’s weird.”

“Let me ask you...” She settled into the chair adjacent to his. “You work closely with the mayor—”

“Ut-oh, I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?”

“From Dean’s end of things,” she went on, “it would seem Scott would’ve had to clue Dean in on the ransom exchange, correct?”

“That’s right, but it’s not like he gave the mayor a choice.”

“Right,” she said, drawing the word out so she could think her point through before stating it. “What happened after the explosion?”

“Aside from Dean panicking?” Jared took a moment to recall. “Dean immediately put in a claim with his insurance company. The amusement park corporation has a policy, as well, so they put in a claim. And I know Dean was issued a huge compensation figure. Nearly a million, actually.”

That would explain Dean’s abrupt shift in mood, having gone from irate to cheerful. What if he had killed two birds with one stone? What if he needed to thwart the ransom exchange for some reason, say, if having Becky in the kidnapper’s custody made her privy to things Dean wouldn’t want her telling Scott as soon as she was home again? And what if collecting insurance money was just an added bonus?

Jared continued with a question. “Don’t tell me you followed Donna to a shooting range and learned that Drake had something to do with the ransom exchange....”

“I don’t know Drake well enough to trust his word on anything,” she offered and took a long sip of her coffee, gearing up for all the furniture moving they would have to embark on.

Eric Demblowski’s comment that Kate was blind when a killer lurked in her own family, which had implied Jason could’ve had something to do with Tommy, was starting to make a shred of sense, unfortunately. Not because Jason was capable of such a thing, but he did work for Dean. He did run Wentworth Contractors, and he was at the helm of the construction site out east where the explosion had taken place.

Before she could let herself go there, thinking the worst, though doing so seemed to be her new mode of operation, Kate got to her feet. “Ready?”

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, rising from his chair and flipping his laptop down.

A grueling two hours passed. Together they carried items out to the U-Haul—the kitchen table, the living room couch, various shelving units and dressers. In the upstairs bedroom, they stripped the mattress and laughed when they gave up on carrying the floppy, heavy thing and instead let it tumble down the stairs. Once it was propped in the back of the U-Haul, they muscled the wooden bedframe down the stairs, a challenging task, though Kate had disassembled the four posters so it would actually fit down the hallway and stairs.

Finally, they had gotten every last item into the truck. Kate thanked Jared and waved him off, as he drove away. She stepped up into the U-Haul and gave Corey a quick phone call. He sounded annoyed and she apologized for having botched the timeline. After listening to him hem and haw at having to rearrange his day in order to go through inventory when she arrived, he ultimately caved to her request that she head over now. Kate thanked him again and started off down Pennsylvania Road.

As Corey wrinkled his nose, inspecting every ding and dent in the furniture, matching the blemishes against photographs of the items he had taken prior to renting her the furniture, Kate kept thinking about Bradley.

Corey concluded, “There’s no damage that I can find.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ll release the security deposit on the items. You should see the amount back in your account in about three business days.”

“Perfect.”

The deposit had been at a discount, though still sizable, and she could use it to clear her tab at Grayson’s as soon as the money came into her banking account.

Thanking him again, she started for the door. Outside, dusk was falling, but when she pulled the door open, she realized it looked much cooler than it was.

Last she had heard, Bradley delivered for Gino’s restaurant as a part-time job. If Kate were lucky, he would be working tonight and she would have a chance to ask him a few things without the awkwardness of trying to get Jessica’s permission. If Dean were involved in anything uncouth, Kate doubted Jessica would know about it, but by the same measure, she didn’t want to tip her off in case Drake had been wildly wrong.

Gino’s was located in the heart of Rock Ridge, on Main Street, a few doors down from The Rail, her favorite bar. She hadn’t had a proper beer in ages, or set foot in The Rail, for that matter. Though it was tempting to make a pit stop and calm her nerves, she overcame the urge and walked into Gino’s instead.

The restaurant was bustling with early-bird customers, who were chatting loudly in the booths while perusing the menu. The hostess greeted Kate, asking if she would like a table for one.

“Actually, I’m here to see Bradley if he’s working tonight.”

“Let me check the schedule,” she said, as she began tapping the monitor beside the hostess stand, which was typically used to track the occupied versus vacant tables. “I didn’t see him, but he generally goes in and out through the back. One sec.”

Kate waited patiently, as the young woman looked into it.

“He is working,” she said, though her eyes didn’t lift from the screen. “I think he’s out on a delivery.”

“But he’ll come in through the back?”

“Yes, there’s an alley behind the restaurant with a few parking spots in front of our rear exit. But trust me, you don’t want to wait out there. It stinks, thanks to the dumpsters.”

Kate appreciated the warning, but told her she would wait in her truck and wouldn’t be bothered.

It took a few minutes to drive around the block and cut in through the back alley.

As soon as she parked, she shifted the truck’s venting system from outside air to inside circulation, but it didn’t help the stench she’d been cautioned about. She hoped Bradley would return sooner rather than later, and when he did, she wondered where they might talk. The smell was giving her a headache.

Her cell vibrated in her overalls. When she looked at it, she saw Scott’s name and number flashing across the screen and immediately swiped the LCD.

“Hey.”

Scott cut in with, “Amelia made bail.”

“Good for her,” she said.

“When last we spoke, you had really gotten somewhere with her, Katydid. I’m still just spinning my wheels. She doesn’t trust me.”

“Well, Scott, you arrested her.”

“Bygones?”

“She might not see it that way just because she got out on bail.”

“No, you’re right. She almost missed Lance’s hospital release because of me. She’s not my biggest fan, I get it. Look, we need to help her understand that I only want to get to the bottom of this, and if she’s innocent then she has to help me completely clear her, and she has to tell me everything she knows.”

“Did you tell her that point-blank?”

“Yes, but like I said, she doesn’t trust me. I think if we all got together as a family, and I mean everyone—the boys, you and me, her and Lance—then she would be inclined to get all the facts out in the open. Not in terms of telling the police, but in the spirit of us sticking together as a family.”

“It’s worth a try.”

“What about tonight?”

“Sure, I should be home in an hour.” She hoped as much. Bradley hadn’t returned yet. Where the heck was his delivery? In Vermont?

“I can’t initiate this...”

“I’ll give her a call,” she offered, though it came out like a grumble. “Let’s say seven thirty at our place?”

“I doubt Lance will leave his house.”

“So you’re asking me to call Amelia to invite ourselves over and talk about things she doesn’t want to talk about?”

“Thanks, babe, you’re the best.”

Kate had to laugh, but told him she would get in touch with Amelia right away.

If Amelia was hard to get on the phone and even harder to convince of having this family meeting, Jason was downright impossible. Kate called his cell twice, leaving a voice-mail message the first time and simply hanging up the second, and then followed up with a compelling text message, which included the fact that if Amelia had agreed, then he should, too. Jared was next on her list, and being the good twin to his brother’s evil, he not only picked up right away, but didn’t take any prodding.

“Honey, could you give Jason a nudge,” she said before he could hang up. “I called, but...” She sighed, the sound of which was enough to get her point across.

“Sure thing, but no guarantees. I’ll swing by his house, as well, to cover my bases, but you know how that’s gone in the past.”

“Yeah, I know. Do your best. Seven thirty.”

“Right,” he said, getting off the phone.

She returned her cell to her overalls and stared out at the darkening alley. Headlights suddenly brightened the strip, as a car turned into the alley. She didn’t actually know Bradley’s car, and the one approaching looked a bit flashy to be a teenager’s property, but when the vehicle turned into the parking spot next to hers, she saw Bradley behind the wheel. Music was blasting out the windows until he pulled the key from the ignition and it abruptly cut out.

“Bradley,” she said, stepping out of her truck as soon as he climbed out of his car.

“Who’s that? Kate?” He squinted through the dimly lit alley at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Out here?” he asked, approaching her. “It smells like garlic rotting in the sun.”

Ah, that was the smell. She was glad he’d identified it.

“What about in my truck?” she suggested and he shrugged, walking briskly around the front of her truck and hopping into the passenger’s seat.

“Smells like paint thinner,” he commented, sniffing around. “At least it masks the stench.”

“I always have been lucky like that,” she said dryly. “I wanted to ask you about a few things, but first I’ll say, you aren’t in trouble and I’m not going to get you in trouble.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, I’m in trouble.”

“No really, you aren’t,” she insisted, smiling at his clever teenaged logic. “We’ve known each other a number of years now. I saw the good in you when you were mixed up with the Anarchist Freedom Network and I know you’re still a good kid.”

“Okay,” he said skeptically.

“Your mom told me about a box of drugs in your room.”

“Wow, you do not beat around the bush, do you?” He laughed as though he couldn’t believe he was in this situation. “Look, it wasn’t mine, and yes, I know I shouldn’t have taken it, not because stealing is wrong, but because getting caught with two pounds of drugs is a felony.”

“It is.”

“Okay, so my mom already talked to me about this.”

“I’m sure she did. What I want to know is where you got it.”

“What, do you have a habit I don’t know about?”

“Let’s stop being cute, Bradley. Where did you get it?”

Bradley’s expression drew long and his face hardened with anger. “I’ll tell you where. From Dean’s crappy girlfriend, that’s where. And I wasn’t going to do anything with it. I was only trying to make a point.”

“Girlfriend?” Kate asked, alarmed. Dean and Jessica had been happily married for a number of years. “Dean has a mistress?”

“Don’t make it sound classy, it’s not and she’s not, no matter how hard she tries.”

She shifted in her seat, speechless.

“Do you know what this feels like for me? Knowing that jerk has been messing around and wanting to tell my mom, but knowing if I tell her it’ll destroy her? I was so pissed off about it, I wanted to scare the crap out of Dean, so I took the box of drugs from that woman, you know, to prove to Dean she was the absolute worst. But of course, I didn’t get the chance because Mom had to go clean my room.” He interrupted himself with a snorted laugh. “Yeah, like she was cleaning. Then once she’s done flipping out at me and sends me to my room, Dean comes in like he’s going to be the cool stepdad and talk to me. I confronted him then about his girlfriend, but he didn’t even let me get to the part where I tell him she’s the one who has these drugs, not me, because Dean frigging cuts me off to tell me he stopped seeing her, anyhow.”

“What’s the woman’s name?” Kate said finally when she regained her faculties.

“Donna,” he said as if her name disgusted him. “Some hotshot from out of town.”

“Donna Kramer?”

“I guess. Frigging Dean,” he went on. “He was all bent out of shape because his secret girlfriend had a secret boyfriend, that poor bastard who got killed. What’s his name? Tommy Barkow?”

Suddenly, Kate’s mind started reeling.

“Donna Kramer and Tommy Barkow,” she murmured to herself. The drug chemist and the dealer.

Bradley continued to stew from the passenger’s seat. “I’m telling you right now,” he stated. “If Dean takes Tommy’s death as his clean slate to start back up with Donna, there’s going to be another murder in Rock Ridge, and it’ll be because I frigging killed Dean.”

“All right, don’t talk like that,” she said in a small voice even she didn’t believe.

Could Donna Kramer have been in room 5 that day with Tommy? Had she killed him? Or had Dean killed him in a jealous rage or as a means to get Tommy out of the way of his secret love affair with Donna?

“You still didn’t tell me where exactly you got that box of drugs,” she reminded him.

“From Donna’s stash,” he replied vaguely.

“Where?”

He snorted a laugh and said “where” in a mimicking voice. “Where do you think? At the amusement park! I’m telling you, that park is going to bring in a ton of cash, but not because the rides are fun. Donna Kramer, with Dean’s help, is going to be selling a different kind of trip entirely.”

Was that why Dean had thrown a bomb at the amusement park that night? Because the police were way too close to drugs being stashed there?

“Kate, are you okay?”

She glanced at Bradley, who looked suddenly concerned for her. “This is huge. This is a conspiracy. It’s going to be the biggest scandal this town has ever seen if it gets out. Dean is going to get in a lot of trouble. This could ruin Rock Ridge.”

Bradley screwed his face up. “Are you worried about them not getting caught or about them getting caught? Right now it sounds like both.”

She had never been more conflicted in her entire life. And she didn’t have an answer. “I have to get going.”

“Yeah, nice talking to you,” he said, popping the door open.

“Bradley?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay out of trouble, would you?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he told her with a smile. “I’m good at never getting caught.”

He shut the door and she yelled, “That isn’t funny!” Bradley yanked the restaurant door open and slipped inside.

Kate had to clear her head before she sat down with the Langleys, Scott, and her boys. It would make things tight, but she drove home for a quick shower. As she stood in the stall, letting the hot stream of water wash over her and lathering her hair with shampoo, she was struck by the fact of how thoroughly overwhelmed she felt. The mayor was tangled up with a siren, drug lord. He may or may not have thrown a bomb at Lance Langley. He certainly knew about Donna’s operation of moving drugs from the Langleys’ mustard factory to the shed at the inn, and to the very amusement park he was building. Everyone even remotely associated to the conspiracy was terrified, and worse, clueless about who was behind it all. Was that person Donna? Or did the chain of command go up much higher? Becky’s abduction was an extension of the drug ring, as well, and yet Dean’s decision to blow up the ransom exchange seemed to muddy the motivations behind Becky’s disappearance in the first place. Tommy Barkow had clearly died for his involvement, but Kate was no closer to understanding who had done it, though her prime suspects were either Dean or Donna. And Amelia Langley’s arrest had thrown a superficial wrench into the entire picture of what might’ve truly happened.

As Kate stepped out of the shower, she told herself that if this family meeting didn’t answer the many burning questions she had, she was going to have a bonafide nervous breakdown.

After dressing in a pair of nice, black jeans and a loose-fitting tee shirt, and making the drive to the Langleys’ house, Kate parked along the curb and walked up to the front door. She knocked and glanced over her shoulder. Scott’s truck was parked up the street. She saw Jared’s vehicle, as well, but Jason’s car was nowhere in sight. She hoped Jared had driven Jason. It was important for everyone to be here tonight.

Amelia looked gaunt when she opened the door. She had only spent the better part of the day in jail, but clearly she hadn’t touched the meals that were offered.

“My attorney is here,” she stated, and Kate sank into her hip, disappointed.

“Amelia, that’s not going to help us talk as a family.”

“Well, I have to be smart about this,” she said. “Scott doesn’t get to take off the chief hat for a night and then go back to playing bad cop the next day. This is my freedom we’re talking about.”

What could Kate say? She sighed and told Amelia “fine,” which seemed to be the prerequisite of being invited inside. She followed the woman into the living room where a prudish-looking man in his forties occupied the better portion of the couch. The attorney was wearing a starched white shirt and tailored suit, and by the looks of it, had been enjoying more than a few cocktails, courtesy of Scott York, who sat in the adjacent sofa couch, refilling the man’s glass with more whiskey.

Seeing Kate, Scott set down the glass and approached. The kiss he gave her was on the cheek and brief, and came with a word of caution. “I’m going to get him drunk, and then we’ll really have a talk.”

“Oh boy,” she said, smiling at the attorney from across the room. The man was already glassy-eyed.

Jared entered from the kitchen with a plate of olives and cheese, and gave Kate a nod before setting down the hors d’oeuvres. When he straightened up and met her gaze again, she knew he hadn’t been able to get in touch with Jason.

“Now that everyone’s here,” said Amelia, clapping her hands. “I’ll go get Lance and we can get started.”

“I’m not an invalid!” he called out from down the hallway. In a few moments he entered the room, making slow work of balancing each step with the cane in his right hand. “I’m feeling quite all right, in fact. These painkillers are a Godsend.”

Amelia assisted Lance as he settled into another sofa chair, and Jared squeezed down onto the couch beside the attorney who hadn’t left him much room. Kate was about to take a seat on the piano bench at the far side of the room, but she heard a knock at the front door.

Immediately, she looked at Jared. They were thinking the same thing, so she let everyone know she would get it and padded off to the foyer where she saw Jason through the glass window in the door.

“You made it,” she said with a smile as soon as she opened the door. “I was worried you didn’t get my messages.”

“I’m here,” he said dryly, following her through the house.

Seating was limited, but Scott was already on it, carrying a kitchen chair into the living room.

Amelia glanced from one face to the next, as everyone waited awkwardly for someone to speak. Finally, she did. “I already told Kate everything Lance and I know.”

Without warning, the attorney’s head fell back onto the couch and he began snoring.

“William,” hissed Amelia. “William! Wake up!”

Scott made a weak effort of rousting the man, gently tapping his shoulder. “Looks like he’s out. Some people just can’t handle their whiskey,” he said with a chuckle that Amelia scowled at.

Jason still hadn’t taken a seat, and when Kate indicated he could fit on the other side of the attorney, he declined and folded his arms.

“Let’s start with the facts,” Scott said, taking the floor. “Amelia, your prints were on the mallard—”

“If I’m going to be accused all over again—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted. “I’m sure Kate told you this meeting is in the spirit of us finding a way through this as a family.”

“We’re not a family, yet,” Lance grumbled.

Jason spoke up in an exasperated tone. “Have we all forgotten about Becky? It seems like every day that passes, another crime is committed and it distracts us more from the real issue at hand. She’s gone. And we aren’t going to get her back if we spend our time discussing Tommy Barkow’s murder or the explosion at the amusement park or God knows what else.”

“But we are,” said Kate, “because they’re all connected.”

Jumping back to the original question, Amelia stated, “I work at the inn. I own it, for Christ’s sake. I touch everything, and that’s why my prints were on that bookend. Lance and I are victims in more ways than one.”

Kate drew in a deep breath and prepared herself for the fallout that would surely come with opening a giant can of worms. “I think we need to talk about Dean Wentworth.”

As soon as she declared it, she studied Jason. His face went slack, and unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, he looked suddenly pale, as well.

“The mayor?” asked Amelia. “Why?”

“Kate?” Scott said, prodding her when she hesitated to elaborate, immediately regretting launching into what could very well amount to wild, teenaged speculation.

“I don’t know if he’s another victim or if he’s playing a calculated role, but your warehouse and inn aren’t the only places in this town where those drugs are being stashed. I heard they’re also at the construction site.”

Scott snapped his eyes to Jason. “Have you heard anything? Seen anything? Have either of you?”

Jason was mum, and all Kate could say was what Bradley had told her. Soon the entire room went into an uproar of shock, skepticism, and hysterics, until Scott yelled in a booming tone to end the chaos.

“The police are removing the drugs from the warehouse and the inn, and in terms of those offenses, the Langleys are not going to be charged or even questioned.” He made a point to make eye contact with both Amelia and Lance. “I’ll get a search warrant for the amusement park and we’ll bring Dean in for questioning. What we need to figure out here is who killed Tommy.”

“Dean or Donna Kramer,” Kate stated frankly.

“Who the hell is Donna Kramer?” he asked.

Jason was the one to answer, and what he said was both shocking and completely logical. “She’s the executive overseeing the construction of the park.”

“Jesus,” said Kate before turning to Scott. “Tommy was having an affair with her. Tommy was making the drugs. He’s a chemist.”

“How do you know?”

“A woman named Gillian O’Reilly told me. She was at the amusement park that night. She was supposed to get the bag of money. She didn’t know there would be a bomb. When I looked into it, I learned from Drake at the Firing Line that Dean was the one to buy the gunpowder.”

Scott jumped to his feet. “I’ve got to talk to Dean right now.”

Jason sidestepped, blocking his path. “You don’t want to do that.”

Scott’s eyes widened with astonishment, as he said, “Why’s that?”

“Because!” Jason protested. “Because it detracts from Amelia’s predicament! It distracts us from finding Becky! Why is it so hard for everyone in this family to focus on what matters?”

Jared rose to his feet. “Jason, you got to let him go, man.”

“What about Becky?” he countered.

Amelia cut right in with, “What about your disappearances, hmmm?” She glared at Jason from her chair. “You think I don’t know about that? I’ve got my ear to the ground!”

“Meaning what?” he challenged.

Kate jumped to her feet. “Everybody calm down. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

Two seconds after she stated as much, everyone started yelling and pointing their fingers at each other.

This was a complete disaster. Amidst the chaos, Jason shoved Scott then bolted from the fray, tearing out of the living room, throwing the front door open, and running.

Kate took off after him, but when she reached the front walk, his car was already peeling out, burning rubber, as it veered off down the street.

Chapter Ten

After the night she’d had at the Langleys’ with the fights and accusations that ensued, Kate felt overdue for some quality Carly time. She didn’t want to discuss Tommy Barkow, Donna Kramer, the drugs, or the mayor’s supposed involvement. All she needed was to get lost in the trials and tribulations of Carly’s life for a little while, which was why she arranged to meet her best friend at Bean There for breakfast.

Eager for the escape, Kate was five minutes early to the little coffee shop in the heart of Rock Ridge. She ordered a large coffee, and Clara, the barista, smiled with surprise when Kate requested a mug.

“Wow, not rushing off?” Clara asked over her shoulder as she filled a Bean There mug to the brim with piping hot dark roast.

“Rare moment of quietude,” she supplied, handing Clara a bill and dropping the change she received into the tip jar.

The coffee shop had plenty of vacant tables, though a number of customers were scattered throughout. Kate drank in the sight of a cuddling couple, who looked young enough to be in college, and remembered when Jason and Jared were that age. She was certain things were better now that they were home. Instead of missing them because they were off at school, she saw them regularly, but each encounter had become strained and tense. Jason seemed to have more and more secrets, none of which she’d been able to unearth. And Jared was crumbling from the inside out each day, trying to be strong and supportive and give his brother the benefit of the doubt, and yet by doing so, he’d grown exhausted.

Kate chose a table by the windows in the back and saw Carly bounding down the sidewalk outside. She waved, catching her friend’s eye, and settled into a chair.

A moment later, Carly burst through the entrance, met Kate’s gaze from across the room, and shot one finger in the air as if to indicate she’d only be a second.

Kate blew on her coffee and gazed out at the quaint street. At first glance, Rock Ridge passed for the perfect town, picturesque and homey. You would never know just by looking at it that there was a world of corruption just beneath the surface.

Hadn’t she fought this battle already, and won for that matter?

Why was history repeating itself?

It seemed that Rock Ridge had never had a trustworthy mayor. Each had conducted questionable, if not illegal business transactions. Power came at a high cost, she thought, but did it have to? Dean had been doing so well for so many years. She never saw this coming. Scott was making arrangements with his detectives to bring Dean in for questioning. He would have to be delicate yet firm if he wanted to make headway without offending the mayor, who was in a position to end Scott’s career. How crazy was that?

Carly kept her eyes on the coffee in her hands as she walked slowly through the coffee shop, careful not to spill her hot drink. When she reached the table, she set her mug down first and then eased into her chair.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” Kate said.

“You make it sound like it’s been ages.” She laughed. “So, tell me...how’s it going?”

“No, no,” said Kate, wagging her finger at her friend. “I need to hear about you. Keep it light. No drama. I’m all ears.”

“Well,” said Carly, leaning over the table as though all she was about to divulge would be quite juicy. “Larry and I have been talking about renewing our vows and going on a second honeymoon.”

“Really?” Kate was envious, but her happiness for Carly didn’t last.

Gillian O’Reilly burst through the coffee shop entrance and locked eyes with Kate.

“Oh no,” she said, breaking eye contact and prompting Carly to ask her what was wrong. She didn’t respond so much as begin mumbling, “Please don’t be here for me.”

But Gillian was. She barreled towards Kate’s table and blurted out, “Where the heck is your husband?”

Carly was taken aback on Kate’s behalf.

“At the precinct, I would imagine.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” said Gillian, distressed. “I want out and I need witness protection or something.”

Kate hoped that the young woman who looked so much like Becky that it made her head spin was overreacting, but she couldn’t take that chance. Turning to Carly, she apologized. “Can we reschedule?”

Bewildered, Carly agreed and Kate wasted no time ushering Gillian out of the coffee shop. When they reached the sidewalk, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“I got another note, more instructions. I can’t take this anymore,” she cried.

“Okay,” said Kate, thinking on her feet. “What do they want you to do?”

Rather than answer, Gillian drew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Kate.

In handwriting that looked identical to the note that had been slipped under the Langleys’ door, the note read: Get the instructions from the inn.

“What does this mean?” Kate asked.

“I means...” Gillian looked pained to continue. “Now that Tommy’s dead, someone has to take over his position. Tommy had a formula with steps. And they're in room 5 at Over the Moon.” After a moment of fretting, she added, “I can’t go. I have a really bad feeling about this. I’m terrified if I get the instructions and they come to my place for them, they’ll kill me.”

Her concern was justified.

“I’ll go,” said Kate.

Gillian looked stunned. “Shouldn’t we tell the police chief?”

Scott was likely in the midst of a tumultuous interview with Dean Wentworth, and the sense she got from the note was that time was of the essence.

“I’ll tell him,” Kate assured her. “Thank you for telling me about this.”

Kate drove in a panic to Over the Moon. She checked her rearview mirror constantly. She felt eyes on her. Approaching the inn only caused her paranoia to increase. When she parked in front of the entrance, she left Scott a brief voice message with virtually no detail, only that he needed to call her back.

As she popped her door open, she spied Chucky near the fountain in the yard. He looked jumpy. Without the stash in the shed to dip into, she figured he was probably going through something fierce. Rather than using the gardening hoe in his hands, he only held it and stared vacantly at the grass as he shifted and jolted like a nervous wreck.

Best to avoid him entirely, she thought, as she jumped out of her truck and quickly padded to the door, which a butler opened for her. She smirked but avoided eye contact. And when she rounded through, hoping to slip past the receptionist, the young woman called out to her.

“Police chief’s wife,” Kate stated as though the title itself would give her full access to any room in the inn. Miraculously, it worked, and the young woman smiled apologetically.

On the second floor, Kate discovered the crime-scene tape had been removed from room 5 and she let herself in.

But the room wasn’t empty.

Donna Kramer was seated at the desk in front of the open window. She turned around the second Kate barreled through. On the desk beneath her elbow were several sheets of paper, which appeared to have chemical compound drawings all over them. But that wasn’t what took Kate’s breath away.

Donna was aiming a gun at her.

“Shut the door,” Donna instructed in a calm tone. Once Kate had eased the door closed, she continued, “Kate Flaherty. You know, I’ve heard a lot about you. About your snooping around, your sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, but I have to say, as irritating as it made you sound, experiencing it firsthand amuses me.”

“Looking to purify some cocaine with those instructions?” she countered, holding what little ground she had. “Why would you kill your chemist?”

Donna laughed. “Is this the part where you think I’m going to confide every last diabolical step I’ve made in my master plan to overtake Rock Ridge? Amusing, indeed...”

“He was your lover, as well,” she pressed. “I don’t see how having him dead benefits you.”

“In some ways, it doesn’t,” she admitted without actually confessing. “But Tommy overstepped his bounds, and in the grand scheme of things, I have to be pleased he’s dead.”

“Overstepped his bounds?”

“You might be glad he’s dead, as well,” she said in a sly tone. “After what he did to your family...”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right. Excuse me. They’re not your family yet. Not until Jason marries Becky.” She frowned in mock sympathy. “But who knows if that day will ever come.”

Locking on to her insinuations, she asked, “Tommy threw the bomb?”

“Throw is such a literal word. Tommy was a smart man and rigged a catapult of sorts. All he had to do was tap a key on his computer, and kaboom.”

“So he wanted out,” she concluded.

“Ah, don’t we all?”

“You killed him because he went against you,” she insisted.

Donna rose to her feet. When she spoke, her words were sharp and biting. “I killed him because he went against us. Which is a fate you’re doomed to suffer, I might add.”

“You know where Becky is!” Kate blurted out, momentarily forgetting the gun trained on her chest.

Donna’s expression hardened, and Kate knew she was milliseconds from pulling the trigger.

POW!

Kate flinched, startling and then quaking as she glanced down at herself, puzzled that she felt no pain.

Registering she hadn’t been hit, her gaze snapped up to Donna. The woman looked shocked, her mouth wide open, her eyes equally so. Astonished, Donna lowered her gaze to her stomach, where blood was oozing out of a fresh bullet wound. Then she collapsed dead on the floor.

Kate ran to the window, understanding that the shooter had to be outside.

Standing on the grassy yard was Jason. They locked eyes. He tucked his gun down the back of his pants. As he walked off towards the parking lot, Kate knew that if he drove away, he would never come back.

~~~

TOOL KIT CLUES

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty had never descended a staircase faster. Taking them two and a time and landing badly on the first floor of Over the Moon Inn, the image of Donna Kramer falling dead on the carpet in room 5 surged to the forefront of her mind.

Jason had killed her.

Kate’s very own son.

And if she didn’t catch him before he peeled out of the inn’s parking lot, she feared he might disappear forever.

After all, his fiancée had suffered that very fate, though the circumstances surrounding Becky Langley’s mysterious disappearance had been entirely different.

Or so Kate thought.

Tearing through the reception foyer and barreling past the butler who was standing post at the entrance door like a statue, Kate saw Jason yank the driver’s side door of his truck open and climb in behind the wheel.

She had every impulse to scream at him to stop, but it was bad enough she had torn through the inn. Drawing more attention to herself or Jason wouldn’t do either of them any good.

In his vehicle, Jason threw the truck into reverse, but Kate slammed her hands on the hood. He hit the brakes. In the commotion, it was only just now occurring to her that neither the Over The Moon receptionist nor the butler had reacted in any way to the gunshot.

Kate raced to the driver’s side and threw the door open.

“What the hell was that?” She realized between her heaving breaths and her pulse pounding in her ears from the adrenaline coursing through her veins that she may have been rendered temporarily deaf. She steadied her tone and hoped no one had heard her last question. After a quick glance at the inn door, she pressed, “Donna confessed to killing Tommy Barkow. You didn’t have to kill her.”

“Didn’t I?” he challenged, while appearing astonished that she could make such a claim. “She had a gun on you.”

“Damn it, Jason. What the hell is going on?”

Tight-lipped, he settled his gaze straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. Kate had never been one to grab either of her son’s faces, demanding their attention and response, and it took every shred of decency she had not to do that now.

“I’m not going to apologize for saving your life,” he said indignantly.

“You’re going to have to explain this,” she asserted.

“Oh yeah? And how do you think that’s going to go? Hm? My new stepdad already thinks I’m the one behind Becky’s abduction. He obviously thinks I’m capable of such a thing.” Jason shifted in the driver’s seat so he could face her completely. “You really want me sticking around to explain this to Scott York?”

Kate fell silent, and life as she knew it flashed before her eyes. Did she really want her husband and son pitted against one another? She had certainly had enough of that recently, and all she had been through in that department was mere speculation. If Jason truly were connected to a crime—a murder—he would undoubtedly be arrested. Would self-defense be an acceptable plea when Jason hadn’t been in the line of fire?

“I have to go,” he told her, his eyes turning round in apology or regret, she couldn’t decide.

“Go where?”

“Relax,” he smirked crookedly, one side of his mouth curling up far more than the other, an expression he shared with his twin brother who never seemed to be in the depth of trouble that Jason found himself in. “I’m not leaving Rock Ridge. Not when Becky’s missing. But I can’t be here.”

“I can’t let you go until I understand a few things,” she stated.

“Are you sure about that?” he challenged. “Because I’d bet there are at least three employees who are wondering what the hell that gunshot was all about, if not discovering a dead body at this very moment and calling the cops.”

“I’m sure,” she said, catching the car door as he tried to shut it. “Jared told me you’ve been running off, disappearing—”

“Jared,” he snorted a laugh.

“And Scott has heard things. People have called into the station placing you in questionable places doing questionable things.”

“Really?” he asked, his brow furrowing with confidence. “And who hasn’t said that about you? Oh no, whenever Kate Flaherty goes poking around it’s for the good of Rock Ridge, but if her son does the same, it’s the mark of guilt. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Are you saying you’ve been spied at questionable places because you’re acting for the good of Rock Ridge?”

“For the good of myself and my family, of Becky. You know you act like you’re some savior—”

“I have never,” she cut in, wagging her finger at him, “acted like a savior.”

“You’ve meddled. You’ve gotten in people’s business to find out the truth. And that’s what I’m doing. These people who are behind Becky’s abduction, they’re not good people. I talk to bad people in bad places. It doesn’t mean I’m one of them. It means I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty to find the truth.”

“You’re speaking too abstractly. I need more than that, Jason.” She was leaning towards him, invading his personal space as if nearness would pop him open. “Scott is going to show up here. He has to. It’s his job. And I’m going to have to tell him something.”

Jason’s eyes widened as though he were appalled.

“I’m not going to turn you in or throw you under the bus, but the truth will set you free.”

“Not this time, Mom. I shot that woman.”

“But if you had your reason—”

“What reason justifies murder?”

Again, Kate fell silent.

“Are you going to tell him I did it?”

She didn’t have it in her to say, because she honestly didn’t know.

Jason sighed, but it didn’t release even a fraction of the tension he felt. Kate knew as much by the way his was holding his shoulders and clenching the steering wheel. It looked as if he were keeping himself together despite a universe trying to tear him apart.

“I’ve had my ear to the ground,” he began. “I’ve talked to people, the absolute bottom-feeders of this town, people you wouldn’t even notice live here. The convicts. Remember Clifford Green?”

Kate would never forget. Clifford had been romantically involved with the local baker, Cookie Halpert. At the time of Cookie’s murder, he had been the prime suspect, at least in Kate’s eyes. Though Officer Gunther had been the one behind her murder—a tumultuous love affair that ended badly—Kate never dropped her suspicion of Clifford. At the time, he had just been released from the prison up north. And sure enough, weeks later he was involved in a murder. But it had been his own. Gathering as much as she had during that time, she discovered an entire network of drug dealers had woven themselves through this town. Meredith Joste and Daisy Meriwether had been among them and had subsequently been arrested. Donna Kramer had been a kingpin, so to speak, but with Jason having killed her, the extent of her role would never be known. Even more disturbing was the fact that the mayor of Rock Ridge, Dean Wentworth, had been dragged into it, though this was only substantiated by rumors. The bottom line was that Becky’s abduction was the centerpiece on this dark arrangement, and because of it, Jason couldn’t simply let the police do their job.

Could she fault him? Kate had the same blood running through her veins.

Jason continued. “Clifford Green was in prison with the guy who abducted Becky.”

“How do you know this?”

“I talked to people. I got in with them.”

“What do you mean you got in with them?” she asked, horrified that her son had infiltrated a mob that could very well kill him.

“I’m going to get Becky back,” he asserted with a biting tone. “I didn’t get a real name, just the guy’s street name. Dark Donnie. He wasn’t the one at the house that morning, but he was behind it. He has affiliations with Amelia and Lance. As you know, the Langleys crossed them, or didn’t obey as per Dark Donnie’s specifications. Anyway, I’m getting closer. What’s happening in Rock Ridge is that all the convicts got out of prison, they can’t find work, and they’re going into the drug business. They’ll do anything. And Dark Donnie knows it. He knows it so well that he’s using his corrupt prison contacts to get these guys out early. That way, the second they set foot in freedom, they owe him.”

“I’m worried for you, Jason.”

“I have to do this, Mom.”

“Then why the hell did you kill Donna? Do you have any idea what you’ve risked?”

“I’m not going to say it again,” he affirmed, annoyed and thrusting his hand down on the wheel. “She was going to kill you.”

“How did you even know I was here?”

Jason looked her dead in the eye and said, “The only reason I have an in with these guys is because I’m close with the Langleys. I convinced them I only wanted the mustard money. That I didn’t care about Becky at all and don’t give a crap she’s out of the picture. Well, they believed me. They took me into the fold. When I warned them that Scott got warrants to remove the drugs from the shed and the warehouse, they thanked me. They left some product behind just to throw Scott off their trail.”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “How does that work?”

“The real boxes led back to Donna Kramer. The ones we left behind will incriminate someone else.”

“Someone innocent?” She was shocked and horrified.

“Mom, there are pawns and there are queens. You have to protect the queen.” He placed his hand on her arm. “That’s what I did.”

“Jesus.”

“I had to come by to make sure Chucky knew to play it cool when the cops come for the drugs.”

“Scott already came.”

“I know that. I swung by to get the scoop on how it went after the fact.”

She was beginning to understand the timeline of events he had described.

“I’m onto something, Mom. You gotta trust me.”

“What am I supposed to tell Scott when he gets here?”

Jason sighed. “Anything but the whole and absolute truth.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Until you looked out the window, you had no idea it was me. Just tell yourself you don’t remember anything after the gunshot.”

“Then why did it take me so long to phone the police?”

“Don’t worry about that. No time went by at all.”

She screwed her face up as though there was no way that would fly.

“The butler, Chucky, the receptionist—everyone on staff has been paid off. Don’t worry. You only know what you know,” he said suggestively. “And you don’t know anything else.”

She held her breath, considering if she could do it, but she really didn’t have a clue. Whenever she looked into Scott’s big brown eyes, the truth had a way of pouring out of her.

“And what about Amelia?” she asked, not to challenge him but to plead her dilemma. “She’s on the hook for Tommy Barkow’s murder. Donna confessed, but to me, privately, and now she’s dead. How will Amelia exonerate herself?”

Jason held her gaze, but his eyes went dead. “Amelia might not have killed Donna, but she’s not innocent.”

“Christ, I’ve already been around that merry-go-round. I won’t do it again. As a family, we understood the Langleys are innocent. They were being used and threatened.”

“Wealth is corruption,” he stated, not at all sounding like the son she had raised. “If they hadn’t been so successful, they never would’ve been targeted.”

“I’ve heard enough,” she said sharply. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

The fact of the matter was that she already had. Not in the spirit of getting her son arrested, but because Kate had always been a believer that nothing was more important than the truth. Even in sticky situations where things looked bad, as long as a person told the truth, eventually they would be believed. She had seen it time and again in Rock Ridge. Scott didn’t have the best reputation for arresting the right person, but the innocent weathered the storm, and soon enough the culprit ended up behind bars.

She took a few hesitant steps backwards and let Jason shut the truck door, then watched him reverse out of the parking spot and drive away. It had to be well over 95 degrees, but she felt freezing. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

Never in her life had calling Scott been so hard.

Chapter Two

“So you were standing there, and Donna was standing here—”

“She had a gun aimed at me,” Kate interjected, which caused Scott to stare at her.

“Right,” he said. “You mentioned that...several times.” He took a moment to collect himself, and Kate tried not to look at the bloodstain on the wood floor. The medical team had hauled Donna’s body away, but Kate could still feel her presence tainting the room. “She stood here with a gun aimed at you, which we’ve collected into evidence, so no need to remind me a sixth time. And then, suddenly, she fell?”

“Yes, she was shot in the back,” Kate said for the sixth time.

“By someone out there in the yard,” he supplied. It wasn’t that she hadn’t explained this or that Scott didn’t understand. It was that he couldn’t fathom it, not in terms of his intimate knowledge of Kate’s personality. Kate would’ve run after the gunman. Kate knew it, and she knew that Scott knew it.

“Yes. The window was open.”

“And when you ran to it...?”

“I was stunned at first,” she said quickly, eager to escape to her truck and get on with her life so as not to be tempted to turn in her own son. “I was so shocked because she had that gun on me, I thought I had been shot. I don’t know how long I was looking at my stomach, trying to make sense of it all. When I finally looked up she was on the floor, and I was able to guess what happened, but when I ran to the window there was no one out there. And I called you.”

Officer Garrison stood at the back of the room, jotting every word down into a notepad in such a way that was driving Kate crazy. Angling her gaze over her shoulder, she glared at him, and he stilled his pen, twisting his mouth to the side in apology.

“The most important thing,” she went on, nearing Scott, “is that Donna confessed to me that she killed Tommy. And she did this because Tommy set off the explosive that night, harming Lance Langley.” She stared at him with expectant eyes, but he said nothing. “You have to believe me. Poor Amelia is staring down the long barrel of a very costly criminal trial and she didn’t do it.”

“I hear you,” he said, but he was using his cop tone. He hadn’t sounded like her husband all morning. “But you also told me that Drake of Drake’s Firing Line incriminated Dean Wentworth for the explosion at the amusement park site. I have a lot to wade through, you understand.”

“Why would Donna say that? Why would she kill Tommy, if he hadn’t done it?”

“I don’t know, Katydid, and I can’t question her because she’s dead.” Scott walked to the open window and gazed out. After a moment, he turned on his heel, facing her. “If someone wanted Donna dead, why shoot her through the window? Why shoot her in the back?”

Kate shrugged as if she were at a loss for getting inside the logic of a killer.

“Do you think the shooter saw you?”

Again, Kate shrugged. “I doubt they were aiming for me.”

“That’s not what I’m getting at,” he said impatiently. “What if they were trying to protect you?”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Honey, you know I don’t have that many close friends, and those I do are at Sunshine Florist.”

His expression softened, but she could tell the gears in his fast-thinking mind were still turning.

“You have my statement,” she pointed out. “Do you need anything else?”

“And you were in the room because...”

“Because that Becky look-alike, Gillian O’Reilly, had been instructed—”

“To get the instructions,” he supplied, glancing at Tommy Barkow’s chemical equations for purifying cocaine, the drug that had been manufactured in the quaint town of Rock Ridge.

“I was only trying to help,” she concluded.

Scott closed the gap between them then pulled her in for a warm hug. “You have to stop doing that. What if the shooter had poor aim and got you? What would we do then?”

“Oh,” she said, brushing off his concern, “you know I have nine lives.”

“I’m afraid you’ve used them up. Haven’t there been nine murders since I’ve moved to town?”

“Maybe it’s your lives we should be worried about,” she teased, glancing up at him, but in the back of her mind, she did the math. In fact, with the killing spree two years ago during the Anarchist Freedom Network fiasco, there had been five murders. Now there had been three killings in the past month, making eight total. If Kate had nine lives, she had used nearly all of them playing with fire to catch the previous killers. She considered the possibility that she had better watch out. Donna Kramer was the ninth murder. Kate was out of lives. “So what are you going to do about Amelia?”

“It’ll take some time,” he said, urging her back so he could look at her easily. “I’ll have to file some paperwork, but I trust your account. What Donna confessed to you can be chalked up to a dying declaration, which will exonerate Amelia. Don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I get resistance.”

“I won’t say a thing.”

Scott walked her down to the first floor of the inn, but held her back when they reached the entrance door. He waved at the butler to shut the door. The man had opened it in anticipation, but there was a wall of reporters outside that neither Scott nor Kate were eager to deal with.

“It’s going to be a long one for me,” he said, tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “I might not be back until late. We recovered drugs from the shed out there, as well as in the mustard warehouse. We just got the warrant to search the amusement park site.”

“I bet Dean is going to love that.”

“Dean’s not going to have a choice. Needless to say, don’t wait up.”

“I never do,” she said, shooting him a weary grin. She drew in a deep breath, facing the entrance, and gave the butler a brave nod that signaled he could open the door.

The reporters began shouting. There were so many of them that all the voices and questions bled into a nonsensical drone of noise. She pressed through the crowd, batting away their microphone buds as soon as they shoved them in her face. She jumped inside her truck as soon as she reached it.

Backing out was a real challenge. The last thing Kate wanted to do was kill a reporter or two and get stuck here for another two hours. But soon she was driving off, watching reporters in her side-view mirrors chase after her on foot until they gave up. Just as she turned onto the road, she flicked her gaze at the rearview mirror and saw the most tenacious reporter of all, the blonde from the national news network. She could never remember her name, probably because she had never bothered to learn it. The woman keeled over and began gasping for air. Kate didn’t want to hand it to the woman, but she had definitely run harder than the rest.

As great as the wind felt on her hot skin, Kate had rolled down all the windows in her truck to get as much air as possible. She couldn’t stand the fact that she had lied to Scott. She tried to tell herself that simply omitting what she knew didn’t necessarily make it a lie, but she knew better. She hated secrets. She hated telling them and she hated sensing others were holding out on her. It was as though Jason’s omissions had rubbed off on her. Her son kept things from her and put pressure on her to do the same, and she had. How could she not? This was her son. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, and yet this had been an extremely tall order. Kate already felt like it was eating her alive, and it had only been a few hours.

To try to clear her mind, she considered how she might use her day. She still had the equipment she had rented from Grayson’s to install a window in Jared’s new office at the mayor’s—Christ, that was another ironic piece to the twisted puzzle. Dean’s name had come up in association with the drug lords who had infiltrated Rock Ridge several times. First at Drake’s Firing Line, which Donna Kramer had contracted. But worse, Dean had been involved with Donna romantically. His own stepson, Bradley, had said as much. Why would Dean get involved with a kingpin? Donna hadn’t been that beautiful, had she? Had Dean been blinded by her beauty and looked past her evil?

Honest to God, Kate didn’t know what to make of it, especially since he had a lovely relationship with his wife, Jessica, or so Kate had thought. She didn’t know what disgusted her more—that Dean was using his position as mayor to further corruption in Rock Ridge or that he had cheated on his wife. If Kate were being real with herself, and she would like to think she was, she had to admit the latter bothered her more. Secrets were the cancer of love.

She cringed.

She had done just that with Scott. She had kept a secret.

Kate sighed with relief when she reached Grayson’s, pulling into the parking lot and cutting off any opportunity to analyze the finer details of all that was clearly driving her crazy. She slowed to a crawl and pulled her truck around the side of the building where it would be easiest for Larry to help unload the equipment she had rented.

When she came to a stop, she leaned on the horn. The clock on the dash read 11:48 a.m., which meant that Larry would be inside. He tended to take his lunch break later in the afternoon. A minute of silence passed and he hadn’t come out. She sucked in a deep breath and climbed out of her truck. The side-entrance door was ajar, so she slipped inside and made her way through the storage garage and into the store. As soon as she came into the bathroom aisle, she heard Larry chuckling and then a woman’s voice. That would explain why he hadn’t come running. His wife had dropped in.

Sure enough, Kate found Carly leaning over the counter, and Larry on the other side giving his wife a flirtatious smile. She stilled, taking in the sight of them. It was hard to believe that three years ago Larry had been angling to get a date with Kate. Back then, Kate had been consumed in the agonizing mystery of her husband’s disappearance and couldn’t imagine dating anyone. The fact of the matter, however, was that even if she had been ready to consider another man, Larry simply wouldn’t have been him. In so many ways, Scott had always been the man for her, and though she tried not to think of her years with Greg as lost time—her first husband had given her twin boys whom she loved dearly—deep down Kate knew Scott had always been the one. They had met in high school and fell in love. Everything about him had intrigued her, and when he had asked her to go out for milkshakes and a drive-in movie, Kate had been elated. The feeling never left her during their four years of high school together. And in a lot of ways, it never left her at all, even throughout her years of being married to Greg. When her husband went missing, Scott surged to the forefront of her mind, not because she was attempting a haughty escape of her shattered life, but because Scott represented comfort.

She had him. The man of her dreams. The man she was destined to be with.

And she had lied to his face.

A terrible burden was weighing down on her chest, and Kate wasn’t sure what she would be able to do about it. She loved Jason far too much.

Why was life asking her to choose between her husband and her son? Hadn’t she gone through enough already?

Carly jarred her from her reverie, asking with a smile, “Surprise, surprise, what are you doing here?”

“Returning some equipment,” she said, smiling, as well, but not for the same reason. It was just so nice to see them happy together. “If you have a minute?”

“Sure,” said Larry, rounding the counter and meeting her where she stood. “You parked out front or out the side?”

“The side,” she said, following after him, but Larry turned on his heel.

“No worries,” he said easily. He was certainly in a good mood, and Kate remembered the vow renewal and honeymoon that Carly had mentioned. “I got it. You just hang out. Oh, we got a coffeemaker, if you didn’t know.”

“Yeah?”

His brows shot up in confirmation and he shot her a smile. “Did, indeed.”

“I’ll make you a cup,” Carly offered. “So long as you tell me just who in the hell that woman was and why in the hell she stole you away from our breakfast date.”

If anything, Kate had been hoping to avoid the subject, so she decided to find a number of things interesting about the new coffeemaker behind the counter, noting out loud the make and model and asking about the flavor of coffee grounds, if they were organic and fair trade.

“You’re deflecting,” Carly pointed out in a stern, maternal tone. “Tell me what’s up. I have a sixth sense for these things.”

Kate came out with it the quickest way she knew how in hopes they could get past the topic and talk about lighter subjects, like the location of Carly and Larry’s second honeymoon and what the cocktails might taste like. “Donna Kramer. She was the amusement park executive who bought Meredith Joste’s house.”

“Okay,” said Carly, setting a mug of freshly brewed dark roast on the counter for Kate. Larry had gotten one of those Nespresso one-cup machines and already the brew smelled amazing. “What does that have to do with that woman?”

“You really can’t say anything,” said Kate. “You know how bad the reporters have gotten.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Long story short, all those convicts getting out of prison have filtered into a drug ring.”

“Here in Rock Ridge?” she asked, astonished, but not so much so that she couldn’t get the Nespresso to percolate a second cup of coffee.

“The woman was Gillian O’Reilly, an ex-con who didn’t want to get roped into the drug trade, except that the drug ring got her out of prison early.”

“That’s what you’re calling them?” she asked, alarmed. “The drug ring? They don’t have names?”

“As of yet they don’t. Gillian was supposed to do something, and I went instead. Turns out Donna Kramer was the one who killed Tommy.”

Carly gasped as though this was the juiciest gossip she had heard in ages.

“Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, Carly. I mean it.”

“I won’t,” she said innocently.

“So that’s what happened. And Donna got shot.”

Carly gaped at her, and it looked comical to Kate.

“You’ll read about it in the paper,” she assured her. “I won’t say another word.”

Kate lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. After swallowing, the flavors hit her and she almost died, it was so good. “Oh, you better watch out,” she said. “I’ll be swinging by Grayson’s every morning instead of Bean There. This is too delicious.”

Carly laughed. “Damn right. And Larry’s customers love him. He’s increased his sales in the past two days, alone, just based on customers coming in, having a cup, and feeling so guilty about not buying that they end up stocking up on every supply imaginable.”

“I can see that happening to me,” she agreed.

Abruptly, Carly got back on topic in such a way that knocked the wind right out of Kate. “So this ties into Dark Donnie.”

Kate nearly choked on her coffee. “You heard about Dark Donnie?” Kate had only heard the street name hours ago when Jason had mentioned him.

“Come on, Kate,” she said, cocking her eyebrow up. “Rumors fly faster than viral gifs in Rock Ridge. I would’ve mentioned the alias at our breakfast date if you hadn’t run off.”

“What do you know about him?” she asked eagerly. “What have you heard?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “And it’s all rumor and hearsay, but I’m under the impression he’s good with firearms. I heard he’s a regular at Drake’s Firing Line.”

She considered the angle, drinking her coffee. Drake had been the one to implicate Dean Wentworth in the incident of purchased gunpowder used to blow up the amusement park site. But, in fact, Tommy Barkow had been the buyer. Maybe Drake had been covering for Dark Donnie.

“Any connection to Becky’s disappearance?” Kate asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Carly sighed and her big eyes grew even rounder. She pressed her mouth into a sympathetic line. “Becky’s been gone for weeks. Has there been any contact since the explosion?”

Kate knew what her best friend was getting at—that there was no hope of Becky coming home. No one felt guiltier about this possibility than Kate. Ordinarily, Kate would’ve been tenacious, stopping at nothing to find the kidnapper and return Becky home, safe and sound, restore the relationship she shared with Jason, be one big happy family again. But a number of murders had transpired since her son’s fiancée went missing, each seeming more pressing than the last. Kate wouldn’t go so far as to say she had dropped the ball, but she wasn’t sure there was a ball anymore. The trail had gone cold. And since the kidnapper hadn’t reached out to the Langleys or made any contact whatsoever, she was entirely at a loss. What could she do?

“If all this drug stuff is connected,” Carly went on, supplying her with the answer she most needed to hear, “then surely it will all lead back to Becky. All I know is that Dark Donnie is some kind of marksman. He can hit a target no matter how far away, and he has a knack for showing up when the going gets tough. I heard that if there’s an innocent person around, and a killer on the loose, Dark Donnie will take them out. That’s why he has the pull and power he does. I hear he’s not all bad.”

A chill shuddered up Kate’s spine. She set her mug on the counter, losing all expression in her face. She hoped Carly wouldn’t notice, and luckily Larry padded through the hardware store at that very moment, joining them.

“Sweetheart,” Carly cooed. “Can I make you a cup?”

“I am going to be jumping out of my skin.” He laughed before nodding his head. “I’d love a cup.”

Kate gave him a moment to nuzzle into Carly’s shoulder before asking, “So are we good?”

“Yes, yup, sorry.” He smiled, cradling Carly from behind in his arms. “Equipment had no damage and you are all set to go.”

“Good,” she said in conclusion, all the more rattled by Carly’s comments of Dark Donnie with each passing second. “I’ll see you both later.”

Kate started for her truck. She wanted nothing more than to get home and enjoy the rare and brief respite between fix-it jobs. For reasons she couldn’t figure out, her jobs had slowed. If anything, it was a testament to the fact that when she fixed something, it stayed fixed. Kate wanted to take advantage, pour a hot bath, maybe open a bottle of wine, and submerge in suds with a good book. But when she climbed up behind the wheel her cell phone began vibrating in her overalls and she hoped like hell it wasn’t Scott calling to tell her Jason had been arrested for the murder of Donna Kramer.

It wasn’t, thank God. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief seeing Justina’s name flashing across the LCD screen of her cell.

“Hello,” she sang, trying to sound upbeat.

“Kate! It’s Justina. You must come by Carnegie Real Estate!”

“When?” she asked nervously, wincing at the thought of an impromptu fix-it job.

“Right now!” The real-estate agent explained. Kate thought she heard a bottle of champagne pop in the background. A bunch of women cheered. “We’re celebrating the sale of the Joste house! That damned piece of property has been hanging over our heads for years! And finally it’s out of our hair! We have you to thank. Won’t you please come by?”

Kate cringed, rested her head on the steering wheel. Was now the time to tell Justina that her buyer was now dead? The house would end up back on the market.

“Sure,” she groaned, perking up at the thought of champagne. “I’ll swing by.”

She must have been on speakerphone, because all the ladies in the background cheered uproariously.

Oh God.

“See you soon?” Justina asked, ecstatic.

“Sure,” she said dryly.

Kate supposed lies of omission were contagious, as she drove across town to the real-estate office. If she could weather Scott’s questions and still hold her tongue about Jason, then she could have a few flutes of bubbly with the Carnegie Real Estate ladies and not say a word about Donna Kramer.

Kate wasn’t sure she liked who she was quickly becoming.

From the sidewalk where she was approaching, the front door of Carnegie Real Estate was wide open and Kate could hear laughter billowing out. Through the windows she saw Justina wrapping her arm around one of the younger agents and raising her champagne flute with her free hand.

Kate stepped into the anteroom just as the ladies were clinking their glasses in celebration.

“She’s here!” sang Justina, breaking from the fray to welcome Kate to the party. Justina let out a relieved groan. “Thank God we sold that house. Am I right?”

Kate smiled, but it felt more like wincing.

“I was starting to think that art deco house was cursed,” she went on, making a light joke of the years she had spent desperately hustling to get that home sold and off the market. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the challenge, but we’re all thrilled.”

Justina led her over to one of the desks, which was serving as a refreshment table. On it was several bottles of wine, both red and white, an ice bucket chilling a bottle of champagne, a row of glasses, and a platter of cheese and crackers.

“What can I get you?” she asked, eyeing the options as if she were deciding for herself. “The white is chilled, as well as the champagne.”

Kate liked the idea of champagne more than the reality. In truth, between the sweetness and the bubbles, it usually gave her a headache before it did a relaxing buzz, so she mentioned a glass of white wine would be nice and Justina wasted no time pouring her a generous amount.

As soon as she handed it to Kate, she plucked her own flute of champagne off the table, raised it into the air, and began another congratulatory speech. Kate glanced around the room, looking from face to face. The agents were more than tipsy. Considering the day Kate had survived, she was eager to join them, except for the matter of getting home. She had a personal rule about not driving, even after one glass.

The agents cheered, as Justina concluded her toast, and collectively drew their glasses to their mouths and drank. Kate did as well, recognizing immediately that the wine was chardonnay, one of her favorites.

Justina took hold of Kate’s arm and guided her away from the others, who began mingling and complimenting one another on everything from their shoes to their filing skills.

“We have a big month coming up,” Justina said proudly. “There’s going to be a lot of work, if you can handle it.”

“Oh that’s good news,” she commented before taking another sip of her wine. There had been a lull in her fix-it work and it would be good to keep busy, both her hands and her mind, so as not to be swallowed by the fact that her own son had shot a killer before her very eyes.

“I’ve been speaking with Dean,” she went on. “And Rock Ridge can expect a flurry of tourists as soon as that amusement park of his opens its doors.”

Kate had heard the same thing, but with Scott angling in with his warrant to search the park for drugs, plus the reporters everywhere who would surely pick up on the controversial story, Kate wasn’t so sure the amusement park would do anything but drive prospective tourists away.

“So Carnegie Real Estate will be embarking on a new enterprise,” she continued.

“A new enterprise? What?”

“Well, it’s all very hush, for the time being, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that ex-convicts have been floating into town. That’s bad for business, my business, as you can imagine. And Dean holds the same concerns. So I’ve had a few meetings with him where I’ve proposed Carnegie Real Estate build a high-rise on the outskirts of town, apartment rentals. I don’t love rentals, but the idea is to rent the units to the convicts. This way we’ll keep them separate from the residents. No one looking to buy a house wants to hear that an ex-con lives next door, or even on the next block. But if they’re all located in the same building—and we’ll build some amenities nearby for them so they won’t have to come down Main Street—then I’ll have an easier time of selling the out-of-towners on the idea of moving to Rock Ridge.”

“So you’re going to build a high-rise,” Kate concluded, not nearly as enthusiastic as Justina.

“Dean’s going to throw a little town money at the project,” she said. She looked jittery with excitement, but that could’ve also been the champagne.

“I’m really glad for you, Justina, but I’m not really equipped to manage building a high-rise.”

“But you are equipped to fix the place up.”

Kate cocked her head at the implication. “The high-rise already exists?”

“On the south side of town,” she supplied. “It’s a six-story building. You might have seen it if you’ve ever driven south into Kettleton. It’s a real fixer-upper. I’d like for you to get started refurbishing the units so we can start renting out right away. Then Wentworth Contractors will build vertically. They’ll go floor by floor. It’s going to be a process, and it might not look like a high-rise for a while.”

“I see.”

“There are twelve units per floor, so it's quite a bit of work. Just think of how many convicts we can tuck away as soon as you’re ready. But we’d like this to happen fast. As soon as you’ve finished an apartment, I’ll rent it out. That is, if you’d like the work.”

“I would, certainly. I’m glad you thought of me,” she said quickly, though deep down she felt apprehensive about working in a building where ex-cons would be coming and going freely. After all, crime had been following these people around, and the more murders that occurred, the more tightly linked these characters seemed to be.

“Great,” she exclaimed. “I’ll get the paperwork squared away and let you know. I’ll also contact Grayson’s to start an account so you can pick up materials freely. I know the whole submitting budgets thing was bogging you down.”

Kate shrugged, but she had to admit it had been cumbersome.

“The tides are turning,” she sang. “And it has everything to do with getting that damned Joste house off the market.”

“About that...” Kate said with a grimace. Maybe she should let Scott explain the bad news to Justina, but Kate didn’t want the real-estate agent to be furious with her for not saying something. “Perhaps it shouldn’t come from me, but I do have some information that could affect the art deco house.”

Justina’s smile fell right off her face. “Oh don’t tell me that. Someone was murdered there?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

The woman sighed a breath of relief. “Good, because it's very hard to sell a house when you’re legally obligated to disclose someone was killed there. I’d hate for Donna to back out.”

“I can imagine,” said Kate, working up the nerve to deliver the bad news. “But I’m afraid...” she trailed off then shifted gears. “How long does escrow take to clear?”

“Typically a month, why?”

“Do you happen to know—legally, that is—what would happen regarding the sale if the buyer were to...pass away?”

Justina blinked. “What are you telling me?”

“Donna Kramer was shot this morning.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

Justina fell silent, considering the possibilities of what this would mean concerning the art deco house. Then she brightened. “Donna signed papers. The house is hers, even if she’s no longer living. I suppose her next of kin would get it, or perhaps she has a will that will clear up the matter of the beneficiary, but I think Carnegie Real Estate will be okay. I’ll contact our lawyer, though. Thanks for the heads up. Oh, and Kate?” she asked, since Kate had been staring at the wine in her hand. When Kate glanced up at her, she added, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

She promised she wouldn’t, but in the back of her mind, she wondered if it would make a difference. She was willing to bet Donna Kramer’s murder would be front-page news by tomorrow morning, if not broadcast on every channel with the six o’clock news.

“Congratulations again on the high-rise,” she offered. Her glass was half full, and Kate figured it would be a good cutting off point. “Just let me know when I can get started.”

Justina shot her an affirmative nod. Kate set her glass on the refreshment table and made her way through the real-estate agents who were discussing moving their party over to The Rail.

Dusk was setting over the parking lot as Kate made her way to her truck, having rounded the building along the sidewalk and cut into the back lot where the majority of Carnegie Real Estate agents liked to park their vehicles.

Kate found her truck, but as she motioned to open the driver’s side door, she spotted a news van at the far side of the lot through the windows in her truck. The van looked vacant, and there was no one else around. Perhaps the reporter and her crew couldn’t find street parking at Bean There up the block and had decided to sneak their van here. Or so she wondered until she heard voices murmuring out from behind it.

It sounded like a woman and a man, but she couldn’t be certain. The woman sounded distressed yet aggressive, and the man’s responses were calm and low enough that Kate couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Suddenly, the blonde reporter darted out from behind the van, her hands slicing the air as if she’d had enough of the argument. She was standing in profile from Kate’s perspective and the dusky light was growing darker by the second.

Then a shot rang out, startling Kate. She ducked and heard the distinct plop of a body hitting the asphalt. Cautiously, she straightened up and peered through her truck’s windows. The reporter was lying on the ground.

Kate’s heart was in her throat. Her ears pricked up, keen to detect where the shooter was. It had certainly been the man behind that van. All of a sudden, she heard footfall. The man was running away, but she couldn’t see him.

Without thinking, she ran to the reporter, shifting her gaze between the woman and the parking lot, searching for the fleeing shooter.

As she reached the reporter, she saw a man dive around the corner of the building towards the sidewalk. She had every impulse to run after him. He was headed towards a public, pedestrian-filled sidewalk, but when she looked at the reporter, she realized the woman wasn’t dead.

Dropping to her knees, Kate brushed the woman’s blond hair from her forehead then took in the sight of her. She had been shot in the chest. Her breathing was shallow.

“Hang on,” said Kate. “Don’t die on me.” Quickly, she fumbled for her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Who did this to you?”

The reporter began gasping, trying to breathe and choking on air, as she tried to mouth a name, but Kate couldn’t understand her. The 9-1-1 operator blared through the earpiece and Kate rushed to explain that she needed an ambulance, a reporter had been shot behind Carnegie Real Estate. As soon as Kate got the word that help was on its way, she dropped her cell and pressed her palms to the bullet wound, hoping she had a prayer of stopping the bleeding.

“Who did this to you?” she demanded, but the reporter’s eyes were fluttering shut.

Could it have been Dark Donnie?

Or her son?

Were they one in the same?

Chapter Three

Kate sat with a blanket over her shoulders and a cup of coffee in her hands as she watched the flashing lights of cop cars and an ambulance illuminate the parking lot in stark alternation. Medics surrounded the body of the female reporter, whose name was Jenna Johansen, according to her news crew. They were standing in a cluster beside one of the police cruisers, answering the cops' questions and looking over at Jenna’s body in confused horror.

No one had said Jenna was dead—not loudly enough for Kate to hear, anyway. But they didn’t need to. The way the medics were transporting Jenna onto a gurney was without any sense of urgency. The woman was no longer living. Even though the ambulance had swung into the parking lot within three minutes of Kate’s call, it had been too late. Kate had seen the bullet wound. It was slightly lower than the reporter’s heart, but not low enough to only damage her lung. No one could live through such a gunshot wound.

The numerous murders that had been cropping up all over Rock Ridge had everything to do with the drug ring, and Kate couldn’t help but suspect Jenna Johansen had something to do with it. It seemed highly unlikely. Jenna was young, a perky reporter from out of town, eager to make her big break. There was no way she could’ve been involved in the drug ring, not as an insider. But she had certainly been sniffing around. Maybe she learned something that would’ve risked whoever was at the top of the pyramid. It was possible, but Jenna’s argument with the shooter had seemed personal, as if she knew the guy.

Scott worked his way from police officer to police officer, getting briefed on the information they had collected from the news crew. Judging by the frown on his face, Kate guessed Jenna’s news crew hadn’t been especially helpful.

He broke from the fray and watched the medics push Jenna’s gurney into the back of the ambulance and shut the doors. As the ambulance rolled off, turning into the street, Scott strode over to Kate, who had been sitting in the bed of her truck, her legs dangling over the side.

“Did you talk to Garrison?” he asked.

“Briefly,” she said. “I didn’t see much, and I never saw the shooter. All I know is that the shooter was a man and he took off running on foot.”

“Is there any chance he saw you?”

“I really don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure.” She didn’t have to ask him why he was interested in finding out whether or not the shooter may have seen her. Kate could read the concern on his face. If the shooter were scared there had been a witness and committed Kate’s face to memory, she could easily be next. “Why a reporter?” she asked out loud.

“You think this could be connected to Donna Kramer and all the other drug-related murders?”

“Didn’t you once tell me there are no coincidences?”

“All I know is that I’ve had two murders in one day with no clue as to the killer.”

“Killer? You mean killers.”

“God, I hope not,” he said. “We won’t know until forensics has a look at Jenna’s body, but both Jenna and Donna had been shot in the heart, which tells me they could share the same killer.”

Kate prayed that wasn’t the case. At least Jason killing Donna had been in the spirit of protecting an innocent life. She didn’t want another murder to come crashing down on his head, especially if he didn’t do it. And he couldn’t have, could he? Could Kate have been in the same parking lot as her son and not sense he was there? Not sense it was him? She’d only briefly seen the shooter as he dodged around the corner. Had he looked like Jason from behind? The man had been entirely nondescript. She couldn’t even remember the color or length of his hair. It had been too dim.

“I won’t keep you here,” said Scott. “But since talking with Garrison, have you remembered anything else? Anything the guy was wearing? Anything that could help me out?”

Kate took a moment to rack her brain but nothing came to mind. “No, I’m sorry. I told Officer Garrison everything I know. I feel like I should’ve run after the guy.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he cut in. “Ever. You’re not a cop. You could’ve gotten hurt if you followed him. He could’ve turned and shot you. You did the right thing.”

“What is happening to this town?”

Scott sighed, resonating her helplessness. “Why don’t you go on home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Kate slid off the back of her truck into his arms. Scott held her for a long moment, and when she urged him back to look up at him, she asked, “Any leads on Donna’s killer?”

She was almost too scared for his answer.

“We recovered a shell casing, which will tell us the weapon. Hopefully it won’t trace back to an unregistered weapon, but even if it does, there’s only one place to buy firearms in town. I’m planning on heading over to Drake’s Firing Line as soon as I get this crime scene squared away.”

“You think Drake is just going to tell you who the gun belongs to?”

“He won’t have to tell me. I’ll get a search warrant and have my IT guys comb through all his computer records.”

“How did it go at the amusement park?” she asked, as he walked her around to the driver’s side door of her truck.

Again, he sighed, but this time in frustration. “It was clean. Every inch of the place was clean. Not a trace of drugs.”

“Which means someone tipped them off.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe drugs were never there. Rumors have been flying around and it’s hard to know what’s valid and what isn’t until we check it out. But I’ll tell you one thing, we focused our man power on that park, and with Donna’s murder, the department is getting spread too thin.”

Reading between the lines, she asked, “Do you think the drug dealers know that? Do you think they wanted you to search the park so you would be distracted?”

“It crossed my mind.” He kissed her forehead and opened the door for her. “Try to relax. I’ll be home soon.”

Kate did just that, or she tried to. She drew a hot bath, plucked a novel off the bookshelf—making sure to choose a lighthearted romance and not a murder mystery—and poured herself a glass of white wine, having gotten the craving from Justina. That half glass of chardonnay hadn’t been nearly enough.

As she sipped her wine in the bath and cracked open the novel, her fast-working mind wasn’t even in the ballpark of calming down enough to get lost in the story. She drank more wine, hoping it would help soothe her worries and get her centered, but it only riled up her anxiety.

Where had Jason gone after he fled Over the Moon? He promised he wouldn’t leave town, but she hadn’t heard from him. How was she supposed to carry the weight of his secret? It had only been a day, and already it was a terrible burden. But the alternative—turning him in—was unthinkable.

Then it occurred to her. Scott was inclined to believe Donna and Jenna had the same killer. Kate was confident Jason hadn’t killed Jenna. Would it be the end of the world if Scott caught Jenna’s killer and pinned Donna’s murder on that person, as well?

She didn’t like that she was even considering it, but as a mother, how could she not? A mother never stops protecting her child, never stops caring and worrying, no matter what.

It was less than a sliver of hope, but enough to calm her mind. She sank into the bubbles, took another sip of wine, and began reading the first chapter of her book.

An hour passed, and when she finally set her book on the ledge of the tub and stepped out, her fingers were wrinkly and she felt very relaxed. She dried off and dressed in her sweats and a comfy robe.

In the living room, she sat on the couch and realized her cell phone, which she had set on the coffee table, was flashing with a voice message. She swiped the LCD screen and saw that she had not one message, but three.

The first message was from Dean Wentworth, explaining he had made the mistake of stacking too many files on a shelf. The weight of it broke the shelf and he was wondering if she could come by and fix it

The second was Jared touching base. He sounded as though he were trying to come across as calm, but there was an edge to his tone. Lastly, he asked if she had heard from Jason.

The final message was from Jason. He sounded rushed and panicked, saying that he had a lead on Becky.

Kate’s heart skipped a beat, and she sat up on the couch, listening.

“Don’t call me,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

How could he ask her not to call after leaving a message like that? It was torture. Quickly, she dialed Jared, hoping that speaking with him would shed light on his twin’s alarming message.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. It sounded like he was driving. She could hear the whirl of tires flying over a highway and light music playing from his car radio.

“What’s going on with Jason?” she cut in.

“I haven’t seen him or heard from him,” he said in a heavy voice. “These disappearing acts are driving me crazy.”

He wasn’t the only one.

It killed her to lie, but she forced out, “No, I haven’t heard from him.”

“Damn,” he said.

“I’ll be at the mayor’s office tomorrow. He broke a shelf,” she offered.

“All right,” he said, his voice sounding small. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Could you tell Dean I got the message and I’ll be in?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him when I get to the office tomorrow. See you then.”

Kate tossed her cell on the coffee table, grabbed the remote control, and flipped the TV on. The news broadcast filled the screen. The reporter, Eric Demblowski, was standing on the sidewalk right in front of the Carnegie Real Estate parking lot. In the background, the ambulance light flashed over the clustered news crew, as they spoke to the police. The very scene Kate had been a part of earlier that evening. She could barely stomach it.

Eric Demblowski, with a determined glint in his eyes, concluded the report by stating, “It’s time to get these convicts out of our town.”

She pressed the remote control, turning the TV off.

The ex-cons might have been sucked into all of this, but they weren’t behind it. They hadn’t been orchestrating the drug ring. And it set her teeth on edge that an entire group of people could be condemned on the news simply because they were the obvious culprits. As far as Kate was concerned, they were being used. Gillian O’Reilly had revealed that much to her.

One thing was true, though. The crime had to stop.

The entrance door clicked open and Scott stepped inside. She couldn’t remember the last time he had been home so early. When he walked around the foyer corner and into the living room, she said, “I’ve got wine in the fridge.”

“Won’t I need a glass,” he muttered as though truer words had never been spoken.

As he disappeared into the bedroom to change out of his suit, she padded into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and poured the white wine, which was ready by the time he returned, meeting her at the kitchen counter.

“Should I ask?” she said.

“How things are going? I wish you wouldn’t.”

She rubbed his back and smiled sympathetically up at him.

After taking a long swig of wine, he said, “Man, I thought the crime in Philadelphia was bad. And it is. But that city has nothing on Rock Ridge. Considering how low the population is, Rock Ridge has had more murders per capita than Philadelphia, you know? Hell, it’s had more violent crime than New York City.”

“As a cop, could that be a good thing?” She was trying to see the bright side, but her joke landed badly. “Sorry.”

“Let’s watch a stupid movie and take the night off from thinking about it,” he suggested.

It sounded exactly like what she needed.

Chapter Four

Kate stepped into the anteroom of the mayor’s office with her tool kit in hand. Jared turned in the receptionist’s chair and smiled at her, though his desk phone was clenched between his cheek and shoulder. He wrapped up the call, and after setting the phone in its cradle, he mentioned, “Our receptionist called in sick. I’m manning the lines.”

“How’s the office working out?”

“Great,” he said easily. “If I could route the incoming calls to my desk, it would make today a heck of a lot easier.”

He told her that Dean was in his office, so she made her way over, knocked on the frame even though his door was open, and peeked inside.

Dean was hunched over his desk and reviewing reports by the looks of it, but he met her gaze as soon as she stepped in.

“Kate, great you’re here,” he said, rising to his feet. He rounded the front of his desk, making his way to the bookshelf in question.

As she neared the shelf, which he had cleared of contents, she noted from the corner of her eye that Dean didn’t look quite right. His dress shirt was rumpled, the cuffs unbuttoned, and only one sleeve was pushed up his arm. His hair was a bit wild, as well, giving her the impression he’d either slept somewhere strange or didn’t bother running a comb through his hair after climbing out of bed that morning.

Focusing on the shelf, she saw that it was cracked down the middle. When she touched it, the board came loose, its connecting hinges having popped out of the wooden sides. The crack would hold up if she used a little crazy glue along the seam, but the hinges would have to be redone since the screws attached had stripped the small holes in the wood where they belonged.

Meeting his gaze, she explained as much. She studied his eyes as she spoke, not quite placing why he looked bizarre. Then it hit her. His pupils were dilated so wide there was barely a hint of color around them. Dean’s eyes were blue, piercingly so. He looked wired. In fact, he looked like he might’ve been on drugs.

“So how long will it be?” he asked, snapping his gaze from the shelf to her and back again in manic alteration.

“Shouldn’t be too long. Ten, fifteen minutes?” she said, unable to tear her eyes from him. She hoped she didn’t look stunned, because that’s how she felt. “Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why? Yeah,” he said sharply.

“You look like you’ve had twenty cups of coffee,” she commented, forcing a smile to keep things light.

“Oh, ha, that, no, I’m fine. Just so much going on over here. Trying to keep the amusement park on schedule. Those cops...” he trailed off, and his already wide eyes grew wider. She thought his eyeballs might fall out of his head. “I’ve got the corporate executives breathing down my neck. There’s no time to sleep.”

Concerned, Kate eased the office door closed so Jared wouldn’t hear. If Dean believed they were speaking in private, he might be more apt to open up.

Easing into the subject, she said, “I heard the police didn’t find anything. You should be in the clear.”

“Should be and will be are two very different things. And these days, appearances are all that matter. It’s good they didn’t find anything,” he said, but in such a way that indicated perhaps they could have. Dean was sounding like a man who knew he’d gotten lucky. “But the fact that the police were there at all doesn’t look good. The executives are having a hard time fathoming how the park could’ve even been under suspicion.”

Kate wondered. In addition to Donna Kramer’s clandestine role as drug kingpin, she had also been one of the executives. Based on Kate’s experience with the woman, she wasn’t exactly shy about intimidating others. Kate couldn’t imagine Donna working closely with people and them not knowing she was a formidable force.

“I can see how that would be stressful,” she said, offering him an empathetic smirk. “But at least you got that insurance money.”

His expression hardened. “It would’ve been better if the explosion hadn’t happened at all.”

“Of course.” She drew in a deep breath and debated pushing him further. “You know one of the executives killed Tommy Barkow because he set off that explosion...”

It was impossible to read his reaction, because he seemed not to have one.

“An executive?” he said finally.

Digging deep, she confronted him by stating, “Donna Kramer.”

“Donna Kramer’s dead.”

“And before she was killed she said she murdered Tommy because he set off that explosion as a means to ruin Becky Langley’s return to her family.”

Dean ran his hands down his face like a man coming undone.

“Bradley told me about the affair,” she pointed out, letting a little anger into her tone on Jessica’s behalf.

“I ended things with Donna. Plus, she’s dead now. It’s over.”

“Is it?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, challenging her. “I’d never jeopardize the amusement park by getting involved in such questionable activity.”

His subtext was unmistakable, but she had a hard time believing him. If anything, he was sampling the goods that he claimed to know nothing about.

“At this point,” she went on, “with what Scott has on Tommy and Donna, and considering they’re both dead, you can’t get in trouble. There’s nothing to worry about if you only tell Scott what you know.”

“Why do you think I know something?”

She shot him a leveling stare, but he wouldn’t budge.

As a last-ditch effort, she told him, “I stopped by Drake’s Firing Line. I spoke with Drake. Even though Tommy was responsible for the actual explosion, Drake named you.”

“He named me?”

“Yes,” she asserted. “He said you were behind this.”

“That’s ludicrous. I’m the mayor.”

“And Rock Ridge has seen a fair amount of corruption in that department.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there could be something about running this office that requires going outside of the law. I’m not blaming you. But these murders have to stop. They all connect to the drug operation. Even Becky’s abduction seems tied to it. If you know something, then you have to say something.”

Dean sighed as though he was giving in, but Kate worried he would only tell her what so many others in Rock Ridge had—that he didn’t know who was behind this, that he was scared, that he had to do what they said, and that they only communicated through anonymous notes. But Dean said none of those things. And what he told her was utterly shocking.

“Becky is fine. I know where she is. She wasn’t abducted.”

Kate’s jaw dropped.

“Where is she?”

“Look,” he said, hushing his tone in a way that indicated she would have to do the same. “I can’t talk here.” Paranoid, he glanced around his office as though they were being listened to. “Meet me at the amusement park tonight at ten, and I’ll tell you what I know. Nothing is what it seems.”

Was this for real? Or was she hearing the drugged ramblings of a madman? Kate had no choice but to agree. As soon as she did, Dean rushed to his desk, grabbed his keys and briefcase, saying, “I have an appointment.” Then he tore through the office and out the door.

Kate peeked out at the receptionist’s desk, but Jared wasn’t there. She heard his voice carry out through the anteroom. He was in his office again, on a telephone call.

Kneeling next to her tool kit, she opened it and hunted for her Phillips-head screwdriver and extra hinges she kept in the bottom tray, but getting any work done after Dean’s intriguing declaration was an impossible notion.

She sat and began thinking. If Scott knew about what Dean had told her and that Kate was planning on meeting Dean later that night to learn about everything he knew, then Scott would want to come, wire her with a microphone, or get involved in some way. And if Dean found out, he would very likely clam up, deny all he had disclosed, and never talk to her about such matters ever again.

If anyone, Kate was dying to call Jason. Her son thought he had a lead on Becky, but there couldn’t be a lead if Becky hadn’t been taken. Was Jason fooling Kate? Or did he honestly believe she had been abducted? Who should Kate believe, the mayor or her own son? She felt the need to warn Jason. If he were poking around, functioning under the impression that he could find Becky, and Becky was actually one of the people behind all the crimes in Rock Ridge, then Jason would be walking into a trap or, at the very least, unearthing information that could get him killed. Was that what had happened to Jenna Johansen?

She might not be able to let Scott in on everything without risking it all, but she could still meet him for lunch to have some semblance of a connection with him. She was starting to feel very alone in all this, harboring secrets too heavy to bear.

She dialed his phone number, but after three rings, the call went through to his voice mail. Rather than leave a message, she hung up and composed a text message about having early lunch at Daisy’s Luncheonette. She didn’t have a lot of hope that he would be available. It was barely ten in the morning.

Standing, she grabbed the screwdriver and neared the shelf. After a quick assessment, she began unscrewing the faulty hinges and replacing them with new ones.

In less than twenty minutes she had fixed the shelf and received a text message from Scott. Now? If it’s a cup of coffee I have time.

Immediately, she sent him a text back saying that she was on her way. As soon as she tucked her cell phone into her overalls, she collected her tools, closed her tool kit, and made her way through the anteroom and down the hallway to find Jared.

“Hey,” she said, setting her tool kit on the floor in favor of writing up an invoice. “For Dean when he gets back.”

She set the invoice on his desk. “No problem. I can have a check ready later today as soon as Dean signs off on this.”

She lingered, looking at him. Her twins were so different; it amazed her more and more each day. If put in the same situation as Jason, would Jared have shot Donna Kramer in the back to save Kate’s life? What a terrible choice for anyone to have to make.

“I’ll see you later,” she told him and plucked her tool kit off the floor. She gave him one last lingering look and started for the elevators.

Daisy’s Luncheonette was crowded when Kate stepped through the door, and it didn’t look like late-breakfast customers. As she glanced around the diner for Scott, hoping he had snagged a booth for them, she began noticing all the new faces around the room. These weren’t Rock Ridge residents. They looked like out-of-towners, and it made her wonder about the amusement park timeline. Technically, the park wasn’t set to open for another month, but if Dean had a boost in funds (if the drug dealers were paying him off to keep him quiet, or worse), then it was possible the amusement park could be completed ahead of schedule.

One of the waitresses finally noticed Kate standing near the hostess stand and she rushed over.

“Table for one?”

“Two, actually. That is, if you’ve got it.”

“We’re slammed,” said the waitress. “I can get you settled at the bar if you don’t mind?”

Kate told her that would be fine. As she followed the waitress towards two vacant stools at the middle of the bar, Scott caught up with her from behind, having jogged through the door.

“I got a call,” he said breathlessly. “A break-in, an abduction. It was a young couple. The kidnapper left the husband, who claims he was drugged. And took the wife.”

It was Jason and Becky all over again.

Chapter Five

Keeping her foot pressed firmly on the accelerator, Kate drove tightly behind Scott’s truck down Main Street so that no vehicle would be able to pull between them. If Scott had been thrown that another young couple had suffered the same fate as Jason and Becky, Kate was utterly dumbfounded. Her mind was racing with questions. Becky Langley had been taken in connection with the drug ring operating out of Rock Ridge. It was the only logical explanation at this point. Every lead she had followed took her to that conclusion. So she had to wonder, who was this young couple? Had they been targeted for the same reason as Becky? And would investigating their case cause new leads to surface that would ultimately bring Scott and the Rock Ridge Police closer to discovering where Becky was?

It was her highest hope, and while she tried desperately to latch on to it, dread was surfacing in her chest. What if the way in which this second abduction was connected to the first didn’t tie into the drug ring at all? What if it only supported Scott’s original theory that Jason and Becky had staged some kind of hoax to extort money from the Langleys?

She couldn’t think about that. Any scenario implicating her son was too much to bear. She could barely tolerate knowing that Jason was behind Donna Kramer’s murder. And adding to her rising stress was the Jenna Johansen angle. Who had killed her and why?

Scott’s truck veered off Main Street, turning left at the fork in the road that split onto Rock Ridge Boulevard. Traffic was moving at a steady flow. Kate gunned it, but an oncoming station wagon was driving too quickly. At the last second, she slammed on the brakes. She shrieked, as the station wagon swerved to avoid her front bumper, and let out an unsteady sigh of relief that they hadn’t collided.

Stepping on the gas, she made her left turn and caught up to Scott’s truck just as he turned right onto Pennsylvania Avenue, heading into a part of town that was nicer, and also happened to be in the same neighborhood as Jason’s house.

If history was repeating itself, she thought as she pulled along the curb directly behind Scott’s truck in front of a blue one-story house that was modest in size but clearly expensive, then the woman’s parents would soon receive a handwritten ransom note. There would be another opportunity to make an exchange—cash for the safe return of the woman. And with Tommy Barkow dead, no one would be around to set off an explosion.

This could be good. Or...it could be very bad.

Scott stepped out of his truck and glanced over his shoulder at her. She unfastened her seat belt, nervous for what they might discover, and climbed out of her truck, meeting him on the sidewalk in front of the house. A few police cruisers had arrived, one parked in the driveway and another along the curb.

“Kate,” said Scott in an apprehensive yet apologetic tone. “I told you, you can’t be here.”

It was true. He had.

“This is a family matter,” she objected.

“It’s a police matter—”

“But whatever you find is going to directly inform you about what happened to Jason and Becky.”

“We can’t get our hopes up on that.” He sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the police officers walking urgently in and out of the front door. One of them grabbed evidence bags out of the cruiser in the driveway then rushed back into the house. “Wait here,” he told her and started for the house.

Kate folded her arms, squinting through the sun’s glare at the windows lining the front of the house and then glanced up and down the street. The block was quiet. Few houses had cars in the driveway, which told her most everyone on this street had already left for work. It was so similar to Jason and Becky’s trauma that it gave her chills despite the rising temperature.

She didn’t like the coincidence of it all. Jason had just texted her last night that he had a lead on Becky, and the very next morning a second couple had a home invasion. Had Jason discovered something that put this second couple at risk?

She couldn’t wait on the sidewalk like this. It would only drive her crazy to guess what all of it meant.

Cautiously, she neared the walkway leading up to the house. When she reached it, she strained to hear the police officers inside, but they were speaking too quietly. She padded midway up the walk, hoping to close the gap enough to overhear them.

Straining to listen, she heard the rise and fall of a man’s voice, shaky and on the brink of tears.

“Who would’ve taken Ashley?” he said before his voice lowered to a murmur.

Ashley? The name rang a bell. Hadn’t she met an Ashley recently? She racked her brain, hunting through the faces of residents in her mind, and finally she remembered.

The receptionist she had seen at Over the Moon several times was named Ashley, but Kate couldn’t recall ever learning the young woman’s last name.

She crept closer to the front door, listening and peering into the shallow foyer just inside the house.

Suddenly, Officer Tolland entered through the doorway, startling her.

“Kate,” he said, surprised to see her. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

What could she say? If her husband, the police chief, didn’t want her here, there was nothing she could tell Tolland to justify her arrival. “I was concerned.”

“Understandably, but this is a crime scene. You shouldn’t even be on the walkway.”

“Could you just tell me if it was Ashley, the receptionist at Over the Moon, who was abducted?”

Officer Tolland let out a heavy sigh.

“You know Jason has been going through the same thing. Becky Langley is still missing,” she pressed.

“I’m very aware of that,” he offered. His eyes had rounded and she could tell he wanted to tell her something.

“What is this going to mean for Amelia?” she asked, suddenly realizing the peril her future in-laws would be facing. Amelia had only just been let off the hook for Tommy Barkow’s murder, and rightfully so. But crimes kept circling back to her and Lance.

Office Tolland stared at her for a long moment then said, “Yes, it was Ashley who works at Over the Moon. But that’s all I’ll say, and I shouldn’t even be telling you that much.”

Kate shot him a curt nod, her mouth pressing into a hard line. There was no sense hovering around if Scott was going to be a while. She would just have to find out what was going on later tonight. Hopefully by then she would have learned a lot from Dean Wentworth. Their meeting was to take place at ten o’clock tonight. She thanked Tolland and started off down the walkway.

After climbing into her truck, the urge to call Jason was overwhelming. She debated for a long moment. The decision hit her quickly. Of course she would call. She cued up his number and sent the call through, then pressed the phone to her ear.

It was ringing.

And the ringing went on for a very long time.

She cursed, ended the call, and dropped her cell back into the front pocket of her overalls. She wasn’t too far from Jason’s house, so she opted to drive a few blocks to see if he might be home.

When she reached his house, she didn’t see his car in the driveway. She pulled her truck in, killed the engine, and climbed out.

As she made her way up the walkway to the front door, her cell vibrated, startling her. She was quick to answer the call, hoping Jason was getting back to her after having seen a missed call from his mother. But when she pressed the phone to her ear and said hello, it was Hazel Millhouse’s voice that came through.

“Kate, I might need you at the library,” she said. “A number of shelves have gotten rickety and a few of the desks are in bad condition. All told, I’d say we need at least five small fixes.”

“Okay, that’s no problem. I can head over now, if you like.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Hazel. “We always get a flood of children around three thirty when the school lets out, so it would be great to get this done before it gets busy.”

“No problem. I’m on my way.”

After returning her cell to her overalls, Kate lifted onto her tiptoes, straining to see through the small window on the front door. From her vantage point, she could see little more than the ceiling. She grasped the doorknob, but soon discovered the door was locked. She knocked and then sent a text message to Jason, telling him she was outside and asking if he would please come to the door. She didn’t have high hopes for a response. After the longest thirty seconds of her life, she didn’t get one.

She backed away, telling herself that breaking into her own son’s home would be an act of insanity. Not to mention, he obviously wasn’t home. Realizing this, her gaze happened to lower to the welcome mat.

Poking out from beneath it, she saw the corner of an envelope. Curious, she knelt, peeled the corner of the welcome mat up, and found that there was an envelope under the mat. There was something inside of it, she observed, picking up the envelope. When she looked inside of it, she saw a key—a common house key—as well as a folded piece of paper.

She felt terrified and thrilled while unfolding the paper to find a handwritten note. Before reading it, she glanced over her shoulder, sensing that whoever had left the note might not be far. But the street was empty.

Returning her eyes to the note, she began reading.

There were two addresses listed and she recognized both. The first was Drake’s Firing Line and the second was Donna Kramer’s house. The second was the address she had found printed on the boxes of drugs in the shed at Over the Moon.

There were no instructions, nothing to explain the key. Whoever had left this envelope for her son expected him to know exactly what to do with the key and the two addresses.

To cover her bases, she tried to fit the key into Jason’s front door, but as she had assumed, it was not his house key. Maybe it would unlock the front door of Drake’s Firing Line, or perhaps a room inside. Or maybe it was the front door key to Donna’s house. But why would someone drop this off for Jason?

She was starting to get a very bad feeling. According to Scott, Jason had been seen doing questionable things around town. And by Jason’s own admission, he was getting closer to finding out what happened to Becky. What if his strategy had gotten him so close to the kidnapper that he was now technically one of them, moving drugs from location to location and doing their dirty work? What if they had put him up to murdering Donna?

Kate returned the key to the envelope, but hesitated to place it under the mat. She wanted to take it, but didn’t want to jeopardize Jason’s safety. People who crossed the drug dealers didn’t stay alive for very long.

But maybe she could use the fact that she knew about this envelope, its implied instructions, to finally get her son to tell her everything.

Quickly, she dialed Jason again. This time when his outgoing voice message came on, she waited patiently for the beep.

“Jason, it’s Mom. I want you to call me when you get this. If you don’t, and you go home, you’ll soon see why you need to call me. My phone is on.”

She hung up, praying that this would do the trick, and started down the walkway towards her truck, with the envelope tucked safely inside her overalls.

After putting it in gear, she reversed down the driveway and pulled out into the street.

Driving to the center of Rock Ridge was a blur. Traffic flowed steadily with few cars on the road. Kate kept slipping into deep thought, coming back to reality only when she realized she had almost missed her turn, slamming on the brakes and cutting the wheel.

As she pulled into the library parking lot, it dawned on her that she hadn’t been there in ages. Back when she had been investigating her ex-husband’s mysterious disappearance, she had been going to the library regularly to hunt through books that Greg had checked out before he went missing. But in the past few years, other than checking out the occasional how-to book on staging houses, she had barely set foot inside the quaint brick structure. The last time she had been here was well over three months.

She climbed out of her truck and grabbed her tool kit from the truck bed. Hopefully, the small fixes Hazel had mentioned wouldn’t require anything more than the tools she already had. She made her way to the door and sighed with relief when the cool air conditioning hit her as she entered.

The library was quiet after the door closed behind her. A few patrons were scattered around the large, wooden table at the center of the library. Each was hunched over books or a laptop computer. She didn’t see any children except for a toddler in a stroller resting beside a woman who was perusing a bookshelf.

Kate ventured towards the front desk where Hazel Millhouse was scanning returned books into the computer system. Her eyes lifted when Kate reached the counter and she whispered, “Hello.”

Gesturing to her tool kit, she asked, “Where should I get started?”

Hazel set down the book she had been handling and walked out from behind the counter. “The little jobs are all over, but I can walk you through them,” she explained, leading Kate down one of the aisles dedicated to historical nonfiction. When they came to an empty shelf, its books stacked neatly on the floor near the wall, Hazel said, “This shelf came loose.”

“Okay,” she said, jiggling and eyeing the shelf. Similar to Dean’s office, the support screws had been stripped from the board.

“And right this way.” Hazel guided her back up the aisle where they turned to walk deeper into the library. As she went, she commented, “What do you make of what’s going on around town?”

“All I know is that Scott is on top of it,” she said, wincing only a little at the fib. She quickly added a point she knew was true. “He has caught every killer—”

“Except for two,” Hazel pointed out. “Donna Kramer and Jenna Johansen’s killers.”

“Or killer,” she countered. “It could be the same person.” Really, Kate hoped it wasn’t, because it would mean Jason had gone to the dark side. The key came to mind. For the millionth time that day, she said a silent prayer that whoever had killed Jenna would go down for Donna’s murder. “I’m sure Scott will get to the bottom of it.”

Hazel came to another shelf as wobbly as the last. “Well, I wonder about her camera guy.”

Kate cocked her head, interested.

“I’m very observant, you know. People don’t necessarily guess that when they look at me, but I have a keen attention to detail. Those reporters have been everywhere, and Jenna Johansen wasn’t the sort you’d forget. She was so beautiful and pushy.”

“She was.”

“So I took notice,” Hazel went on. “She always had the same camera guy. But now that she’s dead and the network replaced Jenna with a new, equally beautiful and even pushier reporter, there’s a new camera guy, as well.”

“You find that suspicious?”

“I do.”

“Not to be disagreeable, but Jenna’s camera guy might be in mourning. Maybe he needed to take some time off after her death.”

“Maybe,” Hazel allowed, though she looked skeptical. “But the microphone guy, you know the guy who holds that long pole with the fluffy end?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Kate with a smile. “The boom operator.”

“He’s the same,” she asserted. “He didn’t need to take any time off. And I had been noticing that whenever Jenna was setting up her shot—you know, directing her crew—the camera guy was very abrasive, adversarial.”

Kate knew enough about prosecuting murders to understand that just because people didn’t get along didn’t necessarily mean they were guilty.

“I found it curious,” Hazel concluded before turning to the shelf. “This one, as well.”

Kate followed Hazel around the library for another five minutes, looking over all the small repairs she would need to do. After showing her the very last one—the bathroom doorknob to the women’s room was loose—Hazel told her she would be at the front desk if Kate needed anything and left her to it.

Figuring that repairing the bathroom doorknob would be tricky once the kids got here after school, she decided to fix it first. She set her tool kit on the ground and found a flathead screwdriver and began tightening the knob in its socket.

As she worked, she considered Hazel’s point. Maybe it was curious that Jenna’s camera guy was no longer working. Maybe he killed her behind the news van that day. The fact of the matter was that with Jason causing her moment-to-moment grief and worry, she hadn’t thought much about Jenna Johansen’s murder beyond praying that her son had nothing to do with it. Kate reasoned it would be worth asking around about. She knew virtually nothing about Jenna, other than the fact she wasn’t from Rock Ridge.

If anyone might know about the reporter, it would be Eric Demblowski, who seemed to have his thumb on the pulse of all the news outlets that had come to town. Being the head of the Rock Ridge Tribune put Eric at a strong advantage.

In a matter of minutes, she had repaired the doorknob. Working her way through the library, she fixed the two shelves Hazel had pointed out, rehung a painting that had fallen—its nail having popped out of the wall—worked some WD-40 into three draws that had swollen shut in the humidity, and secured a loose tile in the corner of the library that wasn’t floored with wood.

When she finally completed all the repairs, she met Hazel at the front desk and began writing up an invoice.

Hazel was firm, pointing out, “No discounts necessary. The library has a budget for repairs and you deserve the full price.”

Kate smiled and thanked her. She had done countless repairs at Hazel’s house over the years and always offered the elderly woman a decent discount. But she obliged, scrapping the first invoice and writing up a new one at full cost. Considering how small the repairs had been, however, the total was still fairly low.

Taking the invoice, Hazel told her to wait a moment and disappeared into the library office behind the counter.

As Kate waited, she glanced through the windows in the front door just as the national news van drove past. The library wasn’t far from the police precinct, and she figured that was where they were headed. Poor Scott, she thought. The reporters must be driving him crazy, and with Ashley having been abducted, Scott was likely facing another frustrating press conference.

Hazel returned and handed her a check.

After thanking her, Kate picked up her tool kit and left the library, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.

But as she started for her truck, she noticed the news van hadn’t driven down the street to the police precinct at all. It was idling at the far end of the library parking lot.

Chapter Six

Kate set her tool kit in the bed of her truck and glanced at the news van. Its windows were down and she saw a man behind the steering wheel. Though his head was turned towards the passenger’s seat, she could hear he was arguing with whoever was seated beside him.

Suddenly, the click of the passenger’s side door sounded, followed by it slamming shut, and a plucky-looking young woman rounded the front of the van. She seemed agitated and ignored the driver as he honked once at her. She smoothed her hands down the front of her blue, skirt-suit as if composing herself, then stomped off to the sidewalk where she squinted to see down the block. Kate wondered what she was doing until the woman lifted her arm into the air.

Did she think she could hail a taxi? Rock Ridge wasn’t that kind of town. The reporter’s display gave Kate the impression the woman was most likely from a big city.

The man stepped out from behind the steering wheel of the news van, his boots hitting asphalt. The reporter glimpsed him over her shoulder as he strode up to her, but she rolled her eyes, annoyed.

Tension ran high in the world of small-town journalism, Kate guessed before tearing her eyes from their tiff and climbing into her truck.

She backed out of her parking spot and drove onto the street just as the man, who had to be a member of the reporter’s crew—he was dressed too casually to be camera ready—grabbed the reporter.

Alarmed, Kate slammed on the brakes, pulling up beside them, and jumped out of her truck.

“Get your hands off of her,” she demanded, rounding the front bumper and advancing on them.

“Mind your own business, lady,” the man yelled as the reporter pushed his hands off her.

“You think you can assault someone in broad daylight and no one’s going to have anything to say?” Kate challenged.

“I’m fine, really,” said the reporter.

“I’m not so sure you are,” she countered. “Where are you headed?” When the woman stammered as if surprised Kate would know such a thing, she added, “You were trying to hail a cab and you aren’t going to find one around here. I can drive you.”

The woman smirked at Kate, then turned on the man. “You’re fired.”

“I’m what? You don’t have the authority!”

“You’ll see,” she sneered then yanked the passenger’s side door of Kate’s truck open and hopped in.

Kate told the man to stay away from the reporter then climbed in behind the wheel, glaring at the man the whole time. He backed away, taking a few stubborn steps, and then turned for the news van. It wasn’t until Kate saw him get inside the vehicle that she pulled away from the curb, driving off.

“I’m Rachel Meadows,” she said.

“And that guy?”

“Samuel Yeats, my cameraman.” Rachel pulled the sun visor down and began checking her hair in the mirror.

“So where can I take you, Rachel?” she asked, realizing she had never been so nice to a reporter in her entire life.

“The Rock Ridge Tribune, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Kate made the first left turn she could, asking, “You aren’t Jenna Johansen’s replacement, are you? I noticed the logo on the van.”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“And that guy Samuel, he’s the new cameraman?”

“New,” she snorted the word as if disgusted. “Let’s hope fired. I’ve never worked with him before and I hope to never again.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what was that all about?”

“Nothing really. He’s just a prima donna.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Kate pointed out as she pulled up to the curb outside of the Tribune offices.

“Samuel had been trying for months to work with Jenna. He was constantly badgering the station manager about it and finally he got permission, because Jenna had been complaining about her current cameraman. So Samuel got what he wanted just at the time Jenna was killed. He’s having an existential crisis, if you ask me. In a bad mood because he didn’t get what he wanted and knows he never will.”

“So he put his hands on you?” she asked. “That isn’t right.”

Rachel sighed. “The thing of it is, is that if I do get Samuel fired, they’ll just send me Jenna’s old camera guy, and believe me, Travis is much, much worse.”

Kate killed the engine and pulled her key from the ignition. “Where’s Travis working now?”

“Nowhere that I know of. I heard he was so pissed off about being yanked off Jenna’s team that he put in a leave of absence. I think he’s still in town.”

“So he’s pissed off, not grieving?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s pissed off. He confronted Samuel the other night, looking like he was ready to kill the guy for replacing him.”

“You don’t happen to know where Travis is staying, do you?”

“I have no idea, but there aren’t that many places in this town. I counted two. Everyone on my crew is staying at the Holiday Inn two towns over, because we get a better rate than the inn. All I know is that Travis checked out of our hotel. He couldn’t stand to be around anyone.” Rachel flipped the sun visor up. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“One last question,” said Kate, feeling like the reporter of the two of them. When Rachel lifted her brows expectantly, Kate asked, “Do you have any idea why someone would’ve killed Jenna?”

“When it comes to our line of work, people really don’t like us poking around. She could’ve been onto something here in Rock Ridge, or someone could’ve wanted her job.” Rachel smiled, leaning in. “But don’t go thinking I killed her to take her place. I was in Boston.”

“No, I wouldn’t think that,” said Kate, as she watched Rachel climb out of the truck. “You should file a police report against Samuel.”

“Please,” she said, brushing it off. “He’s awful, but he’s harmless. I’ll have him fired.” With that, she shut the door and strode into the Rock Ridge Tribune, presumably to see Eric Demblowski, but about what, Kate hadn’t a clue.

She kept her eyes on the entrance, but had the impulse to call Amelia Langley.

When Amelia picked up on the other end, Kate heard a desk phone ringing in the background and then a second one chimed in. “Yes? Kate?”

“Amelia—”

“Things are crazy over here,” she blurted out. “I never realized how much Ashley does. The inn has been filled with reporters, both as guests and as pests that won’t stop harassing me. The phones are ringing off the hook.”

In her curiosity to find out about this Travis character, it had momentarily slipped Kate’s mind that Amelia would be in a panic now that Ashley had been taken, which only went to show that Kate was in desperate need of a strong cup of coffee.

“Amelia,” she said. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Amelia sighed into the receiver. “All I can hope is that Ashley’s abduction sheds light on Becky’s.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Listen, I won’t keep you,” she went on, shifting topics. “Do you have a guest staying at Over the Moon named Travis? Unfortunately, I don’t have a last name. He’s a camera guy.”

“Let me see.” Kate heard Amelia typing on a keyboard through the phone and then the woman said, “It looks like I do, why?”

“Mind if I head over?”

“Do as you please, but I won’t have a moment to help you. I’m swamped.”

Kate thanked her and returned her cell to her overalls. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would do or say if she happened to speak with Travis, but that didn’t stop her from pulling out into the street and heading through town to the Langleys’ inn.

As she drove to Over the Moon, Jason and that key were on her mind. She would need to look into it if Jason didn’t get back to her, and she would need to do it soon. Justina had mentioned fixing up a residential building on the south side of town, one that was intended for the convicts filtering out of the local prison to live in. As soon as she got word from the real-estate agent, she would have to dive in. The days would be long and the pay would be excellent.

Today was shaping up to be one very busy day.

With her tool kit in hand, Kate approached the entrance doors of the inn and the butler was ready with the door, drawing it inward and inviting her inside.

She found Amelia at the front desk, rushing around with the phone clamped between her ear and shoulder. Through the archway, the lounge looked bustling. Kate recognized many faces from the evening news. If Rachel Meadows’s team was staying a few towns over to save money, the reporters here would have to be far from concerned about the bill. It made sense to Kate. Being closer to the action probably gave them a leg up to out-scoop their competitors.

She placed her tool kit on the ground.

Amelia set the desk phone in its cradle and groaned. “This day needs to end already, but the hell of it is, is that I might have to stay on anyway.”

“Isn’t there anyone you could hire?” Kate asked.

“Plenty,” said Amelia, lifting a stack of resumes off the counter. “But they’re all convicts,” she whispered. “How would our guests feel if they found out their credit cards were being run into our system by former criminals?”

Curious, Kate took the stack of resumes and began flipping through them. As she had hoped, Gillian O’Reilly’s resume came up. It was true that Gillian had recently gotten out of prison, but Kate had seen in her eyes the desperation to lead a straight-and-narrow life, no longer tangled in crime. If given the opportunity, Kate had a feeling Gillian would do good work and be grateful for it.

“What about her?” said Kate as she handed Gillian’s resume to Amelia.

The woman grimaced while reading it over. “I’m not sure working in the prison kitchen counts as applicable career experience.”

“But towards the bottom you can see she spent a year at an ice cream shop.”

“Meaning?”

“Isn’t customer service pretty much the same across the board?”

Amelia frowned.

“I can’t say I know her very well,” Kate went on, “but I know she really does want a good job and to keep her nose clean.”

“It’s just that this inn can’t afford another scandal. Between Clifford Green’s murder,” she whispered, “and Tommy Barkow’s and then Donna Kramer...” She cringed, pinching her eyes shut. “And the drugs and my own daughter going missing...” Her eyes popped open with realization. “Good Lord, I should just close the inn and save myself the grief.”

The way Amelia had put it, it would be hard to argue against.

“Well, if you need the help, I recommend Gillian.” It was all she could say.

Amelia studied the resume as if she might come around. “I’ll think about it.”

Shifting gears, Kate asked, “About Travis...?”

“Oh, right.” Amelia placed her fingertips on the keyboard. “My memory has failed me, I’ll have to look him up,” she said while typing. “Most of our rooms are set at a two person maximum, and I just know these reporters have their entire crew in their rooms. Chucky has seen them carrying in cots from God knows where. They’re probably sleeping six to a room.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why didn’t you refuse them service? They were badgering you before.”

Amelia locked eyes with her. “Lance and I do very well for ourselves, but our attorney’s retainer was outlandish. I can’t turn down the income, quite frankly.”

“I thought Scott dropped all the charges.”

“Not all of them. Donna Kramer may have told you she killed Tommy Barkow, but Scott is still looking for proof to corroborate it. I’m not getting my hopes up to tell you the truth. Not to mention I don’t see how Scott will have time to look into it now that he’s trying to find Donna Kramer’s killer as well as Jenna Johansen’s.”

“I’ll testify for you if it comes down to that,” said Kate. “People in this town trust me, and the jury pool will certainly be picked from the residents.”

“I appreciate that,” said Amelia. “Okay,” she added, glancing at the computer monitor on the desk. “It looks like Travis is in room 3. It’s just up the stairs, first door on the left.”

Kate grabbed her tool kit from the floor and began weaving her way through the lounge, which was packed to the gills with reporters. Shouldn’t they be off swarming around Ashley’s house and bothering her husband? She nearly tripped reaching the stairs, but righted her balance in the nick of time.

After padding up the stairs and stepping onto the landing, she noticed the hallway was remarkably quiet. Perhaps everyone was downstairs, regrouping before heading out to broadcast the evening news.

She found room 3 easily and angled her ear to the door. It was quiet, but she thought she detected the muffled creak of someone leaning back in a wooden chair. If room 3 looked anything like room 5, then there would be a desk in it facing the window.

She knocked. Someone inside got to their feet and padded to the door, but said nothing. Studying the wooden door, Kate noted there wasn’t a peephole. She knocked again.

“Who is it?” A man barked.

If he was apprehensive enough not to open the door, he probably wouldn’t let her in to start asking questions. “It’s Mrs. Fix It. I’m here to do a repair.”

If it had worked in the past, and it had, then this trick should work on Travis.

And it did.

The door drew inward and Kate found a scowling, middle-aged man towering over her. Dressed in a flannel shirt, beat-up jeans, and hefty work boots, Travis glared at her, his thick eyebrows knitting together and his weathered mouth pulling taut into an annoyed frown.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“Just need to do a few repairs—”

“I didn’t tell management anything was broken.”

She shrugged and lifted her tool kit. “I won’t take long.”

Begrudgingly, he let her in, stepping aside and closing the door.

She scanned the room for anything she might be able to pretend to fix and decided on the nightstand drawer.

“Pretty busy today,” she commented, kneeling in front of the drawer. He acknowledged her with a grunt and folded his arms, watching her. After fishing a screwdriver out of her tool kit, she began unscrewing the screws that kept the legs attached, figuring she could replace all the screws. He wouldn’t know the difference. “They must be here to cover Jenna Johansen’s story,” she said, daring to glimpse him over her shoulder. “Is that why you’re hiding out in here?”

“Why would that be why I’m hiding out in here?” he challenged. “I’m not hiding out at all.”

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, feigning sheepishness. “I heard you had worked closely with Jenna.”

“Where the hell did you hear that?” he demanded, planting his fists on his hips.

She smirked. “Welcome to Rock Ridge. Everyone knows everything about everyone else.”

She wasn’t naive to the possibility that this was a futile effort, both in getting him to talk and in fixing a nightstand that wasn’t broken. But maybe, just maybe, she could rile him up into letting all he knew slip. “People around town are saying you did it.”

“What?” he exclaimed, advancing on her so fast she barely had time to process it.

Her palms flew up in surrender. “It’s just what I heard.”

“From who?”

“Ah...” She wasn’t sure if committing to this lie was a very good idea anymore. “Well, my husband is the chief of police.”

Travis straightened his back, mulling that over. Clearly he couldn’t assault a police officer’s wife. He began pacing back and forth through the room.

“I had nothing to do with that,” he said, mumbling under his breath. “I warned her.”

“Warned her?” asked Kate, popping up to stand. “About what?”

He glared at her for a long moment. “About Rachel Meadows.”

Chapter Seven

Kate thought she would have the day to herself to investigate Jenna Johansen’s murder, make sense of the key she had found in an envelope under Jason’s doormat, and otherwise build a strong defense for her son in case Scott began suspecting him for Donna Kramer’s murder—or worse, found hard evidence that he had done it. Not to mention her ten o’clock meeting with Dean Wentworth was hanging over her head. But then her open schedule was suddenly filled when Justina called her.

Kate was weaving her way through the crowded lounge at Over the Moon when she felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. She groaned when she saw Carnegie Real Estate flashing across the LCD screen. Finally, she cleared the lounge, offered Amelia a parting nod as she rounded through the lobby, and slipped out the door, answering the call.

“What are you up to?” Justina was quick to say as soon as Kate greeted her.

“Just running some errands.”

“About the high-rise I mentioned,” she began. Justina didn’t have to state that she was ready for Kate to begin work at the residential building, repairing the first-floor units. Kate was well aware that was where this conversation was headed, but she listened anyway.

“I can certainly have a look around the units and make a list of supplies I’ll need,” she offered. “Can you text me the address?”

“No problem,” said the plucky real-estate agent. “I’ll meet you there and walk you through what I have in mind.”

Kate wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Generally, small repairs jumped out at her, and if Justina felt she would need to walk Kate through her vision, the implication was that this job would go above and beyond the territory of a few small repairs. Nevertheless, she agreed, hopping off the call and climbing into her truck.

The drive south would take at least twenty minutes, she estimated, pulling out of the parking spot and accelerating onto the road.

Travis had been a formidable character. Quick to anger, he had also seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve and it was nagging Kate that there had been something genuinely honest about him. He hadn’t reacted like a guilty man, hiding out in the quaint inn because he had killed Jenna Johansen, but rather had struck her as someone who was grappling with grief. Travis had told her he had warned Jenna about Rachel Meadows, implying Rachel had something to do with Jenna’s murder. But by Rachel’s own admission, she had been in Boston at the time of her predecessor’s death. So how could Rachel have killed Jenna? What would compel Travis to indicate such a thing? What did he know?

Travis hadn’t elaborated, but instead called her bluff about the nightstand legs, rushing her to reinsert the screws and get out of his room. He was a surly man. Working quickly on the nightstand while he hovered over her, breathing down her neck and barking at her to get on with it, had sent her heart rate through the roof. Its rhythm was only now beginning to settle down into a normal tempo.

Justina’s building on the south side of town was dilapidated, at best. As she slowed her truck, easing along the curb and rolling to a stop, she noticed the windows were boarded up and there was a condemned sign nailed to the front door. Kate couldn’t necessarily visualize the property turning into a high-rise. Bobbie Hamden crossed her mind. Kate would have to swing by the permits department in the municipal building and double-check that the property was structurally sound enough to build upon, not to mention get word as to why the building was condemned in the first place, which could be for any number of reasons ranging from asbestos to a faulty foundation to the possibility it was overrun with vermin.

No sooner than she reached the front door, she heard a vehicle purring up the street behind her and turned. Justina’s shiny, black Lexus came to a stop behind her truck. The car was a bit flashy for Kate’s taste, but she was happy for the real-estate agent that she had been doing so well that she could afford to buy a Lexus.

Justina fanned her face and pulled her hair up off her neck, as she made her way to Kate.

“I told you it was real fixer-upper, right?”

Kate smiled nervously. “Condemned?”

“Oh that.” She flicked her hand as if to brush off the idea. “That’s just politics.”

“Politics?” she questioned.

“The town put it up to prevent squatters. You know, scare them off.”

As Kate watched Justina fit the building key into the lock on the front door, it occurred to her they could very well encounter such squatters. But when Justina pushed the door open and they stepped inside the dark entryway, Kate didn’t hear or smell any evidence that runaways or the homeless had claimed the building.

Following Justina through the entryway and into the first apartment unit on the left, she noted at least three major repairs. The tiled floor was cracked and moldy. The walls were stained with water—the damage of which could also be mold in the walls—and there was a sizable hole in the peeling plaster just shy of the apartment door they were now stepping through. She found it curious Justina hadn’t pointed out any of those issues.

“I’d say the foyer could use some work,” said Kate.

“Oh, that’s all cosmetic, and I doubt a little shabbiness will turn off an ex-con from renting,” she answered easily.

Kate wasn’t so sure about that. Just because a person spent years in prison didn’t mean they would overlook a potential health hazard, but she didn’t press the issue other than reminding Justina that Larry tended to give her an excellent discount at Grayson’s Hardware whenever she bought supplies in bulk.

“Well, if it makes sense to you to tackle the entryway, then I trust your judgment,” said Justina. “The priority is renting out the apartments. Let’s fill the first floor before you devote your time to an area I can’t technically rent out.”

“You’re the boss,” she said, edging into the apartment unit.

It was dim and dusty and Kate could’ve sworn she had heard the faint pitter-patter of rat paws scurrying behind the cabinets.

“Most of the apartments are studios,” Justina explained, which was why Kate was staring at the kitchen even though she was standing in what she presumed to be the bedroom. The room was fifteen square feet, at best, and she wondered if it was much bigger than the prison cells the convicts had last lived in. “I want to you think about these repairs in terms of doing the minimal amount of work to get the place into a condition of being rentable. Let’s not redo the floors. Instead, we’ll put in wall-to-wall carpeting.”

Listening to Justina’s suggestions about cutting as many corners as possible didn’t necessarily sit right with Kate. She had always prided herself on doing excellent work at the lowest cost possible. It wasn’t just about quality work. For Kate, it boiled down to her reputation. Just because her customer might not object to a lower standard than the average Rock Ridge resident, didn’t mean she would do half-assed or faulty repairs. But she humored the woman, taking notes as she followed Justina around the apartment and into the next unit, which was plagued with similar issues.

As Justina walked her through the finer points of what would be required in the bathroom of the third unit Kate had seen, Justina stopped talking midsentence in favor of answering her cell. Falling into abrupt concentration listening to the caller, she wandered out of the bathroom, leaving Kate to examine the rusty and corroded pipes beneath the sink.

It wasn’t hard to imagine Kate would be stuck in this building for the next two weeks, at least. And that estimate was conservative. The first floor, alone, could take that long, and there were three more floors above her that were very well in the same state of disrepair.

Justina rushed to the doorway, filling it. “I’ve got to head out. Something’s come up at the office. Should I leave you the keys?”

“Is it a spare or would I have to drop it off?”

Justina pulled the key ring from her purse where at least fifteen apartment keys clanked against one another.

“It’s the only set, but I won’t need to get back in here. Until you fix the place up, you’ll have the building to yourself.”

Kate accepted the key ring, tucking it into her overalls.

“Call me if you need anything,” said Justina before hurrying through the apartment and out the door.

As soon as it was quiet, she reviewed the list of supplies she had been noting and decided to give Larry a call. If Larry could gather the order, then she could swing by the hardware store on her way home and load her truck up with as many items as would fit in the bed.

Luckily, Larry picked up right away and had no problem helping her out. As she itemized the materials for him, holding her cell between her ear and shoulder so she could easily flip through her notepad, she made her way out of the building and locked up.

“Do you know what color tiles you would like?” he asked, referring to one of many supplies Justina had discouraged her from bothering with.

“It really doesn’t matter,” she said. “Whatever is the most cost effective will do.”

“You still have options,” he said. “Our most affordable tile brand comes in baby blue, sand brown, soft yellow, white...any of these sound good?”

“Which color will hold up to scuff marks the best?”

“I’d guess sand brown.”

“Let’s go with that one. Can we order carpet?” she asked, knowing Grayson’s didn’t have rolls of carpet on hand.

“Sure,” he said. “But you really have to come into the store and take a look at our vendor catalogues. Each have dozens of colors, and I can’t walk you through it over the phone.”

She agreed, telling him she would swing by in a few hours, and then ended the call.

As always, Kate had forgotten to eat properly, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. She was in desperate need of a cup of coffee. She would also have to remember to put her coffeemaker and canister in her truck. If she were going to be working here day in and day out, she would need to keep a fresh pot on.

Jason was on her mind, not that he’d ever left. She had been firm during the voice-mail message she had left. She was sure she had sounded serious, and yet he hadn’t gotten back to her. She wondered if he had given Jared a call and was tempted to see, but it wasn’t lost on her that every time she checked in with Jared to get word about her other son, it put pressure on him.

She tried not to let the urge get the best of her, as she walked to her truck and set her notepad on the passenger’s seat. She rounded to the driver’s side and glanced at the building, as she popped the door open. But before she climbed in, she spotted a shadowy figure beyond one of the second-floor windows that wasn’t boarded over.

Curious, she neared the entrance door and unlocked it. She stepped into the entryway as quietly as possible, straining to hear someone on the second floor. After a moment of listening, she heard the distinct sound of footfall overhead. She hadn’t heard a thing in the hour she had spent with Justina. Perhaps there was a squatter upstairs who knew to be quiet when the real-estate agent had arrived, but was now under the false impression everyone had left.

She padded up the stairs as quickly and soundlessly as she could, and was cautious about peering around the landing in the direction she had heard footfall. To her surprise, she saw Gillian O’Reilly holding a cardboard box.

The second Gillian realized she wasn’t alone, she shrieked, dropping her box. “God, you scared me,” she said.

“What are you doing here?” Kate asked, approaching the young woman.

Gillian collected a few personal items that had spilled out of the box then picked it up, cradling it against her hip. Sheepishly, she admitted she lived here. “And I’m not the only one.”

“Other ex-cons have been squatting here?”

Gillian confirmed it with a nod and said, “And they’re not going to like having their homes rented out to them. Why is that woman so interested in this building anyway?”

“She’s in real estate.” Kate shrugged. “Where are you going to go?”

Gillian sighed. “I have no idea, but I’m not going to get arrested for living in a condemned building. I’ll figure something out.” After a moment of staring down the long barrel of her predicament, her eyes snapped up to Kate. “I should be thanking you. Amelia Langley called me. She wants me to work at the inn.”

“That’s great! When do you start?”

“Tomorrow.” She groaned at the thought. “I’ll have had a terrible night’s sleep and no shower.”

“Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“I don’t know where I’m going,” she said, though she quickly accepted.

“Who else is here right now?”

“Just a few people. Most of the squatters work over at the amusement park, and they won’t get back until after dark.”

“How have you all been getting in the building? It’s boarded up and the front door is locked.”

“Through the basement. Out back, there’s a door. I guess it was locked, but someone busted it open. We keep it propped.”

They made their way out of the building, and once again Kate locked the front door. As she led Gillian to her truck, she said, “Starting tomorrow I’m going to be here repairing the place.”

“I’ll tell the others,” she assured her.

Kate took Gillian’s box, set it in the bed of her truck, and then settled behind the wheel, as Gillian climbed into the passenger’s seat and fastened her seat belt.

As they drove off, the young woman told her, “Be careful working there. Try not to be there at night.”

“Why?”

“With everything happening around town,” she began in a tone that unmistakably referenced the drug ring, “I think they’re coming to the building at night to recruit.”

“The drug dealers?”

Gillian locked eyes with her and nodded.

When Kate reached the center of town, she slowed, pulling up to the curb outside of Bean There. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, that’s okay. I have to make a few calls and figure out my night,” she said, indicating the pay phone around the corner. She popped her door open, but didn’t get out. “Tell your son to be careful, too.”

“Jason?”

“He’s been getting too close to the wrong people, and it’s going to backfire.”

“What has he been doing? Who has he been talking to?” she asked urgently, grabbing Gillian’s arm. The young woman said nothing. “Where’s Becky?”

“I told you I don’t know about Becky,” she said impatiently, yanking her arm free. “And I’m only telling you about Jason because he hasn’t been listening to reason. He isn’t one of us. He’s not an ex-con, but he’s starting to act like it, throwing his weight around, and I’m telling you, he’s pissing off the wrong people.”

“Who?”

Reluctantly, she offered, “Dark Donnie.”

“What’s his real name?”

Gillian pressed her mouth into a hard line. “I hope I don’t regret this,” she said. “Drake Kramer.”

Suddenly, Kate was reeling. Drake Kramer? As in Donna Kramer?

“They’re related?”

“Brother and sister,” Gillian stated.

Drake was also the person who had told Kate that Dean Wentworth had been behind the explosion. Before Donna was killed, she had implied that just because Drake had said Dean was behind it, didn’t mean it was true.

Kate remembered the initials on the boxes of drugs she had found at the shed—KD. She had thought they stood for Kramer, Donna, but they could just as easily have been noting Drake.

Ruminating this, Kate began mumbling, “Donna, Donnie.”

“You wouldn’t know it just looking at them, but Donna and Donnie were twins. Donnie had his name changed to Drake when he became an adult to differentiate.”

“Twins?”

“Which is why Jason thinks he has an in with the guy. He thinks they’ve been bonding. But Jason is wrong. And now he’s mixed up in something...”

Kate grabbed Gillian’s arm again, but this time kept her grip loose. “Did Drake...” she couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t tip Gillian off that her own son had shot Donna. As it stood, only Kate and Jason knew. If anyone else did, it would risk word getting around town, ultimately resulting in her son’s arrest. So she kept her question as vague as possible. “Did Drake put someone up to killing Donna?”

“Yeah,” said Gillian. “And we both know who that someone is.”

“How did you find out?”

Gillian’s eyes turned round as if it pained her to have to put it plainly to Kate.

“Someone saw him?”

“No,” she said in a quiet voice. “Jason reported back to Drake.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Drake is smart. He knows how to play the long game. He’s like a chess master. He used Jason and he’s going to make sure Jason goes down for this, but not until he’s done using your son. The reason I know is because Drake’s making an example out of Jason to terrify the rest of us. If you think rumors fly between the residents of Rock Ridge, I’m telling you, the convicts are even worse.”

“But Jason is only pursuing this to find Becky,” she pointed out, trying to make sense of it all. How could even the promise of finding his fiancée compel Jason to kill?”

“That’s all I know,” she said softly. “And I wish I didn’t know that much.”

Gillian climbed out of the truck and shut the door.

Kate sat in a stupor. She simply couldn’t believe it. She felt like she was standing on a railroad track, trying to get a freight train to come to a screeching halt. It wasn’t going to, and she knew it.

Chapter Eight

“Jason, this is your mother. You have got to call me back. I’m worried sick for you.”

Kate didn’t just hang up her cell phone after leaving her son a panicked voice mail. She threw it at the dashboard and flinched when it ricocheted, bouncing off the hard plastic and flying in her face.

“Damn,” she grumbled. It had tumbled between the middle console and the side of her seat. She wedged her fingers down the crack, clamping the edge of it between her fingers, and carefully extracted it. The screen was cracked. “Awe, come on,” she complained before setting it on the passenger’s seat.

She glanced through the windshield at Bean There. This time, a cup of coffee no matter how strong and hot was not going to fix this.

Dusk was falling over Rock Ridge. One at a time the streetlamps brightened along Main Street. Bean There looked inviting, but how would she muscle through pleasantries with Clara in order to get a cup of joe? What if she ran into someone? What if she ran into Carly? She cringed at the thought. She wouldn’t be able to conceal her distress if she ran into her best friend.

But it had been Carly who had tipped her off about Dark Donnie. Her florist friend had heard the man whose alias she’d only just discovered was a regular at Drake’s Firing Line. Well, clearly, thought Kate. Dark Donnie and Drake Kramer were one in the same. Carly had also told her that Dark Donnie had a reputation of taking out bad guys before they could kill someone innocent. At the time it had sounded a lot like what Jason had done. Was Dark Donnie grooming her son, all the while harboring the dark intention of throwing him under the bus? It would seem so according to what Gillian had explained.

Kate was in agony for Jason. Knowing her son thought he would best an experienced criminal had Kate’s stomach in knots. Jason was under the impression he was getting closer to finding Becky. Had Drake taken Becky? Was he behind her abduction, and subsequently, Ashley’s? Or was he an opportunist? Had Jason stumbled into his dark world of peddling drugs through Rock Ridge, causing Drake to lure Jason with promise of finding Becky and thus roping him into his drug ring to do his dirty work?

Unless her son got in touch with her and finally told her the truth, she would have no way of knowing.

She remembered the key, the addresses, and the envelope in her overalls. The key either belonged to Donna Kramer’s former house or to Drake’s Firing Line, which was the second address on that piece of paper.

She checked the clock on the dashboard as soon as she turned the engine. It was barely six, and the firing line wouldn’t close until eight that evening. There wouldn’t likely be any way to sneak around if the shooting range was bustling with customers, not to mention Drake, so she started off down the street, heading towards Donna Kramer’s house.

By the time she pulled up the long driveway, having driven to the rural end of Rock Ridge, Kate’s stomach was churning, both hungry and sickened over what she might discover.

The house looked dark except for a subtle glow through one of the first-floor windows. Kate took a deep breath and climbed out of her truck. She was quiet about shutting the driver’s side door. She glanced up and down the street. In both directions, there were only a few houses in the distance, but it didn’t seem like anyone was home.

Quickly, she padded up the walkway, pulling the envelope from her pocket and plucking the key out. She fit it into the door and a surge of excitement washed through her that she was able to turn the key, unlocking the door.

She held her breath as she stepped inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She didn’t close the door behind her, not entirely. She didn’t want to risk the sound of a click when it struck the doorjamb, so instead she left it open a crack and scanned the entryway, which was bare.

Stepping around the entryway, she came into the living room. Other than a couch and coffee table, the room was just as bare. Donna Kramer had moved to Rock Ridge under the auspices of working at the amusement park. Evidently, she was one of the executives sent by the amusement park corporation to oversee the construction of the park. During her short stay, she had struck up an unlikely affair with Dean Wentworth, as well as Tommy Barkow, a man she had ended up killing. Given the secret relationship Donna had undergone with Tommy, and judging by the threadbare living room, Donna might have been in Rock Ridge much longer than the amusement park project’s inception, long enough to oversee a drug operation and keep Tommy Barkow in line as he turned coca plants into street-grade cocaine.

She turned the corner and found the kitchen. It was dim, but unlike the living room, it looked lived in. There were dirty dishes in the sink and a few newspapers resting on the kitchen table. She smelled coffee, though it wasn’t fresh, then spotted a coffeemaker on the counter. After nearing it, she placed her hand on the glass carafe. It was warm.

Turning for the living room, she tried to visualize which window she had seen glowing. There was a hallway at the far side of the living room, so she quietly crept down it, remembering the light had been coming from that side of the house. She paused, listening out for sounds in-between each step.

Up ahead on the left there was an open door. Light spilled into the hallway through the gap in the doorjamb and as Kate neared it, she heard rustling within the room. Though it was faint, it sounded like someone flipping a newspaper open.

She realized her hands were trembling. Fear ratcheted up her spine. She had no way of knowing who she would find on the other side of the door. Would they be armed and dangerous? Would she be able to talk her way out of trespassing? She wasn’t even holding her tool kit.

Scraping together every last shred of gumption she had and reminding herself she wouldn’t be able to help Jason if she didn’t have the guts to see this through, Kate pushed the door open.

Immediately, a young woman bolted to her feet, shrieking and dropping a newspaper. The sheets cascaded over the coffee table in front of her, but Kate’s gaze was locked on the blonde in disbelief.

It was Ashley. Her blue eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open. Taking quick stock of the room—it looked like an entertainment den—Kate saw no sign the woman had been abducted and was now being held against her will. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was a steaming mug of coffee on the coffee table. The television, though muted, was playing the evening news. And Ashley looked freshly showered. There were no bruises or abrasions on her face or wrists. If Kate didn’t know better, she would’ve thought the woman was enjoying any other evening, relaxing at home.

Except that she wasn’t at home.

“Kate?” she asked in delayed response to having been caught, but quickly launched into a strange display, sighing with relief and rushing towards Kate. “Thank God you found me! Are the police here? I’ve been held captive!”

“Ashley, stop!” she blurted out, throwing her hands up so the woman couldn’t embrace her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was kidnapped. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“Nothing about this situation screams ‘held against your will’,” she pointed out.

Ashley furrowed her brow at her then seemed to decide on what to say next. “They’re going to get back any minute.” Grabbing Kate’s arm, she pulled her into the hallway. “We have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“Stop!” she yelled again. “You’re a terrible liar. Now what in the hell is going on?”

“You don’t believe me?” she challenged, stepping up to Kate in a threatening manner.

“Not for a second.”

“If you’re not here to rescue me, then I’ll rescue myself,” she asserted. “But they took my cell phone so I’ll need yours to call the police.”

“What’s wrong with the house phone?” she sneered, exposing Ashley for the clumsy criminal that she clearly was.

“The line was cut,” she stated indignantly.

Kate was about to make a demonstration out of checking, but she didn’t have to. She heard a sudden vibration against the coffee table inside the den, and when she rushed to the table and threw back the newspaper, she found a cell phone buzzing and inching its way across the wooden surface.

Quickly, she answered the call, but Ashley advanced on her. Kate demanded, “Who is this?” She was only able to hear a man bark “Ashley” before the woman grabbed the phone from Kate’s hand and threw it against the wall.

They stared at one another, and Ashley looked like she was about to explode, but she reeled in her emotions and said, “Please, we need to call the police so I can go home.”

Astonished the young woman was so committed to her lie that she appeared downright delusional, Kate stated, “Oh, I’m calling the police all right. And you’re not going anywhere except to jail.”

“No one will believe you,” she said, folding her arms. “They’ll think you’re cynical and callous.”

“Ashley, you just shattered your own cell phone!”

“No,” she stated in a cool tone as though she had the whole thing figured out. “My kidnappers did.” Without warning, she stalked over to a radiator in the corner of the room, and Kate suddenly noticed a set of handcuffs on the ground. Ashley clamped one of the cuffs around her wrist then hooked the other around the metal pipe at the side of the radiator. “I’ve been captive. I’m a victim,” she stated, sitting on the floor.

It suddenly occurred to Kate that Ashley’s display might shed light on what had happened to Becky. Dean Wentworth had told Kate that Becky hadn’t been abducted, though at the time, to Kate’s untrained eye, he had appeared to be high on drugs. But maybe there was more than an ounce of truth to what he had said.

“Where are you going?!” Ashley yelled, as Kate decisively walked out of the den and into the hallway.

She picked her pace up, jogging through the living room and up the stairs to the second floor, determined to catch Becky Langley in the house. She opened every door and checked every room, but her son’s fiancée was nowhere to be found.

When she returned to the den where Ashley was sulking on the floor, she was furious and out of breath.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded, but the young woman pressed her mouth shut like a brat. “Why was my son given a note with a key to this address? Who left that envelope under his doormat?”

Ashley pinched her eyes shut, stating, “I’m a victim.”

“You’re about to be!” asserted Kate, advancing on the woman, who flinched as soon as Kate came to a stomping halt where she sat. “You can rot in those cuffs for all I care!”

Ashley glared up at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Kate had never been so murderous in all her life, and yet she knew she wouldn’t follow through on her threat. Before she could do something she would regret, she marched through the house and out the front door. If there was fresh air outside, it didn’t reach her lungs as she gasped, overwhelmed with emotion.

It took more strength than she thought she had to calm herself enough to get Scott on the line. As soon as his voice came through her cell phone, she blurted out, “I found Ashley.” She gave him the address.

“You found her? How?”

“Just get here as fast as you can,” she told him, “because trust me, I’m ready to kill her.”

“Why?” he demanded, but quickly offered, “I’m on my way. I’m heading out of the precinct right now.”

“She wasn’t abducted.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you, she wasn’t. I caught her relaxing on a couch as though all was right in the world, and Scott, I’m very scared for what this might mean in terms of Becky.”

It felt like an eternity had passed before Kate saw Scott’s truck barreling down the street with two cruisers and an ambulance behind it. She snorted a futile laugh that Scott had called the medics. Ashley was fine. She wouldn’t need her vitals checked. She hadn’t suffered any trauma. Had Scott not believed her?

As his truck pulled in beside hers, a train of news vans tearing down the street stole Kate's attention. “Damn,” she muttered. Ashley would make the headlines and it wouldn’t be likely any of the reporters would cover the conspiracy angle. They would make Ashley out to be the brave survivor that Kate knew she most certainly was not.

“Where is she?” Scott asked, as he walked briskly up the walkway.

“In the entertainment den, through the living room and at the end of the hall on the left, but Scott,” she said, pressing her hands to his chest to stop him, “when I found her she wasn’t cuffed to the radiator. She had her cell phone nearby. It was only after I discovered her cell that she threw it against the wall and handcuffed herself. She’s guilty as sin.”

Scott met her gaze. His eyes looked severe, but behind them she could tell he was just as confused as she was. “All right. I’ll take it from here.”

Officers Garrison and Tolland met him at the door. Three medics hopped out of the ambulance, the lights of which were whirling and making Kate feel dizzy.

As everyone rushed into the house, Kate stood on the walkway and folded her arms.

Ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Nine

When the clock on the dashboard struck ten, Kate was angling her truck off the road and into the amusement park, marveling at the rides, which were all lit up on the eastern side of the park. The western side was dark. Bulldozers sat in shadow. Stacks of construction materials were scattered in haphazard piles. She couldn’t believe Dean’s progress.

She parked in front of the executive trailer, which towed the line between the dark and bright halves of the park, figuring that was where Dean would be.

As she climbed out of her truck and shut the door, she realized she hadn’t set foot here since the botched ransom exchange, the explosion, the terror of that night. Knowing what she now knew, that Becky Langley probably hadn’t been taken at all, she felt the heavy weight of grief pressing on her chest. Lance Langley had almost been killed for nothing. And Jason had sat next to Kate in that surveillance van as though fretting as badly as her. Was Jason on a heroic crusade to find his fiancée no matter what the danger? Or had he known from the start that Becky, like Ashley, was at the center of this evil conspiracy?

She started for the executive trailer. Gravel crunched under her sneakers with each step. Though the trailer windows were curtained, she could see lights within softly glowing. She felt anxious and chills rolled through her, remembering the last time she had seen Greg, her first husband who had disappeared.

At the time, this area had been a campsite recently taken over by the Anarchist Freedom Network. There had been a similar trailer. She had braved barging into it to get answers and had walked right into a trap, but Greg had saved her, taking a bullet meant for her. The moment she had seen him burst through the door, their eyes had met. In that second, a flood of memories came rushing back—their marriage, their long history, the details of their life together before he had gone missing.

When she reached the trailer steps, Kate heaved in a deep breath, closing her eyes and shaking off the thought, but as she gripped the railing, opening her eyes and taking the first step, the notion that tonight felt identical to the night her first husband had been killed hadn’t left her.

She reminded herself that Dean was inside. There would be no ambush, no surprises other than the truth, which she had been hunting for all month.

Cautiously, she knocked on the door.

No sooner than she had, she startled when a man behind her said, “Mom?”

Whipping around, she found Jason at the foot of the stairs. She rushed down the shallow steps to him. She threw her arms around him and held him close then urged him back, studying his face.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. I left you messages.”

“I know,” he said to calm her. “I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Dean asked me to come,” he said.

Overwhelmed with questions, she cut him off. “What was your lead on Becky? Who left that note and the key? What did they expect you to do with it?” Whispering intensely, she added, “Why did you kill Donna?”

He had been trying to answer every question, his mouth working and pressing shut, unable to get a word in until she ran out of steam.

“Becky wasn’t abducted,” he stated.

“Dean mentioned as much, but it doesn’t make sense, or it didn’t...” Ashley sprang to mind, but she stuck to the topic at hand. “What did you find out about her? And how did you find out?”

“For the longest time I thought she was kidnapped. I was there. I bought it. And I had been drugged. When I first started looking into it, I was convinced she had been taken. But the closer I got, the less sense it was making.” Jason edged in and began speaking even more discretely. “I had to be really careful, because leads kept pointing to the Langleys’ mustard facility, as well as the inn, but Donna Kramer’s name kept coming up whenever I poked around either location.”

“Donna was peddling the drug shipments,” Kate supplied. “And Tommy Barkow was making it. He set off the explosion here the night we tried to get Becky back. That’s why Donna killed him.”

“Yes, but she wasn’t behind all of this.”

“Drake is,” she blurted out.

“Keep an open mind about that,” he suggested. “We need to talk to Dean.”

“You trust Dean?”

Jason cocked his head as if confused as to why his mother would have a reason not to trust the mayor.

“With all the drugs flying around and Dean’s involvement—you know, the affair he had with Donna Kramer—well, I was at his office earlier and I could’ve sworn he was on drugs.”

Jason almost laughed. “Dean’s not on drugs. I mean, not illegal ones, anyway. He’s on a new prescription and the dosage was all wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” said Jason. “Dean is one of the few people I still trust.” Getting back on point, he went on. “I talked to Chucky at the inn and a number of employees at the mustard facility, and then it just clicked. Becky helped set up the operation. There’s no other way to explain those locations, and I’ve kept a close eye on Amelia and Lance. They’re genuinely baffled.”

“Why would Becky be doing any of this?”

“I have no idea. I feel like I don’t even know her anymore. Maybe I never did. I keep coming back to the possibility that maybe she’s scared or being intimidated like so many others in Rock Ridge, but then when I really think about it, the only people who are scared are the ex-cons who have had no choice but to be pawns at the bottom of the pyramid. And Becky’s no ex-con. She doesn’t even have a traffic violation.”

“Jason,” she said sternly. “I’m worried about you. You’ve gotten yourself in deep with some very dangerous characters. I spoke with Gillian O’Reilly and she told me you’re at risk poking around how you’ve been doing. You can’t pretend to be one of them.”

He looked at her discerningly, his brow furrowing, mouth twisting with a frown. “How many times have you been told not to look into something? How many times have you listened? Of all the people, how can you say that to me?”

Kate took a deep breath and tried to formulate a reasonable justification, but none came. He was right. She was being hypocritical, yet she didn’t care. When it came to the safety of her children, the golden rule was do as I say, not as I do.

“Who have you gotten close to?” she demanded.

“Chucky, Harold—”

“Who’s Harold?”

“He works at the Langleys’ mustard facility,” he answered quickly. “Tommy, Donna, Drake—”

“At this point, Drake has to be the most dangerous.”

“I’m not so sure,” he said. “But I worked my way up from the bottom. I’ve been convincing people left and right that my love for Becky is so strong, I don’t care if she’s a criminal, I just want to be with her. I’ll do anything. And they’re buying it, Mom.”

“Don’t you understand this is going to backfire? Do you think I’m sleeping at night knowing you killed Donna?”

“We both know I had to.”

“You never have to.”

“She was going to shoot you, Mom.”

“Why were you even there?”

“To get Tommy’s equations and instructions,” he said. “And it’s a good thing, too, or else you might not be alive.”

“People know, Jason. People are talking. I couldn’t bear it if you went to prison.”

“I won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have to believe it.”

She sighed, frustrated she wasn’t getting through to him. “Who left the note with the key under your mat?”

“We should really go inside and talk to Dean. I just wanted to give you a few answers privately.”

“Just answer me.”

“Drake did.”

She gaped at him, shocked at how dense he was being. “You have to go to the police.”

“Not yet. Drake isn’t at the top of this twisted pyramid, and I’m not going to stop until I find that person. If Drake’s off the street, he’ll just be replaced. And don’t even get me started on how badly you screwed things up for me—”

“I screwed things up?” she yelled, astonished.

“That’s right,” he shot back. “It was the closest I’d ever come to being in the same room as Becky. I was supposed to get Ashley at the house and bring her to Drake’s, and from there we would go to wherever Becky is. And you came along and shot all that to hell.”

Stunned, she didn’t know what to say, but managed, “How did Ashley get roped into this?”

“That’s why I needed to be there and transport her, because I don’t know. All I know is that it was voluntary, and that this drug operation needs decoys like Becky and Ashley. When Scott and his entire precinct are sorting out information, these people make their moves.” He quieted for a moment. “The only reason I’m telling you all of this is because I know you’re just like me.”

“Technically, you’re the one who is like me, not the other way around,” she clarified good-naturedly.

“I know you won’t tell Scott, because you haven’t told him things when you knew you were onto something. And I have to do this. I have to be the one to find Becky, face her, confront her about all of this. Not Scott, not the Rock Ridge Police. Me. I know, I know, that you know exactly what this feels like.”

“Your father,” she breathed, understanding him. She did know how he felt, and it pained her that he was going through the same thing, or perhaps a worse version. At least Greg had been one of the good guys. Becky’s innocence was very much in question.

“Do me a favor, at least.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t push your brother away. It’s been killing him. He needs you.”

Jason glanced off into the darkness and seemed to feel the sting of what he had been doing to Jared. When he returned his gaze to his mother, he said, “No one’s closer to me than Jared. But right now, I can’t risk it. We’re too close. It’s like he can read my mind. I have to avoid him. If I don’t, he’ll guess in two seconds what I’ve been up to. I can’t drag him into this. You know, if he had even the slightest idea, he would be right there by my side. Do you really want both of your sons in danger?”

“That’s not fair,” she stated.

“It’s accurate,” he pointed out. “And you know it.”

“Does Drake know that you killed Donna?” she asked as soon as the question struck her. “They’re twins.”

“That’s how I got in with Drake,” he commented. “And yes, he knows.”

Her brows flew up, alarmed. “Does he want revenge?”

“He’s a hard-core criminal and he had been having friction with Donna. If he wants revenge, he hasn’t acted on it.” After a beat, he added, “Let’s go talk to Dean.”

Apprehensively, Kate padded up the steps, Jason trailing behind her. She knocked on the door, but her son grabbed the handle, pushing the door open for her to go right in.

Dean was seated on the couch going over the financials on the amusement park development, but rose when she walked in with Jason.

“It’s been a long day,” she said, relieved in anticipation of any answers he might provide. “You told me nothing is as it seems and that Becky wasn’t abducted,” she went on, setting the stage for him to dive right in.

Dean shot her son a quick glance, and Jason nodded in unspoken conversation.

“Most of my guys working here at the amusement park have recently been released from prison. I’m sure I don’t have to explain cheap labor. Plenty of businesses around town have been hiring the ex-cons for this very reason, and they should. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

She was with him so far, but anxious for him to link his point to Becky, Drake, and the corruption that had been sweeping through Rock Ridge.

“I’ve got my ear to the ground with these people. Jason has also been my eyes and ears.”

Kate was impressed Jason had actually been making it in to work, heading the construction project for Wentworth Contractors. For a while there, things had been rocky, but clearly her son and the mayor had arrived on the same side.

“From what I gather, the prison warden, a man named Grant Conover, has been playing both sides of the field.”

“What about Drake?” she challenged, frustrated to no end that the man clearly responsible for all of this was being overlooked.

“Drake doesn’t have the power and connections. He’s the muscle, the brawn, but not the brains behind this operation, from what I can tell. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Kate did, nearing and sitting on the edge of a chair across from him.

“You might want to have a seat, too, Jason.”

When Kate glanced up at her son, the look of trepidation on his face told her that he hadn’t expected new information to surface.

“I’ve been getting in good with the warden.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she blurted out, staring at both of them. “The two of you. Have you no fear?”

“For political reasons,” Dean clarified. “The fact of the matter is that Grant sends a lot of ex-cons to my town. There’s nothing surreptitious about our meetings.” He let that hang for a moment until Kate conveyed she believed him. “I’ve been very careful with this guy. He has access to countless prison records on a national level, holding the position he does. If I need to know about one person, I’ll ask him about ten, so he can’t figure out what I’m getting at.”

“What do you ask him about?” she asked.

“Mainly, during the hiring process I want to know if a guy was violent in prison, but we’ve been hiring admin positions, as well, women mostly, so I’ve been inquiring in that regard, too. When I told you nothing is what it seems and Becky wasn’t abducted, it’s because I was in the process of getting new information.”

“About Becky?” Jason asked eagerly, leaning forward in his chair.

“You met her when?” he asked Jason.

“My senior year.”

“And she was a transfer student,” he supplied.

“Right.”

“She didn’t transfer from another college,” said Dean. “She was an inmate.”

“What?” Jason exclaimed.

“Ashley, as well,” he went on. “In fact, they were in the same cell.”

Kate guessed, “Drugs?”

And Dean confirmed it.

“Why stage a hoax abduction?” she asked.

“Culpability, or I suppose to establish they have none.”

Kate and Jason exchanged a worrisome glance.

“The good news,” Dean went on, “is that because Donna had pulled the wool over my eyes and was using the amusement park as a hiding place to move the shipments, Grant thinks I’m corrupt, or at least he got to a point of trusting me to edge into the topic. And I’m playing along.”

Kate wasn’t sure she could hear any more of this. “Do you understand that it’s time to involve the police?”

“We will,” Dean assured her. “I just need to get a little closer.”

“We’re almost there, Mom,” said Jason.

“Jenna Johansen, the reporter,” Dean continued. “She was on the precipice of cracking this thing wide open.”

“Her murder ties into this?” Kate asked, a strange mix of astonishment and logic washing over her. Of course her murder tied into this.

“She was killed before she could get the word out.”

As Kate listened to Dean elaborate, the explanation of which seemed to contain little information and mostly speculation, Kate leaned back in her chair, wrestling down the lump in her throat. Of all the times she had ventured into dangerous territory against Scott’s warnings, she had never attempted to single-handedly tackle a conspiracy as tremendous as the one Dean and Jason were determined to take down. It was a suicide mission. She needed to tell Scott, if for no other reason than to get him to intervene for Dean and Jason’s safety. Maybe he could call in the Feds or the DEA and turn the entire case over, since it seemed to spread so far and wide that containing it could very well prove impossible, at least with Rock Ridge’s resources.

It was eleven thirty by the time they wrapped it up. Kate gave Jason a long, lingering hug. She didn’t want to let him go, but eventually did when he laughed, urging her back. She told Dean to be careful and hesitated when Jason asked her to promise not to tell Scott.

The drive home was a blur. Luckily, she knew the route so well, just as she knew every inch of this town, that she could maneuver her truck on autopilot without thinking, but slipping into deep thought.

The house was dark when she stepped inside, but as her eyes adjusted, she realized the bedroom light was still on. Scott hadn’t turned in for the night.

She made a pit stop in the kitchen, hoping to find a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator. If ever she needed a nightcap, now was the time. She only found condiments in the door so she opened the cabinet where three bottles of red wine stood in a cluster. She preferred a chilled glass of white, but reasoned that any alcoholic beverage would do and poured herself a generous glass.

She was too tired for a shower, and if she drew a bath she would likely fall asleep in the hot pool, so she forego bathing in favor of changing out of her overalls and into something far more comfortable—her sweats that were hanging in the bathroom.

In the bedroom, Scott was leaning against the headboard and reading a book, but he glanced up at her as she entered.

“You had a long day,” he said, checking the clock on the nightstand.

“You have no idea how long this day has been,” she said with a shuddering sigh, as a wave of guilt surged up her chest. She drank down more wine and set the glass on the nightstand.

As she pulled the covers back on her side of the bed, Scott slapped his book shut and placed it on his nightstand. Without so much as a look at her, he laid down on his side, his back to her.

Maybe he’d had a long day, as well, but Scott had never been one to give her the cold shoulder before going to sleep. She had expected their usual cuddling. The fact that he was avoiding it gave her pause.

She climbed into bed and tried to sound casual, as she asked, “Is everything okay?”

In response, Scott reached for the lamp on his nightstand and flipped off the light.

Kate stared at him—his square shoulders, his white hair on the pillow. Strange, she thought, but was too mentally exhausted from her hour with Dean and Jason to allow herself to fret over Scott’s abrupt mood. She drank the rest of her wine, set the empty glass on the table, and fell asleep when her head hit the pillow.

Chapter Ten

The next morning, when Kate woke up, Scott’s side of the bed was empty. She lifted onto her elbows, listening for signs he was in the shower or the kitchen, but heard nothing. The clock on the nightstand read 7:05 a.m. and she considered going back to sleep for another hour. Her growling stomach got her out of bed. Sleep wasn’t as valuable as eating a full breakfast, she decided, as she threw her robe on and padded down the hallway, through the living room and into the kitchen.

She filled the coffeemaker with water, replaced the old filter with a new one, and measured out heaps of dark roast. As it percolated, she began making breakfast—scrambled eggs and bacon and toast, which she buttered heavily.

Avoiding the morning paper, she sat at the kitchen table with her plate and began eating, drinking coffee in-between each bite.

If Jenna Johansen had been on the precipice of cracking this thing wide open, as Dean had mentioned, then it was possible that whatever evidence she had unearthed still existed, whether with Jenna’s crew or replacement or perhaps tucked away at the Rock Ridge Tribune since it seemed most of the out-of-town reporters trusted Eric Demblowski enough to stop by his office, as Rachel Meadows had done.

What if the evidence Jenna had come across would be enough to take down the entire drug operation? If Kate could get her hands on it and give it to the authorities to handle, then Jason and Dean would no longer be in harm’s way. They wouldn’t have to venture deeper into the dark world they were tangled in, because it would no longer exist.

The fastest way to extinguish frustration was to be proactive, an attitude that came naturally to Kate. Rachel had seemed to warm to Kate the other day when she’d given the reporter a ride. And it gave her the idea to find Rachel. She didn’t know how promising it would be, but it was a place to start.

Kate put in a call to Larry before she left the house to check on the account Justina had mentioned she would set up. The funds were at Grayson’s, Larry told her, as well as the tiles she had asked him to order over the phone.

When she climbed into her truck, she gave some thought to where she might find Rachel Meadows. It was possible the reporters might still be covering Ashley’s abduction, therefore shooting segments outside of her house.

She drove off towards the center of Rock Ridge, and as soon as she hit Main Street, she kept her eyes peeled for the national news van.

As luck would have it, she spotted the vehicle parked along the curb in front of the Rock Ridge Tribune and pulled up behind it. After climbing out of her truck into the hot morning—the sun was beating down without a cloud in the sky to soften it—she neared the passenger’s side of the news van, but saw it was empty.

Figuring that Rachel was inside the Tribune, she was just about to turn for the walkway when she spied a folder inside the van. It was tucked between the passenger’s seat and middle console, and its tab had the name Jenna Johansen printed clearly.

Even though she told herself breaking into a news van would be a crime, her curiosity was killing her. She gaze landed on the lock just inside the door. It looked far too tall for the passenger’s side door to be locked and the realization made her heart punch up her throat.

Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder at the Tribune. There was a terrible glare bouncing off the windows and the entrance door was shut, likely to keep the air conditioning from escaping.

She couldn’t linger next to the news van forever, and if she asked Rachel for the file or even simply about the file, she had little faith the reporter would answer honestly.

So she took it, yanking the door open, snatching the manila folder, and slamming the door. Her heart was galloping by the time she jumped in her truck, and she couldn’t twist the key in the ignition fast enough. Keeping her eyes glued to the Tribune entrance, she reversed away from the news van, threw her truck in gear, and peeled out into the street.

It wasn’t until she pulled into the parking lot in front of Grayson’s Hardware that she opened the manila file with high hopes of discovering the key evidence she would need to keep her son and the mayor safe.

Inside, she found what appeared to be a rough draft on a segment Jenna had been working on. The top sheet had a list of bullet-point questions, and when she turned to the next sheet, the name printed in bold across the top jumped out at her. Harold Simpson. Was it the same Harold who worked at the Langleys’ mustard facility—who had been accepting cash to look the other way when shipments of drugs passed through?

She scanned the top sheet and confirmed it, reading the fourth question. How often did Grant Conover show up at Langley’s Mustard after hours?

Excitedly, she turned to the third page, which was the beginning of a bank statement that went on for pages and pages. She first noted that the account belonged to a company called Colombia & Partners International, LLC. As she closely scrutinized the transactions, several names jumped out at her—Donna Kramer, Thomas (Tommy) Barkow, Drake Kramer, Grant Conover, Harold Simpson, Clifford Green, and Rebecca (Becky) Langley.

The transactions, all outgoing wires to the recipients listed and referencing the vague job of consulting, were for exorbitant amounts, ranging from ten to fifty thousand dollars.

Jenna Johansen had done it. She had found a document linking all the major players in the drug ring. And according to the file, perhaps the one person who would have been willing to talk to Jenna had she lived was Harold Simpson. She flipped back to the top sheet and her eye landed on the very first question. Who owns Colombia & Partners International LLC?

Dean and Jason had been right. Drake Kramer wasn’t behind it all, and neither was Becky. The fact that they were collecting payments from Colombia & Partners indicated as much.

If Kate could find out who owned the company, she would have a prayer of exposing them.

She needed to find Harold Simpson. She could pick up where Jenna had left off, but would she dare? She had begged Jason and Dean to go to the police. She wouldn’t want them going down this road, but now that she was facing the same opportunity, she couldn’t imagine walking away.

But the last person who had refused to walk away had been shot dead in the parking lot behind Carnegie Real Estate.

She decided to think things through, so she put her truck in drive and rolled around the side of Grayson’s to the loading garage where Larry had surely stacked the boxes of tiles she had ordered for fixing up Justina’s apartment building.

Larry was behind the counter when she entered through the rear door. He smiled, but immediately turned serious. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said heavily and then made an honest effort to sound like her usual, upbeat self. “Thanks so much for getting those tiles packaged up. Were you able to deduct it from the fund Justina had set up?”

“Yeah, got the accounting squared away, no problem,” he said, studying her. “You sure you’re all right?”

Brushing over his question might not be easy for Larry to accept, so she went with a partial truth. “Yesterday was a long one, and I could’ve slept for another two hours, at least.”

He seemed satisfied with her response and was quick to pour her a cup of coffee from the new machine behind him. After pressing a lid on the paper cup, he handed it to her and she peeled the tab back.

“Better than last time,” she mentioned, following him out to the loading area where she had seen the boxes.

“You might have to rent a hydraulic uni-tilt dolly,” he suggested, indicating the high-tech dolly he was using to lift the heavy stack of boxes. “And I’m not sure what to recommend in order to get up the stairs in that building.”

“If I can get the material there, I can always carry small loads up the floors.”

“Well, eat your Wheaties, because it’ll be a lot of running up and down, and even a box half full will feel like it weighs a ton.”

Larry loaded up the back of her truck then hoisted the hydraulic dolly into the bed and shut the tailgate. After letting him know to detract the dolly rental from Justina’s account, she climbed in behind the wheel and eased around Grayson’s, coming out on the other side and hanging a right onto the street.

As she drove, she flipped the manila-filing folder open from where it rested on the passenger’s seat and found the sheet with Harold Simpson’s home address. She recalled that when she had spoken with Amelia and Lance weeks ago after she first suspected them of involvement with the drugs at the facility, they had told her that they had fired Harold after discovering he was accepting cash in exchange for allowing the drug dealers to store their product in the factory.

Kate was familiar with the area Harold lived in, but slowed to a crawl when she reached his street in order to check each house number as she passed by.

Finally, she found Harold’s house and pulled up to the curb. A car was parked in the driveway, and she could hear the whirl of air conditioning units in the first-floor windows.

After grabbing the manila-filing folder, Kate ventured into the heat and padded up the walkway. She said a silent prayer—two, in fact—that Harold would be home and that he would be willing to talk. Jason was at the forefront of her mind, as well as Scott. Why did it have to be the case that keeping Jason’s confidence was an act of betrayal against Scott and vice versa?

She pounded on the door, hoping this impromptu meeting would ultimately end the terrible conflict roiling inside her.

The door popped open a crack and she saw a single, beady eye staring out.

“Who are you?” asked the man, who had to be Harold, unless her luck was running out.

“I have some questions, Harold. I’m Kate—” She cut herself off, omitting her last name in case it would scare him off. “I’m here in Jenna Johansen’s stead. Do you have a few minutes?”

He widened the door and Kate saw that he was roughly her age, in his mid-forties with a full head of dark, brown hair and a crisp jawline, all of which made him look like he could play the TV version of a factory worker, too attractive to be real.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to her interview,” he said, but before he could shut the door in her face, she stopped it with her palm. “That woman died because of me.”

“No, she died because someone shot her. That’s on you. You were going to do the right thing by talking to her, and you can still do the right thing before anyone else gets hurt or killed.”

Harold looked past her at her truck parked along the curb, and read out loud, “Mrs. Fix It?”

“I’m a handywoman,” she said, holding her head high. “And I fix a hell of a lot more than broken cabinets and rickety chairs.”

He found that amusing, chuckling with a snort, which caused his boozy breath to waft in her face. He was tanked.

“Really, Harold. If we could talk, please. I’m here now.”

Grumbling, he widened the door and Kate slipped inside.

She followed him into the living room, noting the cabin-like decorum that conveyed he might be a middle-aged bachelor. The deer head on the wall was wearing a beer funnel hat, straw tubes arching around into its mouth.

Jesus.

“I’ll get right down to it,” she stated the second he faced her and plopped onto the plaid couch. “I have Jenna’s questions here,” she said, yanking free the sheet that contained them. “Who owns Colombia & Partners International LLC? Who was paying you and the others?”

Harold hiccupped and lolled his gaze up at her as if preparing to answer.

Before he could say a word, Kate heard the faint click of a gun being cocked behind her. She whirled around and found Rachel Meadows aiming a revolver at her chest. Behind her and from around the corner, Samuel Yeats stepped into view. He was also holding a gun.

“No one is stealing that interview from me,” declared Rachel. “No one.”

Harold hiccupped again, as he said, “I forgot to mention, Rachel Meadows beat you to the punch.”

In an instant, Kate understood, and she directed her statement to the plucky reporter. “You killed Jenna.”

“No,” she said easily. “I was in Boston.”

“So you convinced Samuel to pull the trigger? That’s what you were arguing about in the news van that day.”

“I built that story,” Rachel said with conviction. “I slaved away, staying up late, working on my own time remotely. And then the network just handed it all over to Jenna since she was the first to drive out to this dump of a town. Why? Because she’s prettier? Because she has a better voice for delivering a story? I don’t think so.”

“Think about what you’re doing,” said Kate. “You’re willing to kill to be the face of a news story meant to expose killers?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” said Samuel. “Rachel, let me take her. I know a back road on the outskirts of town. No one will ever find the body.”

“You think I’m going to let you handle something this important after your screw-up with Jenna?” she yelled.

“Jenna refused to go for a ride,” he protested. “She fought back.”

“Shut up!” she screamed then angled her dark eyes on Kate. “Get on your knees.”

It was the second time in less than a week that Kate was facing death, but this time Jason wasn’t here to save her, and she didn’t see a way out of this.

She grimaced, lowering to her knees and slowly raising her hands in the air.

No sooner than she had, someone pounded on the door and she heard Scott’s distinct voice. “Kate? Kate! I need to talk to you.”

Stunned, Kate’s eyes widened and locked on Rachel.

“That’s my husband, the police chief.”

Rachel advanced on her, pointing the gun at her head. “You had him come here?”

“I didn’t.”

There was more pounding and Scott yelled, “Kate, are you working in there?”

“You have to let me talk to him,” she said. “He’ll break the door down.”

Quickly, Rachel tucked her gun down the back of her skirt suit and Samuel took her cue, hiding his gun, as well.

Kate rushed to the door and threw it open.

“Scott, what are you doing here?”

“I tracked the GPS on your cell,” he said. He looked ill with worry. “I have to talk to you.”

“Okay, but—”

“I hate to interrupt you when you’re working, but—”

“I’m not working,” she said under her breath. She could feel Rachel staring at her.

“I have some really hard news. I’ve known for a day, in fact, and it’s eating me up inside.”

She was only half listening as she stepped out the door to interrupt him.

“Jenna’s killers are inside.”

Scott’s eyes widened with confusion.

“Rachel Meadows and her cameraman, Samuel Yeats,” she breathed. “They’re armed.”

Decisively, Scott drew his weapon. In one fluid motion, he pulled Kate out of the doorway and barreled into the living room with his weapon drawn.

“Freeze!”

Immediately, Kate grabbed her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, as she jogged away from the house. After confirming the police were on the way, she ran back into the house and found Scott handcuffing Rachel. Samuel was already cuffed and seated on the couch, and Harold looked like he had just slipped into a stupor. He probably wouldn’t even remember this.

“I called the police,” she told him, and Scott shot her a nod.

It wasn’t until after the police had arrived to haul the reporter and her cameraman off to jail, and Scott walked with Kate towards his truck, that she saw her son Jason pitched forward in the passenger’s seat. The way he was sitting, she knew in an instant that his hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Oh my God,” she said and rushed towards him, but Scott grabbed her arm.

His eyes were filled with anguish. “I’m so sorry.”

“What have you done?”

“I had to arrest him,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I didn’t have a choice.”

~~~

WRENCHED IN MURDER

Chapter One

For the first time in her life, Kate Flaherty, the token handywoman in all of Rock Ridge, was facing something she knew she couldn’t fix.

Her son Jason was pacing around his jail cell, his fists planted on his hips, his gaze locked on the concrete floor. Kate could almost see his mind racing from where she stared at him through the bars. He kept shaking his head. When he reached one side of the cell, he turned on his heel, and started back. He looked pale, as sick with worry as she felt.

She wanted to demand he meet her at the bars, but he was fuming. He wouldn’t talk. He had to let his emotions out—the rage, the panic, the confusion. She hoped he would calm down soon so she could talk to him. But she knew talking would do more to settle her nerves than his. This was no time to put herself before her son. Being here for him, even as she remained silent, was enough.

Her husband, the Rock Ridge Police Chief, hadn’t explained much about the arrest. Looking back now, Kate admitted that she hadn’t exactly given him the opportunity. She had been shrieking at him, demanding that he release Jason, calling him names, and completely flying off the handle. Scott had soon given up, rounding the front of his truck, climbing in behind the steering wheel without daring to glance at her, and then driving off.

Nearing the bars, peering into the dim cell where Jason was now kicking a steel bench that was bolted to the concrete floor, she cleared her throat.

Quietly, she said, “I’m going to get you the best attorney that I can afford.”

He grimaced, falling still. “You shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

“You need an experienced lawyer. I’ll talk to the Langleys. Since Amelia is no longer under suspicion, I’m sure her attorney is available.” After a beat, she pressed her face between the bars and whispered, “That’s the silver lining here. The reporter was arrested for Donna’s murder.”

Jason offered her a grim smile, but it wavered badly. Finally, he approached the bars. “Scott’s pinned so many charges on me—conspiracy, attempted extortion, drug trafficking, and the list goes on. I’m not exactly in a better position than I would be if it was one murder charge.”

“Don’t say that,” she insisted. “I’ll talk to Scott.”

“And what’s that going to do?” he demanded, throwing his arm up and pacing away from the bars. When he circled back, looking no cooler—his cheeks were flushed with anger, yet his expression still held that sickened grimace—he stated, “Scott is under so much pressure right now, he’s got the entire department breathing down his neck, not to mention he’s being harassed by reporters left and right. He needs to put a face to these crimes to appease the town. And that’s what I am. He’s not going to let me walk out of here.”

“But you didn’t do any of this,” she pointed out, her voice sounding desperate.

“It all ties in to Becky. Don’t you get that, Mom?” He stared at her for a long beat, searching her eyes. “As long as Becky remains missing, I remain the prime suspect. Scott’s always thought I was behind her kidnapping.” He snorted a disgusted laugh then went on. “And with all the other crimes surfacing, the drugs and the conspiracy, Scott’s just making things convenient, linking every crime to Becky, which he’s pinning on me. I’m caught in a hell of a spider’s web.”

“Well where the hell is she?” she asked, frustrated.

Jason fell silent, appearing suddenly exhausted. He shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

Kate pitched her fists on her hips, staring down at the floor in deep thought. She was motivated, now more than ever, to locate Becky Langley. Though overwhelmed, she told herself that ever since Becky had been snatched from the house that morning, Kate hadn’t focused on finding her. As the weeks rolled on, Kate had often gotten sidetracked, investigating the various murders that had been plaguing Rock Ridge.

This time would be different. She would use every spare second she had to get to the bottom of this. She would not let her son rot in a jail cell or go to prison for crimes he didn’t commit.

She told him, “I’m going to get you a lawyer. I’m going to force Scott to let you out of here. I’m going to find Becky. And before you know it, this will all be behind us, nothing more than a nightmare you’ve woken up from.”

In a tired voice, Jason said, “Okay,” but his eyes told her that he had very little hope. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. From where Kate was standing, Jason didn’t seem to trust Becky. To whatever capacity she was behind this, it had been no mistake that Jason was now taking the fall. Gradually, he offered, “Don’t worry about me, Mom.” He glanced around the cell. “It’s not pleasant, but it’s not going to kill me. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re strong,” she agreed. “I know you’ll be okay.”

Jason wrapped his hand around one of the bars and Kate covered her hand over his, giving him a squeeze and a warm rub before starting through the cells to the exit.

As she rounded through, she nodded curtly at the security guard who was watching the door and padded through the precinct. She avoided looking at the police officers who were staring at her as she made her way to Scott’s office. Officer Garrison told her that he was sorry, and she shot him a tight smile but nothing more.

Scott’s office door was closed, so she pounded on it. In response, he barked, “Come in.”

His eyes rounded, his white brow lifting, as she stepped into the room. He looked remorseful, but also guarded. She knew him well enough to expect Scott would give her a lot of excuses and very few answers. She hadn’t seen the hard-boiled cop side of him in quite a while, but as it emerged in his expression, it seemed like no time at all had lapsed since the last time his face had hardened.

Usually the best defense was an aggressive offense, but with Scott that tactic wouldn’t work. She eased into the chair across from him and kept her tone soft and steady, saying, “Help me understand this.”

Scott let out a carefully measured breath and clasped his hands on the desk, leaning forward. “We’ve been building a case against Jason for a while now.”

“Based on what?” She hadn’t meant to sound shrill, but the revelation was alarming. She had been coming home every night to this man? Sleeping in the same bed and cuddling on the couch as him, all while he had been angling to arrest her son? She felt betrayed.

“Based on pure suspicion at first,” he admitted. “It never added up to any of us here at the department that Jason didn’t have any drugs in his system after he claimed to have been drugged by the kidnapper.”

She wanted to cry. Scott was really latching on to that old discrepancy?

“But the real clincher here,” he went on, “is that Ashley named him.”

Ashley, the young receptionist from Over the Moon who had also been kidnapped, or so it had seemed... Kate had discovered the woman at Donna Kramer’s house and she most certainly had not been taken against her will. The problem was that, in fact, Jason had been involved with the ploy to sneak Ashley out of town and into the drug ring. Kate, herself, had found an envelope underneath the welcome mat outside Jason’s house. In it had been a key and two addresses, implying that his job was to move Ashley from one location to the next. But what Scott didn’t understand was that Jason had involved himself as a means of getting closer to Becky, to get to the bottom of this, to take the whole drug ring down.

As Kate stared at Scott, she reasoned not to press this point. She had already explained, in emphatic detail, that Ashley was one of the bad guys. If Scott hadn’t believed her when he had come to recover Ashley, he wasn’t going to listen to her now.

Instead, she delved into the one angle that would give her a decent shot of getting Jason out of that jail cell.

“I know why Rachel Meadows killed Jenna Johansen,” she stated. “Jenna had found evidence of a company paying individuals who are involved in the drug ring. Jenna had set up an interview with one of those individuals, Harold, from the Langleys’ mustard facility.”

“I realize all of that,” said Scott.

Interrupting him, she pulled the bank statement from her back pocket. “But you haven’t seen this,” she said, urgently laying the bank statement on Scott’s desk for him to review. Kate tapped her finger on the company name in the upper left corner and read, “Colombia & Partners International. Now, look at these names.” She proceeded to point out each recipient—Clifford Green, Donna Kramer, Drake Kramer, and the rest. Then she pressed her finger on Becky’s name. “Don’t you see? Colombia & Partners is behind this. Becky is in on it. And you know whose name doesn’t appear anywhere on the thirteen-page bank statement? My son’s.”

Scott took the bank statement, leaning back in his chair and eyeing it over more carefully.

“You can talk to Harold,” she suggested. “Ask him the questions that Jenna had planned to. You could easily get to the bottom of this.”

“Harold’s in the drunk tank downstairs,” he mentioned offhandedly, and it didn’t surprise Kate. Harold had quite the drinking problem, and it would likely be hours before he was sober. “And yes, I’m planning on talking to him.”

“Bottom line,” she said, “Jason’s name isn’t on there. He never accepted a wire payment, because he’s not a part of this thing. For Christ’s sake, Grant Conover is listed,” she blurted out, exasperated that Scott was still reading the transactions over and not barreling over to the jail cell to release her son. “You know who that is, right? The prison warden. Scott,” she said, leaning over his desk and forcing him to grant her eye contact, “you’re right that this is a huge conspiracy, but you’re wrong about Jason.”

“I’ll look into this,” he said, indicated the bank statement, though his tone struck her as aloof.

“What don’t you believe?” she challenged. “Let my son go.”

“Kate, I’m not going to coddle you,” he warned. “This is a solid lead. And I’m with you in terms of trusting that whoever owns this company is behind this thing.” He stood, angling over his desk, and she had to take a step back before they came nose to nose. “I don’t know that Jason doesn’t own this company.”

“You’re insane!”

Scott swallowed hard, composing himself.

“I’m going to give you your space,” he declared.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t see us living under the same roof until this case is completely closed.”

She felt her jaw dropping, but snapped it shut, gritting her teeth. Soon her lower lip began quivering, so she bit it. “You’re turning your back on me?”

He sighed and a shred of humanity melted his hardened expression. But he didn’t confirm or deny what he was doing.

Why was she surprised he would propose separating? She should’ve seen this coming. He wasn’t protecting their family or Jason. He was tearing it apart for the sake of his career. She told herself that a little time apart would be best, but deep down her stomach was bottoming out and her heart ached.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Where are you going to be staying?”

He frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “Reporters have booked just about every room in this town, so I can’t be sure. Possibly Over the Moon, if Amelia can do me the favor.” Kate snorted a laugh. She doubted either of the Langleys would jump to help Scott. “Maybe the Holiday Inn just outside of town. I’ll come by the house tonight to get a few things.”

What could she say except to agree?

She turned for the door, but he stopped her, saying, “We’re going to be okay, Katydid. We’ll get through this.”

She glared at him over her shoulder, refusing to do him the courtesy of facing him fully. “If my son ends up in prison, I promise you, we will never be okay.”

She slammed the door on the way out and felt the overwhelming urge to collapse, but she pressed on, holding her head high and making her way through the precinct. She stepped out into the hot evening air where birds were chirping happily and laughter billowed from down the sidewalk as residents went for their evening strolls, blissfully unaware of her anguish. It was like a slap in the face. She wished it would rain.

As she started for her truck, a cluster of reporters rushed towards her from out of nowhere. She quickened her pace, but they soon swarmed her, thrusting their microphones in her face, angling their cameras on her, the lights atop blindingly bright. They were yelling so many questions, she couldn’t make sense of it.

“Did you know your son Jason Flaherty was the drug kingpin?”

“Are you facing aiding and abetting charges?”

“Will the crime in Rock Ridge stop now that Jason is behind bars?”

Kate shoved them away and yelled, “No comment!” She forced her way through the crowd and was so disoriented that when she reached the passenger’s side door, she made no attempt to round her truck, but rather dove in the vehicle and slammed the door shut.

Awkward as she landed, she wriggled across the seats, bending her legs and fitting them under the steering wheel. The reporters were surrounding the car, and as Kate inserted her key into the ignition, she had to beg herself not to run the lot of them over.

She pinched her eyes shut and turned the engine. It growled and settled into a quiet purr. When she opened her eyes, the reporters were still there, so she leaned on the horn and put her truck in gear.

“Don’t test me,” she grumbled, tapping the gas and the brake in manic alternation. Her truck kept bucking forward in response. It did just the trick. The reporters scrambled backwards, watching their toes, and Kate was able to roll off into the street.

She didn’t breathe deeply until she had driven a few blocks. There weren’t any news vans in her rearview mirror. The reporters weren’t following her, thank God, but that didn’t mean they weren’t camped out at her house, ready to steal their stories.

Luckily, when she reached the long and winding driveway to her house and peered through the sparse trees, she didn’t spy any reporters loitering at her house.

As she gunned it up the long driveway, it suddenly occurred to her that the drug used on Jason the morning of Becky’s so-called abduction could’ve been something off the streets of Colombia…Colombia & Partners International...maybe the company was literally located in Colombia. It was more than possible that a Colombian company could smuggle in Colombian sedatives, as well as cocaine. What if American drug tests didn’t cover a full range of international drugs? What if Jason’s system had been flooded with a drug that the Rock Ridge hospital couldn’t test for?

The notion excited her, but as she pulled up to the house and killed the engine, she realized there was virtually nothing she could do with her hunch. Scott wouldn’t believe her. And even if she poked around the hospital, investigating the particular drug test Jason had been administered, it wouldn’t reveal the actual drug that had been used on him.

If anything, Kate needed to keep close tabs on every individual listed on that bank statement who wasn’t already dead. It would be the only way to locate Becky, and in the process she just might learn a thing or two about the drugs being smuggled in and sold, as well as the sedative drug used on Jason.

Grant Conover, the prison warden, came to mind. Dean had mentioned he was getting in good with Grant. And Kate trusted Dean. If she could plan things out carefully with the mayor, she might be able to get some record of Grant’s involvement, as well as everything the crooked warden knew about Colombia & Partners International.

Kate made her way to the door, while ignoring her vibrating cell phone. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to talk to them.

But after keying in and disarming the security alarm, which she had finally decided to start using, her curiosity got the best of her and she checked to see who had called.

It had been Carly.

Kate felt badly that she hadn’t picked up. Surely all of Rock Ridge had heard about Jason’s arrest, and because of it, her best friend was probably concerned. But she just didn’t have it in her to clue Carly in on the myriad details or go over the faulty logic Scott had used to put her son in jail.

When she reached the kitchen, she was craving both coffee and wine. She reasoned that coffee would be the better choice, so she flipped the cabinet open to grab the canister of dark roast. But as soon as the wooden door swung open, its upper hinge popped off the frame, causing the weight of it to drop. She caught it and watched the small screw bounce and rattle in the sink.

“Damn,” she grumbled. The only thing she wanted to fix right now was Jason’s life.

Careful not to strain the lower hinge, which appeared to be loose, as well, she eased the door closed, held it there with one hand, and used the other to fish around her overall pockets. She had dropped a hair elastic in one of the pockets a while back, but she couldn’t remember if it had been this pair of overalls or the one with shorts.

She sighed a breath of relief to feel the elastic against her fingertips. Quickly, she twisted the band around the cabinet knob, as well as its twin, which braced the doors together, giving her just enough time to pad out to her truck, grab her tool kit from the truck bed, and hurry back to the kitchen.

“You couldn’t have broken after I made my pot of coffee?” she asked the door as she plucked a screwdriver out of her tool kit.

It wasn’t easy to hold the cabinet door, while pinching the screw out of the sink. She used her shoulder to hold the door up, fit her screwdriver into the screw-back, and began twisting the little bugger through the hinge.

Once she fastened it tightly, she tightened the screws on the lower hinge, and tested the hold, drawing the cabinet open and closed a number of times. It would hold, she decided, finally grabbing the canister from the shelf and putting on a fresh pot of coffee.

As it percolated, she checked the refrigerator for a bottle of crisp white wine, but remembered Scott and she had finished the chardonnay she was thinking of a good week ago.

Should she pour a glass of red?

The real question was, would she want to be here when Scott comes home in a few hours? Did she really want to watch him pack up his things and leave for a hotel? If she settled in with a glass of wine it could easily lead to two, and then she would be grounded in the house. Kate never drove her truck after she had been drinking.

She sighed and told herself that a cup of coffee would be enough for the time being. After filling her mug and slipping the carafe back onto the burner, she made her way into the living room and eased onto the couch.

Again her cell phone began vibrating, and when she checked it, she saw that it was Carly. Maybe she would save the phone call for when Scott arrived. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to yell at him or plead with him. Carly would keep her sane, or at least distracted.

As soon as she brought her mug to her lips, smelling the rich aroma of dark roast and feeling the sweet steam on her cheeks, there came a knock at the front door.

She stole a quick sip, nonetheless, then set the mug on the coffee table in favor of seeing who was at the door.

Cautiously—she reasoned she could never be too careful these days—she asked, “Who is it?”

“Mom? It’s Jared!”

She opened the door, and as soon as she saw her son, Kate threw her arms around him.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, urging her back.

As he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, Kate began resetting the security alarm. “I wish I could make sense of it.” She led him into the living room and reclaimed her coffee mug. “Coffee?”

He frowned. “Why did Scott arrest Jason? This is ludicrous.”

“I agree,” she said in a defeated tone. “The truth will come out eventually.”

“Will it?” he demanded. “That’s it,” he went on, “I’m going to pressure Dean to call in the Feds. Scott’s obviously lost his mind, and he can’t handle an investigation of this magnitude. A call from the mayor will get the FBI here. It’s the only way.”

“Slow down, Jared.” If Kate thought the reporters were bad now, and they certainly were, an FBI presence would only attract more of them. Not to mention she couldn’t be sure the FBI would arrive at a better conclusion than Scott had. “I’m in the process of finding Jason a good attorney. The right lawyer will easily dismantle whatever proof Scott thinks he has. Even if this thing goes to trial—”

“I’m not worried about a trial,” he cut in, then growled in aggravation. “I don’t want my brother sitting in a jail cell for the next six months until a trial, which by the way, I can’t even think about or else my head will explode.”

Ordinarily, Kate wasn’t one to encourage drinking, but if anyone needed a little help taking the razor-sharp edge off, it was Jared. She rounded into the kitchen, found a bottle of Shiraz, and popped the cork. It wasn’t until she returned to the living room with the bottle and a glass in hand that she poured a generous serving and handed it to her son.

“I’m driving,” he said, staring at the wine glass, as she held it out for him to take.

“You can stay here tonight,” she offered.

“And get in the middle of whatever blowout you and Scott have coming over this.”

Kate let out a stuttering sigh and admitted, “We already had our blowout. He’ll be back later, but only to pack some things.”

Jared’s jaw dropped. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We haven’t talked really. He thinks it would be best if he stays someplace else while he’s working with the district attorney, and I can’t blame him. I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as someone who’s trying to lock my son up.”

“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry.” Jared looked pained for her and took the glass of wine.

They drank in silence for a long moment, Jared gulping his wine and Kate taking small sips of her coffee that was still piping hot. When Kate realized she was still standing, she lowered to the couch. Following her lead, Jared took up in a sofa chair.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, breaking the heavy silence. “You can keep me calm when Scott gets back.”

Jared shot her a devious smile. “Like you think I’m going to be calm about this, myself?”

“Oh boy,” she said, nervously gulping her coffee until she drained the mug. She plucked the wine bottle off the coffee table and filled her mug, which wasn’t her brightest idea. When she took a sip, the wine tasted both warm and coffee like. She had to laugh.

“What?”

“This is disgusting,” she mumbled, heading for the kitchen where she set the mug in the sink and grabbed a long-stem wine glass.

Jared was ready on the quick with the bottle and poured Shiraz into her glass.

“Not that I want to help the guy,” he said, setting the bottle on the coffee table, “but Scott could stay at Jared’s house.”

“Jared would be furious,” she countered then quickly realized Jason’s house was, in fact, entirely vacant. She had never hunted around his home, and he had never told her the finer details of who within the drug ring he had gotten close to during his effort to find Becky. She sprung to her feet, realizing this. “I need to go out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“You’re welcome to stay.” She was already padding towards the foyer, and when she reached it, she disarmed the alarm.

“Mom? Where are you going?” he demanded, trailing after her.

“I’ll just be an hour.”

Catching her arm as she turned for the door, he insisted, “Mom!”

“I want to have a look around Jason’s house. Wouldn’t you?”

“You can’t go off alone,” he stated. “I’m coming with you.”

The look of ironclad determination in his eyes told her she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She pulled the door open.

The second she motioned to step outside, a deafening spray of gunfire arched across the landing.

Kate screamed, shuffling back into Jared, but she managed to slam the door, as bullets pelted against it.

Over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard tires screeching outside, dirt and gravel kicking up and a screaming engine as the attacking vehicle tore down her driveway.

“What in God’s name was that?” Jared asked, out of breath and trembling.

Kate eased the door open a crack and peered out at the darkness.

It was quiet.

Widening the door, her jaw dropped at the sight of bullet holes.

Her eyes locked with Jared’s, and he said, “Scott’s truck isn’t outside.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. Kate knew exactly what her son had implied.

The assault had been meant for her.

Chapter Two

By the time her alarm started blaring the next morning, Kate had barely slept three hours. She groaned at the thought of climbing out of bed. Rolling onto her back, she thwacked the snooze button on the clock radio, but knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Besides, five extra minutes wouldn’t fix the fact that her muscles felt like cement. Grumbling, she whipped the comforter aside and didn’t get out of bed so much as roll off the edge and land with a thud to the carpet.

Last night had been long and arduous. After calling the police, the full cavalry had arrived, Scott leading the charge. Of course, he had muscled his way through the investigation, ordering his men to direct forensics and ballistics, as they set up giant work lights. They combed for shell casings in order to identify the weapon. They took countless photos of the tire tracks along the driveway.

In the commotion, Kate hadn’t realized the first thing the assailant had shot at was the security camera angled over the front door. Despite this, she had high hopes that there would at least be some good footage of the vehicle creeping up the driveway. Scott had assured her he would look into it. It was one of the few things he had said to her.

Jared had been a nervous wreck, which had mirrored her general state. When finally the police had begun to clear out around four in the morning—an effort that ended up taking them nearly an hour—Jared had insisted she stay at his house. “People want you dead,” he had told her, his eyes round and pleading. “You can’t be alone!”

But Kate had refused. This was her house—her home. No one would scare her out of it.

Once every last police officer had cleared out, Jared had reluctantly driven home. Scott—the last to leave—had offered her a parting smirk that sunk her heart, and it was then that Kate realized what the bullet spray had truly revealed.

Whoever was at the top of this twisted pyramid wasn’t pleased Jason had been arrested.

But why?

Kate would’ve thought that Jason’s arrest would be to the drug ring’s benefit. He was its scapegoat. He would take the fall so they wouldn’t have to. Who would take issue with that?

It was curious, but not more so than the possibility that Kate had been attacked, nearly killed, not because of Jason’s clandestine involvement with the drug ring, but because she posed a direct threat to the kingpins. Had her reputation for being a sleuth investigator gotten so far around town that the person behind this mess actually feared what she might do?

It was possible, which meant she was getting close.

Of course, she functioned with a general sense that she was completely in the dark, so she felt frustrated to no end.

But she would keep pushing.

This wasn’t going to end with Jason going to prison. It would end when the bad guys were exposed and the entire network of drug peddlers were taken down.

As determined as she felt on this front, nothing about her demeanor that morning conveyed it. She dragged herself into the kitchen, stumbled through making a pot of coffee, and barely had the energy to fry a few eggs.

At least she would be working alone today. If she slogged through the morning, no one would be the wiser since she was scheduled to work on Justina’s apartment building.

After choking down a few runny eggs—she hadn’t the patience to fry them through and through—and drinking two cups of coffee, she packed up the coffeemaker and set it along with her coffee canister on the floorboard in front of the passenger’s seat. She climbed up behind the steering wheel and started off, driving south when she reached the heart of Rock Ridge.

Before she knew it, she was pulling along the curb in front of Justina’s apartment building. The concept of fixing the place up was daunting, but Kate reminded herself she would take it one repair at a time, as she rounded the back of her truck and grabbed her tool kit, the coffeemaker, and canister of dark roast.

Inside, the morning light hadn’t yet poured in through the windows of the first apartment. She made her way into the kitchen and tended to her first priority—getting a fresh pot to brew.

As it percolated, she stalked towards the center of the room. It was a studio apartment, and though Justina had suggested that Kate simply roll down some wall-to-wall carpeting to hide the shabby wooden floor, Kate had a much better idea. She could tile the floor as a means to differentiate the bedroom area from the living room. Then she could rent a floor buffer from Larry at Grayson’s, to buff out the bedroom portion.

Just because ex-cons were going to be living here, didn’t mean she shouldn’t give this job her all. Kate prided herself on the high level of care she brought to every repair. She vowed that by the time she was done with this unit, it would look like the kind of place she, herself, would be happy to live in.

The coffeemaker sputtered on the kitchen counter and a puff of steam shot up the back, indicating the pot had brewed.

As she poured a mug, the aromas reviving her already, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

It was Carly.

If her best friend had been concerned for her welfare before, Carly was probably aching to speak with her now. Kate had been shot at, after all. Certainly, her friend had heard the news.

She swiped the LCD screen, accepting the call, but before she could get a greeting out, Carly blurted out, “Why haven’t you returned my calls? You know I’m worried sick over here!”

“I know. I’m so sorry,” she said, eyeing the dark liquid in her mug.

“You can’t isolate!” she asserted. “Not at a time like this.” Sighing, Carly let her anger go. “Are you all right? I heard your house got shot up last night.”

“I’m fine, and so is Jared,” she quickly offered to put her friend at ease.

It backfired.

“I doubt you’re fine, Kate. No one would be fine after something like that.”

“I mean I’m fine physically.”

“I really don’t think you should be alone—”

“Well, I work alone. I’m a one-woman show.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she hissed. “I’m talking about you staying in that house all by yourself. I heard Scott checked into Over the Moon in the wee hours. Are you guys okay?”

“How can we be? You heard about Jason.”

It was only an assumption, but a fair one. And, of course, Carly had heard.

“I think Scott’s making a mistake,” her friend went on.

“Of course he’s making a mistake.”

“I mean about checking into Over the Moon, but yes, I doubt Jason is the mastermind behind all this. Scott should be with you, if not at all times, then at least through the nights. You’re vulnerable alone in that house!”

“That house is a fortress and you know it,” she countered. “Greg had installed state-of-the-art security technology. I’m pretty sure the front door is bulletproof, as well as the windows. If I’m safe anywhere, it’s inside. My error was opening the front door.”

“You can’t be a prisoner in your own home,” she pointed out.

“And I’m not going to be. I’m already at work—”

“Christ, where?” she demanded. “Take a few days off, for God’s sake.”

“I’d go insane. I’m fine here. I’m renovating Justina’s new apartment building—”

“Where criminals are planning on living?” Carly sounded irate, which was the last thing Kate needed right now.

“Carly, I appreciate the call, but I have to let you go.”

“When can we get together? You want to come over for dinner tonight? Get your mind off things? Larry’s getting pretty excited about our second honeymoon,” she said, and Kate could hear the smile in her voice. “He’s been making lookbooks.”

“What’s a lookbook?”

“It’s basically a scrapbook, vision board of how he wants our honeymoon to go.”

Kate had to laugh because she couldn’t see Larry doing such a thing. He was a tough, though kind, working-class guy, who was more expert at laying drywall than being romantic.

“I’ll get back to you on that one,” she said finally. “Hey, thanks for the call.”

“Be safe, Kate. I don’t know who these people are, but they’re not messing around. Enough people have died in this town. If anything were to happen to you...” she trailed off, getting choked up.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she promised and again thanked her for the call.

When she finally hung up, she dropped her cell into the front pocket of her overalls and drank a good portion of her coffee.

Kate refilled her mug and then padded over to a stack of tiles she had set down near the windows days ago. As she sipped the dark roast, she eyed the materials, wrapping her head around the most productive course of action, but was soon distracted.

She heard voices whispering in the hallway just beyond the apartment door, which she hadn’t shut entirely.

It sounded like two men. Their voices grew louder, as she stepped quietly towards the door.

“I’m not doing this, man,” said one of the men, his voice trembling. “I want out.”

“Are you crazy?” the other man asked, his voice pitching up with alarm. “The middle of this pyramid is thinning out. They’re all getting killed. This is the opportunity, man! They need more guys, don’t you get it? They’re not going to pull in strangers, they’re going to promote from the bottom. This is our chance! We don’t have to be at the bottom of the food chain anymore. All we have to do is rise to the occasion!”

The other man groaned. “I don’t know…I already feel like a slave. I don’t need to be a better paid one.”

“Then you’re missing your own point. If you’re a slave then you know there’s no getting out of this, and you’re right. There isn’t. You might as well get a bigger cut of the pie.”

Kate was itching to hear them be more specific. She winced, as she widened the crack in the door, praying that the hinges wouldn’t creak. Placing her left eye to the inch she had created, she could clearly see one of the men—the one who was reluctant to upgrade his role in the drug ring.

Short and stalky, he wore a hard hat, beat-up jeans and work boots. A flannel shirt was tied around his waist, and there were dark pit stains on his dingy, white tee shirt. She guessed he was about thirty years old, or maybe in his late twenties. His skin looked weathered, but she figured that was less an indication of age than lifestyle. She smelled stale cigarettes and was fairly certain it was coming from the pair of them.

“Mark my words,” said the man beyond Kate’s view. “Another bigwig is about to fall. If we don’t jump on this, the moment will pass.”

Another bigwig? Who? Was he referring to Jason? Was he that misinformed? Or were the drug kingpins planning another murder? And if so, who?

Kate hoped they would elaborate and reveal the name or names of the higher-ups. Maybe, if she heard a name, she could confirm that they owned Colombia & Partners International, get the information to Scott, and completely exonerate her son.

But their conversation shifted. “Let’s get our stuff,” said the pushier of the two. “They’re going to start renting out these units. We can’t hole up here anymore.”

Grumbling, the hesitant man followed his leader up the dusty wooden stairs, and it wasn’t until Kate heard them reach the landing, boots stomping around the corner and into the hallway, that she widened the door and tiptoed after them, taking the stairs two at a time, her coffee mug in hand all the while.

When she reached the landing, she crouched, duck-walking around the corner until she was able to peer at the men. It wasn’t lost on her that she was acting ridiculously. If anyone had a right to be here, it was Kate and not the pair of ex-cons who clearly worked for Dean at the amusement park. But she couldn’t take any chances. What if these were the men who had shot at her last night, proving their commitment to the drug lords?

The reluctant man seemed to be coming around, as he picked up a cardboard box overflowing with personal items—unfolded shirts, a few books with dog-eared corners, a stick of deodorant that fell to the floor. He picked it up and returned it to his box, saying, “I’m afraid of her, man. I want to sign up for this, but she scared the living crap out of me. She plays the long game, don’t you get that?” When the other man didn’t respond, he went on to point out, “She got some fool to fall in love with her, that’s how long a game she’s playing. Day in and day out she’s building a life with someone, and in the back of her mind she knows she’s going to throw him under the bus at the perfect moment, draw the cops’ attention away, so she can make her final move. That’s some dark stuff, my friend. Why are you fighting to work for her?”

“Because,” he hissed, angling over the other man. Kate realized he had to be at least 6-foot-4. He was built like an ox. “She’s going to get this operation back on track. She’s sick of being used, just like us. She’s going to overthrow them, and when she does, she’s going to need guys like us, loyal guys to be her right- and left-hand men.”

“I don’t know,” the other man said for the millionth time.

“You don’t have to know, not yet. Come to the meeting tonight at nine. Listen to her plan. You’ll get onboard.”

They shifted in her direction and Kate quickly leapt down the stairs so as not to be seen. Her steps weren’t as quiet as she would’ve liked, but soon she was ducking into the apartment on the first floor and spying them trail down the staircase.

As she watched them, she kept wondering. What’s the address of the meeting?

Neither said it, but when the aggressive man spoke, it gave her enough of an indication. “You like shooting guns, right?”

Kate knew where the meeting was going to take place.

Drake’s Firing Line.

And Becky would be there.

Chapter Three

Jared had called twice and Jason called once as the morning ticked into the early afternoon. Both her boys were concerned about how she was holding up. While she appreciated them checking in—Jason, especially—she didn’t want them fussing over her.

She gathered her tools, returning them to her tool kit, and then collected the materials that were scattered across the studio apartment, stacking tiles that she would lay after lunch.

After locking the apartment door behind her, tool kit in hand, she listened out for anyone who might have drifted into the building, but heard nothing. Gillian O’Reilly, one of the ex-cons who was actively turning her life around, had mentioned to Kate that the rear of the building had a cellar door that had been busted open. It was how the convicts had been getting into the building to sleep.

Kate would need to repair the lock or figure out a way to keep the door closed and the building secure. But that wasn’t how she wanted to spend her lunch break. She made a mental note to tend to the repair after getting some food and fresh air.

Before making her way out to her truck, she set her tool kit on the stoop and locked the entrance door. She gave the door a hard push then a pull, making sure it was fastened shut.

A gust of warm wind rolled down the street, as she padded to the bed of her truck and set her tool kit down. Today would be the perfect day to go for a swim, not that she had time. She frowned at the thought. The only lake in Rock Ridge was on the old campsite grounds, and now that the area was under construction as the amusement park gradually rose, she wasn’t sure who would be able to go for an easy swim. Would Dean wall off the lake? Or would he fashion a beach, hire lifeguards, and encourage people to swim? She didn’t like the idea of residents having to pay an admission fare just to enjoy the lake that had been free to them their whole lives.

So much of this town was changing. She wondered if she would even be able to recognize it in a few years’ time.

Climbing up behind the wheel and shutting the door, her promise to Jason came to mind. She needed to find the best lawyer she could afford and retain him or her for Jason’s defense. With the right attorney, her son could be released on bail.

She decided to get ahold of Amelia. Since all charges had been dropped regarding Donna Kramer’s murder, the real killers having been arrested, Amelia’s attorney should be available. Kate dialed the front desk at Over the Moon, and Gillian picked up on the first ring.

“It’s Kate,” she said as soon as Gillian’s raspy voice came through.

“Hey!” she said happily, but her tone soon dropped. “I can connect you with Scott’s room, but he’s already left for the day.”

“Oh,” said Kate, feeling thrown off her axis. “So he’s staying there? You guys had a spare room?”

“Yeah, isn’t that why you’re calling?”

“No, actually. Is Amelia around?”

It sounded like Gillian was lowering the phone and rising to her feet as if to peer into the lounge. When she returned to the phone, she said, “She isn’t here. I’m holding down the fort since she needed a break. I think she’s at home, or she will be. She left about ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, I’ll try her at home, thanks.” Gillian murmured then groaned, plopping into her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“I ate way too much mustard. There’s so much mustard here. Ugh.”

Kate chuckled and told her to eat some bread.

“Thanks again for recommending me,” said Gillian before letting her go.

Kate contemplated her options. She could give Amelia a heads up before driving over, but something was telling her to simply show up. Her relationship with Amelia had suffered its ups and downs, and the woman often bristled when Kate was around. She hadn’t seen Amelia since Jason was arrested, and she really couldn’t guess how the innkeeper had taken the news. Would she believe the right man had been caught? If so, Amelia would regard Kate as the mother of the culprit who had abducted her daughter. Yet, it was possible Amelia would be in agreement with Jason’s innocence.

She reasoned that she might as well tell her that she would be stopping by, so that’s what Kate did, as she pulled out into the road and accelerated.

The Langelys’ house could best be described as a mansion. White, Grecian pillars held the stately portico up, framing the grand entrance door. The house was lined with planters, roses in bloom, and as Kate neared the door, she heard the frenetic thwacks of the sprinklers shooting water across the yard.

She rang the bell and took a step back, as someone on the other side padded through the foyer to answer.

When the door drew inward, Kate was faced with a tired-looking woman in a maid’s uniform.

“Can I help you?”

“It’s Kate Flaherty for Amelia. I saw her car in the driveway,” she said, just in case the maid had been instructed to turn all guests away.

“Come in,” she said on a sigh, widening the door, which she closed as soon as Kate had entered. “Amelia’s in the drawing room.”

Kate followed the maid through the foyer and then crossed the lofty living room. Midway down a marble corridor they rounded into the drawing room, which, in Kate’s estimation, was a library replete with leather sofa chairs and matching settees. The walls were mahogany and Civil War-era portraits hung on either side of a fireplace. Amelia was sitting on the couch. A cup of tea rested on the oak coffee table in front of her, and just as she was reaching for the steaming teacup, Kate caught her eye.

“Ms. Kate Flaherty here to see you,” the maid announced, to which Amelia gave her a tight smile then waved, excusing her from the room.

As soon as the maid drew the drawing room door closed, affording them privacy, Amelia’s smile drooped. “I heard about Jason,” she stated. It was neither a condolence nor an “I told you so.”

“Yes, he was arrested. That’s why I’m here.” Kate hesitated when she reached a sofa chair, but Amelia gestured for her to have a seat and she did. “I know he isn’t guilty.”

The woman’s eyebrows floated up to her hairline.

“I take it you think he did it?”

Amelia sighed, taking her teacup into her lap. “If the Rock Ridge police had enough to arrest him, then they have enough to prove he did it.”

“And the same was said of you after Donna Kramer’s murder. Sometimes the police get it wrong.”

“But the truth always comes out eventually,” she corrected, revealing a clever smirk.

“I’m sure you’re right about that. You must be relieved that Scott dropped the murder charge, cleared your name.”

“I am.”

“Look, I’ll cut to the point. I need to get Jason the best attorney available, and now that yours isn’t occupied with your case...?”

“Kate,” she smiled as if trying to communicate with a child who wouldn’t understand, “do you have any idea how expensive Bart Vaughn is? Lance and I do quite all right between Langley Mustard and Over the Moon, and it was a stretch for us to cover his retainer. I doubt you’ll be able to afford him.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said impatiently, trying not to be offended, even though that was clearly Amelia’s intention. “Bart Vaughn, you say? What law firm is he with?”

“He has his own private practice under his name. He’s listed,” she allowed, then took a sip of her tea.

Kate told herself to get going. She had the attorney’s name, and she could give him a call and get the ball rolling. But she couldn’t seem to rise to her feet. Amelia’s daughter was the reason Kate’s son was in jail. There had to be a way to get to the bottom of this.

“I know we’ve had our fair share of friction in the past,” she began. Amelia snorted, which Kate didn’t appreciate. “Back when Becky went missing, why didn’t you tell the police about her criminal record?”

The woman nearly choked on her tea. She began coughing and set the teacup on the coffee table. When she lifted her eyes to Kate, they were wide with abject horror. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Amelia. You can’t play this off. I found out about her record, about how she did time. I also found out she had been receiving wire payments from a company called Colombia & Partners International, the very company that’s most likely behind the drug operation that has corrupted this town.”

“How do you do it?” she asked, appearing impressed if not alarmed. “How do you find out these things?”

“Because I never give up,” Kate said easily. “Do you know about Colombia & Partners—”

“No!” she insisted. She let out a shuddering sigh and added, “Of course Lance and I knew about her criminal record, but Becky had completely turned her life around the second she got out of prison. Lance and I nearly spent a fortune covering her record up so she could get into college. And while she was at school, she was a perfect angel. We had every reason to trust her and absolutely no reason to believe her abduction had anything to do with that old, crooked life of hers.”

“Except that she wasn’t abducted,” Kate pointed out. “She’s involved with the drug ring. She attempted to extort money from you and Lance, and the deal got thwarted when Tommy Barkow, wanting out, tried to blow up Lance.”

“Why would she try to extort money from us if she was receiving wire payments from this Colombia company, as you say?”

“Because,” Kate began, remembering what she had overheard between the two ex-con construction workers at Justina’s building, “Becky wants out, too. But not out of the drug life, just out from under the higher-ups at Colombia & Partners International. She’s working to steal the operation out from under them.”

“I refuse to believe my daughter would do such a thing.”

“Well she is,” she insisted. “And she’s quite good at it. She managed to frame Jason.”

“How dare you come into my home and—”

“Has she been in touch? Has she come back here?”

Amelia’s jaw dropped. “My daughter is being held somewhere against her will.”

“If that were true, there would’ve been a second attempt at collecting ransom,” she pointed out. “There would’ve also been...and I hate to say this...a body. She would’ve been killed. That’s how it works when kidnappers don’t get what they want.”

Reluctantly, Amelia admitted, “No, she hasn’t been back here. I’m just as in the dark as you, if not more so, since you’ve obviously dug up a great deal of information that I knew nothing about.”

Kate studied her expression. Amelia was being truthful. She was a bitter, difficult woman, but she wasn’t lying.

Amelia let out a distressed groan, staring into her teacup that now rested in her lap. “I don’t believe Becky would do any of that,” she muttered in a defeated tone. “I can’t believe it. She was doing so well.” She lifted her eyes, meeting Kate’s. “She even maintained a relationship with the prison warden. He’s such a caring man. He kept tabs on Becky and kept her walking the straight and narrow.”

“Grant Conover?” Kate asked to confirm the name.

“Yes, you know him?”

Kate sighed, dreading having to reveal another piece of bad news. “Grant Conover was also receiving wire payments from Colombia & Partners. He was dirty.”

Amelia’s mouth drifted open with shock.

“My number one priority right now is finding Becky. I have a decent lead. She might show up at a location tonight, but I need a fail-safe. I need to know where she’s staying in case she never makes it tonight.”

“And you think I know where she is? I don’t know anything.”

Kate allowed, “I don’t think you know where she is. But you know your daughter. Where would she hide out? Where would she go if she didn’t want to be spotted, but couldn’t leave Rock Ridge?”

Her effort to think it through seemed honest, her brow furrowing and eyes shifting as though she were flipping through a series of memories. But when Amelia once again met Kate’s gaze, her expression looked drawn, pale, and blank. “I just don’t know.”

“She was close with Grant Conover?” Kate asked, and as Amelia nodded, she said to herself, “I wonder where he lives....”

Amelia’s eyes misted over with tears. “I don’t want my baby going back to prison.”

Kate felt for her. The anguish she saw in Amelia’s face matched her own. It also told Kate that the woman was beginning to believe her about Becky. Mothers always defended their children and fought for their innocence. To discover evidence of the contrary was on par with death, and Kate couldn’t feel worse that Amelia was now being faced with the ugly truth.

“That’s not why Scott is staying at Over the Moon, is it?” she asked with sudden concern. “Is he there to spy on me? I have nothing to do with Becky’s decisions.”

“No,” said Kate. “That’s not why he’s there.” She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she got to her feet and thanked Amelia for her time. “How’s Lance doing?”

“Oh, he’s bouncing back. He’s been working, though only from the home office here. Physically, he’s okay, but emotionally...”

She didn’t have to finish the thought. Kate could read her mind. Again, she thanked Amelia and left her.

As she approached the foyer, the maid scurried up behind her and then opened the door for Kate.

Compared to the crisp air conditioning in the Langleys’ house, outside felt hot and muggy. As she made her way to her truck, she pulled up a web browser in her cell phone and punched in Bart Vaughn’s name, along with Rock Ridge. A list of articles came up, but after scrolling down, she found his Web site, which included the address.

She checked the clock on the dashboard as soon as she started her truck. Her lunch break was nearly half over and she hadn’t even eaten. What else was new?

Still, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on tiling the apartment floor if she was fretting over Jason, so she hit the gas and drove as fast as she could through Rock Ridge, cutting north after she passed through the center of town.

Bart Vaughn’s office was located in a brick, corporate building that looked more small-town than she had expected. Wedged between a dentist’s office and a day-care center, the attorney’s door was open and Kate entered the anteroom where a serious-looking receptionist flitted about behind her desk, organizing files and answering the telephone.

Kate waited patiently at the counter until the woman returned the phone to its cradle.

“Hi, I’m hoping to see Bart Vaughn. I didn’t have the chance to make an appointment.”

“Ah,” said the woman like a deer in headlights. Clearly Mr. Vaughn didn’t take walk-ins. “What’s your name?”

Kate leaned in and spoke quietly, since she noticed a few people were seated in the waiting area. “Kate Flaherty.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened and then a huge smile spread across her face. “As in, Jason Flaherty’s mother?”

Kate confirmed as much with a slight nod, realizing that a client like Jason meant massive publicity for a private-practice lawyer like Bart. Maybe she could use that fact to finagle a discount, she told herself, as the receptionist jumped on the phone.

“He’ll be right out,” she said excitedly, hanging up the phone.

“Should I have a seat?” Kate didn’t even get so far as to turn towards the chairs when a dapper, well-dressed man burst into the anteroom from the office that read Bart Vaughn across the door.

Bart thrust out his hand for her to shake, but Kate was momentarily thrown by his appearance. His hair was dark, nearly black and slicked back so tightly she could see the comb’s teeth marks through the strands. Contrastingly, his teeth were large and so white that they seemed almost cartoonish. Veneers? She tried not to stare and finally shook his hand.

“Bart Vaughn,” he stated, vigorously shaking her hand even though she had loosened her grip to end the custom. “Very pleased to meet you, Ms. Flaherty. I’ve been watching the case closely.”

“Please,” she said, retracting her hand. “Call me Kate.”

“Right this way.” He guided her into his office where he shut the door and quickly rounded to the business side of his desk. “Have a seat.”

For an attorney who required a ten-thousand-dollar retainer, his office didn’t look it. And as she glanced around, lowering into the chair across from him, she spied at least two items in need of fixing—a broken bookshelf and water damage in one corner of the ceiling.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed,” she began, “my son Jason needs a good lawyer—”

“I would love to take his case,” he said eagerly.

Kate began to explain, “It’s very important that whoever represents him—”

“Me,” he interjected. “I’ll represent him.”

“Right. Well, it’s crucial that you believe he’s innocent. I won’t engage anyone who wants to cut a deal for Jason. Jason is not going to admit wrongdoing, because Jason didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bart’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, as he leaned over his desk. “Fascinating.”

“Isn’t the truth always?”

“I defend criminals,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair. “I rarely deal with the truth. What makes you think you know the truth when it comes to Jason’s involvement?”

Kate cocked her head, asking, “How much time have you got?”

Two hours later, she had thoroughly explained to Bart every last detail she could think of regarding Becky Langley’s disappearance, the drug ring, Colombia & Partners International, those incriminating wire transfers, Ashley’s bizarre accusation that Jason had been behind it all, and the damning evidence that had been planted to frame her son. But the issue of Bart’s retainer had never come up, and she knew her stomach would stay in knots if she didn’t bring it up before leaving.

“We should probably discuss your fee,” she said after following Bart’s lead, rising to her feet. “As you might have guessed,” she went on, demonstratively glancing down at her overalls, “I’m just a fix-it woman. I don’t exactly have the kind of money the Langleys do....”

Bart waved him hand as if dismissing the topic. “Not to worry. High-profile cases like this bring in a ton of additional income for the firm. So I can wave the retainer and charge a discounted hourly rate on one condition.”

“Anything,” she said eagerly, and she meant it, too…until she heard what he had in mind.

“We need a strong presence in the media. I’m talking as many on-camera interviews as my office can book. I want your face on every network, every news hour, on a national scale. We are going to plaster the nation with Jason’s story—a man wrongly accused, a mother fighting for her son’s innocence, an attorney stopping at nothing to clear Jason’s name.”

“Ah...”

“Kate, this is very important. It’s not just about influencing the nation. It’s much more strategic than that. We need to taint the jury pool. By the time the court is picking those twelve people, everyone in town needs to be deeply invested in Jason’s story and already believe he’s innocent.”

“So you think this will go to trial?”

“It damn well better,” he said in a booming voice. “We need to milk the spotlight.”

She sighed. This was literally a nightmare within a nightmare. “What about Jason, in the meantime?” she asked, trying to stay focused on her son’s wellbeing. “Can you get him out on bail?”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll head over this afternoon. But given the charges and the magnitude of this case, even if they do grant him bail, you can expect it could be quite steep. I’m talking upwards of a million dollars.”

Heart sinking, Kate wanted to cry, but then she remembered her house. “Can I put my house up as collateral? I’m not exactly sure of it’s worth, but it’s up there. It has a state-of-the-art security system.”

“See about getting an appraisal and e-mail me the figure, paperwork, all that,” he offered, handing her his business card.

She tucked it in her pocket. Justina came to mind. Kate might be able to swing a trade with Justina to get a fast and free appraisal.

Bart walked her out through the anteroom, shook her hand again at the front desk, and thanked her twice as many times as she thanked him.

“I’ll have my assistant call the networks, set up some interviews, so keep that schedule of yours open.” He flashed her a big, toothy grin that nearly blinded her when the overheads bounced off his porcelain caps, and then rushed back into his office.

Kate gave the receptionist all of her information and then leaned over the counter. “So what will Bart’s hourly rate be with the discount?”

“Let’s see,” she said, typing quickly on her computer. “One twenty-five an hour.”

It didn’t sound bad, but who knew how many hours Bart would rack up by the time this thing was over. “Billed monthly?” she asked.

“Unless you prefer weekly—”

“No, monthly is fine,” she said quickly.

The receptionist offered her a sympathetic smile. “Bart really is the best,” she said. “Plus, as soon as the story starts catching on, all these networks and stations are going to pay you an appearance fee. Bart can negotiate it for you. This story is hot. You could easily take in a grand or two per interview.”

“Really?”

The woman nodded. “What we can do is collect your appearance fee then detract Bart’s fee from it on a monthly basis. Or you can get those checks cut directly to you. Either way.”

Kate told her she would think about it. She was hoping to avoid the interviews, get conveniently sick or something, but if they really did pay that well, she wouldn’t avoid them.

As she made her way out to her truck, she realized that not only had she blown her entire lunch break three times over, but she also had a bunch of missed calls from Justina. Grumbling, she listened to the voice messages, as she hopped in behind the steering wheel and started the truck.

Justina needed some repairs done at Carnegie Real Estate, according to her first voice message, which she ended by mentioning she was on her way to the high-rise.

The next message reflected one very worried Justina as she rushed through the apartment building in search of Kate.

The last message was Justina saying she had just called the police, and that if Kate was fine she had to call her immediately.

She sighed, leaning her head on the headrest. Of course Justina was worried sick. Everyone was worried sick for her now that she had been shot at, but really, enough was enough.

She dialed Justina, who answered on the first ring.

“My God! Where are you?”

“I had to meet with Jason’s new attorney. You called the police?”

“How could I not?”

“Look, I have one more errand, but I’ll come to the apartment directly after and I can work into the night to catch up,” she explained.

“Someone tried to kill you the other night, and you think you’re going to work in a dark, busted-out apartment building where ex-cons have been coming and going freely? Are you insane?”

Kate wondered...

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll let the police know. Why don’t you do what you need to for the rest of the day and get home early, before dark, and stay safe?”

“Thanks,” she said, getting off the phone. It had crossed her mind to ask Justina about an appraisal on her house, but the timing wasn’t right. She would ask tomorrow or maybe leave her a message later tonight.

In the meantime, she had to plan carefully for the so-called secret meeting Becky Langley planned to hold at Drake’s Firing Line tonight at nine.

Grant Conover’s name had come up a number of times, and considering that the prison warden had maintained a relationship with Becky Langley after her release many years ago, Kate felt in her gut that swinging by the prison would be a worthwhile place to start.

She had no delusions of grandeur that the warden would admit anything outright, least of all if he was harboring Becky at his home, but Kate had an excellent eye for knowing when she was being lied to. With that in mind, she drove off, heading south towards the prison.

Twenty minutes later, Kate slowed her truck and rolled towards the fenced perimeter. Coiled barbed wire laced the top of the fence, and she noticed there were watchtowers at the two corners within view. The building was a gray, industrial-looking slab with barred windows and a security checkpoint yards from the entrance.

She drove up to the checkpoint, rolled her window down, and came to a stop at the guard’s booth.

“Name,” he barked without looking up from his clipboard that presumably had a list of visitors’ names. He was also holding his hand out, so she placed her driver’s license in it.

“Kate Flaherty,” she said, speaking up over the guard’s radio that was blaring some kind of sports game. “You won’t find me on the list. I need to speak with the warden.”

That got his attention, but not in a good way. He stared at her for a beat then burst out laughing. She scowled, repeating that she would like to talk to Grant Conover.

“I doubt you’ll catch him,” he said sardonically, while handing her a visitor's pass. “Drive on up to the blue parking spaces and let the front desk know why you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she grumbled, taking her ID before driving off.

After parking as close to the entrance as she could manage, she stuck the visitor’s pass onto her overalls and walked into the prison where the front desk was located at the back of a cavernous lobby. The sound of her footfall echoed as she crossed through. She handed her ID to the guard standing behind the desk and stated her name and reason for the visit.

“You can’t show up unannounced,” he told her.

“Well I can, evidently,” she pointed out.

“I mean you’re not going to catch him—”

“I’ll wait,” she insisted, which got the guard quirking his brow. Undeterred, she held her head high. “If Conover has time for the mayor, then he has time for the police chief’s wife,” she declared.

“You certainly are sure of yourself. I’ll give you that.” He handed her driver’s license back. “Follow the corridor, check in with the guard. He’ll send you up to the third floor where the warden’s office is, but lady, the warden could be making rounds, he could be in a meeting, there’s no telling how long you’ll be waiting.”

Without responding, she walked briskly down the corridor, nearing a guard who was standing by a set of double doors and listening to the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.

“I’m—”

He opened the door and she passed through into the stairwell, relieved she didn’t have to go through the same rigmarole twice.

She was out of breath by the time she spilled out onto the third floor. She took a moment to compose herself then ventured down the corridor, which looked exactly like the one on the first floor, except that the warden’s office door was straight ahead and clearly marked with his name and title.

She knocked and the door pushed open into a shallow anteroom where an angry-looking guard in her mid-fifties was searching around the receptionist’s desk for something. Kate wondered if the guard was the receptionist, or simply annoyed at having to do the receptionist’s job.

Clearing her throat, she offered her ID. “I’m Kate Flaherty for Grant Conover.”

“The warden is indisposed,” stated the woman.

“What does that mean?”

Glaring up at Kate, the guard barked, “It means whatever he’s working on in his office has him indisposed. He hasn’t come out all morning or afternoon. He’s busy.”

Kate glanced over at a door to the left of the receptionist’s desk, which had to be where the warden was working. She had come all this way and had no intention of driving off with her tail between her legs. Then again, the guard was armed and Kate had already been shot at within the last twenty-four hours—an experience she did not wish to duplicate.

“Why don’t you give him a call?” she suggested.

The guard didn’t like that, but Kate wouldn’t give up.

“Or knock on his door?”

“Why don’t you return to wherever it is you came from?” The guard looked Kate up and down, grimacing. “A farm?”

It would take a hell of a lot more than that to insult Kate Flaherty. She planted her fists on her hips, but felt slightly queasy about what she was planning to do.

“Fine,” she said, turning for the door.

As soon as she sensed that the guard had lowered her eyes, Kate sprinted towards the warden’s office and burst through the door.

“Hey!” yelled the guard, bolting out of her chair.

But Kate wasn’t paying attention.

Her eyes were locked on the dead man stretched out on the floor.

Chapter Four

As Kate sat in the warden’s anteroom, listening to police officers rush around Grant Conover’s body as they collected evidence while directing medics, she watched the open doorway. Scott was stalking in and out of view and she imagined he was thinking the same thing she was—one more person from the Colombia & Partners International bank statement had turned up dead. And, no less, after Jason had been arrested.

Not that every individual associated with the drug ring had been killed directly because of it. But it meant there were less and less people for Scott to question. In fact, the only two people left were Drake Kramer and Becky Langley, besides Harold Simpson who might or might not have been helpful. Scott hadn’t exactly spoken to Kate about it.

Kate contemplated her hunch. What if Grant Conover had been harboring Becky? What if they hadn’t been seeing eye to eye? Perhaps Grant had gotten word that Becky was planning on overthrowing the cartel. Maybe Becky was worried Grant would make the first move to take her out so she wouldn’t be able to follow through on her plan, and so she killed him.

But Grant had been murdered in his office, inside a prison, a virtual fortress lined with security cameras.

Kate had gotten a good look at the body. Grant had been lying on his back, on the floor. He had been shot square between the eyes. The way he had landed dead on the floor—his feet pointing to the door—indicated that whoever had shot him had been standing in the doorway. Maybe Grant turned, hearing a noise, and was killed even before he could make sense of the interruption.

The most curious detail was that the entire staff of prison guards seemed shocked by his murder, which meant that no one had heard the gunshot.

They were dealing with an experienced killer, someone who had a silencer on the end of the gun barrel.

Drake Kramer came to mind. As the owner of the one shooting range in town, he was likely an expert in firearms and could probably get his hands on just about any weapon.

Scott filled the doorway and stared at her. It wasn’t easy meeting his gaze, but she managed, as he gradually neared her. She stood so she wouldn’t have to look up at him.

“I don’t like that you’re here,” he said in a low tone. “Not after what happened last night.”

She couldn’t believe he would dare coddle her, except that “coddling” didn’t exactly capture his attitude. His comment had seemed more like a warning.

“I’m not going to stop living my life,” she asserted, though in a hushed tone.

“And what part of your life involves going to a prison?”

She tried to stare him down, but it wasn’t working. “You’re overlooking the part where no one would know Grant had been murdered if I hadn’t come here and barged in. So, you’re welcome.”

A staring match ensued, but all Kate felt was regret that he had moved out of their home.

“What time was he killed?” she asked.

Scott cocked his head. “I’m not telling you that.”

“I assume you’ll check all the security footage? It shouldn’t be difficult figuring out who did this.”

“I know how to do my job,” he snapped. “Let’s talk about the security footage at your house.”

“What about it?”

“How many times have I asked you to remember to do things like set the alarm and check those cameras periodically?”

Her eyes widened, as she grasped his point.

“The camera at your front door hasn’t recorded a thing in the last three months.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“It doesn’t help matters,” he pressed. “We have no idea who shot at you—”

“Colombia & Partners—”

“That’s not a person, that’s a business. I can’t arrest a business.”

“Well, have you even looked into it?”

“Garrison got your statement,” he said, changing topics. “You’re free to go.” As she neared the door, he said, “You shouldn’t be alone in that house.”

“That was your doing,” she said without looking at him.

“Can you get Jared to stay with you until I catch whoever tried to shoot down your door?”

She wanted to laugh at his concern, but it only made her feel hollow. Frowning, she touched eyes with him, and then hurried down the long corridor.

It was fast approaching six when she drove beyond the prison gates. She was starving. Carly’s offer to have dinner sprung to mind, but she didn’t want to get comfortable, have a glass or two of wine, and head off to Drake’s Firing Line overly relaxed. But she did have to eat.

When she reached an intersection, she pulled onto the shoulder and threw her truck in park. Carly was the first contact in her favorites, so she tapped the LCD screen and pressed her cell to her ear.

“It’s me,” she said as soon as Carly picked up. “Feel like getting a quick bite at Bean There?”

“Yes!” she said with a sense of urgency, though Kate could hear Larry complaining in the background. They probably had dinner plans and Kate was infringing. “Oh, it’s fine, Larry,” said Carly, away from the receiver. “Should I head over now?”

“Yeah, it’ll take me about twenty minutes, but I’ll see you there.”

Dust was settling over Rock Ridge by the time Kate eased her truck along the curb in front of Bean There. The coffee shop was all lit up inside, and when Kate quickly swept her eyes through the windows, scanning for reporters, she only saw a few and they looked too tired to harass her.

She found Carly at one of the tables in the back. Her friend leapt out of her chair and threw her arms around Kate, holding her in a tight hug.

“Don’t say you’ve been worried about me,” she groaned, though the hug was exactly what she needed.

When Carly let her go, she shot Kate a perturbed look and settled into her chair.

“I ordered you a chicken sandwich and a salad and a bowl of gazpacho,” she said, showcasing the items on the table. “And a large cup of coffee.”

Kate started with the coffee. If she were going to get through an evening at Drake’s Firing Line without getting caught, she would need her wits about her. She gulped down the coffee, ignoring how hot it was, and then picked up a fork to get started on her salad.

Carly bit into her sandwich, but after a chewing and swallowing, asked, “Does Scott have any leads on who attacked you last night?”

Kate realized that a meal with her friend meant she would have to divulge all the things she would rather forget about, so she kept her answer brief. “At this point, no. The good news is I got Jason a great lawyer.”

“Good. I just want everything to go back to normal,” she sighed. “Those two years we had without an incident went by way too fast.”

The conversation meandered from Jason to Carly’s shop, Sunshine Florist, and culminated in a long discussion about the amusement park, which was rumored to open in just a few days’ time. Though Kate found the news alarming, she was relieved that Carly hadn’t heard about Grant Conover. She didn’t feel like explaining how it was humanly possible to have stumbled upon another dead body. If there were an award for such a thing, Kate would’ve won it twice over.

As they finished their meal, Clara, the barista and owner of Bean There, sauntered over with a plate of pastries and cookies.

“Ladies,” she said, bending to slide the plate on their table in exchange for clearing their dirty dishes. “On the house.”

“Thanks!” Carly exclaimed and stuffed a cookie into her mouth.

“You’re in a good mood,” said Kate, gazing up at her and the funky streaks of brightly colored hair flowing out of her high ponytail.

“Always in a good mood to see customers,” she said, glaring at the two reporters who were seated at another table. Leaning in, Clara whispered, “These reporters are driving away my customers. People are afraid to come in, relax, and talk openly. So I’ve been giving as many freebies as I can afford, you know, to keep the residents coming back.”

Kate felt her pain then cringed at the thought of doing an on-camera interview with Bart Vaughn. The very idea made her skin crawl.

“You guys take care,” she said, straightening up. “And come back real soon, okay?”

Once Clara had returned to the counter at the front of the store, Kate popped a Danish into her mouth, rising to her feet and mumbling, “I should get going.”

Joining her, Carly walked her out to her truck.

“I’m not sure if it’s anything,” Carly began, “but Larry told me he happened to be driving along Rock Ridge Boulevard last night around the time of the shooting. Honestly, I debated telling you, because Kate, you have a knack for investigating and it puts you in dangerous situations....”

“Tell me, Carly. Any detail could help.”

“All right, but you have to promise me you won’t do anything risky.”

Kate had no idea how to promise that, but she nodded anyway.

“Larry said the roads were clear, you know, like they always are when it’s late. But as he was approaching your driveway there was an oncoming SUV. He didn’t see it come from your driveway, but he couldn’t be sure it didn’t.”

“An SUV? What color? Did he catch the make and model? A license plate number?”

“It was black and he didn’t get the plate number, but he said he thought it was an Escalade. It wasn’t all beat up like most of the cars around here, either. Larry said it looked new and it had tinted windows, or so he thought. It was dark, so he could’ve been wrong.”

Kate doubted Larry would be wrong about such a detail. He had always had a keen eye for cars and probably would’ve become a mechanic if he hadn’t joined the fire department and then taken over his father’s hardware store.

She thanked Carly, and when she climbed into her truck, the first thing she did was push the button for the clock on the dashboard to light up and give her the time.

It was 8:30 p.m. on the nose.

She gave a honk, pulling out into the street, then started off driving south towards Drake’s Firing Line. If she got there early, she could better plan how she would sneak into the range undetected and, God willing, eavesdrop on Becky’s meeting.

The thought of being in the same room as Becky both set her teeth on edge and made her heart race with excitement. She watched her speed as she drove. The thrilling notion of catching Becky had given her a heavy foot, but soon she was turning off the main road into the wide parking lot in front of the shooting range.

She felt like a sitting duck in her clearly marked Mrs. Fix It truck, so she kept her foot on the gas, driving through the crowded parking lot until she found a vacant space at the very back.

She had a solid ten minutes before the meeting, but she guessed the attendees might already be here. After padding to her truck bed, she opened her tool kit and glanced over the options. She couldn’t very well walk in the front door, and remembering the busted back door at Justina’s building had given her an idea. She selected two screwdrivers, both the Phillips- and flat-heads, and stuffed them in her pockets. Her eye caught the miscellaneous crowbar that had been living in the bed of her truck for as long as she could remember. Though it would be highly conspicuous to stalk around the outside of the building with a crowbar in hand, she grabbed it anyway.

Her heart was in her throat, nearing the far side of the building. She kept her eyes on the entrance as customers floated in and out.

Before she reached the corner of the building to slip out of sight, a black SUV caught her eye. It was parked three cars in from where she was slowing her step. From her vantage point, she could only make out its color and size. But she was curious. She trusted Larry’s recollection as explained by Carly.

Staying low to the ground, she bounded towards the vehicle. It certainly wasn’t winter-weathered and beat up like the majority of cars and trucks in Rock Ridge, a working-class town. Just as Carly had described, the SUV was new with a shiny coat of paint and gleaming hubcaps.

She checked the entrance door of the shooting range, slowly peering over the hood of the SUV. If this was the shooter’s vehicle, then it meant that the shooter was inside. She would have to be extra careful not to be seen by anyone.

Quietly, she grabbed her cell phone from her overalls and duck-walked around to the front bumper, cuing up the camera app on her cell as she went.

She snapped three photos of the license plate and then rushed around the corner of the building. Resting her back against the brick siding, she took a moment to catch her breath before continuing on along the side of the shooting range.

There were a number of windows spanning the wall, so she crouched every time she came to one. There was no telling what rooms the window belonged to or who was inside.

When she reached the back of the building, the muffled pops and bangs coming from within the shooting range grew louder, and she realized it was because the back door was ajar. There were two dumpsters on either side, but the door was much taller and clearly cracked by a good four inches.

She checked the time on her cell phone. It was nearly nine o’clock. The meeting would be starting any second.

Jogging, she arched around the first dumpster and then peered through the open door. The light inside was dim, but she got the sense it was a storage area. Her sneaker tapped down on the cement floor, as she stepped as soundlessly as possible inside a narrow aisle, the shelves on either side stocked with boxes upon boxes of ammunition.

As she neared the end of the aisle that couldn’t have been deeper than six feet, she peered around the corner, sensing more than seeing that she was in the center aisle of about six rows of shelves. To her far right was a brick wall, and when she looked in the opposite direction, she saw another door. It wasn’t steel like the one she had entered through, but old and wooden.

Suddenly the muffled pops and bangs ceased and she heard a man begin to address a group. The meeting was starting.

Hurrying to the door and staying light on her feet, she kept her eyes locked on the door. She recognized the voice of the man who was speaking. It was Drake, but his voice was too faint, rising and falling with every sentence.

The doorknob looked rickety and loose in its socket, and the handywoman in her was itching to tighten its screws. She told herself the impulse was ridiculous, but when she turned the knob, easing the door inward a crack, she realized she should’ve gone with her gut.

The doorknob fell off into her palm as she turned it, nearly giving her a heart attack, but that was nothing compared to the pings of its screws hitting the concrete.

She winced, hoped no one had heard, and then pressed her face to the crack, spying through the one-inch gap with her left eye.

The angle was bad. She realized the room she was peering out of was located in the back right corner of the shooting range. At the front of the range were the shooters’ stations, each framed with a set of metal walls braced together with a narrow shelf—the place where each shooter would stand to aim down the range.

Beyond the stations, she could see a group of men and women. She counted roughly fifteen individuals, but couldn’t see Drake. He was blocked by one of the metal stations.

She needed to get closer, if for no other reason than to hear him better, but the idea of padding in front of the targets made her stomach twist with knots.

Instead, she widened the door a little more and strained to overhear the meeting.

“C & P has gone too far,” said Drake. “This is our town, and while they operate on the outskirts of it, rarely setting foot within it, yet controlling each and every one of us, they have been taking ninety percent of the profit, while we, every one of us in this room, shoulder ninety-nine percent of the risk. Enough is enough!”

The men and women cheered.

“The time is now,” he went on. “Their entire shipment is hidden in every nook and cranny in Rock Ridge. If we act now, if we seize the shipment, we can sell it ourselves. It will be our first attack in the war to usurp C & P.”

The group of men and women fell into silent consideration, and Kate could sense their rising tension. They were scared.

“To explain the ins and outs of this plan, I give you...Becky Langley.”

Kate gasped, but quickly slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound. It had been her highest hope to find Becky Langley, but she hadn’t trusted that she would. She couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched Jason’s fiancée, the young woman who had been leading a double life until she disappeared, saunter confidently towards the group.

Becky had always been one to dress in feminine skirts and dresses. Kate used to regard her as a soft spoken girly-girl. But that was not the woman readying to address her followers. Becky looked tough. Dressed in biker gear—tight, black jeans and a gray tank top under a black leather vest—she clearly meant business. Kate spotted a holstered gun under Becky’s right arm. Her blond, wavy hair was slicked back into a high ponytail.

Kate realized she had stopped breathing, she was so eager to hear Becky speak. She widened the door and tilted her ear towards the room, enthralled.

“They know what we’re up to,” she announced, her sharp eyes scanning the group, making eye contact with each and every member. “They killed Grant for a reason, to send us a message. That message is that any one of us, no matter how high or low on the totem pole, can be killed if we step out of line.”

The voices began to murmur and Becky lifted her hand to silence them.

“But they still trust us. They have to. We represent the legs on this table, and without us, the whole organization will collapse. Drake’s correct. They aren’t in Rock Ridge, but their product is. Now is the time, the only time, we’ll have the opportunity to take back what’s rightfully ours.”

“How?” asked one of the men from the back of the group.

“We need one group to move the product to an undisclosed location. Then we’ll lure Colombia & Partners to it with promises of making a deal. Once we have them, all of them, we will surround them. And assassinate.”

There were gasps and fearful grumbling from the group, and again Becky raised her hand to quiet them.

“We have the firearms to pull this off,” she assured them.

“So do they,” one of the women countered.

Then another man asked, “What will the second group do?”

Becky locked eyes with him and stated, “Keep the order.”

Kate could tell by the murmuring that followed that Becky hadn’t made herself clear.

“Colombia & Partners was effective for so long because they knew how to keep Scott York distracted. I was tipping them off in that regard, as well. I got close to Scott by getting close to his stepson. Scott’s easy.” She paused for a beat, and Kate felt suddenly sick at what might follow. Her worst fears were confirmed when Becky said, “Scott’s wife, however, is not. I thought framing her son Jason would get her out of our hair.” Becky made a noise of frustration, balling her hands into fists. “But I’m not convinced it has. So the second group will move into Plan B.”

“I thought Plan B was the shoot-out,” voiced one of the women.

“It was,” Becky admitted. “But it was only phase one.”

“How many phases will there be?”

“As many as it takes to kill her.”

Kate thought she might faint. She felt light-headed and nauseous and furious. Her heart was racing and her pulse throbbed so loudly that she could hear the pounding in her ears. She told herself to run, get the hell out of the shooting range and drive away before anyone could spot her truck, but something inside her wouldn’t let her flee.

She needed to know who was running Colombia & Partners. It wasn’t enough to learn that Becky would soon be running things. Rock Ridge would soon face an all-out war at the time of this supposed assassination of Colombia & Partners. She needed to gather as much information as she could in order to stop it.

If only she could throw her voice and shout from the back of the group the very question she needed answered.

Suddenly she cursed herself for her stupidity. Hoping it wasn’t too late, she grabbed her cell phone and tapped quickly through her apps until the voice recorder function filled the screen. She hit record and angled her cell through the crack, but Becky’s voice had fallen silent as the young woman began organizing the group into teams, presumably to assign members to either the group in charge of collecting and moving the drugs, or the one designated to murdering Kate.

Her gut told her they wouldn’t stay at the range for long. She had to get out of here.

She tried to step softly through the storage room, but in her haste she knocked into a stack of boxes. Grabbing them before they could fall, she broke out into a cold sweat and let out a stuttering breath. She righted the stack and then rounded into the middle aisle. The rear entrance door was straight ahead, and when she eased it open, scanning the darkness, she knew there was no one out there.

Running, she made her way around the corner of the building and sprinted to the front of the shooting range, coming to a halt at the corner. Cautiously, and straining to hear even the slightest noise, she spied around the corner.

The parking lot was empty except for parked vehicles and the entrance door was closed. Her gaze locked onto her truck and her heart punched in anticipation of running and jumping in behind the wheel, turning the engine, and getting the hell of out of the parking lot.

She visualized herself doing it, and then, without thinking, barreled ahead.

But she didn’t peel out of the parking lot. She crawled, rolling at a snail’s pace with the headlights off.

It wasn’t until she turned onto the road that she knew with every fiber of her being that if she drove off, went home or to Jared’s or Carly’s or even dared to barge into the precinct, it would be at the expense of exonerating her son.

She couldn’t merely announce that Becky was alive and planning a deadly assault in the heart of Rock Ridge.

She had to find out where Becky was staying and shut this thing down once and for all.

Willing herself to be brave, she pulled onto the shoulder of the road and angled her rearview until the shooting range bounced off the mirror.

What was her plan? What was her plan?! She needed to come up with a better idea than idling at the side of the road. If Becky drove out of the parking lot and spotted her “Mrs. Fix It” truck, it would be all over.

Kate scanned the dark road and realized there was a dirt road fifty yards behind her truck. She put the car in drive and swung a U-turn. When she reached the dirt road, she eased down it and quickly maneuvered a three-point turn so that her truck was facing the main road.

Drake’s Firing Line was to her left. To the right and a good twenty yards down the road was a flicking streetlamp.

She kept her eyes glued to the entrance door of the shooting range. Becky would be unmistakable whenever she passed through the door. If Kate could spy her, and see which direction she drove off in, then she would have a prayer of following her.

Minutes passed, then an hour, but every time she wanted to give up and drive off, some part of her refused.

Finally, people started exiting the shooting range. Kate leaned over the steering wheel, widening her eyes and searching for Becky to break from the fray. As the men and women climbed into their vehicles and began driving off, she held her breath and ducked beneath the dashboard when some of the cars drove past.

She peered out again and saw Becky pop open the driver’s side door of the black SUV.

My God.

Becky had been the one who shot up Kate’s house.

The black SUV drove in a wide arch around the parking lot. When it reached the road it turned right, which meant it wouldn’t pass Kate’s truck.

Debating whether she should pull out now and trail the SUV or not—the last thing she needed would be for another group member to drive up behind her, recognize her truck, and aim to kill her—Kate squeezed the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip.

But it was now or never. The greatest rewards often came with the deadliest risks. She pulled out into the road and hit the gas, though she didn’t turn on her headlights.

Checking her rearview mirror in panicked alternation with the road ahead to be sure no one was driving up behind her, she kept behind the SUV by about fifteen yards.

Eventually, Becky turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue where traffic flowed steadily. Kate came to a complete stop at the stop sign, letting three cars go by, and then flipped her headlights on and pulled onto the avenue.

“Where the hell are you going, Becky?” Kate asked out loud. She couldn’t see the black SUV, but kept her eyes peeled for when it turned off the road, if it ever would.

Soon the black SUV darted across the double yellow, veering left onto Philadelphia Way, a side street that connected the east side of Rock Ridge to Main Street.

Kate made the turn, but flipped her headlights off so as not to draw attention. Was Becky going into the center of town, or merely cutting through on one of the least traveled roads?

She got her answer when Becky pulled another left then hooked the first right. Becky was rounding the heart of Rock Ridge and soon headed east again.

If Kate didn’t know better, and she wasn’t sure she did, she would think Becky was aware she was being tailed and was trying to lose her. But when Becky pulled up to the curb in front of a modest colonial house in the middle of the suburbs, Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Becky hadn’t suspected she was being followed.

As Kate eased along the curb more than a block away from the SUV, her heart skipped a beat. She knew that house. She knew who lived there.

The editor in chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune.

Eric Demblowski.

Chapter Five

“Scott, you really need to give me a call.”

Kate hung up and tossed her cell phone beside her on the couch. It had been her fifth voice message to Scott. She had left two last night. The first when she was waiting in her truck to see if Becky would come out of Eric Demblowski’s house and drive off to another location—she never did. And the second message she had left the moment she stepped inside her house. She would’ve driven anywhere else, except with Becky tucked away at the reporter’s house, she felt certain she would not be attacked while driving home.

She had nightmares throughout the night and woke with a start, grabbing her cell phone to check for missed calls from Scott. When she had realized there were none, she left her third message.

Now, after so many messages, she was sure Scott wouldn’t get back to her. She didn’t get the feeling it was because he was busy.

She wanted to scream in frustration, but it would do her no good.

As she drank coffee and waited for the sun to rise beyond her living-room window, Kate attempted for the millionth time to wrap her head around the unlikely alliance between Becky Langley and Eric Demblowski.

And then it hit her. Becky’s disappearance had been headline news. The drug ring and string of murders had been even more captivating material for the Rock Ridge Tribune. As more and more reporters had ventured into Rock Ridge to cover the developing stories, Eric had become important, directing the various journalists and getting a ton of credit for their scoops.

She couldn’t believe his deviousness.

Did his wife, Celia, know about this?

Kate wouldn’t think so. Celia had been married to Ken Johnson for decades before the detective’s tragic murder. Celia was a cop’s wife first and foremost. She was moral and ethical, and had often stood by her first husband, supporting him to no end.

And yet, Celia lived in that house with Eric. She had to know something.

Kate had taken five pictures of Becky after the young woman had hopped out of her SUV, making her way to the front door. Interestingly, Becky had knocked and Eric had let her in, indicating that she didn’t have a key.

As Kate scrolled through the photos on her cell phone, she pressed her mouth into a hard line. Becky was a mere blip in the frame—a small and dark figure. Kate had been too far away when she snapped the shots. It didn’t look like Becky. It didn’t look like anyone, just the shadowy figure of a woman who was dressed in a way Becky wasn’t known for.

But the last photo might prove useful. Eric had been illuminated under the portico. The house address was clearly marked to the right of the door—456. But all it showed was that Eric had let someone into his house last night. It was hardly a smoking gun.

Kate startled when her cell began vibrating in her hand. Bart Vaughn’s name flashed across the screen. Why would he be calling so early?

“Good morning,” she said, noticing how raspy her voice sounded.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I’m glad you’re up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she grumbled.

“I’m going to be meeting with Jason first thing, in about an hour.”

“That’s good news.”

“And I’ll have an idea about his bail later today.”

“Thanks for letting me know. You’ll keep me posted?”

“I will. I’m also calling because I set up our first interview. Can you make 2:00 p.m.?”

If I’m not dead by then. “Of course.”

“Great, I’ll have Anna e-mail you the details.” After a brief pause, he added, “Try to wear something... Try not to wear those overalls. How about a sweater, a long skirt, clogs.”

He wanted her to dress in a sweater when it was in the upper nineties?

“Sure,” she said, hoping that wherever the interview took place would have air conditioners blasting. “I’ll see you then.”

After hanging up, she glanced out the window. The sun was piercing the horizon. She had only worked a half day yesterday for Justina, so she knew she had better get a jump on things.

She set her coffee mug in the sink and then made her way into the bathroom where she took a quick shower. As she dressed, being sure to wear her overalls with shorts, she also pulled a sweater from the rack. She didn’t exactly have many skirts to choose from, but she found a gray one that looked motherly enough, and stuffed the garments into a duffel bag, which she tossed onto the passenger’s seat as soon as she climbed into her truck.

The morning unfolded slowly. Kate was sure to lock herself inside the apartment at Justina’s building, a safety measure she resented having to take. She kept away from the windows as she continued to tile the floor. Her cell phone remained at arm’s reach, but Scott never returned her call. She debated e-mailing the photos to him through her cell, but reasoned it wouldn’t get his attention since the images looked nothing like Becky.

As she padded into the kitchen to refresh her coffee mug, her cell phone began vibrating and she rushed to it. But when she picked it up off the marred wooden floor she had been working on, she saw that it was only Justina.

“Good morning,” she said.

“You mean good afternoon,” Justina corrected. “How’s it coming along over there?”

“I’m making headway.”

“I’d like to show the apartment in a few hours.”

Kate hesitated, looking around the studio apartment. “If they don’t mind seeing a work in progress.”

“If you could consolidate your tools and materials, that would be enough,” she suggested.

Kate agreed and then asked, “If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I need to get my house appraised....”

“You’re not moving, are you?” she asked.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s for Jason, or really his attorney. I might need to put my house up as collateral on his bail bond.”

“Oh,” said Justina, considering. “I can help you out.” Then she spoke in a low tone, adding, “I can even fudge the numbers a bit. Do you know what the value needs to be?”

Groaning, because she knew it would be impossible to pull off, she said, “A million?”

“Yikes. Well, I’ll have a look. When should we do this?”

“The sooner the better. Tonight?”

They arranged a time, and after hanging up, Kate dropped her cell into the front pocket of her overalls.

She could use a little fresh air and the rear entrance door had been nagging her all morning. If she wanted to keep herself safe, working in a building where anyone could slip in through the back wasn’t her smartest option. So grabbing her tool kit, she made her way out of the apartment, through the hallway, and down a set of stairs. At the bottom was the rear door, which was still propped open with a block of cement. She pulled the block inside and shoved the door shut, then began to assess the best way to keep it locked.

The main problem was that someone had popped the cylinder lock out of the door, leaving a circular hole in its place.

Kneeling, she rummaged through her tool kit, recalling she had dumped a turn lock somewhere inside. She was sure of it. In fact, the only question was if it would be the correct diameter.

She found the lock, still in its plastic packaging at the very bottom of her tool kit. It took twenty minutes to fit it into the hole and attach it. She would make Justina a copy of the key, she noted, straightening up. Lastly, she turned the handle, making sure the door was locked and secure, and then started up the stairs with her tool kit in hand.

When she reached the apartment unit she had been working on, her stomach grumbled. She was starving, but Grant Conover’s murder weighed heavily on her mind. According to Becky’s speech last night, Grant had been killed by Colombia & Partners, giving Becky just the incentive to get organized and follow through with her plan to overthrow the drug ring and take over. But if Kate could bring down C & P by exposing them for Grant’s murder, then she could prevent a potential massacre that could quite possibly put all of Rock Ridge in peril.

Realizing this, Dean Wentworth came to mind. Of all the people Kate knew in town, Dean had been the closest to Grant, and she trusted him. The mayor had been keeping tabs on the crooked warden as a means of eventually exposing his involvement in the drug ring.

Quickly, Kate dialed the mayor’s direct line, as she padded to the glass entrance door and began scanning the sidewalk and road for suspicious characters.

“Dean?” she said urgently as soon as he picked up. “Can we meet for lunch?”

“I’m trying to keep a low profile,” he said in a hushed tone. “The reporters have gotten really bad. There was a pack of them outside my house and another outside my office building. I can’t get away with meeting in a public place.”

“I’ll meet you anywhere,” she offered. “The amusement park is still under construction. It’s private. What about there?”

Dean fell silent as if considering the consequences, but told her, “Okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

Kate kept an eye out for the black SUV, as she drove out of town towards the amusement park, not that she was naïve enough to think she would cross paths with Becky, or that Becky, herself, would come after Kate, but she couldn’t be too cautious.

She pulled into the amusement park and couldn’t believe the progress. The last time she had driven in, half the park had still been under construction. Now, in the light of day, it appeared nearly complete, though a few bulldozers remained, angling around the dwindling stacks of materials.

After parking in front of the executive trailer, she scanned the parking lot for Dean’s car. The reporters had probably held him up on his way out of his building. And to think Eric Demblowski had been promoting their behavior, feeding them more and more news stories, as he kept Becky safely hidden.

When Kate thought about it, her blood boiled. Even Celia had been the one to orchestrate the first search party for Becky—one, in which, Kate had participated. Celia had seemed so genuine in her concern, and yet she might have known all along that Eric had been helping the ex-con.

Finally, she spotted Dean’s car driving into the lot. He swung up beside her truck and stepped out, prompting Kate to do the same.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said, locking his car. “I had to drive in a zigzag through town to shake a couple news vans.”

“Will we have privacy?” she asked, nodding towards the trailer.

“We should,” he told her, starting for the trailer steps.

There was no one inside, she realized, following the mayor in. He shut the door behind her and locked it.

Kate was too nervous to sit, but Dean insisted, as he lowered onto a sofa chair adjacent to the leather couch.

“What do you make of Grant’s murder?” she asked, seeing whether he knew more or less than she did.

“He didn’t see it coming, or if he did, he did a hell of a job playing it cool.”

“Scott’s working the case, but considering Grant was murdered in his own office inside the prison, you’d think Scott would have his man by now. There are numerous security checkpoints just to get into the door, and the entire prison is teeming with cameras.”

“Which means that the killer had full access.”

“You think he works there?”

“In some capacity,” he allowed. “Or else he’s an IT genius.”

Tommy Barkow came to mind. Though the IT specialist had been killed, he was undoubtedly at the center of this thing. Not only had he been the one refining the drug for distribution, he had also wanted out. It stood to reason that after his death, Colombia & Partners would’ve needed to replace him and replace him fast. What if they had managed to recruit another IT specialist, someone who could hack into the prison’s security system and wreak havoc, setting the stage for anyone to penetrate the prison and kill the warden?

“Grant Conover was one of the higher-ups in the drug ring,” she explained. “Did you manage to get any closer to him before he died? Did he ever mention the owners of Colombia & Partners?”

“That’s who you think killed him?”

Holding his gaze was confirmation enough, and because of it, Dean plowed his fingers through his hair.

“No, he didn’t mention them,” Dean said finally, as he reached into the front pocket of his slacks. “But he did give me a key to his house.”

“Why?”

“The night before he died, we met for dinner. He was really starting to trust me, but he would still speak to me in vague terms, never stating outright his involvement. But when I explained the amusement park was facing financial ruin—a lie, by the way, we’re doing great—he offered to cut me in on his leg of the drug trade, though he didn’t state it outright. He gave me a key to his house and told me he would be sure to be out all night, leaving me the opportunity to move his product from his house to the park. That’s how I would prove myself.”

“Did you go over there?”

“I never made it,” he went on. “Jessica and I have been on the rocks ever since the whole Donna Kramer fiasco hit the light of day. She was in a terrible mood. She called me as I was leaving the office, so I drove straight home. We got into a big fight...you can guess the rest.”

Dean handed her the key, while reciting Grant’s address. She logged it into her cell phone and read it back to him to be sure she had it right.

“Did Grant ever mention Eric Demblowski?”

“The reporter at the Tribune?” he asked. “No, why?”

“I think he’s involved.”

Dean looked shocked, but Kate rose to her feet, eager to get over to Grant’s house. She could only hope the police weren’t already there.

“How’s Jason holding up?”

Kate sighed, examining the key in her hand as if staring at it would keep her emotions in check. “He has a good attorney. We’re taking it one day at a time.”

“Kate,” he said abruptly when she turned for the door. Quickly, Dean walked around to the business side of his desk and unlocked one of the drawers. “I heard about the shooting. You aren’t safe.”

Kate was about to assure him she would be all right, but she gasped instead, her gaze locking on the reason he had opened the drawer.

He was holding a gun.

“I want you to take this—”

“No,” she objected. “I don’t want a gun.”

“But you need one. You don’t even know who’s gunning to wipe you out.”

“I do. It’s Becky.”

He cocked his brow sympathetically. “A woman no one has seen in nearly a month?”

Rushing to him, she said, “I saw her.”

“What? When?”

“At Drake’s Firing Line last night. She held a secret meeting. She’s planning on overthrowing Colombia & Partners.” Kate stopped herself from saying more. She had already said too much. Anyone who knew would be in as much danger as her, and she couldn’t live with that on her conscience.

“Did you tell Scott?”

“I’m trying to. He won’t return my calls.”

“You have to tell him now—”

Kate lifted her hand, silencing him. “You were the one who refused to go to Scott earlier. Scott has long since given up on believing me. If he calls me back, I’ll tell him what I know. But I can’t force it down his throat. I have no proof.”

“Take this,” he insisted, thrusting the gun, handle first, at her chest.

“I can’t,” she said. “I don’t know how to use one of those things, and I’d probably end up shooting my toes off.”

“You have no other way of defending yourself,” he quickly pointed out.

“Maybe not.” She looked at the weapon, but couldn’t make herself reach for it. Instead, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and scrolled through the photos until the license plate of the black SUV popped up. “Write this plate number down,” she instructed. “It’s Becky’s vehicle. If anything happens to me, tell Scott she’s the one who did it.”

“Kate—”

“I should get going,” she said, cutting him off. “If you learn anything else about Colombia & Partners, give me a call.”

Dean wrote the license plate number on a pad of paper that was resting beside the telephone on his desk.

If she wanted to swing by Grant Conover’s house and try her luck poking around, she didn’t have much time to do it. Her on-camera interview was at two and it was half past one. She stepped on the gas, reversing away from the trailer and arching around, and then threw the truck in gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

Whoever killed the warden had to be a top dog at Colombia & Partners. She had already submitted the bank statement to Scott, who surely marked it as evidence. If she could find out who the killer was then Scott could arrest him, question him, make him list every single name involved, and the entire pyramid would come crashing down, Becky included.

As she drove like a maniac through town, she dialed Scott for the sixth time. When she heard his automated outgoing voice message, she groaned, but dove into her message as soon as she heard the beep.

“Scott, this is getting ridiculous, you have to call me back! Look, I know who shot at me the other night. It was Becky Langley. Now, before you go thinking I’ve lost my mind, I saw her! Scott, I saw Becky! She was holding a meeting at Drake’s Firing Line, and then I saw her drive to Eric Demblowski’s house! I’m getting close to cracking this thing wide open, but I can’t do it alone! Not when I’m driving around in this damn Mrs. Fix It truck, announcing to the world who I am everywhere I drive. You have to look into this, do you hear me? And you have to call me back!”

Kate slammed on the brakes, as her eye caught the house numbers she was tearing past. She threw her truck in reverse, hitting the gas, and when she flew in front of Grant’s house, she swung a rough turn towards the curb. The rear tire jumped the curb. When it veered off, she bounced hard, slamming her head against the headrest.

“Good Lord,” she muttered, killing the engine and glancing up and down the street. No one had seen.

She took a moment to calm her nerves and spy the house. She didn’t see any cop cars or crime-scene tape, which made sense. Grant had been killed at the prison. The police were probably still combing his office for clues and watching dozens of security tapes.

Climbing out of her truck, her heart began pounding in her chest and no amount of deep breathing would calm her. Using short, quick steps, she jogged up the sidewalk and crossed up the walkway. The house key was already in her hand. She fit it into the door and let herself in, closing the door behind her.

Finding the drugs was secondary to locating evidence of who was the owner of Colombia & Partners, so she started through the first floor of the house in search of Grant’s office.

She found it after padding down the second-floor hallway, passing an entertainment den, a closet, and the bathroom.

The office appeared to be organized, and Kate got the impression that Grant had been some kind of minimalist, perhaps with a touch of obsessive compulsive disorder. She almost felt bad for him, as she hunted through the drawers on his desk.

She found a filing folder, and when she flipped it open on the desk, she saw it contained Grant’s banking statements. Perusing the transactions, she spotted several wire deposits from Colombia & Partners, but it didn’t tell her who the owner was.

After riffling through more filing folders that held credit card statements and bills, she jiggled the computer mouse, waking the monitor.

Luckily, Grant’s e-mail was already opened on screen. Not entirely certain of what she was looking for, she began scanning through the e-mail subjects, noting the senders as she went.

Her heart leapt up her throat the second she saw Colombia & Partners jump out at her from the sender column. She clicked open the e-mail, but the sender was a general “info@” address. She began mumbling each word of the e-mail out loud.

“Becky has gone rogue. It’s time to take her out. If you don’t, it will mean your life.” Her gaze fell to the signature at the bottom of the e-mail, but it was only initials. NG.

Kate stared at the initials, racking her brain for anyone she might know whose first name began with an N and last name with a G, but no one came to mind.

It was fast approaching two o’clock, so she checked that the printer on the desk was on and printed out the e-mail.

As soon as the sheet of paper spit out the e-mail, she grabbed it, leaping out of the chair. She could always come back, she reasoned, as she jogged down the hallway and padded down the stairs. She was sure to lock the door on her way out and scanned the block for any prying eyes, but there were none.

After climbing in behind the steering wheel of her truck, she opened the e-mail app on her cell phone. Bart’s receptionist, Anna, was supposed to send her an e-mail with the address of the interview. She had, Kate saw after deleting a few junk messages.

The moment she read the location, Kate’s stomach dropped.

She had a bad feeling about this.

Chapter Six

Kate sat in a chair next to Bart Vaughn. Two giant movie lights were angled on her, making it difficult to see. She was sweating like a pig in her sweater and long skirt. Bart looked cool as a cucumber.

Production people were rushing about the Rock Ridge Tribune, pushing desks out of the way so they wouldn’t be in frame. A sound guy pinched Kate’s sweater and began fixing a tiny microphone without saying a word to her. She felt manhandled and said, “Excuse you,” but he was already done, padding off towards the sound equipment station.

“You look angry,” said Bart, using a hushed tone as he leaned close to her ear.

She scowled at him, proving his point.

“Remember, you’re the distraught mother of an innocent man. You’ve found yourself in the midst of a tragedy. This could happen to anyone. Make the residents of Rock Ridge feel for you.”

She stared at him and blinked.

How the hell was she supposed to do that? Kate wasn’t one to beg for sympathy. She forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, but whatever calm she had claimed in that fleeting moment rushed out of her the second Eric Demblowski settled into the chair across from them.

Eric came off as smug as he smiled at her and then Bart. He thumbed through his notecards and asked the news station director how much time they had.

Kate heard the brassy woman respond with, “Two minutes.”

“This is airing live,” Eric reminded Kate, but Bart quickly assured the reporter that Kate was well aware.

Kate desperately wanted to leapt through the air and strangle the man who had been harboring the one woman responsible for ruining her son’s life, the one woman who had tried to gun Kate down.

She fantasized about choking him and suddenly snapped out of it when she heard the director yell, “We’re on in five, four, three...” The last two numbers she indicated with her fingers and then pointed at Eric.

“Good afternoon, Rock Ridge, and thank you for joining us,” said Eric, addressing the camera behind Kate’s right shoulder. “I’m Eric Demblowski and here with me is Kate Flaherty, mother of Jason Flaherty, who has been arrested in connection with the disappearance of Becky Langley. Joining us for this segment is Jason’s attorney, Bart Vaughn. Let’s get down to it.” Eric glanced at his first notecard, asking, “Kate, do you feel that the disappearance and subsequent murder of your first husband perhaps warped Jason’s young mind, driving him to commit this atrocious act?”

Stunned, Kate glared at him. He had knocked the wind right out of her. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? She stole a quick glance at Bart, but he looked as poised as a statue of David.

By the grace of God, she was able to think clearly enough to point out, “That’s a rather loaded question, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s what everyone’s thinking,” he countered. “Care to respond?”

She felt like the room was spinning. The lights were too bright; his question was too offensive. Her stomach lurched as she scrambled to come up with some kind of response that didn’t include throttling him.

Bart interjected, “Jason is just as much of a victim as Kate. Let’s look at the lack of evidence—”

“Absolutely,” Eric said quickly without even looking at the attorney. “As soon as we hear what Kate has to say.”

Bart had tried, but if he pushed it, he would come off as defensive, which was probably why he was angling his worried eyes on Kate.

She cleared her throat and smoothed out the grimace on her face. “Greg Flaherty’s disappearance was a tragedy that hurt our family,” she began. “And both of my sons survived the news and did their best to carry on. We all did. Overcoming hardships does not turn a person into a criminal. Jason is not a criminal. He didn’t do this, and if we could all turn our attention to Mr. Vaughn, he is prepared to speak on that matter.”

She let out a ragged breath and clasped her trembling hands, all the while her mind was racing to analyze whether or not her response had been coherent. But she was so rattled, she couldn’t even recall what she had said.

Bart began, not missing a beat, but he didn’t get a word out before Eric leapt in with, “Let’s talk about Becky’s criminal record, which Jason—”

“Yes, let’s talk about her criminal record,” she snapped, cutting him off as rudely as he had her attorney. “More specifically, I’d like to hear from you about the fact that you’ve been hiding Becky Langley in your house this entire time.”

Kate was vaguely aware of the production team gasping and murmuring throughout the Tribune, but she kept her bright eyes locked on Eric, feeling satisfied that the reporter was shrinking in his chair and turning white.

When he began stammering, she stated, “I find it interesting how greatly you and the Rock Ridge Tribune have benefited from Becky’s story. You were nominated for a journalism award, if I’m not mistaken. You don’t just cover the news,” she said sternly. “You’ve also been creating it.”

“That’s unfounded,” Eric objected. “And ludicrous, I might add.”

“Is it? I saw her drive a black SUV to your house last night. You answered the door. She went in and didn’t come out.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Then who was that woman?”

“I’m not on trial here. Your son is.”

“Not yet, he isn’t. And he won’t be, because Becky wasn’t kidnapped. She’s dead center in the middle of the drug ring that has taken over this town, and you’ve been helping her.”

“Cut the feed,” Eric demanded, turning to the director and drawing his thumb across his neck for emphasis. But she didn’t alert her cameraman to stop rolling. “Damn it, I said cut the feed!”

The director looked just as interested to hear Eric’s answer as Kate was.

“Fine,” he barked, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “Next question.” He didn’t even look at his notecards, but glared at Kate. “Kate, are you concerned about coming off as callous? After all, you’re sitting here, collecting an appearance fee and claiming your fifteen minutes of fame, while your husband is laid up in the hospital.”

Stunned, Kate struggled to speak then spat out, “What?”

“Your husband, Police Chief Scott York, was shot several times, according to my sources. He was gunned down outside of the prison. Yet here you are, basking in the spotlight. Would you say Jason inherited this coldhearted trait of yours?”

In delayed reaction, Kate jumped out of her chair, ripping the microphone from her sweater. As she ran for the door, struggling to process the news, she clipped shoulders with the sound guy and stumbled, her palm smacking a desk. She cursed the damned skirt she was wearing, hiked it up, and took off again.

When she reached her truck, she felt like she wasn’t getting any air and she panicked. She yanked on the driver’s side door handle four times before she realized it was locked. She corrected the error, jumped in, and peeled out into the street.

Kate should’ve known something was wrong. She had called Scott countless times, and it wasn’t like him not to pick up or return her calls. How could she have thought his lack of a response was stemming from their separation and not a critical emergency?

Why hadn’t someone at the precinct called her to tell her what had happened? She’d known most of the detectives and officers for years, and no one reached out?

Weaving in and out of traffic at a breakneck speed, each second passing slowly, she made her way to Rock Ridge Mercy, a hospital she had not set foot in since Lance was nearly killed during the amusement park explosion. The memory flooded her thoughts. She had been terrified, running from the surveillance van to the site. Her only thought had been of Scott and what she would do if anything were to happen to him. And now here she was, the same nightmare riveting her.

Was this Becky’s doing? Was this what she had meant when she directed her followers to take Kate out? Not to kill her physically, but emotionally? Kate feared the plan was working, as she veered into the hospital parking lot and came to a screeching stop just shy of the ambulance port.

She sprinted through the sliding glass doors, which barely opened in time, and when she reached the front desk, she slammed into it, demanding out of breath, “Scott York!”

“Yes,” said the man behind the desk, rising to meet her urgency. “He’s in the ICU.”

“Where?” she yelled.

“Around the desk and down the corridor,” he began, but Kate didn’t wait for further directions. She was already jogging towards the set of double doors he was pointing at.

As soon as she barreled through them, she heard someone behind her call her name.

She didn’t have time for much more than a glimpse over her shoulder, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Officer Garrison, who she often forgot had been promoted to detective.

“What the hell happened?” she demanded.

“Kate—”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Garrison’s empathetic expression turned confused. “Oh, we did.”

“No! You didn’t!”

“Then I’ll give our new receptionist a stern talking to,” he offered, as she gaped at him, appalled he would leave such a critical phone call to someone who hadn’t been on the job very long.

Disgusted, Kate walked briskly towards the ICU, ignoring Garrison who was jogging to catch up with her.

“He was shot twice,” he explained. “He’s conscious.”

Kate wished the information relieved her, but as she came to the windows showing the patients in dire straits and spotted Scott lying in one of the beds, anchored to several machines, wires sprouting from pads on his head and chest, she thought she might collapse with grief.

Pausing at the window and staring at him, Kate sensed Garrison near her. “Lower abdomen and his upper left thigh. He was wearing a vest, so even though he was shot three times in the chest...”

“What if they shot him in the head?” she yelled, now glaring at the cop, but she was too furious to wait for an answer. “Who did this?”

“We don’t know.”

“The same person who shot at my house?” When Garrison didn’t confirm, she asked, “Black SUV?”

“Look, Kate,” he said, taking her shoulders, but she shoved him off. “Scott has been going off the deep end. I know he’s been making headway on the drug case and the Becky Langley connection, but he hasn’t shared the information. And he’s not talking to me.”

“So he didn’t tell you who shot him?” she asked, shocked.

Garrison shook his head. “Maybe you could get him to say something. I need to know what he knows.”

Kate tempered her reaction, focusing on relaxing her expression, even though her mind was racing. If Scott wouldn’t tell his fellow officers about the recent developments on the case, then he didn’t trust his department.

“Don’t come in,” she asserted. “I’ll talk to him alone.”

Garrison agreed, opening the door and helping it to close.

As Kate neared Scott, she felt Garrison’s eyes on her, so she glanced at him over her shoulder and waved him off.

She took Scott’s hand and studied his face. His eyes were closed and his hand felt limp in hers. Soon a nurse padded into the room and pressed a few buttons on one of Scott’s monitors, then changed his IV bag.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked.

The nurse sank into her hip and tilted her head, gazing down at Scott. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but it’s looking positive.”

“He should be fine,” Kate insisted. “His major organs weren’t shot.”

“No, but the bullet that hit his leg was lodged in his femoral artery. That’s the main artery in the leg. He lost a lot of blood when the surgeon was trying to extract the bullet.”

“Just tell me, what are his chances?”

“Of living? About seventy percent.”

“That’s good, right? That sounds good. I’d take those odds.”

“His chances of walking, however...”

“What are you telling me?”

“The bullet that struck his abdomen went all the way through to his back. It hit his lower spine.”

“Oh my God.”

“It could go either way,” she concluded. “And we really won’t know the extent of the damage or how lucky he is until he’s strong enough to try to walk. This is what we call a ‘wait and see’ situation.”

Kate felt her legs turn to rubber and her knees wobbled, but she planted her palm on the bed. The nurse wasted no time dragging a chair from the corner of the room over to where Kate was standing. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said in a kind voice. “Just press this button,” she added, pointing to a red button on the bedrail, “and I’ll come right away. Otherwise, I’ll be back to check on Scott in eight minutes.”

“Thank you,” Kate said in a voice barely audible.

“He is conscious,” she assured her. “We’ve got him on some powerful painkillers that cause him to drift off, but he’s coherent when awake.”

After the nurse padded out of the room, Kate leaned over Scott and stroked his white hair.

His left eye popped open in response, followed by his right. “Kate?”

“Shh,” she said. “I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

“Grant Conover,” he said, murmuring. “My lead...”

“What?” she whispered, leaning in and staring at him with unblinking eyes. “What lead?”

“Don’t talk to the precinct,” he groaned, then began coughing. “Trust no one.”

Chapter Seven

Kate thought about Dean’s gun all night as she tossed and turned in fits of shallow sleep. If Scott didn’t trust his own precinct, what hope could the residents of Rock Ridge have of crime finally coming to an end? It didn’t settle her nerves one bit to know she had locked every door and window, set the security alarm, and made sure every surveillance camera was recording.

When she woke the next morning without incident, rather than feeling relieved, she sensed impending doom as though it was only a matter of time before something even worse than Jason’s arrest, even worse than Scott laid up in the hospital, leapt out of the shadows to destroy her.

After walking through every room in the house to make sure there had been no break-in attempts through the night, and also scanning the yard outside for lurking figures, Kate entered the kitchen and cursed that she had left her coffeemaker in Justina’s building.

She scrambled through the cabinets, hoping that memory was serving her. She could’ve sworn she had left a jar of instant coffee somewhere. A strange mix of desperation and disgust came over her at the thought. Kate was a coffee connoisseur, and instant coffee, as stale as it was weak, tended to insult her delicate palette.

When finally she found the jar, she just stared at it, grimacing.

Justina was due to arrive at her house. Kate had made arrangements with the real-estate agent last night before driving home from the hospital. Justina had understood when Kate said she had to postpone their meeting, but it was imperative that Kate get an appraisal in writing before Bart Vaughn took Jason to the courthouse to see about his bail. She was relieved when Justina had agreed to stop by the house in the morning.

Quickly, Kate got Justina on her cell phone.

“Morning!” she said, bright eyed and bushy tailed in a way that Kate envied.

“Hey, could you do me a favor?” she asked, trying to smooth out the jagged edge of her tone.

“In addition to appraising your house?”

“Tiny favor,” she clarified. “Could you swing by Bean There and get me an extra-large, black, hazelnut coffee? And something for yourself, of course. I’ll pay you back for the order.”

“Ah,” said Justina knowingly. “I thought I saw your coffeemaker in unit one. Sure, no problem.”

Kate set her cell on the kitchen counter. She would have just enough time to shower and throw on some clothes before Justina got here. Before leaving the kitchen to do just that, Kate found a lemon in the refrigerator, cut off a slice, and filled a glass with water from the faucet. She squeezed the lemon then dropped it in the glass, reminding herself of an article she had once read on the health benefits of drinking a glass of lemon water first thing in the morning.

Well, it was a distant second to a hot cup of joe, that was for damn sure, but she drank it down then started off for the bathroom to get ready.

Once showered, she quickly towel-dried her hair and slipped into a pair of overalls and her sneakers. As she made her way out to the living room, the doorbell rang.

Kate was sure to check the small security monitor in the foyer closet, which showed a bird’s-eye view of Justina. When she finally opened the door, Justina greeted her with a smile and thrust a giant cup of coffee in her face.

“Hallelujah,” said Kate, widening the door with her shoulder and pulling the plastic tab up from the coffee lid.

Having the first sip took precedence over shutting the door, but once she felt a pop of caffeine hit her, she closed and locked it.

“What do I owe you?” she asked, joining Justina in the living room.

The real-estate agent was having a look around the place, her pen pressed firmly against the clipboard she was holding.

“Give me a rundown of all the security features,” she stated. “I can appraise this place upwards of a mil, easy.”

It was the first piece of good news Kate had heard in weeks. She led Justina around the house, noting each and every security feature, along with the make and model of the devices to highlight that they were government grade and state of the art. An hour later, Justina was drawing up the papers on her tablet, and she soon sent a PDF of the report to Kate’s e-mail.

And it was just in time, too.

Her cell phone was vibrating, Bart Vaughn’s name and number flashing across the LCD screen.

“What’s the word?” she asked immediately as she answered the call.

“Can you get down to the courthouse in ten minutes?”

“See ya in five!” She dropped her cell into the front pocket of her overalls and told Justina she had to run. “Thank you so much, again!”

They made their way outside, and as Kate rushed to her truck, Justina asked, “I know you’re going through a hell of a lot right now, but when will the first unit be rentable?”

“Today, I promise!”

Justina narrowed her eyes skeptically and told her that she hoped Kate was right. “Keep me posted!”

After she watched Justina pull a U-turn and drive off, Kate reversed away from the house, swung around, and drove down the long and winding driveway.

The Rock Ridge courthouse was located off of Main Street, perpendicular to the municipal building. Kate hadn’t set foot in the place since her divorce from Greg, a strange affair where she and her attorney stood in an empty courtroom while the judge declared her divorced in the blink of an eye.

Today the courthouse wasn’t nearly as empty. Kate pressed her way through lawyers converging with ex-cons, reporters stalking the lobby, police officers wrangling the crowd. In addition to the drug-related crimes and haphazard murders, many of the ex-cons had been getting into misdemeanor trouble—squatting in vacant buildings, shoplifting, getting drunk and belligerent in public areas.

She found Bart Vaughn standing near a water fountain. As she approached, she realized that in her frenzy to get to Scott at the hospital and the emotional upheaval that followed, she hadn’t given Bart a piece of her mind regarding the disastrous interview she had survived.

“Kate!” he said cheerily.

“Tell me that interview didn’t air,” she insisted.

“Oh, it aired,” he said, flashing his stark-white veneers as he smiled. “You really held your own—”

“I don’t want to have to hold my own! You threw me to the damn wolves!”

“Ratings beg to differ, Kate. People love you! They like the cut of your jib!”

“What?”

“People think you’ve got moxie, gumption! They didn’t know what the hell to make of your accusation against Demblowski, but they loved you all the more for it!”

“How do you know this?”

“Surveys,” he said easily, but it made it her even more confused.

“As Jason’s attorney, would you look into Demblowski? He had something to do with this whole thing. If we dig deeper, we can exonerate Jason.”

“Yes we can, and we will, but remember, a trial is in everyone’s best interest.”

“Your best interest,” she corrected him in a biting tone.

“We’ve got two more interviews lined up—”

“I’m not going through that again. Scott is in the hospital. I have too much to deal with.”

“Scott in the hospital is the reason I was able to line up more interviews. Kate, your story, your family’s story is capturing the heart of America.”

“Why don’t we focus on capturing the bad guys,” she suggested dryly.

“See?” he said, indicating her attitude. “I love that! That’s what people love about you! Your no-nonsense personality!”

She glared at him, but a bailiff distracted Bart when he shouted, “Flaherty hearing!”

“That’s us!” Bart said excitedly. As he guided her into the courtroom, he added, “You had to wear overalls?”

Grumbling, Kate approached the podium on the left side of the courtroom and sat in the seat behind it, as Bart followed after and set his papers on it.

After a moment, a guard escorted Jason towards them. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and his hands were cuffed to his waist. Kate had to stop herself from bursting into tears. Jason wasn’t a wild animal, and seeing him chained up was gut wrenching.

“All rise!” said the bailiff, as soon as the district attorney had settled on the right side of the courtroom and Jason was standing next to Bart.

Kate got to her feet and prayed the judge, a frazzled-looking woman in her late fifties whose robe was eggplant purple and not traditional black, would be understanding and let Jason out on bail.

Her eyes brightened, meeting Kate’s gaze. “Mrs. Fix It! What a delight to have you in the courtroom!”

The district attorney scowled, but Bart was proudly beaming.

“I think I speak for all of Rock Ridge when I say, bravo for putting Demblowski in his place!”

Completely thrown by the compliment, Kate didn’t know how to respond.

“It’s my understanding that the police are questioning him now,” she went on. “Which makes me very curious about this case.” She was glaring at the district attorney now, but lowered her eyes to her desk where some paperwork was resting. “But this hearing is to address the possibility of Jason Flaherty’s bail.”

“The people ask that Flaherty not be released on bail,” stated the district attorney.

“Your Honor,” Bart cut in, “Jason Flaherty is not a flight risk. His passport has expired and he doesn’t have the financial means to flee. Not to mention he maintains his innocence and would never do anything to imply suspicion. He has obliged the police from day one, and is committed to continuing to do so.”

“Agreed,” said the judge frankly. “Mr. Porter,” she went on, addressing the district attorney. “The only issue here is what Flaherty’s bail should be set at.”

“Five million,” he stated with conviction.

“Unreasonable!” Bart shouted and glared at his adversary. “And unheard of. We ask that bail be set at one hundred thousand.”

The judge held her breath as though she already regretted what she was about to say. “One hundred thousand won’t appease the people. Your client’s innocence is still in question, no matter how much we love his mother. Bail is set at eight hundred thousand.”

She slammed her gavel, startling Kate, and rushed from the bench to her chambers.

“Perfect!” Bart exclaimed, turning to Jason who looked ill.

“It’s fine, honey,” she told him, rubbing his arm before the guard could haul him back down to the jail. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart!” she called after him then scrambled for her cell phone, telling Bart, “My house was appraised at eight hundred and fifty thousand,” she explained. “I have the paperwork right here.”

“Beautiful,” he said. “Forward it to me. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know when you can pick up Jason. Considering the charges, we can expect he’ll have to wear an ankle monitor.”

“So he won’t be able to leave his house?” she asked.

“He will, under certain provisions, that is. He’ll have a curfew and he won’t be able to go far when out of the house. This is a win, Kate.”

“Right,” she reminded herself. “Just let me know when I can pick him up.”

As she walked out to her truck, a swarm of reporters rushed over, but she kept her head down and repeated “no comment” until she had settled in behind the steering wheel. Once there, and perhaps because she was becoming immune to their harassment, she put in a quick call to the ICU to get an update on Scott’s condition.

“He’s coming along just fine,” the nurse told her. “Though his blood pressure spikes every time one of his fellow officers tries to come into the room.”

“Is there any way to prevent that?” she asked as a female reporter tapped her microphone against Kate’s window. Kate gave her the finger.

“The blood pressure spike?”

“No, is there any way to prevent police officers from entering his room?”

The nurse paused as if confused. “Well they are here to protect him in case his attacker tries to get into the hospital.”

“Just do what you can to keep them away. Tell them Scott’s recovery depends on rest and privacy,” she ordered then thanked the nurse, hanging up.

The last thing Kate wanted to do was work on Justina’s apartment building. She would rather spend the day at the hospital with Scott until Jason was ready to be released on bail, but a promise was a promise, and the fact of the matter was that her fix-it business kept her sane.

When she reached the apartment building on the south side of town and stepped out of her truck, the sun was beating down so hot that Kate worried she would be suffocated while working in the first unit. The apartment had no air conditioners and the layout didn’t afford a cross-breeze should she open all the windows. But as she keyed into the entrance door and then the apartment unit, she told herself she didn’t have more than a few hours’ work. The apartment was nearly ready.

With respect to her priorities, she first brewed a strong pot of coffee. Once her mug was filled, she kneeled down on the floor, took a long sip, and started tiling.

Given that she had repaired the rear entrance door and locked the front one after entering, she kept the apartment door wide open. So she was very surprised when she heard voices billowing out from the second floor.

As she neared the door, peeking out into the hallway and scanning the staircase, she recognized the voices. They were the same two men she had spied on the other day.

The threatening e-mail she had printed from Grant’s computer came to mind.

NG.

Who was NG? She knew he had killed Grant Conover. She knew he was affiliated with Colombia & Partners International, if not the actual owner. But she had gotten no closer to discovering the individual’s real name.

Kate wasn’t naïve to the fact she was in danger, being alone with them here. She was certain the attack on Scott had been meant to disable her, but that didn’t mean the men upstairs wouldn’t try to kill her if given the chance.

She reached for her cell phone, then remembered Scott’s warning. Trust no one. She couldn’t call the police, so she rushed to her tool kit and grabbed the biggest screwdriver she could find to arm herself.

This was about to be a terrible idea.

Regardless, she confidently strode into the hallway and began stomping up the stairs, holding her screwdriver like a machete, and as she rounded the landing, the two men startled, their jaws dropping.

“Who is NG?” she demanded, raising the screwdriver over her head.”

“Mrs. Fix It?”

“Tell me!” She rushed at them, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Officer Garrison aiming his gun at the men.

“Kate, stop! I’ve got this under control!”

Alarmed, her mind racing for how Garrison could’ve gotten inside the building, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Justina asked me to check on the place. Clear out any intruders.”

With Garrison standing behind them, the men locked eyes with Kate and their expressions told her that something was off. But she reasoned that their silent reactions only made them appear scared because they had been caught.

“Would you get the door?” he asked. Then he shouted to the men, “Hands on your heads!”

Kate rushed down the stairs and held the entrance door open for the men to pass through, Garrison’s gun pressed to the second one’s back.

“You okay?” asked Garrison when he reached the door. Kate sighed and he smirked. “You were going to take two men down armed only with a screwdriver?”

“I’ve done crazier things,” she said dryly.

He let out a breathy laugh then asked, “Who is NG?”

She froze. Was he asking out of genuine concern and curiosity, or for darker reasons? If Scott didn’t trust any of his men, Kate knew she couldn’t either.

“I really don’t know. That’s why I was asking.”

“How did you know to ask about the initials, though?”

Initials...she latched on to the detail, but quickly offered, “You know Rock Ridge. Rumors, rumors, and more rumors.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but let it go, his expression lifting into a smile as he told her to have a good rest of her day.

Kate watched from the doorway as Garrison hauled the two men into the back of his squad car and drove off down the street.

Returning to the apartment unit, she wondered about the conversation that had stolen her attention. Those two men had been talking, and though it had been so quiet she hadn’t heard the content, she couldn’t understand why they would have been talking so casually if Garrison had truly been in the midst of arresting them.

It didn’t add up.

Chapter Eight

“It’s great to be home!”

Kate held the door open for Jason as he entered his house for the first time in days. He had looked exhausted when she met him at the courthouse jail to post his bail, but now that he was home it was like he’d gotten his second wind. His eyes were bright as he walked into the living room with his shoulders back and his head held high.

Trailing behind them was Jared. He was carrying Kate’s overnight bag. Part of the deal for Jason’s release was that he would be supervised, and Kate had easily volunteered.

“I still think you guys should stay at Mom’s,” said Jared, as he set her bag on the couch. “With all the security devices, you would be far safer.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he bounded into the kitchen. “Who wants a beer? I want five!” He let out a booming laugh, clapped his hands together, and then began rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I’ll take a beer,” said his brother, quickly adding on Kate’s behalf, “Mom too.”

“How can I say no?” She collapsed onto the couch in disbelief that it was only four o’clock. According to the way her muscles felt, it should be half past eleven, at least.

Jason cracked the beers, handed one to his twin, and set Kate’s on the coffee table in front of her, saying, “So can we all agree that Bart Vaughn is out of his mind? What’s with those teeth?”

“And his obsession with being on camera,” Jared supplied with a laugh. “Hey, he gets the job done.”

Kate couldn’t argue with him. Bart had done a stellar job. Any other attorney might have taken weeks to get a hearing, and Bart had accomplished that much and then some in a matter of days.

“How’s Scott doing?” Jason asked, concealing his concern with his beer bottle before taking a sip.

“He’ll be okay,” said Kate.

“He will be,” Jared assured him. “Let’s not get into a bad mood worrying. It’s great that you’re out of jail. Hey, the amusement park is opening in a few days.”

“You’re kidding?” asked Jason. “Dean sure works fast.”

“He has to. Half the town is waiting for him to fail and the other half needs jobs, which only the amusement park opening will afford. They’ll need people to work the admission booth, the rides, security. There’s going to be a restaurant and a bunch of food trucks. We’ll have to go to the grand opening.”

Jason lifted the hem of his jeans, showing off his ankle monitor. “Might not be so cut and dry.”

“You can be out until nine.”

“But the park is on the west side of town. I’ll have to check if it’s close enough not to set off the monitor.”

Kate spent the rest of the afternoon and evening drinking beers with her boys, as they watched a few sports games on the television that Jason had recorded. Around dinnertime, she ordered two large pizzas for delivery, and after they ate, she gave the ICU another call to check on Scott. The nurse told her it could be a few days, but gave her the good news that Scott had used the bathroom all by himself. “He can walk,” she said.

Thank God.

At ten, Jared hopped off of the couch and helped her collect the empty pizza boxes. After giving her a hug and bumping fists with Jason, he called it a night. Kate stood in the doorway and watched him drive off, and when she returned to the living room, Jason was turning off the TV.

“I’m going to turn in,” he told her. “The guest room should be all set for you.”

“Thanks, honey. I’m so relieved you’re home.”

“Yeah,” he said, giving her a hug. “I’ll be more relieved when they catch Becky and put this whole thing to bed.”

She would be, as well.

Kate cracked open her third beer just as Jason shut his bedroom door. Taking a long sip, she started for the guest bedroom, which was on the opposite side of the living room as her son’s room.

She flipped on the light and scanned the room, feeling slightly unnerved that Becky had decorated the space. The bedroom had a feminine touch to it. What would her life be like had Becky gone through with the wedding? Why had Becky even needed to rope Jason into her life, if she had been involved with Colombia & Partners from the beginning? Kate reasoned that the young woman had needed a cover in order to get away with her criminal acts. But it didn’t quell her agitation. Some people were just downright diabolical.

Setting her beer bottle on the nightstand, she realized she should use the bathroom, brush her teeth, maybe take a quick shower before bed. She started down the hall, but before she reached the bathroom, Jason’s home office caught her eye.

She hadn’t been in this house since right after Becky had disappeared. Back when she was questioning Jason’s involvement with the crimes that had been unfolding throughout Rock Ridge, it had crossed her mind to check his office out. She cringed at the fact she had suspected her son, but things had been very confusing back then.

Edging into his study, she swiped her hand on the wall in search of the light switch. The overheads popped on and she gasped. The wall was covered in photos and notecards, red string tacked from one handwritten detail to the next. As she neared what appeared to be Jason’s research, which he had compiled in his hunt to find Becky, the sheer volume of information astonished Kate.

Under each photo, depicting faces she seldom recognized, Jason had written the individual’s name, which gave her an idea. Quickly, she began scanning for NG.

As her gaze traveled over one notecard after the next, she mumbled the names out loud.

“Susan O’Malley, Gillian O’Reilly, Curt Foster...” Many she had never heard of, and according to Jason’s notes, it seemed he had investigated them but decided they were not suspicious. She moved along the wall then realized several police officers were clustered on a bulletin board propped against the wall. She crouched, reviewing their photos and names, but startled when she heard pounding coming from the front door.

When she reached the front door, she cursed that there wasn’t a peephole. It was late and she couldn’t imagine who was out there, unless Jared had forgotten something. If he had, however, he would’ve texted or called.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“Garrison! Just wanted to check on everyone. Scott’s orders.”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob, unsure.

Considering Scott’s warning, there was no way he’d order any of his officers to check on Kate and Jason. As uneasy as she was, she unlocked the door and drew it inward.

“We’re fine.”

“Jason all tucked in?” he asked in a friendly manner, which, for some reason, made her blood run cold.

“He is. I’m about to do the same. It’s rather late, wouldn’t you say?”

Garrison laughed good-naturedly. “I thought I gave you a scare earlier today when I arrested those two trespassers.”

“Not to worry,” she told him, edging the door to give him the hint she would have to talk to him another time. “I’m sure Justina appreciated it.”

“Kate,” he said, catching the door with his palm. “I know I don’t have to tell you that time is of the essence.... Everyone knows you’re one hell of an investigator. Any progress on NG?”

She felt the color rush out of her cheeks, and in an unsteady voice, said, “It was just a rumor and a bad one at that.”

“I know you, Kate. It wasn’t just a rumor. I can tell by the look on your face.”

“It’s late.”

His eyes darkened and his pleasant demeanor was quickly replaced with a look of bottled frustration. After a tense moment, he managed to relax, offering her a brittle smile, and said, “You have a good night, now.”

“I certainly will.”

The second she closed the door, her thumb twisted the lock and she let out a rocky breath, after which she rushed into the living room and dialed Justina’s cell phone.

But the call went through to voice mail.

“Justina, hi, I know it’s late,” she said urgently. “I need you to call me as soon as you get this message. I need to know if you called the precinct to have an officer stop in at the apartment building today. Please. Call me back.”

Chapter Nine

The sun was setting behind the amusement park as Kate helped Scott out of the passenger’s seat of her truck. The sky held the loveliest colors—tangerine, rose, lavender—all melting into dusk. The countless rides were adorned with twinkling lights. Somewhere the chimes of carnival music played. But when Kate glanced up at the translucent moon, she felt a drop of rain.

Scott used a cane, as they walked slowly towards the amusement park entrance. When they reached the back of the line, Jason and Jared jogged over.

“Hey,” said Jared out of breath. He strained to see the admissions booth at the front of the line. “Looks like this place is going to be a hit.”

Jason jabbed his shoulder and told him, “Fat chance,” which Jared immediately mocked, pointing out that the expression hadn’t been in good taste since the nineties.

“How’s the leg?” Kate asked Scott quietly.

“I think I’m going to be one of those grumpy old men who can predict the weather based on how badly his bones are aching.”

“Your bones are aching?”

“My hip.” He peered up at the sky. “It’s going to rain.”

She was afraid of that, but not more so than the text message she had received from Justina that morning.

After two days of waiting on pins and needles for the real-estate agent’s reply, Kate had discovered her cell phone flashing with a missed call. Before she could open it, she saw that a text message had also come through.

I didn’t call the police.

“The line’s moving,” said Jared, excitedly rubbing his hands together. “I want cotton candy and a beer—”

“Sounds like a recipe for indigestion,” Jason teased.

Ignoring his brother, Jared continued, “And I’m doing the roller coaster first, then the Ferris wheel, then I’m going to kill it on the games. Mom, you want a giant bear or giant balloon? I can win you either...or both.”

Kate smiled. “Just make sure it isn’t bigger than the cab of my truck. I don’t have bungee cords to strap it to the roof.”

When it was there turn at the admissions booth, Jason took charge, reminding the cashier that he was the head of Wentworth Contractors.

She eyed him skeptically in a way that indicated she recognized him from the news. But she gave him four complimentary tickets, which he distributed as they passed through the turnstile.

Kate expected her boys to run off like kids in a candy store, but they surprised her, keeping calm as well as an eye on Scott, who was walking slowly.

Abruptly, Scott said, “I’ll be back. Feel free to go on ahead without me.” He was staring off towards the games, and when Kate glanced that way, she saw a man in a trench coat and fedora hat.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

Speaking softly, he said, “Just a little outside help. You’ll be at the cotton candy truck?”

“Sure. We won’t disappear.”

She watched him make his slow way over to the man, as Jason hooked his arm around hers.

“Let’s hope the beers aren’t eight bucks a pop,” he said.

To which Jared chimed in, “Don’t bet on it.”

As they made their way to the food trucks, weaving in and out of racing children and the parents that were hurrying after them, Officer Garrison jogged over.

“Evening,” he said, just as the rain began coming down in a fine mist. “Can you believe how quickly this park went up?”

“How about that,” she said, unnerved he had stopped them. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, the cotton candy truck is calling.”

“No can do,” he said with an easy smile. “Lot of people out tonight. Scott asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Just like Justina had asked him to check out the apartment building? Kate didn’t think so.

“You look worried,” he pointed out, keeping his tone low so that Jason and Jared, who were conversing with each other, wouldn’t take note. “Look,” he said in an even quieter tone, “this has more to do with Jason. Gotta keep an eye on him. You understand.”

“Right,” she said. “Come on, boys.”

Garrison trailed behind them as they joined the end of the cotton candy line. The wind kicked up as they waited, inching forward. For as many nights as she had hoped for rain to cool off the stifling heat, Kate took the weather as a bad omen.

At the food truck counter, Jason got a puff of pink cotton candy and handed a blue one to his brother. Then they stepped aside, running into Eric Demblowski.

“Hey killer,” he said to Jason, which caused Kate’s hands to ball into fists.

Jason didn’t appreciate the nickname, either.

Eric shot Kate a disingenuous smile, saying, “Quite an interview the other day. Too bad you ran off.”

“Was it?” she challenged. “I thought I did you a favor.”

“Sorry about being the bearer of bad news like that,” he said, sounding entirely insincere. “And for my tone. You know how it is...making a story sound dramatic...”

“Is that what you call it?”

Eric exchanged a brief look with Officer Garrison, but quickly said, “You all take care. And Kate? I’m ready for round two when you are.” Unable to leave it at that, he leaned in and said, “You’re going to wish you had never mentioned Becky.”

Astonished, Kate glanced at Garrison for confirmation she had just been threatened, but the cop was grinning at Eric.

“Come on, boys,” she said, taking hold of her sons’ arms and starting off towards the roller coaster, but they didn’t get far.

The next thing she knew, she felt the barrel of a gun pressing into her back.

“Don’t say a word,” said Garrison.

He was standing close. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. And when she shifted her eyes, she understood that no one in the crowd around them had taken notice.

Her sons had, however.

“Mom?” asked Jason.

“Do what he says,” she whispered.

Garrison said, “That’s right. Everyone’s going to do what I say.”

As Garrison forced her to start walking, leading her around the food truck and towards the darkened side of the amusement truck, Kate began racking her brain. Everyone called Garrison by his last name. And now that she was thinking about it, she wasn’t sure she had ever learned his first name.

Then she remembered. Years ago, Ken Johnson had introduced them.

Soon they were rounding into a dark tent that was being used to cover leftover materials from the build.

Apprehensively, she said, “Ned?” He shoved her forward. She fell to the dirt and her sons rushed to her. As they helped her up, her eyes were locked on the gun in Garrison’s hand.

“You’re making a big mistake,” she said.

“Save it,” he barked.

“No,” she insisted. “You don’t understand.” Her heart was racing so fast she was suddenly out of breath. “It’s Becky. And Eric...they’re going to—”

“You couldn’t keep to yourself, could you? Even after you were shot at. Even after Scott went to the hospital. You just had to keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I know you killed Grant Conover,” she blurted out.

Her sons looked shocked from where she could see them out of the corners of her eyes.

“It’s been you all along?” she asked. “You’re behind Colombia & Partners?”

“Stop, Kate, it’s all over.”

He cocked his gun and straightened his arm. If he pulled the trigger, the bullet would catch her right between the eyes, just as it had the prison warden.

But that wasn’t her immediate concern. Becky’s warning filled her mind, and she insisted, “You’re about to be ambushed! It’s Becky!” Kate’s eyes darted into the darkness that surrounded them beyond the tent. “This was her plan all along. She baited you here.”

“She didn’t bait me,” he countered. “She works for me. And I’m getting my product.” He walked over to a stack of crates and tapped the one on top. “She’s very loyal.”

“She isn’t. And Eric just saw us walk over here. He’s probably telling her right now. They’re going to kill you, all of us!”

Thunder cracked overhead, followed by a downpour. Rain fell in ragged sheets against the tent as the wind kicked up in sideways gusts.

“No one is going to die here today, except you and your sons,” he told her in a cool and steady voice that made her heart punch in her chest. “And the beauty of it is that I couldn’t stop him.”

“What?”

Garrison aimed his gun at Jared, continuing with his dark explanation. “Jason brought you in here. He murdered you, and then, overcome with guilt, he shot himself in the head. I was too late.”

“No,” said Kate, horrified.

Without warning, Jason charged at Garrison, advancing so fast that the cop had little time to aim his gun.

BANG!

Kate screamed, her mind reeling with confusion, as Officer Garrison dropped dead on the ground.

Kate shifted her wide eyes from Garrison to Jason to Jared, as she gradually understood...

But it was too late; the shooter was stepping out of the shadows. Everywhere Kate turned, she saw more men and women entering the tent, surrounding her and her boys, their guns aimed at her head.

Becky Langley glared at Kate and said darkly, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Chapter Ten

Jason squared his shoulders, facing the woman he had once thought he knew, the girl who had stolen his heart, the one he had thought he would spend the rest of his life with.

Becky’s expression hardened and didn’t waver. Her gun was trained on his chest, though he stood ten feet away.

Jason’s question was a single word. “Why?”

“Why?” she challenged. “Because there’s no getting out. There’s no escaping what I am.”

Terrified that saying anything would push Becky to pull the trigger, Kate dared to speak anyway. “Did Grant tell you that?”

Becky angled her dark eyes on Kate. “I’ve always known it. I’ve always gotten into trouble. I didn’t have a terrible childhood. I didn’t suffer any tragedies like you and your family did when Greg disappeared. I have no excuse. I like drugs and I love the power I have,” she said easily. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t.”

“Why did you get involved with me?” Jason demanded, tears springing to his eyes. “Why did you set me up?”

For the first time, Kate saw remorse in Becky’s eyes. She loosened her grip on the gun, and her arm lowered, as she seemed to hunt for the right words to say.

“It was part of the plan. That’s all. Nothing personal.”

Jason clenched his jaw and began quaking with rage.

“I told you, you don’t know me.”

“Why kill us?” Kate asked, but it only made Becky laugh.

“I can’t do what I want to do if you go on living,” she pointed out. “The great Kate Flaherty, notorious Mrs. Fix It, will stop at nothing to keep Rock Ridge clean and safe.” She keeled over laughing then sobered up so fast it set Kate’s teeth on edge. Becky didn’t even look human anymore. She looked like the devil incarnate. “You should’ve died a long time ago. But as they say,” she said in a singsong tone as she cocked her gun, “if you want something done right, you gotta do it your damn self, don’t you?”

“I’ll never forgive you for this!” Jason cried, but the kingpin wasn't fazed.

“You won’t have to, sweetheart. You’ll be dead. But not before your mother.”

Becky aimed the gun at Kate’s head, stalking towards her like a trained assassin until the barrel pressed against Kate’s forehead.

“Any last words?” she asked, devoid of all human emotion.

Kate spoke in a faltering tone, using carefully chosen words, as she slipped her hand into her back pocket, rain pounding on the tent roof all the while. “Yeah...I’m sorry.”

Without warning, Becky threw her head back, laughing with reckless abandon, and it was just the opportunity Kate needed.

Becky cackled out, “Sorry for what?” In the same moment, Kate thrust her screwdriver into the woman’s stomach, leaping up.

Becky gasped and stared down at her stomach in disbelief at the tool lodged in her abdomen, as Kate ripped the gun from her hands, vaguely aware that bullets were now flying all around her.

Before she realized what was happening, Jason dove on top of her, protecting her from the gunfire. She slammed onto the dirt, but as she peered up, she saw that it wasn’t Becky’s henchmen who were firing their weapons. Rather, they were dropping dead all around her.

When finally it quieted, Scott stepped under the tent, lowering his gun. “You’re safe.”

Kate got to her feet quickly and braced Jason’s shoulders, scanning his body to be certain he hadn’t been hit. Confirming as much, she rushed to Jared and did the same. It was only when she was sure her sons were alive and well that she ran to Scott and threw her arms around him.

As she held him, she saw dozens of officers she didn’t recognize step out of the dark rain and into the tent.

She urged Scott back and searched his eyes, and he told her, “I figured it all out. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She kissed him, holding her lips to his, and then embraced him.

Jason neared them and lifted the hem of his jeans, asking, “Does someone want to get this damned thing off of me?”

In response, Kate burst into laughter, as tears of relief streamed down her face.

It was finally over. She had her husband, her boys, and Rock Ridge would be safe once and for all.

~~~

KILLER FOUNDATION

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty could not walk to the entrance of Daisy’s Luncheonette fast enough. The sweltering summer sun was beating down from the cloudless sky. Her sneakers smacked over asphalt, which in Kate’s estimation was melting in the heat. It wasn’t yet the height of summer, but early July. She couldn’t recall the heat being this bad in prior years. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess it was mid-August. And it didn’t help that she had been doing light fix-it jobs outside, here and there, all week.

Opening the glass entrance door of the diner required more effort than she would’ve expected, but the second she stepped into the cool air conditioning of Daisy’s Luncheonette, she felt revived.

Scott was seated at one of the booths, thumbing through a menu. It took Kate a minute to spot him within the crowded restaurant. Though the original owner, Daisy, had been arrested in connection with a massive conspiracy to flood Rock Ridge with designer drugs two years ago, the diner hadn’t been stigmatized because of it. Quite the opposite in fact, it seemed Daisy’s Luncheonette was thriving despite the reputation of its namesake. The majority of residents may have been shocked after learning of Daisy’s crime, but not enough to demand that the diner change its name.

The hostess, a plucky young woman who had grown increasingly friendly with Kate since she stopped in nearly every day, hurried over to the hostess stand the second she caught sight of Kate lingering there.

“Mrs. Fix It!” she exclaimed, grabbing a slick menu from the stand. “I always know what time it is when you walk in the door!”

Smiling, Kate said, “I’m glad to be of use.”

“You’re my favorite customer,” she went on. Kate glanced at her nametag, which read Marsha. For some reason, Kate always confused the woman’s name with that of her twin, Martha. “Every time you step in for lunch I know I have ten minutes until my break.” As she led Kate through the restaurant, she added over her shoulder, “Pot of coffee?”

“You know me far too well,” Kate commented. The hostess set her menu on the table across from Scott and hurried off to fetch Kate’s much-needed caffeine boost.

Kate eyed her for a moment as Marsha joked around with her twin behind the counter. Observing them made her miss her twin boys. Jason and Jared had moved back to Rock Ridge for a few years, but after multiple murders were solved years back—murders that had been committed in conjunction with the drug conspiracy—her twins didn’t have it in them to stay in the quaint town. Too many memories, Jason had said as he had packed up his house. He had loved his fiancée, Becky Langley, and it had hit him hard that Becky had been a central figure in the drug ring that had nearly destroyed this town. Jason and Jared now lived in Philadelphia and visited roughly once a month. She would like to see them more, but she was glad they lived together, their relationship having only been strengthened by the tragedy.

Scott lowered his menu as Kate slid into the booth. She was always happy to see her husband. He combed his fingers through his snow-white hair and sighed at the brutal heat. “How’re you holding up?”

“Unsteadily,” she sighed, resting her forearms on the table only to realize it felt sticky. After plucking a few napkins from the dispenser and wiping her half of the table down, she realized the table wasn’t dirty. Instead, the heat had crept into the diner, causing the wood to sweat. “I’ve been scheduling my outdoor work first thing in the morning and the late afternoon in order to beat the heat, but it’s still taking its toll.”

“The precinct isn’t much better,” he mentioned. “We’re long overdue for some new air conditioners. My office is stifling. It seems the only place I get any relief is in my truck since the AC is as chilled as a meat locker.”

Kate shot him a weary smile and glanced at her menu. If she ordered a proper lunch, it would probably put her to sleep, so she decided to go with a light meal.

Her attention was stolen when Marsha set a carafe of coffee on the table...or was that Martha? “Thank you,” she said, wasting no time pouring a mug. Scott voiced his order and then angled his big eyes on Kate, who said, “I’ll have a Cobb Salad and a side of buttered toast.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“If I eat more, I’ll fall asleep,” she explained.

As Marsha jotted down the order and collected their menus, Scott studied Kate. His expression looked skeptical.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked.

“I believe you,” he allowed before quickly pointing out, “but I don’t think avoiding a greasy meal is going to prevent you from feeling tired.”

“Oh please,” she shot back, knowing exactly where he was going with this. Recently, she had been tired, too tired. She often woke feeling exhausted, which she admitted didn’t make a lick of sense. After a full night’s rest, she should be energetic and bristling with gusto. After all, she was a high-energy person. Tack onto that the fact that she drank coffee from sunup to sundown, and she should be whipping through her days as she always had. “I’m fine,” she concluded.

“I’m not so sure,” he countered, as he poured a second sugar packet into his mug of coffee. “Why don’t you make an appointment—?”

“A doctor’s appointment?” She gaped at him with a little laugh. Unless Kate was shot, she saw no point in seeing a doctor. She was stubborn like that.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because, being a little tired here and there is no reason to waste two hours sitting in a waiting room. I’m fine,” she repeated.

Scott’s white eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he knew her well enough to hold his tongue.

She worked on her coffee, drinking and refilling her mug, and before she knew it, Marsha was setting their lunch plates on the table. They ate in silence for a few minutes and Kate tried not to grimace after each bite. Though it was a mystery to her, in addition to feeling tired, her taste buds had changed. Foods she used to love now tasted bitter or bland. Her sweet tooth was always aching for more sugar. And she couldn’t stomach the thought of alcohol. But she determined that these were not reasons to waste a doctor’s time or her own.

After eating the last bite of his hamburger, Scott pushed his plate to the side and said, “I’ve been hearing a lot about the fireworks celebration—”

“Over at the amusement park?” she asked, finishing his thought.

“Dean has been making such a big deal about it that no one else in town is bothering with their own parties for the Fourth of July.”

“So, you’re telling me you’d like to go?”

He shrugged and refilled his coffee mug. “Why not? At least the crowd will be big enough that we can leave whenever we want, slip out and no one will notice.”

He had a point, but Kate had been avoiding the amusement park in general. It wasn’t so much the memories that came rushing back to her whenever she set foot in the place that set her teeth on edge—she’d nearly lost her life at the grand opening a few years back, not to mention her son Jason had narrowly escaped his own murder while there. Kate had been avoiding the park for the same reason the mayor, Dean Wentworth had built it: the amusement park attracted tourists from all over. And Kate wasn’t a fan of out-of-towners.

“Well, if you’d like to go,” she said finally, “then I’ll certainly join you. Let’s just hope it cools off by nightfall, otherwise I’m not sure I’ll be able to tolerate it for very long.”

“Agreed,” he said, but added, “We have a few days to decide anyway. I’ll keep my ear to the ground in the meantime to see if anyone else is planning on hosting a little gathering.”

She told him it sounded like a plan and groaned when Martha dropped the bill on the table. Scott laughed, placing his hand on the slip.

“Oh, it’s not that,” she smiled, referring to his assumption that she might not have twenty bucks. She glanced out the window. She could actually see the heat rippling the suburban landscape. “I’m dreading setting foot outside.”

“Come on,” he said as he worked a few bills out of his wallet and placed them on the table. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”

Kate watched her husband jostle to his feet getting out of the booth and she’d had every intention of springing up as well, but her legs felt like rubber. She sucked in a deep breath and hoisted herself up, using the table for support. She could feel Scott’s eyes on her, sensing his concern, though she didn’t meet his gaze.

She could tell he was dying to comment as he walked her through the restaurant, held the door open for her, and ushered her down the sidewalk to her Mrs. Fix It truck. But again, he held his tongue.

“Where are you off to?” he asked, opening the driver’s side door for her.

“The Roberts house,” she said as she hopped up behind the steering wheel.

“Oh yeah? I thought you weren’t starting that job for another month?”

“No, the couple got their ducks in a row and they want to flip the house as soon as possible, before winter at the very least. It’s a big job.”

Scott nodded and she could almost see the words forming in his mind. Whenever Kate mentioned a big job, Jason sprung to the forefront of her thoughts. While her other son, Jared, had worked in the mayor’s office, Jason had been a contractor just like Kate. This was one of those times that Kate missed her son more than usual.

“I’m sure you’ll tackle it and be done in no time,” Scott said, encouragingly.

“I should’ve ordered a coffee to go,” she mumbled, fitting the key into the ignition.

“If coffee’s not cutting it anymore—”

“Then I should see a doctor, I know. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” He stammered to respond, but she was already saying, “I’m no spring chicken, my friend. I’m launching into my late forties...”

If she had meant for it to be an excuse for feeling tired all the time, she could see Scott wasn’t buying it, but he shut the truck door for her, rounded the hood, and stepped onto the sidewalk to wave her off.

As she threw the truck in gear, she rolled down the passenger’s side window and shouted, “When will you be home for dinner?”

“Seven at the latest,” he called out, waving at her, as she pulled into the street.

Life had been calm these past few years. Scott was a dedicated cop and one hell of an investigator. He had certainly thrived during those waves of murders, those four years ago and then again two years ago. But he had been enjoying the peace in this town. These days, the crimes he worked were never brutal and often centered on teenagers getting into mild trouble. Even the ex-cons who had been steadily released from the local prison hadn’t caused any real crimes. Drugs were at an all-time low. The economy was booming. And for the most part, Scott spent his days on administrative work and revising budgets, and he never failed to be home by six or seven o’clock.

By the same measure, Kate’s fix-it business had been flourishing, but unlike a few years ago, she now kept a level head and never bit off more than she could chew. Her days were often busy, packed to brimming with fix-it work. But she always hung up her tool belt at a quarter to six no matter what. Her evenings with Scott were precious. The weekends when her twin boys came to visit were not to be taken for granted. And Kate lived her life cherishing her free time with her husband and family.

The Roberts’ house was in the heart of suburban Rock Ridge just east of Main Street where the blocks made up a perfectly symmetrical grid and the houses looked nearly identical to one another—each a modest, two-story Colonial with a shallow front yard and white picket fence. While Kate was glad she didn’t live in this part of town—as far as she was concerned, the houses were much too close together, and she preferred her cozy cabin on the rural end of town—she certainly enjoyed the aesthetic. This area was darn cute.

The Roberts’ house, however, was not. Situated in the very center of the block, the house was a dilapidated, three-story monstrosity that reminded her of the witches of Salem. In its heyday, the house was a storybook Victorian replete with gabled roofs, angled bay windows, and turrets that speared at their tops.

But it hadn’t been lived in for the last thirty years. The windows were boarded up, the front door was chained shut, and every entrance had a thick ‘Condemned’ sign nailed into its wooden surface.

The new owners, Amy and Jack, had bought the house a few months back with the intention of fixing the place up so that they could flip it for a profit. But the house required a heck of a lot more work than mere cosmetic fixes, a fact Kate had communicated to them over the phone. Amy and Jack lived in Vermont and had bought the property sight-unseen. And, in Kate’s opinion, they’d had delusions of grandeur because of it. She would need to gut it and renovate it top to bottom. To accomplish that much in a few short months would be a feat, if not a downright miracle, the latter having been how she put it to them during their brief, argumentative phone call.

They were paying her handsomely, however. She had told them she’d do her best. And when Kate Flaherty declared as much, it was a promise that she knew she’d live up to.

She pulled up the driveway, rolling her truck to a stop and giving the neighbor, Mrs. Hyatt, a wave. The elderly woman was tending to her flowerbed, which was set in planters that wrapped her house.

Climbing out of her truck, Kate called out, “You’re not working in this heat, are you?”

Mrs. Hyatt, whose eighty years couldn’t stop her from living an active life, even with a walker and poor eyesight, straightened up from her peonies. She ran her hands down her lavender moo-moo and grabbed her walker. As she inched over to the white picket fence separating her property from the Roberts’, she said, “Oh, at my age, I have a constant chill in my bones. Heat like this perks me up. I probably should’ve moved down to Florida decades ago, but I’m too darn stubborn.”

When she reached the fence, Kate gave her a little squeeze on her arm, saying, “Well, be sure to drink plenty of fluids. Dehydration can sneak up on a person. It’s nearly 100 degrees out here.”

“Don’t you worry about me, now,” she chided with a sly smile, her bright green eyes flaring.

Despite her age, Mrs. Hyatt had a youthful expression, though her face was deeply creased. Kate hoped that she might live so long and have even half as much energy as the elderly woman.

Mrs. Hyatt glanced up at the Roberts’ house and sighed. “I haven’t had neighbors on this side of my house in thirty years. I like the quiet, you know. My bedroom is right up there,” she said, indicating the second floor window that faced the Roberts’ house. “Let’s hope a noisy couple doesn’t move in.”

“You’re a good three months away from dealing with them if they do,” said Kate, meaning to assure her.

“At my age, three months will lapse in the blink of an eye. It’s one of the perks of getting old, I guess,” she commented with a sarcastic air. “You know, the last family who lived in that house was noisy as sin.”

“You don’t say?” Kate had come to enjoy Mrs. Hyatt’s anecdotes. Though she had only been working on the Roberts’ house for a week, she had grown close with the woman during these brief chats.

“As sin,” she repeated and a dark mood clouded the woman’s expression. Mrs. Hyatt shook her head as if warding off a disturbing memory. “If I didn’t know better, I would think the place was haunted, not that I’ve ever set foot in there.”

Kate chuckled, but soon realized Mrs. Hyatt wasn’t making a joke.

“Keep your wits about you.”

“I certainly will,” said Kate, who gave her another squeeze to conclude the conversation. “You take care.”

Mrs. Hyatt grunted, which Kate took as agreement before she grabbed her tool kit from the bed of her truck and walked toward the giant house.

Because she had yet to install a new front door—Kate had decided to restore the house from the foundation up, and a new front door would be one of her final touches—the giant oak entryway was still locked up with a massive steel chain. The Roberts couple seemed comfortable with using the chain to keep the property secure, and Kate didn’t have a problem with it either. She unlocked the door and struggled to pull the chain across the doorway.

The house was dark and dusty when she stepped inside, so she left the front door wide open and walked through the grand foyer and into the kitchen where she had left her coffee maker and a few snacks.

Though the house didn’t have any air conditioning units, it had been boarded up for so long that it was as cool as a cucumber inside, a saving grace, she figured, since the natural light of day hadn’t penetrated these walls for decades.

As she made coffee, she wiped her sweaty brow several times. It might be cool in here, but she felt overheated. She hoped a fresh cup of coffee would help, but deep down she knew it wouldn’t. She had been growing increasingly tired for the past month. Though Scott had been pushing for her to see a doctor, Kate had an idea of what was causing her lethargy, and if she was correct, she didn’t see the sense in getting the diagnosis in writing.

It had to be menopause.

She sighed at the thought.

She had been debating telling Scott, but the fact of the matter was that she felt embarrassed. Scott, bless his heart, hadn’t lost an ounce of attraction for her. In the past few years, he’d actually become remarkably friskier with her. Crime being at an all-time low was some kind of aphrodisiac, apparently. And she wasn’t complaining. So, the thought of sitting her husband down to explain that her mojo was beginning to shrivel up filled her with dread. If he knew, he would only be disappointed.

Once the coffee had brewed, she filled her mug, a gift from her twins the last time they had visited. It was a blue mug with the Mrs. Fix It logo—Kate in silhouette wielding a hammer. She drank a few sips, praying the caffeine would have a noticeable effect on her energy. Then she grasped her tool kit by the handle and headed off toward the cellar door.

Though it was barely perceptible from the outside, the house was actually pitched ever so slightly to the east thanks to a rift in the foundation. Nearly twenty-five years ago, Rock Ridge had suffered a moderate earthquake. Kate could remember the day, in fact. It had been a warm autumn day. She and the boys had been playing catch in the front yard in the late afternoon. They had been young at the time and needed a ton of attention. Greg, her husband at the time, had been in the house making sandwiches when Kate felt the earth rumble beneath her feet. All told, the earthquake had resulted in five broken shelves and a massive crack in one of the walls of their house, but the center of Rock Ridge hadn’t been so lucky. A few houses had caved in, telephone poles had fallen on parked vehicles, there had been sink holes and injuries and a number of families had to move into the local church because their homes had been rendered unlivable.

For the Roberts’ house, the foundation had shifted and since there were no owners at the time, no one had repaired the damage.

Kate eased down the rickety stairs into the basement. The overhead light she had flipped on at the top of the stairs barely illuminated the way. When she reached the landing, she set her tool kit down, took a quick sip of coffee, and searched the walls for another light switch.

She hadn’t before ventured into the basement. The majority of her efforts this week had centered on getting the electrical up and running so that she would be able to use her power tools as the months progressed. Earlier that day, Larry—the owner of Grayson’s Hardware—had helped to haul a jackhammer down here, but neither had lingered to survey the damage from the long-ago earthquake.

She found a light switch on the dusty wall perpendicular to the stairs so she flipped it on. It took the overheads so long to flicker to life, that for an anxious moment, she thought she would have to work in the dark. She sighed with relief to find that the lights were not only working but also quite bright as she stepped slowly into the basement.

The room was roughly 1,000 square feet. The walls were brick, the ceiling low, and there were only a few stout windows lining the south wall, which she knew faced the back of the property. The windows themselves were less than a foot tall, and because they were positioned at the top of the wall, she could see grass sprouting just outside. The basement was deep in the earth for the most part, and smelled like it—musty and dank with a hint of mildew.

But that wasn’t what had her attention. Now as she closely inspected the rift in the cement floor, she realized that in fact someone must have been down here since the earthquake.

The cement floor looked how she had expected: the classic faded gray quality of a decades old foundation. The rift itself was a three-foot gap, jagged and roughly two feet deep. When she peered down it, she could see dark earth—compacted soil where a few mushrooms had sprouted. But that wasn’t what alluded to the fact someone had been down here.

At the far end of the basement, where one of the brick walls was leaning precariously into the room, she saw that the floor wasn’t cement. It was asphalt.

No contractor in their right mind would lay in asphalt where cement should be, she thought, strolling over to the bizarre rectangle. Sizing it up, she noted that the asphalt area was about six feet long by three and a half feet wide, and it was contributing to the fact that the brick wall was leaning into the room.

She planted her fist on her hip and drank her coffee, thinking hard about how she might tackle this. Ultimately, a strong house would have to be built on a strong foundation and that patch of asphalt just wasn’t helping.

She resolved to jackhammer the asphalt out, pour in cement, and lay in a wall of brick to secure the leaning wall. Truth be told, if she had her druthers and a proper budget, she would literally level the darn house, lay in a brand new foundation, and start from scratch. But Jack and Amy wanted to preserve the house; their argument was that they could sell the house as an historical landmark and make a virtual fortune. Kate had begged to differ, but at the end of the day, relented.

Sighing, she set her coffee down, plugged her jackhammer into the nearest outlet and pitted the tip of the chisel against the black asphalt.

She was sweating like a pig already and the jackhammer was heavy as hell, but she balanced it against her hip, pressed her earplugs into her ears after fishing the things out of her overalls, and got the jackhammer growling.

Oh, boy, she thought...well, she would certainly sleep well tonight!

Kate began hammering at the asphalt, her hands vibrating against the handles, which sent a jerking pulse through her entire body. Her teeth were chattering so she clenched her jaw, eyeing the asphalt as she pressed the chisel hard against the surface.

Suddenly a huge chunk popped out and she immediately killed the power, her eyes locking onto the fresh hole.

She gasped.

Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

Without taking her eyes off of it—oh God, is that what I think it is?—she set the jackhammer down, and then crouched beside the hole.

It was.

Her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

Kate Flaherty was staring at a human hand.

Chapter Two

Though Kate was seated on the living room couch—a relic from thirty years ago that was covered with a sheet like the rest of the furniture in the Roberts’ house—and though police officers were swarming the estate, hurrying up and down the cellar stairs under Scott’s directive, Kate couldn’t focus on any of it. She didn’t see Officer Marco rushing through the foyer. She didn’t see the Medical Examiner speaking in scandalized staccato comments to the hotshot detective, Kilroy, who had just transferred from New York City last month. She didn’t see Scott running his big hands down his face to wipe the stunned grimace off his expression as he paced in the kitchen.

All she saw was the emerald gemstone burning at the forefront of her mind.

It had undoubtedly been a woman’s hand. The emerald ring had been on the index finger of her right hand. The nails had been manicured and painted red.

Someone had laid a body within the asphalt as it had dried.

But no one had lived in the house in thirty years.

No one had spoken with Kate yet. After she had called Scott at the precinct, it had taken less than ten minutes for the police to arrive. She had spent the time staring at the hand from where it protruded the jagged asphalt. She had thought about the earthquake damage—twenty-five years ago, that was the timeline.

The asphalt hadn’t been laid prior.

This meant that, while the house decayed and lay vacant in Rock Ridge, someone had thought to dispose of a body within its walls.

There was no way the woman had died of natural causes. If she had, she would’ve received a proper burial.

Who was the woman? Who had killed her? And why did they hide her body in an abandoned Victorian house?

Kate felt eyes on her and when she looked up, she found Scott staring at her from the kitchen where Detective Kilroy was chewing his ear off.

She needed some air so she got to her feet, but a wave of dizziness hit her and she grasped the armrest of the couch. Her blood sugar must be low, that’s all, she just needed a sugar boost. She sensed more than saw Scott take hold of her arm.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, straightening her back. “I just need some air.”

As Scott escorted her through the foyer and out the front door, where the late afternoon sun was beating down with merciless heat, he clarified, “I mean emotionally. You must have been pretty terrified to jackhammer into a dead body.”

“You know I’ve seen worse,” she commented, brushing over her fright. The truth was that it had startled her. Mrs. Hyatt’s offhanded mention of the house perhaps being haunted rattled her nerves. “Any idea who the woman was?”

“We’re still working on excavating the body,” he explained, leading her to an old-fashioned swing beneath a large oak tree. After helping her to sit, which Kate did slowly, and carefully grasping the tattered ropes, he went on, “It looks like the asphalt preserved her body from decaying, but we’ll still need to consult with the local dentists’ offices to get a proper ID.”

Dental records from that long ago would be archived, which meant this case would not be cut and dry.

“She looked wealthy,” said Kate, breathing deeply. The oak tree provided just enough shade that the air was fresh and not stifling.

“You mean the ring she was wearing?” he said. “We can’t make any assumptions.”

“Have you contacted Amy and Jack Roberts?”

“I put a call in,” he explained. “But they have yet to get back to me.” After a few moments of Kate rocking herself on the tree swing as Scott stared down at her, he suggested, “Why don’t you go on home. You can’t do any more work here today since it’s officially a crime scene.”

She had to admit, the idea of going home sounded excellent. She felt wiped out, and a nap would do her good so she agreed, getting to her feet. “For what it’s worth,” she began, as Scott walked with her to her truck. “Whoever killed the woman and buried her in the basement would’ve had to have done it in the last twenty-five years. Remember the earthquake?”

It took him a moment to think back and Kate could see the moment he recalled the disaster. “I was working in Philadelphia and we barely felt it over there.”

“Well, you’ll notice a rift in the cement in the basement. That was from the earthquake. The last owners left the house thirty years ago...”

“Which means that anyone could’ve snuck in within the last twenty-five years and done this,” he surmised, shaking his head at the uphill battle he was facing. “God, this is going to be one hell of a case.”

She gave him a hug, and though she soon loosened her grip, Scott lingered, holding her close. It made her smile until she realized where he was coming from. They had flourished these past two years without a single murder plaguing their beloved town. She knew he was praying this wasn’t the beginning of another slew of murders.

To set his mind at ease, she said, “Honey, this is an old crime, not the start of a conspiracy.”

“I know you’re right,” he said. “I just want to solve this case and get back to pushing paperwork. Mundane is a paradise compared to brutal crimes.”

She couldn’t agree more and gave him a kiss.

As he started back up the walkway, she popped open the driver’s side door of her truck, but Mrs. Hyatt caught her eye. The elderly woman was watching the commotion of cops rushing in and out of the house from where she stood with the support of her walker at the white picket fence.

Kate trekked over to her, saying, “I’m sure you’re wondering just what in the heck is going on over here.”

Mrs. Hyatt looked grim, her mouth pulling into a taut frown, her eyes fierce and her brow furrowed. “Wondering? No, I’m not wondering. I’m dreading.” She shook her head and asked, “Someone was murdered?” But it sounded more like a statement.

“Not recently,” Kate assured her. “Looks like an old crime.”

Her comment didn’t seem to put the elderly woman at ease. “Anyone who spends time in that house...” she trailed off, shaking her head and looking a bit ill in Kate’s estimation.

“What do you mean?”

“Families are happy when they go inside,” she explained mysteriously. “But when they come out, their eyes are wild and there’s often one less.”

“Are you saying the people who have lived there have gone crazy and killed?”

Mrs. Hyatt didn’t so much respond as lock eyes with Kate in a way that chilled her bones. “You shouldn’t renovate it, my dear. You should burn it to the ground.”

“What makes you say that?”

Strangely, Mrs. Hyatt shot her a smile that didn’t at all capture her dark mood. “I’m just an old woman. What do I know?”

“Something tells me you know a lot,” she countered, as though unwilling to let the woman off the hook.

“Just consider yourself lucky. At least you won’t have to spend time in that hellhole while the police do their job. And I’m telling you, you should suggest to those Roberts people that they ought to burn that damned house to the ground.”

Before Kate could ask her more, Mrs. Hyatt began shuffling off, thrusting and planting her walker in the ground as she inched toward her house.

Unnerved, Kate watched the elderly woman disappear into her house. When she turned for her truck, Detective Kilroy was jogging toward her so she offered him a weary smile, hoping that he wouldn’t keep her long.

“Mrs. York,” he said, as he slowed his step. He was one of the few people in Rock Ridge who called her by her married name. Kate had scowled time and again over the years at being referred to as Scott’s wife constantly, and the residents finally caught on. Nowadays most everyone called her Mrs. Fix It, and to Kate it seemed the perfect compromise between ‘Mrs. Flaherty’ and ‘the Police Chief’s wife.’

“Yes, Detective?”

Kilroy was a handsome man in his mid-thirties whose messy brown hair and loosened tie had always given her the impression that he knew he looked best slightly bedraggled with a beat-cop’s attitude. She didn’t necessarily agree, but the single ladies of Rock Ridge certainly did. Many were vying for his attention, and Kate was fairly certain the man hadn’t needed to cook himself a meal since he’d arrived in town. The eligible bachelorettes had him covered in that department.

“I thought I’d get your opinion on something,” he went on, shooting her a smile that landed like a bribe.

He knew he was good-looking, but he didn’t need to butter her up to get her opinion.

“About what?” she asked.

He prefaced his question by stating, “I’m not sure our forensic guys will be expert enough.”

“No need to qualify your question, Kilroy, what would you like to know?”

“Do you have any way of knowing how old that asphalt is? Can you tell by looking at it? I’d like an expert opinion on when the asphalt was poured in that basement.”

“Theoretically, you can tell how old asphalt is by how it ages,” she began, sinking into her hip and holding the door to the truck. She needed to sit down. “The older the asphalt, the more brittle it becomes. I didn’t exactly have to put too much muscle into jackhammering it into cracking, but at the same time, the asphalt hadn’t been exposed to the elements like a common road.”

“So...?”

“So, you’d have to test the oxidation, the volatilization, the polymerization, thixotrophy…” she was still listing the testable agents, but Kilroy’s eyes had already glazed over with confusion. “Tell you what, I can take a closer look at it, but my hard and fast guess...” she gave it a moment’s thought, mumbling to herself, “given that it was in the dank basement, fairly brittle...” She perked up and addressed him clearly. “I’d say the asphalt was poured between twelve and fifteen years ago.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and the smirk that was forming in the corner of his mouth told her that he was impressed. “That’s better than we had before. Thanks a lot.”

“So, do you want me to come back and run a test or two?”

“I’ll have to check in with Scott—”

“Oh, shoot, maybe I shouldn’t then,” she said quickly and when he cocked his brow, she clarified. “The more you get to know Scott, the clearer it will be to you that he doesn’t necessarily appreciate when I work closely with the police.”

“Ah,” he said, knowingly. Kilroy had only been on the job a few months, but had heard the rumors: Kate’s long-standing history of solving murders as a sleuth and Scott’s long-standing irritability because of it. “Say no more. I won’t mention it to him. But maybe you could swing by and home in on a more precise age?”

“As soon as the crime scene tape is down,” she said, climbing into her truck.

Turning the key in the ignition, she watched Kilroy stalk up the walkway and into the house. She took a deep breath and adjusted the vents so that each one sent a cold stream of air to her face. The clock on the dashboard read a quarter to four. She could go home and take a nap, but part of her felt as if doing so would admit defeat. She wasn’t ready to believe she was turning into an old woman, so she scooped her cell phone out of the front pocket of her overalls.

She found the number of her best friend, Carly, in her contacts and sent the call through, figuring that spending a little time at Sunshine Florist wouldn’t tire her out, and she could easily meet Scott for dinner after.

“Hey, you busy?” she asked as soon as Carly picked up the phone.

“Not more than usual,” Carly said. “Why?”

“I’m thinking about stopping by. My day got cut short.”

“Well, if you don’t mind that I’ll be arranging Fourth of July bouquets, then you’re more than welcome.”

“In that case, I’ll see you soon.”

Carly laughed, “In that case I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

It didn’t take long to drive to Sunshine Florist, though it felt like it. Kate’s arms felt like sandbags and her head felt twice as heavy. Several times she had to pop her eyes open, having realized after the fact that they had drifted shut.

A wave of anger rolled through her as she pulled up along the curb outside of the florist’s. She was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. And she couldn’t spend another second scouring the internet for answers. The last five nights she had stayed up late, hunting through various webpages after plugging in her symptoms. She kept telling herself it was only menopause, but part of her wondered if it was something more serious. According to her research, she should be having more hot flashes and temper flares, but she hadn’t felt moody and when she got overheated it didn’t strike her as the typical hot flash, rather as though something inside her was heating her up.

She wouldn’t even care about feeling warm from time to time if she wasn’t so tired all the time. As she climbed out of her truck, she decided to make an appointment with the doctor if this kept up. And walking toward the entrance door, she pushed all further doubt from her mind and beamed a bright smile at Carly the second she stepped into the delightfully cool flower shop.

“So, your day got cut short?” Carly asked, as she rounded through to the back of the shop where Carly was clipping the thorns off a bushel of roses. “Good news or bad?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s good news,” she said, grunting her way onto a stool in front of the counter.

Carly was ready on the quick with a mug of dark roast that she set on the counter. Though the fresh coffee smelled aromatic, it didn’t liven her senses like it ought to, but she drank a few sips anyway.

“You look tired,” said her friend, and Kate frowned. “Sorry, I know no woman wants to hear that, but you do seem drained. Those bags under your eyes concern me. Did you sleep badly?”

She wished she could say that she had. “No, I’m not sure what’s going on but I definitely feel drained. Maybe it’s the news I just got.”

“News?”

“Oh, not news. But I’ve been working on that old Victorian house—”

“The one those out-of-towners bought,” she quickly supplied.

“You know about it?”

“Only rumors,” she said, and then her mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “And the fact that the cops are excavating a body as we speak.”

“You did not hear that!” she exclaimed. It never ceased to amaze her how fast word traveled in Rock Ridge. It was spooky. “Who told you about the body?”

“Larry did,” she said easily before bringing her own mug of coffee to her mouth. She drank down a long sip, and then explained, “He was driving by and saw the police cruisers. That new detective, Kilroy, gave him the scoop. Scary stuff.”

“Can you imagine?” She pondered. “While the rest of us were raising kids and living happily, some poor woman was being murdered and buried in the foundation of that house.”

“And not just any house,” said Carly, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning forward. “There's some dark history to that old Victorian.”

“Mrs. Hyatt alluded to as much, but she didn’t elaborate.”

“Well,” said Carly, easing into the tale. “They used to call it the House of Slaughter.”

“Oh, get out of town, that’s ridiculous.”

“You didn’t hear that? I remember when the rumors started circulating.”

Kate didn’t. But then again, she’d never been one to get sucked into gossip.

“People used to think the house was haunted and that the ghosts had the power to compel those who lived there to kill. You don’t remember this?”

Kate shot her a skeptical look, which was enough of an answer.

“Goodness, Kate, when we were in grade school people were talking about it. What was the name of that couple?” she asked herself, thinking out loud. “The Davenports. Yes, that’s it, the Davenports moved in when we were in sixth grade. I don’t remember where they moved from but they had a toddler, and after eight months in the House of Slaughter the husband drowned the baby in the bathtub.”

“Oh God,” said Kate. “Clearly he was mentally ill.”

“At that point sure, but he had been an upstanding citizen and husband until moving into that house. And before the Davenports, it was the Sanders back before we were born. Mrs. Sanders killed her husband.”

“Do you remember who was living there around thirty years ago?” Kate asked, curious but also dreading that Carly would say House of Slaughter again. The moniker have her the heebie-jeebies.

Carly seemed to wrack her brain for a long moment. “Oh!” she blurted out. “Yes, I do. It was the Hyatt’s.”

“The Hyatt’s? Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Mrs. Hyatt was living there with her adult son. Her husband had passed away years before from some type of cancer. Well, Mrs. Hyatt was never arrested, but that didn’t stop the residents from believing she had killed her own son.”

“Why did they think that?” Kate was stunned that Mrs. Hyatt hadn’t breathed a word to her, but then again why would the woman dredge up a dark memory?

“Her son disappeared,” she went on explaining. “No one saw him around town anymore, and one night the house caught fire. Of course everyone thought Mrs. Hyatt had started the fire since the house had turned her mad. Anyway, when firefighters rushed in to save the house, they found her son dead in the living room.”

“That doesn’t mean she killed him.”

“It doesn’t mean she didn’t,” Carly pointed out.

Kate wondered if she might be able to talk with Mrs. Hyatt about all this, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind. Even if the elderly woman were willing to open up about damning rumors from long ago, it wouldn’t shed light on the woman in the basement. There was no sense digging up a painful past.

Carly changed the subject, saying, “You’re going to the fireworks at the amusement park for the Fourth, right?”

“That’s the plan,” said Kate, as she rose to her feet in need of the bathroom.

But she must have stood up too fast. She felt suddenly light-headed, and before she knew it, Carly was shrieking and Kate felt her head slam against something.

Her vision had gone black.

She must have fainted.

“Kate! Kate!” yelled Carly, slapping her face. “Kate, are you okay?”

Gradually, Kate opened her eyes and found her best friend standing over her. It took a moment to get her bearings. She was on her back, on the floor. Embarrassed, she sat up, but her head was swimming.

“You fainted! I’m calling an ambulance!”

“No, please,” said Kate, trying to shake the cotton out of her head. “I’m fine.”

“You most certainly are not fine,” she objected. “And if you won’t take an ambulance then I’ll drive you myself.”

Kate was about to refuse, but doing so would’ve been ridiculous. Clearly she should see a doctor, though it pained her to admit as much. Grumbling, she accepted Carly’s help getting off the floor. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t tell Scott. I don’t want him worrying about me.”

Carly pressed her mouth into a hard line in response to Kate’s stubbornness, as she helped her through the flower shop.

Outside, Kate braced the back of a bench as Carly locked up, and before she knew it, her friend had taken her by the arm again.

After helping Kate into the passenger’s seat of her Saab, Carly rounded the hood and hopped in behind the wheel.

“Tell me you haven’t fainted before,” she demanded, angling the vehicle away from the curb and merging into steady flowing traffic.

“I’ve been a little tired, but nothing else,” she said, cringing to tell a lie of omission. She reasoned, however, that food tasting bland wasn’t a detrimental symptom.

“A little tired?” she questioned. “Have you eaten today?”

She had, but jumped on the opportunity to supply her friend with a reason for having fainted. “You know, I forgot to eat. I’m sure my blood sugar is low. Plus, I think I’ve lost a little weight.”

“Which you can’t afford,” Carly quickly pointed out, but then looked Kate up and down before returning her eyes to the road. “Are you sure you’ve lost weight?”

“Gee, Carly, thanks a lot!”

“I’m not criticizing you! I just don’t think you’ve lost so much weight that you’d faint.”

They pulled into the hospital and Carly drove right up to the entrance so Kate wouldn’t have to exert herself walking through the parking lot.

As Kate popped the door open, she said, “Thanks for driving me.”

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily. Wait on that bench and I’ll take you in.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said impatiently.

But Carly only gaped at her.

“Fine,” she grumbled, stepping out of the Saab.

She waited near the bench, but refused to sit, as Carly made fast work of parking in the nearest spot, after which she quickly crossed through the lot and took Kate’s arm again as though her friend were some kind of invalid.

Kate didn’t fight her, however, as they made their way into the hospital. At the front desk, Kate produced her insurance card, stated her name, and took a clipboard that had the standard five-hundred-question forms.

“Really?” she asked the nurse behind the desk. “You don’t have my medical history?”

“This is standard procedure,” the nurse said dryly.

But Carly was quick with, “She fainted. She needs to see a doctor ASAP, and quite frankly, she would if she’d let me call an ambulance.”

The nurse rose to her feet, taking the information seriously. “Right this way.”

As Kate followed after the nurse, she told Carly over her shoulder, “I’ll be fine now. Really, I can go it alone from here.”

Her friend looked pained, but hung back, nodding and folding her arms.

The nurse opened an exam room door for Kate and asked her to have a seat on the exam table. Apprehensively, Kate sat, watching the nurse settle into a rolling chair in front of a computer monitor.

The nurse took a brief history from Kate then asked, “You fainted?”

“I was sitting and probably got up too fast.” When the nurse eyed her skeptically, Kate knew she ought to come out with the truth. “I’ve been very tired in the past few months.”

Nodding, the nurse typed the symptom into the computer, mentioning, “We’ll do a full work up, blood work and a CT scan, get you fully checked out.”

“Do you think it’s serious?”

The nurse twisted in her chair, facing Kate. “Until we run your blood work and review the scans I can’t speculate.” After rising to her feet, she told Kate that the doctor would be in shortly and then left her, closing the door.

One hour, three CT scans, and five blood-vials later, Kate was rolling down her sleeve and thanking the doctor, who explained, “It’ll take a solid four days to get the results of the blood work. I suggest you take it very easy in the meantime. Stay indoors where it’s cool. Don’t exert yourself. Keep drinking fluids and eat healthy. It’s best to eat every hour or so to keep your blood sugar up.”

She agreed, thanked him again, and started for the lobby, all the while wondering how she might get away with arriving home in a taxi.

But she didn’t have to call a taxi.

Scott was pacing worrisomely in the lobby and when he met her gaze, he looked both relieved and terrified. He rushed to her and took hold of her shoulders, and though she protested that she felt fine, he simply wasn’t having it. “What did the doctor say? What was the diagnosis?”

“He won’t know for a few days,” she explained.

“Then you’ll spend those days at home in bed, resting,” he concluded.

There’s no way, thought Kate, no way in hell.

Chapter Three

Kate felt like a virtual prisoner in her own home and it had only been one night. Scott had driven her home, tucked her into bed even though the sun hadn’t even set, and then driven off to Sunshine Florist to tow her truck back to the house. When he had returned, they enjoyed a pleasant enough dinner, though she ate hers in bed and he didn’t allow her a glass of wine.

She had slept well and woke with the sun just as Scott was climbing out of bed and walking half asleep toward the bathroom.

Bed rest, she complained to herself. Ridiculous. How could Scott expect her to lie around in bed all day? For days, she realized, remembering the doctor’s timeline concerning her blood work. There was no way she could lounge around for several days. It would kill her.

She listened to the sounds of the shower stream beating against Scott’s back. He hadn’t closed the bathroom door, she noticed, as she walked slowly and carefully up the hallway and into the kitchen. It concerned her that she already felt tired. She had slept at least nine hours and there was just no reason for her to feel drained like this, but still, she shouldn’t be expected to keep to the bedroom.

Making herself useful, she put on a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table as it percolated. By the time she was pouring herself a mug, Scott strolled into the kitchen, already dressed in a casual suit.

“You should be in bed,” he said, though kindly. If he was hoping Kate would actually follow her doctor’s orders and remain in bed, it was just that—wishful thinking.

“I’ve just made coffee,” she said. “Nothing major.”

“Will you stay in bed today?” he asked, but didn’t give her much of a chance to answer as he dove headlong into listing all of the perks to taking a day off. “It’s cool in here. There are plenty of movies on TV. You haven’t had a vacation in years.”

“Vacation?” she asked, sarcastically.

“A stay-cation, whatever,” he offered.

“Since when did I ever want a stay-cation?”

“Try to enjoy it? At least until the doctor calls us with the results.”

“And let’s say the results are...bad. What then? Am I just supposed to lie around in bed until I die?”

“First of all,” he said, setting his mug of coffee on the counter since apparently his point was so important he couldn’t do it justice while holding a steaming cup of hazelnut. “Don’t joke around about dying. You’re not dying. And second of all, if you are suffering with some kind of serious health concern, I’m sure once the doctor diagnoses it, he’ll prescribe medication and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Kate let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, but Scott sat beside her at the table and clamped his warm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just a few days,” he said, reassuringly. “You might just enjoy it.”

“Yeah? And I might go stir-crazy with cabin fever,” she pointed out.

“Tell you what; I’ll text you updates on the case. How does that sound?”

“Entertaining,” she said dryly, lifting her coffee mug to her lips and focusing on the wafting steam.

Scott didn’t have much time for breakfast, so he wolfed down a bowl of cereal and set it in the sink before rushing into the bedroom to throw on his shoes and grab his jacket. On his way out, he kissed the top of Kate’s head and promised he’d see her later.

It wasn’t until she heard the front door click shut that Kate raced to the foyer and watched Scott’s truck as it rolled down the driveway.

Kate knew herself. She might enjoy a stay-cation, but the reality was that if she did stay home, all she would end up doing is searching through the internet to find answers to her health questions, and that would only leave her stressed out and confused. And, she reasoned, doing so would be bad for her health.

In truth, it had taken one very mundane night with Scott to make her realize that she was actually thrilled. As horrifying as it had been to see a human hand protruding from asphalt in the basement of the Roberts’ old Victorian, it had also ignited a flame of intrigue in her. Who was the woman? What was the real story behind Mrs. Hyatt’s son’s death? And were the two connected? If they were, was it because of some urban legend about the haunted house? Or were rumors a convenient shield? Had the residents of Rock Ridge been killing within those walls because it would feed into a legend, which ultimately had the power to mask their dark deeds?

If she was in tip-top shape, Kate would be driving all over Rock Ridge to solve the murder, and the greater part of her wanted to do just that. But she had to keep a level head for the sake of her health.

Toeing the line between remaining restful and being proactive, she grabbed the kitchen phone and the telephone book off the counter and sat at the table. It took her a couple of minutes to thumb through the directory, but soon she found Mrs. Hyatt’s number and dialed it.

As the ring tone blared in her ear, she considered what she might say.

“Hello?” said Mrs. Hyatt, her voice scratchy through the line.

“Mrs. Hyatt, it’s Kate, the fix it lady.”

“Oh, good morning, Kate. I was wondering when I’d see you.”

“Probably not today,” said Kate with a sigh. “I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”

“That’s how it starts.”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t under the weather, my dear. You’re under a dark spell. It’s that house.”

Kate glanced down at her arm and saw that it had pricked with gooseflesh. She rubbed to warm her skin. Hopping up, she lowered the air conditioner from full to medium blast.

“Well, I’ve been feeling a bit tired since before I set foot in the house,” she laughed to expel Mrs. Hyatt’s superstition, but the elderly woman was unmoved.

“The house has chosen you,” she stated. “You wouldn’t have set foot in it if it hadn’t.”

“Are you saying my symptoms, which emerged a solid month ago, are really the work of a haunted house.”?

She could hear Mrs. Hyatt grumbling on the other end of the phone, which told Kate that the woman didn’t appreciate being mocked. So Kate quickly corrected her error, asking, “Did you feel under the weather before moving into the old Victorian?”

The elderly woman fell silent and after a beat asked, “What makes you think I ever set foot in that house of horrors?”

“I heard it through the grapevine... Is it true?”

Mrs. Hyatt said nothing.

“I was sorry to hear about your son—”

“What do you know about my son?” she demanded.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Blair was a wonderful young man, and I didn’t kill him!” she insisted.

“No, I would never mean to imply—”

“It’s for your own good that you stay away from that house!” she snapped. “You stay away, and you won’t feel so tired anymore. The house will lose its hold on you.”

Kate stilled, as trepidation ratcheted up her spine. She had never told Mrs. Hyatt that she’d been feeling tired.

“Mrs. Hyatt,” she began in a steady tone as if she might hide how truly rattled she felt. “Why would you move in next door if you truly believe the house is evil?”

When the elderly woman spoke, her voice was gravely serious. “Because, it won’t let me go.”

Click.

Kate looked at the phone, and then returned it to her ear. “Mrs. Hyatt?” But the woman had hung up on her. After getting to her feet, she set the telephone in its cradle on the wall and made her gradual way into the bedroom where she changed out of her sweats and into a pair of overalls.

She wasn’t going to let an old woman creep under her skin, she told herself. But Mrs. Hyatt already had. Kate was not one to buy into superstitions, however it nagged at her that the old woman had known Kate was feeling tired.

“No,” she stated out loud. “Mrs. Hyatt isn’t playing with a full deck, and I won’t be unnerved by her.”

But she was.

Reasoning that it shouldn’t be too taxing to get to the bottom of this, Kate grabbed her truck keys from the table in the foyer, locked up on her way out, and climbed in behind the steering wheel.

She wouldn’t be able to poke around the old Victorian house. Surely, Scott and his team were still crawling all over the place. So she drove into the center of town and parked in front of the library.

Lethargically, she lumbered out of her truck and took a moment to get her bearings. Sprinklers were ticking across the lawn in front of the library and when Kate made her way up the walkway, a fine mist of water sprayed against her legs, which perked her up a bit.

Inside, the library was cool and quiet. A few patrons were scattered across the various tables in the main room, hunched over their laptops or reading the morning paper. Kate’s old friend, Hazel Millhouse was milling about behind the front desk, organizing and scanning returned library books into the system.

Quietly, she approached the counter and smiled at Hazel as soon as the older woman lifted her eyes.

“Kate,” she whispered, setting down a book she’d just scanned and pushing one of the stacks to the side. The precarious tower wobbled, but Kate caught it, straightening the books. “What brings you to the library?”

“I was hoping you could help me with something,” she began. “Does the library have a database of archived newspapers?”

“We do,” said Hazel, rounding the counter and wasting no time leading Kate toward the row of computers in the back of the library. “I’m not sure how far back it goes.”

“You’ve lived in Rock Ridge your entire life, right?” she asked, pulling out the chair in front of one of the computers that Hazel had indicated.

“Almost,” said Hazel. “I moved to Rock Ridge in my early twenties, but considering my age, it certainly feels like I’ve lived here my entire life.”

“Are you familiar with the old Victorian house on Pennsylvania Avenue where it cuts through the suburban part of town?”

“The one you’re renovating,” she supplied. Kate saw her expression change as it dawned on her where this might be going, and she grinned. “Don’t believe those rumors, Kate.”

“No?”

Playfully, Hazel rolled her eyes and gave Kate a little poke. “Of all the people who could buy into that nonsense,” she said, shooting her a chiding frown before tapping the monitor. “Have a seat.”

She did, lowering carefully into the chair. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“When I was working in the basement, I found a...” she stated the fact under her breath, “body.”

Hazel cocked her brow. “Which Scott is investigating?”

“Yes.”

“Then let him,” she suggested, but soon fell into deep thought.

One of the library patrons, an older gentleman who was carrying his laptop, interrupted to ask Hazel about a particular book, so she excused herself and led the man up the aisles, leaving Kate to peruse the database.

Unsure of what she should search for, Kate first double-clicked on an icon for the Rock Ridge Tribune and scanned down a list of archives that seemed ten miles long, aiming to find the very first article. When she reached the bottom of the list, she realized she had overshot it. The Tribune originated a solid fifty years ago, so she scrolled up the list, hunting through the dates.

This would be exceptionally time consuming, she thought as she came to a list of daily articles from twenty-five years ago. But soldiering on, she began clicking through each one and scanning the headlines, one of which jumped out at her:

Missing Woman.

Eerily, Becky Langley came to mind. Two years ago, all of Rock Ridge had been up in arms over Becky’s mysterious abduction, though no one had been more disturbed than Kate’s son Jason had. She reminded herself that Becky had in fact not been abducted, as she began reading the article.

The woman who had gone missing, Doris Chestnut, had been a wife and mother. Kate noted the article was printed roughly fifteen years ago. Doris had only been living in Rock Ridge for a few months, having moved from South Carolina. The article gave no details in terms of leads in the investigation so Kate began hunting once again, clicking through articles printed after the initial report.

She startled when her cell vibrated in her pocket.

Glancing over her shoulder to check that the muffled buzz hadn’t disturbed anyone, she pulled her cell from her overalls. It was Scott so she quickly swiped the screen, answering the call.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Katydid, just checking in. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said, angling to wrap the conversation up before it started. “I should get off the phone.”

“Why?” he asked.

It occurred to her that she could ask Scott about Doris Chestnut. She certainly wanted to, and if he hadn’t heard the name, it could provide him with a clue. But she didn’t want to risk his finding out she had bolted from the house only a few minutes after him.

“Oh, no reason. Just thought I should be resting. Hey,” she interjected. “I’ve been doing a little hunting on the internet.” It just crossed her mind she might get away with it. “It looks like a woman named Doris Chestnut went missing about fifteen years ago. Do you think it could be the same woman I found in the basement?”

He groaned. “It doesn’t sound like you’re resting, Kate.”

“I’m being as restful as I can,” she insisted.

“I haven’t heard the name, but we’re still waiting on dental records.”

“You might call around South Carolina,” she suggested. “That’s where Doris was from.”

“Would you like me to come home for lunch?” he asked, avoiding her point.

“Aren’t you busy with the investigation?”

“We wrapped up at the house. I’m waiting on forensics, so sneaking away for lunch isn’t out of the question.”

“Then yes,” she said, figuring she might be able to swing by the old Victorian if the police weren’t there.

They agreed on a time, and then Scott let her go. After returning her cell to her overalls, Kate resumed her search, but was again interrupted when her cell vibrated. Of course, Scott would call back to see if he should grab take-out from Daisy’s, but when she answered the call, she heard a woman’s voice.

“Kate! It’s Celia!”

“What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping the woman would have a job for her. Celia had once been married to a detective but remarried the editor-in-chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune, who was subsequently arrested for his involvement with the drug conspiracy a few years back.

She did.

“I’ve been helping out at the Tribune, and we really need a shelving unit installed.”

It didn’t seem to taxing so she asked, “When do you need me to put it together?”

“Whenever you have time.”

“I can head over now.”

After returning her cell to her overalls, Kate closed her search windows on the computer and made her way through the library. At the front desk, she thanked Hazel for her help and asked, “Do you remember a woman named Doris Chestnut?”

“Doris? Yes, I do. She had a sweet daughter. Amy, I believe her name was.”

“Amy?” Kate suddenly recalled the woman who had hired her to renovate the Victorian house—Amy Roberts.

“I believe so. That poor woman,” Hazel went on. “I wasn’t close with her, but it was no secret that Doris had moved up here from down south to get away from her abusive husband.”

“Really?”

Hazel looked grim as she commented, “And then she went missing. The Police Chief back then wasn’t the most proactive man. Most of the residents felt strongly that Doris’s husband had found her, took her, and did God only knows what. But the Police Chief did nothing.”

“So what happened to Amy?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I believe her relatives came and got her.”

Kate knew that Doris’s husband hadn’t merely taken her from Rock Ridge, but probably killed her in that house. However, if he had also taken Amy, then Kate would have some place to start.

“Do you recall the husband’s name?”

Hazel shook her head. “Supposedly, he never set foot in Rock Ridge. I never met him and Doris didn’t speak his name, the man was that terrible.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Kate, as she gave Hazel’s arm a little squeeze.

When she reached her truck, the heat hit her hard and she couldn’t get the air conditioning blasting high enough. She waited a moment for her truck to cool off before setting off toward the Rock Ridge Tribune.

Since Eric Demblowski’s arrest, a woman named Olivia Tartt had been running the Tribune as editor-in-chief. As a general rule, Kate despised reporters and avoided them like the plague, but she had to admit she liked Olivia. The woman was stern and discerning and had a delicate touch when it came to pursuing stories. She wasn’t invasive, and when there was a story in town, she never stalked or harassed those involved. By the same measure, she kept her reporters working with the same respectful standards. At times, Kate had wondered if Olivia would become tenacious should a brutal crime take place. Perhaps Olivia was gentle because the only crimes that had taken place in town revolved around petty misdemeanors. Time would tell, she supposed.

As she stepped inside the newspaper headquarters with her tool kit in tow, she felt light-headed all of a sudden. The receptionist behind the front desk was immersed in a phone call. Kate braced against the counter and noticed a jar of jellybeans, which she immediately thrust her hand inside, grabbing a fistful. She ate the sugary candies as she waited, hoping the sugar would dispel her wooziness.

Celia barreled through the bullpen where reporters were hunched over their desks and joined Kate. “That was fast. Right this way.”

Kate followed her, walking on unsteady legs through the bullpen and into Olivia’s office. The editor was typing away on her computer, classical music playing softly from the speakers.

“She won’t mind if you work,” said Celia as she indicated the boxed shelving unit. “She’d like the shelves set up here.”

Celia was motioning to a wall set perpendicular from Olivia’s desk.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she added, shuffling toward the door, which she shut on her way out.

Olivia was so engrossed in whatever article she was drafting that she didn’t even glance at Kate, which suited the fix-it lady just fine since she preferred to work in silence.

Kneeling in front of her tool kit, Kate grumbled. She should’ve asked Celia for a cup of coffee. But as she began assembling the shelving unit, she wondered if perhaps her constant fatigue could have been caused by coffee in the first place. Caffeine had always agreed with her, but she had heard about those caffeine crashes that hit certain people very hard. She gulped at the thought of giving up her favorite habit.

“Looking good,” said Olivia, as Kate fit the final shelf into the unit.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s a sturdy set up. Corey’s?” she asked, referring to the local furniture store, Corey’s Cabinets. Most of the residents in Rock Ridge knew the importance of patronizing the local shops instead of rushing off to Ikea every time they needed an item.

“Indeed.” Olivia pivoted in her chair and stared thoughtfully at Kate. “So, a body turned up at the old Victorian house,” she stated and Kate grew instantly uncomfortable.

“It did,” she confirmed uneasily, and then quickly added, “it’s an old crime, though. Hardly newsworthy.”

“What makes you say that?”

Olivia’s tone was airy, and if Kate didn’t know better, she would assume the editor had little interest.

“It isn’t breaking news. It didn’t happen recently. If that woman was murdered, it happened a decade or two ago.”

“There’s no statute of limitations of murder,” she countered.

Kate squared her shoulders at the woman. “Did you actually need a shelving unit or was this a ploy to get an exclusive interview with the person who came across that body?”

Olivia smiled. “I’m straightforward when it comes to interviews.”

It didn’t exactly answer her question.

“And, if I’m being honest here,” she went on, “at the moment I’m more interested in you than your husband’s case.”

“Me?”

“Individuals are always more interesting to me than the overarching story. After all, without the individuals there are no stories.”

Kate wondered what she was getting at and asked as much.

“You like puzzles,” Olivia said easily. “Considering your history, I’m actually surprised you never went into law enforcement. You’re already an excellent investigator.”

“Are you trying to figure out what I know?”

“Why would I pester the police when it’s far more likely you have leads they don’t?”

Kate would have felt flattered if she wasn’t aware she was also being bamboozled.

“Clearly, you’ve never used your marriage to establish a position at the precinct,” Olivia stated frankly. “That tells me you don’t want to be a cop.”

“I don’t,” she agreed.

“But I wonder if you’d like to be a reporter...”

“Are you offering me a job?”

“Would you like one?”

“I’m happy with the one I’ve got, thank you.”

Olivia tucked a lock of her chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. “I know the story behind the emerald ring.”

Kate studied her for a long moment, but decided she didn’t have the energy to play this game. “How nice for you.”

“You’re not curious?”

“Why should I be?”

Olivia simply smiled and turned back to her computer monitor, set her manicured fingertips on the keyboard, and resumed typing.

Oh, she is good.

Sighing, Kate asked, “What’s the story behind the ring?”

Perking up, Olivia twisted in her chair once again. “Do you have a story for me?”

“I have information. I also have no way of knowing if it’s relevant.”

“My fact-checkers can handle that,” she said easily.

Debating, Kate stared at her for a long moment, which must have rattled Olivia, because the editor soon showed her true colors.

“I also have a few contacts at the hospital...”

Taken aback, she demanded, “Meaning what?”

When Olivia shot her another relaxed smile, it came off as threatening. “Meaning I’ll probably know your diagnosis before you do.”

How did she even know Kate had gone to the hospital?

“You don’t intimidate me,” she declared, grabbing her tool kit and stampeding toward the door.

“Kate,” she asserted, stopping her. “It was Mrs. Hyatt’s ring.”

Gradually facing the editor, she asked, “How do you know that?”

“She won’t talk to me or any of my reporters,” Olivia went on without addressing her question. “I’ve noticed she’s friendly with you.”

Noticed? As in Olivia had been spying on her?

“I just gave you a lead,” she pointed out. “Now, you’re going to give me something in return.”

“It’s funny you think that.”

“We both know you won’t be able to resist speaking with Mrs. Hyatt now that you know the emerald ring was hers and that she knew the woman. All I ask is that you report your findings back to me.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll print my diagnosis as though anyone in Rock Ridge would give a damn?”

“Something like that.” When Kate did nothing but scowl at her, she stated, “You’re a private person, Kate. You have no qualms about getting into other people’s business, but you can’t stand anyone knowing yours. How are you going to feel when every single person you cross paths with asks you about your health? Imagine, day in and day out, moment to moment, having someone stop you on the street, in Bean There, in Grayson’s to offer you condolences or congratulations on your very private health matter?”

Kate smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I used to respect you,” she said frankly. “That was a mistake.”

Throwing the office door open, Kate barreled into the hallway and rounded through the bullpen. She couldn’t get out of the Tribune fast enough, and when Celia called out, “Thank you!” Kate didn’t even glance over her shoulder.

She was fuming by the time she climbed in behind the wheel of her truck. As if it would calm her, Kate told herself that if Olivia printed anything about her health then she would sue the pants off the Tribune, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She didn’t want to retaliate. What she wanted was for Olivia not to print anything in the first place.

She also wanted to pay Mrs. Hyatt a visit, not to play into Olivia’s manipulative threat, but to satisfy her own curiosity. But the thrill of wondering was spoiled. She grumbled. Whether she proceeded as usual or not, Olivia had her.

Annoyed, Kate twisted the key in the ignition. As her truck idled, she checked the clock on the dashboard. She needed to get back to the house in about a half hour to meet Scott for lunch, but she was dying to ask Mrs. Hyatt about all that she had learned.

When her cell vibrated, her impulse was to chuck it out the window. And when she saw Celia’s name and number flashing across the LCD screen, she almost did just that.

“Yes?” she snapped, answering the call.

“Kate, you forgot your payment. Have you driven away?”

Sighing, she told her, “Mail it if you would?”

“Sure, no problem.”

After hanging up, she merged onto the street, driving toward the old Victorian house. As she turned left on Pennsylvania Avenue, she squeezed the brakes and kept an eye out for any police cruisers. Nearing the house, she noticed there was crime scene tape across the front door, but no sign of the police otherwise, so she pulled along the curb and hopped out of her truck.

As she made her way toward Mrs. Hyatt’s house, she realized she didn’t feel tired and wondered why that was. Had anger flooded her with energy? She had certainly felt a jolt of adrenaline course through her veins at Olivia’s shameless threat. A strange blessing... Not that she wanted to get angry and stay that way, but at the moment she felt like she could lift a car with her bare hands.

Mrs. Hyatt wasn’t gardening as usual, so after peeking in the window beside the front door, she gave it a knock and called out, “Mrs. Hyatt? Are you there?”

She heard movement on the other side of the door, the rickety steps of an elderly woman inching along with the help of her walker. Soon the door popped inward, Mrs. Hyatt frowning on the other side.

“What took you so long?”

“Excuse me?” asked Kate since she hadn’t mentioned her plan to swing by.

“I was expecting you.” Widening the doorway, the elderly woman stepped aside for Kate to enter the cool Colonial home.

Politely, she asked, “How are you holding up in the heat?”

“How are you holding up with your fatigue?” she countered. Mrs. Hyatt inched her way into the living room where Kate noticed all the furniture was covered in plastic. “Don’t be offended.”

“By the furniture coverings?”

“It beats cleaning up after guests.”

Kate sat on the plastic-covered couch when Mrs. Hyatt gestured toward it. Without hesitation, Kate asked, “You knew Doris Chestnut?”

“We’re all connected,” she explained.

“If we could stick to the facts and avoid superstitions...”

“But they’re one in the same.”

“The haunted house connected you to Doris,” she stated skeptically.

“And to you.”

“Why did you give Doris the emerald ring?”

“Why did you find Doris and the emerald ring?”

“Mrs. Hyatt, I’m interested in finding out who killed her. Aren’t you?”

“Not especially. The house killed her.”

“But by your own logic, the house would’ve had to have possessed someone into killing her. So who would that have been?”

Mrs. Hyatt grumbled her way into a chair. “Have the nightmares started yet?”

Frustrated, Kate pressed her mouth into a hard line. “Who killed her, Mrs. Hyatt?”

“First comes the fatigue, and then the nightmares. Soon you won’t be able to tell whether you’re dreaming or awake. That’s when it really starts. You’ll think you’re in a nightmare, fighting for your life. But you aren’t dreaming. You’re murdering. And you won’t realize what you’ve done until it’s too late.”

Feeling confrontational, Kate shot back, “Is that what you did to your son?”

“I didn’t kill my son,” she insisted, her voice quavering with emotion. “And I didn’t kill Doris.”

“But you lived in that house and you seem to be the authority on its effect.” After a moment of no response, she asked again, “Why did you give Doris the ring?”

Whether she was going to answer or continue to hold her tongue, their conversation was interrupted. Someone was pounding on the front door. And when a man outside shouted, “Detective Kilroy!” Mrs. Hyatt sprang to her feet. “Are you in there, Mrs. Hyatt?”

Against the elderly woman’s objections, Kate rushed to the door and just as her hand reached the knob, she heard Scott muttering to his detective to step aside.

Shoot! She couldn’t let Scott catch her here.

Quickly, she hurried back into the living room where Mrs. Hyatt had turned to stone with trepidation. When their eyes locked, she breathed, “Nightmares...”

“I’m not going to kill anyone, you crazy old woman, now answer the door,” she ordered, as she scanned the living room for a way to slip out undetected.

But it was too late.

Thud.

Detective Kilroy barreled into the living room with Scott on his heels, having kicked the door open.

As Scott locked eyes with Kate, his expression growing long with surprise, Detective Kilroy stated, “Jocelyn Hyatt, you are under arrest for the murder of Doris Chestnut.”

He advanced on her but was very gentle, taking her arm. However, Scott stopped him. “Handcuffs aren’t necessary. Just put her in the back of the cruiser.”

Following orders, Kilroy did just that, as Scott neared her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

Mrs. Hyatt jerked and cursed, and as Kilroy led her toward the door, she called out, “The ring, Kate! Get the ring!”

Chapter Four

Kate didn’t understand it had been a nightmare until she bolted upright in bed, breathing heavily, her chest and back covered in cold sweat.

The dawning sun was piercing the horizon, lifting the darkness throughout her bedroom. Scott was asleep beside her. Leaning on her elbow, she touched his white hair, ran her hand along his cheek, needing to touch and feel and confirm that he was alive.

She had killed him in the dream.

She let out a halting breath. She sat upright again and fanned her t-shirt to dry the sweat on her chest.

Psychosomatic, she told herself. The fact that she had dreamt of horrors was nothing more than the result of the old woman having suggested she would. It didn’t mean anything. There was nothing to worry about.

But Kate couldn’t deny that Mrs. Hyatt had gotten under her skin and into her head.

She’d also gotten arrested, which should’ve told Kate something about the old woman. She was a killer. She had murdered Doris Chestnut. Scott had established her motive, and though it had taken painstaking research to determine her whereabouts fifteen years ago, he discovered photos—date and time stamped—of Mrs. Hyatt holding the front door of the old Victorian house open for Doris Chestnut, proof that the two had been alone together in that abandoned house, proof that Mrs. Hyatt had been the last person to see Doris alive. A neighbor living across the street, Maxwell Stone, who had dabbled in photography back then, had taken the photos. Maxwell had also provided photos of Mrs. Hyatt emerging later that night...alone.

At the time, Maxwell had only been fourteen years old and didn’t think to alert police of what he had seen and documented, because he had been too young to follow the news.

Again, she reminded herself that this case was closed. She wasn’t under some spell, some urban legend playing out again. She kissed Scott’s forehead and rolled out of bed, telling herself she might as well get up, though deep down some part of her knew that she was afraid to fall back asleep. She didn’t want to get stuck in another nightmare.

In the kitchen, she scooped dark roast out of a coffee canister, filled the filter to the brim, and got the pot percolating. The kitchen was bright with sunlight and she expected Scott to climb out of bed any minute.

He had gone easy on her last night. She had expected him to ream her out for having snuck out of the house against her doctor’s orders, but instead her husband was kind and doting. They had driven to Daisy’s and Scott ran inside to pick up a to-go order. They had eaten lunch at the house, and though Scott left her for a few hours to interrogate Mrs. Hyatt, he returned immediately after and they spent the remainder of the evening watching old movies and trying to get her mind off of her lethargy, which had overcome her once more.

She had just poured herself a mug of coffee and turned for the kitchen table when the telephone rang, which she quickly picked up.

“This is Kate,” she said.

“Good morning, this is Doctor Faulkner. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she sighed. “There were a few shining moments yesterday when I felt like I had energy, but I think that was only because I was angry.”

“Interesting...” He trailed off. “Well, I have the results of your CT scans,” he went on and Kate immediately lowered into a chair, figuring she ought to be sitting down for this. Scott lumbered groggily into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee and quietly he asked, "Who is it?”

Kate covered the mouthpiece and said, “My doctor,” and Scott sat beside her and took her hand.

As Doctor Faulkner went on, Kate angled the receiver so that her husband could also hear. “All the CT’s came back normal and in terms of the blood tests we ran, they were normal as well.”

“That’s great,” said Scott loud enough for the doctor to hear.

“But why am I tired?” she insisted. “There has to be an explanation. I’m sick of this.”

“Try not to feel frustrated, Kate,” said Faulkner. “I’ve ordered more tests. It’ll take time, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. The good news is that we’ve ruled out cancer and other life threatening possibilities. That means that if you’re feeling up to it, you can return to work. But you’ll have to go easy. I know your fix-it jobs can be highly physical, and I don’t want you straining yourself.”

“Hold on now, Doctor,” said Scott, taking the phone. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

Annoyed, Kate stole the phone back, saying, “It sounds like a great idea.”

“And I would agree, but you really must take it easy. The point of getting back to work is so that your spirits can stay up.”

Kate told Scott, “He doesn’t want me getting depressed,” but he grumbled in response.

“Kate?” asked Faulkner, making sure he had her attention. “I won’t be in the office tomorrow since it’s the Fourth, but I’d like to see you on the fifth.”

“No problem,” she said before thanking him and returning the phone to its cradle on the wall. She smiled at Scott. “Back to work!”

“And you’ll take it easy!” he demanded. “No heavy lifting! Maybe we can give Dean a call. He knows tons of contractors, and you can afford an assistant until you feel like your usual self.”

“I work better alone.”

“When you’re functioning at 100 percent, Kate.”

“Gotta get ready for work!”

Before he could object, she padded off to the bathroom where she quickly showered. Once she was dressed, she found Scott in the kitchen where he was pouring the last of the coffee into a thermos.

“Let’s do dinner tonight at Daisy’s,” he suggested. When she agreed, he added, “No poking around, Kate. I can’t tell you how rattled I was to find you at Mrs. Hyatt’s.”

Unwilling to bow to his demands, she said, “I will follow the doctor’s orders to the letter.”

The look on Scott’s face told her that he was aware she hadn’t agreed, but he kissed her cheek anyway and left her in favor of getting to the precinct on time.

As tired as she felt, there was pep in her step as she made her way out to her truck. The air smelled fresh and crisp, and the sky looked remarkably blue. But as she climbed into her truck, her good mood faltered. Her doctor hadn’t yet found an explanation for why she had been feeling so tired. What if Mrs. Hyatt was right?

Ridiculous!

She pushed the notion from her mind and drove off toward the center of town where she stopped in at Grayson’s Hardware. She had every right to resume working on the old Victorian house and also fulfill Detective Kilroy’s request, but not for the reason he had asked.

Since the police now knew who the murder victim was, they wouldn’t need to date the asphalt she in which she had been entombed. However, Kate might be able to figure out where the killer had bought asphalt if she could ascertain what it was made of and cross-reference it with hardware stores around Rock Ridge as well as contractors who worked in the area at the time.

Though Kate wasn’t Mrs. Hyatt’s biggest fan, she had a hard time envisioning the woman, who would’ve been in her sixties at the time of the murder, mixing and pouring asphalt in a basement.

“Morning, Larry!” she said, approaching the hardware store owner as he was pouring over the morning paper behind the counter. When he lifted his eyes, she asked, “Do you have any oxidization kits?”

“Ah... I believe so.” Stepping out from behind the counter, Larry led her to the very back of the store, asking, “You’re back to work at the Roberts’ house?”

“Sure am.”

“How’s that jackhammer working out?”

“Well,” she started, suddenly wondering if she would need it anymore. Her plan for the day was to reinforce the brick wall where it was leaning precariously, after testing the asphalt.

Larry plucked a kit off the shelf and handed it to her.

“Hey, was Grayson’s in operation about fifteen years ago?” she asked since it was before she had begun her fix-it business.

“Without a doubt,” he told her, as they returned to the counter.

“Do your records go that far back?”

“If you count being in a box somewhere...probably. Why?”

She might not have to buy the kit. “How bothersome would it be to pull up all the asphalt sales from about fifteen years ago?”

Larry widened his eyes and scratched his head.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’ll take some time, but I can tackle it in between customers.”

“I would need records of any individuals who purchased it,” she clarified. “Not contractors who bought in bulk.”

“Is this about that body that was found in the Roberts’ house?” When she nodded, he asked, “I thought Scott caught the killer, that elderly woman, Mrs. Hyatt.”

“She may have done it,” said Kate. “But I wonder.”

“Oh, hey, are you feeling any better?”

Kate cocked her brow. “Carly tells you everything, doesn’t she?”

Larry let out a breathy laugh. “She does, but actually Olivia Tartt mentioned you were in the midst of a health scare.”

“What?” she asked, outraged. “When did she mention that to you?”

“I was standing in line behind her at Bean There. She had very little tact, I might add. She spoke loudly and a bunch of people overheard.”

Kate realized she had balled her hands into fists, but she managed to say, “I’m fine. In fact my doctor called me this morning and I’m in tip-top shape.”

“Glad to hear it. So, the kit?”

“Might as well. What’ll it be?”

After paying for the kit in cash, she started for her truck. Visions of annihilating Olivia Tartt formed at the forefront of her mind, and they didn’t subside until she was pulling up along the curb at the Robert’s house, where she immediately noticed a white SUV in the driveway.

Recognizing the vehicle, she hopped out, grabbed the oxidization kit and her toolbox from the truck bed, and hurried through the front door, which was open.

Amy Roberts seemed deep in the throes of a tense conversation with her husband, Jack, in the living room, but they both hushed when Kate entered the room.

The 27-year-old woman looked as polished as ever in her tailored Chanel suit. Her blonde hair was slicked back in a low bun, giving her a professional appearance, which her husband didn’t at all match. Jack was a full-time writer, though his novels had never done well, and he looked the part in rumpled khaki’s, a stained buttoned down shirt, and corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows.

“Such horrifying news,” said Amy, as she clicked her way over to Kate to shake her hand.

“I was certainly stunned,” she agreed.

Quickly, Amy stated, “The police have finished their business here so I’m hoping you can resume renovating and we can stay on schedule?”

“That’s why I’m here,” said Kate. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, the police had a few questions.”

Kate eyed Jack for a moment. His expression wasn’t nearly as reserved as his wife’s was. “I was sorry to hear it was your mother.”

Amy’s smile turned stiff then slid off her face. “It came as quite a surprise. I always thought she ran off when I was twelve.”

“So, you heard Mrs. Hyatt was arrested...”

Jack stepped up, offering, “We’re just relieved the entire matter is resolved.”

Questioning their blind faith, she asked, “You’re certain she did it?”

“You’re certain your husband is wrong?” Amy countered.

Kate found it curious that Amy had purchased the very house her mother had been murdered in. “Was your mother close with Mrs. Hyatt?”

“Not that I can recall, but I was only twelve. My perspective was limited.”

“Have you spoken with your father at all?”

“If what you’re getting at is that my father may have done it, I doubt that. He was a violent man. If he were going to kill my mother, he would’ve beaten her to death. Poisoning wasn’t his style. Now, if you’re finished minding my business instead of your own, I’d appreciate it if you could finish this house so we can flip it.”

Poisoned? Kate absorbed the detail as she apologized and made for the cellar stairs. But when she reached them, she turned. “You knew I’d find your mother’s body in the basement, didn’t you?”

“If you’re insinuating I killed my own mother when I was a skinny, twelve-year-old girl, you are certifiable.”

“I’m not insinuating that. I’m wondering who told you.”

“In fact, it was Mrs. Hyatt.”

“So she incriminated herself?”

“Apparently. She wanted me to burn this house to the ground.”

Kate suddenly realized that Amy would’ve been approximately the same age as Maxwell Stone, the kid who had taken photos of Mrs. Hyatt with Doris Chestnut. “Were you friendly with Maxwell Stone?”

Amy glared at her. “No. I wasn’t.”

Thinking on her feet, she asked, “Do you happen to remember what Maxwell’s parent did for a living?”

“I’m not interested in indulging your curiosity, Mrs. Fix It—”

“Wouldn’t you like to feel certain that the police have caught the right person?” she challenged.

Amy let out a frustrated sigh. “His mother was a homemaker and his father worked in construction. Why?”

“Did you ever suspect your mother was having an affair?”

Bursting with sudden anger, Jack yelled, “You’re fired! Get the hell out! You’ll not badger my wife! She’s already spoken with the police. Get the hell out!”

Kate held her head high and walked confidently out of the living room, her fatigue once again having disappeared in the face of adversity.

But rather than climb into her truck when she reached the sidewalk, she glanced up and down the street, and then quickly jogged to the other side where she hurried up the walkway of the house where she presumed Maxwell Stone and his construction-worker father had lived.

After glancing over her shoulder to be certain that Jack hadn’t followed her out, she knocked on the front door, tool kit in hand.

Calling faintly from deep within the house, a man shouted, “Who is it?”

She went with “Kate Flaherty,” to avoid association with the Police Chief, “local handy woman.”

A moment later the door opened, drawing inward on an older gentleman with light-gray hair and spectacles on his face. Judging from his posture, he looked strong as an ox, though he was dressed in casual summer wear.

“Hello, Mr. Stone?”

“That’s right. What is this about?” He was staring at her tool kit and most likely assuming she was there by mistake.

“I’ll be honest with you, I have a few questions about your son, Maxwell, and to sweeten the deal, I’d like to fix something in your house.”

“What?” he asked.

“Whatever needs fixing.”

He seemed to mull her offer over and mentioned, “The kitchen sink has an irritating drip. I placed a sponge under it but it still aggravates me to no end.”

“Lead the way.”

As he did, Mr. Stone explained, “I’m not sure what you want to know, but I probably won’t be much help.”

Since Kate was less interested in Maxwell than she was in his father, she begged to differ, but only in her head.

As she produced her wrench from her tool kit and opened the cabinets beneath the kitchen sink, she asked, “Maxwell was quite the young photographer.”

“He lives over on Rock Ridge Boulevard, you know. You could ask him yourself.”

“Your impression will do,” she said, getting to work with tightening a bolt that secured the cold water pipe in place.

“Sure, he took some shots,” he allowed, just as his wife strode into the kitchen.

In a singsong tone, Mrs. Stone asked, “What’s going on?”

But the man quickly ushered her out of the room, explaining how he was having the drip fixed. “Keep knitting. It’s too warm in the kitchen, you know that.”

When he returned, Kate straightened up from the floor and ran the faucet then shut it off, checking that it would no longer drip.

“Did Maxwell take an interest in Doris Chestnut?”

Mr. Stone turned serious. “Is this about those police across the street? I read the paper. Maxwell was only trying to help.”

“I’m sure he was,” she said quickly. “But why would he take photos of her on that particular night?”

“I’m sure you can ask him that yourself.”

“You work in construction?”

“I used to. Where are you going with this?” he asked, but he didn’t allow her to answer. As soon as he caught sight of the faucet, he stated, “Thanks for your help, now if you’ll excuse us.”

As he ushered Kate to the front door, she peered into the living room where Mrs. Stone was wringing her hands and pacing.

“Do you believe in the House of Slaughter legend?” she asked before stepping outside.

Definitively, he said, “No,” and shoved her out onto the landing, and then slammed the door in her face, giving Kate the distinct impression that he was hiding something.

Undeterred, she jogged across the street and hopped into her truck, feeling strangely alive. She had never been one to thrive in the face of confrontation; in fact, she generally avoided it. But once again her fatigue had been dispelled. She didn’t exactly want to commit herself to being in arguments for the rest of her life, but until her doctor figured out the precise source of her fatigue, she was strangely happy to have found a method for alleviating it in the meantime.

As she drove back toward the heart of Rock Ridge, a disturbing notion occurred to her. What if being angry wasn’t simply a method to lift her fatigue, but a symptom of the Victorian house taking hold? Though she knew it was insane logic, she couldn’t help but consider it. The house had made her tired, as Mrs. Hyatt had pointed out. Then came the nightmares, and gradually she had understood that getting riled up made her feel oddly better. Was that what had driven the killer to murder?

She hated that she was buying into such nonsense, but couldn’t deny that it made the worst kind of sense. But why her?

And how could the emerald ring help?

She reasoned that it couldn’t, and she told herself to stop being ridiculous as she pulled into the parking lot in front of the precinct where Mrs. Hyatt was being held in a jail cell.

The last thing she needed was for Scott to catch her sneaking down to the jail, but there was a fairly good chance he would be in his office, if not meeting with his officers in the bullpen, so she hopped out of her truck, feeling suddenly tired all over again now that she’d had a chance to cool off during the ten-minute drive.

As soon as she pulled the entrance door open, her eyes were locked on the receptionist whose desk stood between the door and the detectives’ stations. The woman seemed engrossed in a telephone call and behind her the room looked quiet. Walking quickly toward the stairwell opposite the receptionist, Kate kept her head down and didn’t breathe until she was safely hurrying down the stairs.

When she reached the guard outside the jail cells, she made quick mention of needing to speak with Mrs. Hyatt, but didn’t elaborate her reason. Recognizing her, the guard didn’t give her a hard time, and soon she was on the other side of the door.

The cells were mostly empty except for a few drunks sleeping off their inebriation. As she inched along, she found Mrs. Hyatt seated on a bench in the third cell to her left.

The woman looked so small and exhausted. She could barely lift her eyes to meet Kate’s gaze.

“”If you’re done playing games, I’d like to help you,” she stated.

“Help me how?”

“I don’t think you killed Doris.”

“I don’t either.”

Kate wrapped her hands around the bars not only to get as close to Mrs. Hyatt as possible, but because she feared she might faint again if she didn’t.

“You gave Doris that ring and you led her into that house that night,” she pointed out. “Maxwell Stone took photos of you.”

“Maxwell Stone is a little—”

“I think his father killed Doris,” she interrupted before the woman could call Maxwell a terrible name. “He worked in construction. He could’ve easily mixed asphalt. He would’ve been strong enough to bury her. But Doris was poisoned.”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t want to get out of here?” she challenged.

“I can’t hurt anyone if I’m locked behind bars.”

“You couldn’t hurt anyone anyway, look at you.”

Mrs. Hyatt frowned.

“And you haven’t hurt anyone in all your years in Rock Ridge,” Kate pointed out.

“The police would disagree.”

“Have you asked for a lawyer at least?”

Grumbling, the elderly woman mentioned a public defender, which Kate knew would do very little to get her acquitted of all charges. Finally, Mrs. Hyatt rose to her feet, bracing her walker, and began inching toward the bars. When she reached them, she said, “I loved Doris. I felt a kinship with her. But I also suspected she killed my son. That’s why I brought her into that house: to talk and to confront her, to tell her to leave town. I didn’t kill her, but I did leave alone that night. If the police knew this, they would view it as all the more reason for me to poison Doris.”

“Why would Doris kill your son?”

“Because he wanted the ring back. I gave it to Doris to protect her from the house, to prevent her from killing. But my son thought I should be wearing it. He saw my giving the ring away as an act of suicide. And when he demanded it back, she killed him, thinking there was no other way to escape the curse. But she didn’t escape it, did she? She did kill, and then she was murdered as well.”

“By Mr. Stone,” she supplied.

“I really don’t know.”

“Is there anything you can tell me, and please, no games?”

Mrs. Hyatt pressed her wrinkly face between the bars. “The nightmares have started, haven’t they?”

“Oh, would you stop with all of that?”

“Kate, I’m not playing games. I’m telling you what you want to know. The ring holds the answers.”

“You’re going to die in here; you realize that, don’t you? I’m trying to help you and you’re fighting me.”

“The ring...”

Frustrated, Kate backed away from the bars, shaking her head. Maybe the old woman should be locked up, but even if she was, Kate wasn’t going to rest until the real killer was caught. She wasn’t going to go to bed every night knowing a murderer was living in Rock Ridge. She just wasn’t.

After making her slow way up the stairs and stopping several times to catch her breath, she spilled out into the precinct lobby where Detective Kilroy spotted her as he emerged from the bullpen.

“Kate!” he exclaimed, approaching her quickly.

“Yes, Kilroy?”

He placed a warm hand on her shoulder and stared down at her empathetically. “How’re you feeling?”

She glared at him. “Let me guess, Olivia?”

Kilroy shot her a sly grin, which told her Olivia hadn’t so much tracked the detective down to spill the beans, but rather she might have mentioned it as pillow talk.

“Please tell me you’re smarter than I think you are,” she said dryly. When he cocked his brow, she said, “If she’s dating you, it’s only to get a story.”

“Dating? Oh, no, I’m not dating her.”

“Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Hey, now,” he objected, but she was already marching through the lobby. She whipped the door open, suddenly filled with a burst of energy from the confrontation and it didn’t drop until she was pulling along the curb outside of the Rock Ridge Tribune.

She stormed into the building, fighting her plummeting energy, and scanned from face to face looking for Olivia who was dictating verbatim as she hovered over one of the rookie reporters.

Wasting no time, Kate barreled through, advancing on the woman and feeling deep down like she might drop, all the while reminding herself: ‘get angry and you’ll get your energy back!’

“I need to speak with you, Tartt,” she demanded.

An easy smile came over Olivia’s expression. “Yes, I imagine you do.”

Kate held her tongue until they were tucked inside the editor’s office, but the second the door was shut behind her she let her grievances fly.

“How dare you?”

“Come on, Kate. You know I’m daring and it comes naturally.”

“You told Larry as well as Kilroy, and you have no right! You don’t even know what you’re telling them. You’re lying!” She quickly corrected herself. “I’ve gotten a clean bill of health.”

“No, you’ve gotten an update, which includes running more tests,” she pointed out.

“Who’s your source?” she demanded, already envisioning having the hospital employee fired.

“What do you have for me?” said Olivia, settling into her chair on the business side of the desk. “I assume that’s why you’re here?”

“I don’t know anything you don’t already know, how is that not obvious to you?”

“You’re the Police Chief’s wife, and you just spoke with Mrs. Hyatt.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m everywhere, Kate. Everywhere. What did she tell you?” Olivia set her fingertips to her keyboard as if Kate was about to disclose every last shred of information she had collected.

“I’m not going to be bullied into working for you,” she declared.

“Ah,” said the editor, knowingly. Without hesitation, she pulled the lap drawer of her desk open and produced a checkbook. “Shall we start at five hundred?”

“What?”

Olivia eyed her for a long moment, and then spoke to her as though she was mentally deficient. “Kate, I’m offering to pay you for information, and when I said five hundred, I meant dollars.”

Folding her arms and glaring down her nose at the ruthless woman, she wracked her brain for a way to twist this confrontation to her advantage. She didn’t want payment and she didn’t want to be threatened into working for Olivia, but she didn’t want Mrs. Hyatt to go to prison for a crime she hadn’t committed.

“Mrs. Hyatt isn’t guilty.”

“I agree,” she stated quickly, pressing her pen to her cheek book, poised and ready for any reason to commence writing.

“If you really must know, I think Mr. Stone did it. I think he was having an affair with Doris and it went south for some reason. Maybe his wife found out, and he felt he had no choice but to kill Doris.”

“Proof?”

“He worked in construction.”

“That’s not proof, Kate.”

“Well, I’m a sleuth, and quite frankly, I don’t always need proof to catch the guilty person.”

Olivia tapped her pen against the cheek book.

“You can put that away. I don’t want your money.” After a tense moment, Kate added, “If you have any corrupt contacts at the precinct... Mrs. Hyatt seems to think the emerald ring Doris was found wearing holds the answers.”

The editor screwed her face up. “How could it?”

“Leave me alone,” Kate warned, grabbing the doorknob. “I’ve told you everything I know. If you continue spreading rumors about me, I’ll tell my husband and I’m sure it won’t be difficult for him to find a reason to have you arrested.”

Just as she was stepping into the hallway, Olivia said, “If you want my opinion as to why you’re so tired...”

Appalled, Kate turned on her heel and gaped at the woman.

“You should try eating twice as much as you do.”

Her response was slamming the door and stomping through the newsroom.

By the time she reached her truck she realized her hands were trembling.

Eat twice as much?

How dare she!

If anything, she needed a strong cup of coffee and to rid one very rude editor from her life. With that in mind, she drove to Bean There, labored out of her truck, dragged herself up the sidewalk, and struggled to push the entrance door open, all the while hoping like hell the coffee shop wouldn’t be crowded.

The barista, Clara, was in good spirits when Kate reached the counter. She feigned idle chitchat as Clara fetched a large, black coffee and a Danish for her, which she ate half of before she’d even paid for her items.

After paying with cash and thanking her, Kate started through the coffee shop in search of an empty table. It wasn’t until she was settling into one near the windows at the back that she realized Amy and Jack Roberts were seated a table away.

The young couple was huddled in deep conversation and completely oblivious to Kate’s proximity.

“You shouldn’t have fired her,” Amy hissed.

“How could I not?” Jack objected.

“Very easily. You could’ve kept your mouth shut.”

He leaned back in his chair, drawing in a deep breath as if distancing himself from his wife’s harsh criticism as she stared daggers at him. When he hunched over again, he stated, “Why didn’t you instruct her to stay out of the basement?”

Amy scowled at him and asked, “Tell her not to do something? That’s the fastest way to get a person to do something.”

“We’ll hire someone else.”

“You think it’s so simple?”

“Why isn’t it?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Clearly, Amy is the brains behind this operation, thought Kate.

“There aren’t that many contractors in Rock Ridge. Her son doesn’t live here anymore, though he would’ve been a good choice. The other viable company, Wentworth Contractors, is run by the mayor, and I’m sure I don’t have to spell out for you why hiring him would be a terrible idea.”

“So what do we do?”

Amy fell silent, thinking.

“You keep pushing this arbitrary timeline,” Jack pointed out. “But we don’t have to flip the house so soon.”

“With a buyer breathing down our necks, honey, we do,” she snapped. After sighing out her pent-up tension, she commented, “At least she didn’t go into the attic...”

What’s in the attic? Kate wondered, leaning over her table and angling her ear toward their conversation. Another body?

“And she didn’t discover my dad lives in Rock Ridge,” she countered as if proving she was far brighter than her husband. He didn’t seem to appreciate it, which his body language indicated. Jack was folding his arms and frowning at his wife. “But she will. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Like you’re protecting your father,” he snorted, shaking his head.

“I’m protecting us,” she countered. “And I wish you’d start doing the same.”

“I did! I fired her!”

“We need to get practical, hire a contractor, and stay on target. The payment is already in escrow, and if this deal falls through...who is going to buy the house if not Olivia? With its history, no one in their right mind would live there.”

Olivia Tartt was in the process of buying the old Victorian? Kate wondered why. Did she legitimately want to live in that house, or did the editor-in-chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune assume there were countless stories hiding within its walls?

“Maybe we should talk to your dad again,” Jack suggested.

“With his wife there? That’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, he’ll get her to leave the house. He’s done it before. Or we can have him meet us somewhere.”

“We can’t be caught with him in public,” she pointed out. “But maybe you’re right.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so bent out of shape over this. Mrs. Hyatt has been arrested. We played this perfectly.”

“It’s not over yet. The fact that Kate was asking the kinds of questions that she did just goes to show she suspects the killer is still out there. If she thinks that, then we can bet others are as well, her husband for example. Olivia’s trying to contain her, but I don’t trust she’ll be successful.”

“Olivia’s tactics are muddled, I’ll agree. Why aim Kate at investigating the house if she really wants to throw Kate off the trail?”

“We’re at her mercy,” said Amy. “We have to follow Olivia’s lead and let her do what she wants or else she’ll print that story about Daddy, and I can’t have that. It wouldn’t be local news. It would be national news, and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life stigmatized.”

“I’ll come up with some contractors,” Jack told her, as if developing a plan would set his wife’s mind at ease. “We’ll hire someone by the end of the week. Olivia will get her house. Your dad will remain anonymous. We’ll get through this.”

Amy nodded her agreement, at a loss for a better course of action. She drank her coffee quietly then hissed, “I hate this town.”

“If we really want to protect your father,” Jack mentioned, “then we need to get that ring.”

“Let’s go back to the Inn and get down to business,” he suggested.

But Amy had another idea. “I think we should stay in the house.”

“Amy,” he said in a deep tone as if instilling some reason into his wife. “If you believe the legend, we can’t stay there.”

“Do you?”

He sighed and searched for the answer in the dregs of his coffee mug. “I wonder...”

Amy stood, collecting her plate and mug. After a moment, Jack joined her and they started through the coffee shop, deposited their dirty dishes on the counter, and made their way into the hot afternoon.

So, Olivia Tartt was manipulating Jack and Amy Roberts just as badly as she’d strong-armed Kate. It seemed there could be more bodies hidden within and possibly around the Victorian house, and that was why the editor was attracted to the property. Even more curious was Amy’s mention of her father. He lived right here in Rock Ridge, but did that mean that the abusive man from South Carolina had followed Doris up north and killed her? Or had this mystery man been abusive because he’d discovered that he wasn’t Amy’s biological father? Had Doris left him in the south to be with Amy’s real father, and the plan of happily ever after went terribly wrong. Had he been some kind of lover who had moved on from the affair and ended up killing Doris in order to keep his past a secret?

Mr. Stone came to mind.

Chapter Five

Kate lumbered into the hospital. Her feet felt heavy and her legs were stiff. The crook in her neck from sleeping at a strange angle was causing a mild headache. She had drunk three cups of coffee and grabbed a shot of espresso from Bean There on the drive over, but it hadn’t helped. Though it was the Fourth, and she knew Dr. Faulkner wouldn’t be in the hospital today, she felt compelled to stop in but not because she felt ragged. Her dreams had gotten worse and she craved the expert opinion of a medical professional to put her mind at ease that she wasn’t insane.

When she reached the front desk, she set her identification on the counter, explaining, “I don’t have an appointment, but I’m hoping to see a doctor.”

The nurse behind the counter pulled up Kate’s medical history and asked, “Same issues?”

“Actually, I’ve been sleeping really badly.”

“Ah,” said the nurse. “Maybe Ambien or Lunesta—”

“I’m hoping not to have to jump to prescriptions,” she explained, but it only seemed to confuse the nurse so Kate quickly backtracked. “Well, if a prescription will help... I’d just really like to speak with a doctor.”

“We’ll get you in,” she assured her. “Have a seat. It shouldn’t be too long.”

Kate thanked her and made her way to the waiting area where there were a number of vacant chairs. After taking a seat, she glanced at the other patients and noted a sneezing young woman, an elderly man who was suffering with a grisly patch of psoriasis on his face, and a professionally dressed man whose thumb appeared swollen.

She should’ve brought some reading material, she thought, reaching for one of the magazines on the coffee table. It was a Redbook and at first blush looked entirely uninteresting.

Before she could crack it open, her cell phone vibrated in her overalls. Glancing at the screen, she saw that it was the mayor, Dean Wentworth, calling and she quickly answered with, “Dean, how are you?”

“Overwhelmed,” he said in a heavy voice. “I’ve been planning the Fourth of July celebration for weeks, and this morning two of my contractors called in sick.”

She was momentarily thrown by the term ‘contractors,’ but Dean clarified.

“It’s the guys who are supposed to set up the fireworks, string the decorations, and make the amusement park festive.”

“Okay...”

“I know it’s not exactly your forte, but I was hoping you might be available to lend a hand?”

If this exhaustion kept up, she wasn’t sure how helpful she would be, but she said, “What time would you need me?”

“The sooner the better,” he stated apologetically. “Now? I need to send someone over to Alvin’s Fireworks to pick up my order. You’ve got your truck so I figured—”

“Sure, that’s no problem, but I won’t be able to get over there for another hour or two.”

“On a fix-it job?”

“Something like that,” she fibbed.

“Once we have the fireworks, it’ll take a few hours to set them up, and then I was hoping you could stay at the amusement park to decorate. All told, it is a full day of work.”

He sounded nervous so she assured him, saying, “Dean, I’ve got your back. I’ll text you once I have the fireworks loaded up in my truck at Alvin’s.

“Kate Flaherty?” The nurse called out, scanning the waiting area, which Dean must have heard.

“Where are you?” he asked.

Eager to hop off the call, she said, “I’ll see you soon!” and hung up before meeting the nurse at the side of the counter.

Following the woman, Kate walked down a corridor and into an exam room where the nurse set a plastic cup on a stainless steel ledge near the exam table.

“When you feel ready,” she began explaining, “there’s a bathroom one door down in the hallway.”

“You need a urine sample because I’m not sleeping well?” Kate asked, confused.

Smiling, the nurse let out a breathy laugh. “No, not quite. But Dr. Faulkner was planning on taking a sample tomorrow during your scheduled appointment, so I figure we can get it out of the way now.”

“Why would he need a urine sample?” she asked.

“We’ll, we are running more tests with your blood samples, but there’s a lot we can find out from your urine,” she mentioned without going into any actual detail.

Kate figured it was just as well. If the nurse listed all the ailments Dr. Faulkner was planning on testing, she would only feel more anxious, so she thanked the nurse and took the plastic cup up the hallway.

Good thing she had drunk all that coffee. Filling the cup was no problem and when she returned to the exam room, she set her sample on the steel ledge.

A moment later, another doctor entered the room and introduced herself as Dr. Beckett. “I understand you’re having difficulty sleeping?”

Grimacing, Kate clarified, “I fall asleep just fine and I’m pretty sure I’m sleeping through the night okay...”

Dr. Beckett looked confused as to what the problem was.

“But I’m having terrible dreams. If you’ll notice, I’ve been in to see Dr. Faulkner because I’ve been so tired, and now I’m starting to think the two symptoms are related. Maybe I’m exhausted because these nightmares are a sign I’m not really sleeping properly.”

As if in preparation of educating Kate on the ins and outs of sleep cycles, Dr. Beckett got comfortable, sitting on a stool, so Kate hopped onto the exam table, poised to listen.

“If you’re having vivid dreams—”

“Nightmares,” she quickly corrected.

“Nightmares. Then you really are reaching REM sleep, which is restful, though it's only meant to be a stage of sleep before you sink into deeper sleep.”

“Okay,” she said, understanding. “So, maybe I’m not reaching that deeper level of sleep.”

“What I’m saying, Kate,” she went on, resting her hand on Kate’s leg. “Is that having vivid dreams shouldn’t cause exhaustion.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed.

“But Dr. Faulkner is still running tests.” If the doctor had meant to sound optimistic, Kate wasn’t relieved. “In the meantime, I can certainly prescribe something to help you sleep, but if you’re falling asleep as you say, the prescription might be unnecessary.”

“In general, I don’t really like to use prescriptions.”

“You could try melatonin, a supplement, if you like. But if you really want my medical opinion, I would suggest you try to incorporate relaxing activities into your day.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s possible you’re having nightmares because you’re stressed out. Or maybe you feel like you’re in moral conflict.”

Kate didn’t know why that would be.

“It’s also possible your hormones are in flux.”

Ah, the dreaded menopause, thought Kate. “Fine,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “It couldn’t hurt to have some sleeping pills on hand.”

Dr. Beckett nodded and began writing out a prescription, which she handed to Kate, saying, “There’s a pharmacy in the lobby, or you can get this filled at any local drugstore.”

“Thanks.”

The doctor plucked Kate’s sample off the ledge and opened the door for her.

In the lobby, Kate filled the prescription and shoved the little bottle of pills into her pocket, sensing deep down that these wouldn’t really help her.

Alvin’s Fireworks was located on the south side of Rock Ridge. After veering her truck off the highway, Kate drove past the high-rise condo she had renovated for Justina and Carnegie Real Estate a few years back. The building now housed nearly one hundred ex-convicts who had been released from the local prison. She smiled to herself, eyeing the apartment building and feeling as though she had done some good in this town. Last she had heard, Gillian O’Reilly lived there as well as countless others Kate had met who were committed to turning their lives around. Gillian still worked at Amelia Langley’s inn, Over the Moon.

Kate found it interesting that Amy and Jack Roberts were staying at the inn. She considered giving Gillian a call. Maybe she could find out if the wealthy couple had been up to anything suspicious. It didn’t sound like they could’ve possibly had a hand in killing Doris Chestnut, but they certainly knew who had. Why would Amy want to keep the real killer’s identity a secret, even if it was her own father? Did Amy’s loyalties lie with a man who hadn’t raised her? Why would she protect such a man at the expense of getting true justice for her own mother?

Pulling into the parking lot in front of Alvin’s, Kate drove into the closest parking spot she could find so that she wouldn’t have to walk too far in the heat. The store looked like a warehouse, and as she climbed out of her truck she wondered how many residents actually bought fireworks. How could a place like Alvin’s afford to stay in business?

It was muggy inside the store, which wasn’t what she expected. The industrial fans pitched near the cash register did little to cool the space. Behind the counter was a teenaged guy who seemed enthralled with his comic book. She had to clear her throat twice before he lifted his eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked and clicked his teeth against the metal lip-ring at the side of his mouth.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Dean Wentworth.”

“Ah, right,” he said, setting his comic on the counter and flipping through a binder that contained countless purchase orders. “Where are you parked?”

“Out front. Is there a loading dock I should drive to?”

“Nah, it’s cool. I can carry the boxes out. Sign here.”

She took the pen he was offering and signed her name on the signature line of the purchase order.

“Do me a favor,” he added. “If you could back in toward the entrance door?”

She wasted no time getting out to her truck, and as the warm, summer air hit her skin, she realized it had actually been hotter inside Alvin’s.

It was a matter of seconds before she had backed in toward the door, and as soon as she set her truck in Park, the kid carried the first box out. Quickly, she lowered the hatch for him to slide the box into the bed of the truck.

When he shoved the final box next to the five others he had loaded in, she caught sight of his nametag—Maxwell.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “Are you Maxwell Stone?”

He shot her a crooked smile, saying, “Yeah, that’s right.”

Thrown, she studied his face. She could’ve sworn he was a teenager, but that didn’t make sense. He should be in his early thirties if he was fourteen years old nearly two decades ago. Upon closer inspection, however, she discovered that he only dressed like a teenager. In fact, his skin and the glazed-over boredom in his eyes revealed his true age.

“I’m Kate,” she said, suddenly noticing the awkward silence that had built.

“Yeah, I know. You signed the P.O.”

“You spoke with the police about Mrs. Hyatt...you gave them photos that led to her arrest.”

He turned serious. “I’m not a fan of gossip.”

“Neither am I,” she told him. “But do you really think she killed that woman?”

“Look, lady, I already spoke with the police, and you have your fireworks.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“That’s the point.”

Maybe she could provoke him into opening up. “I think your father was having an affair with Doris Chestnut. I think that’s why you were taking photos of her.”

“That doesn’t mean Mrs. Hyatt didn’t kill her.”

Suddenly, it seemed more plausible who Amy’s real father might be—Mr. Stone. Maybe Doris hadn’t gotten involved with the construction worker after moving to Rock Ridge. Maybe she had been involved with him before and he was the reason she chose Rock Ridge as a town to escape to.

“Are you friendly with Amy Roberts?”

“Are you?” he countered, a bad attitude flaring in his tone.

“Not exactly. She fired me from working on that house.”

He snorted a laugh. “Everyone around here likes to buy into that urban legend.”

“Including Amy and Jack?”

“Including that reporter.”

“You mean Olivia?” she asked, holding her tongue on correcting him that Olivia was the editor and not a reporter. “Since you were watching that house long enough for Mrs. Hyatt to step outside alone, did you see anyone else go in?”

“No,” he stated definitively.

It gave Kate an idea, one she hadn’t considered before.

“Did you see Doris come out?”

His eyes shifted.

“She wasn’t killed there was she? She was killed somewhere else and brought back to the house.”

He said nothing.

“Do you have more photos?”

“No,” he said. “Look, I didn’t tell the police Mrs. Hyatt did it. I only turned over the photos and they made their own conclusions.”

“But you didn’t tell them Doris left the house alive,” she stated, but it was really a request for him to confirm.

“You said it yourself. My dad was sleeping with her.”

“So, he did it?”

“So, I’m not going to do or say anything that incriminates him,” he corrected.

“Between you and me, who do you think killed her?”

“Between you and me?” he asked. Kate nodded emphatically, widening her eyes. “Between you and me, I can’t stand working at Alvin’s Fireworks. I’m one hell of a contractor, though. Dean won’t hire me at Wentworth. He says I don’t project the image of someone who would work for the mayor even though Wentworth Contractors has nothing to do with the mayor’s office. He offered me a job helping kids on and off those rides at the amusement park, like that would actually be a step up from selling fireworks.”

“Are you telling me you’ll clue me in as to who killed Doris if I offer you a job?”

“Do you need an apprentice?”

His proposition told her two things. The first was that his father probably hadn’t killed Doris Chestnut. There was no way he’d trade his father’s freedom for a part-time job. The second, and even more bizarre, was that Maxwell could very well prove useful. She had been plagued with exhaustion. Until she got back on her feet and felt normal, he might be a great deal of help.

“I’m not sure I can afford to pay you—”

“I make minimum wage now and only work twenty hours a week. I can do all of your heavy lifting, and I’m great with power tools.”

“Who killed Doris?”

He pressed his mouth into a hard line. “Do we have a deal?”

“Do you actually know who killed her?”

Again, he pressed his mouth shut, fretting. “I can’t tell you who killed her. But I can tell you where she went after leaving the Victorian house.”

“Where?” she insisted.

“Do we have a deal?”

“You tell me where and I’ll hire you for one week. If what you tell me gets Mrs. Hyatt out of jail, then we have a deal.”

He debated, pacing away and plowing his fingers through his spikey hair. As soon as he circled back he said, “Deal.”

She raised her brows at him.

“I followed Doris to Celia Johnson’s house. I mean, back when Celia was married to Ken.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you.”

“Celia Johnson...?”

“Doris was in that house for a long time. Ken’s car wasn’t in the driveway. And when she finally left, she didn’t walk from the house. She ran.”

Chapter Six

Kate squeezed the brakes, rolling to a stop at the admissions gate of the amusement park where a plucky teenaged girl sat in a booth. After rolling her window down and greeting the girl, Kate mentioned the fireworks in her truck.

“It’s five dollars for an hour or twenty-five for the day,” said the girl.

“What? No, I’m hauling in the fireworks.”

The girl blinked, and then screwed her face up, repeating, “It’s five dollars for an hour.”

“There’s no way the mayor expects me to pay for parking when I’m working,” she objected, finding it a challenge to keep her tone friendly.

“I work here and I pay twenty-five dollars for every shift,” she said dryly. “Welcome to Six Flags.”

Appalled, Kate found five dollars in her wallet and forked it over.

“You can always park a half mile down the street and walk over,” the girl suggested.

“With six boxes of fireworks?”

The teenager didn’t immediately see the flaw of her suggestion and pressed a button within her booth. The green bar blocking Kate’s truck lifted and she drove through, eyeing the various rides and tents in hopes that the loading area Dean had mentioned would jump out at her.

The place was massive. She had avoided coming here for years, and in that amount of time it seemed the amusement park had swelled to gargantuan proportions.

As she drove deeper through the parking lot, she spied several trucks that were on the edge of the park where it met with asphalt, so she angled her truck around a row of parked cars and came to a stop as soon as she reached what appeared to be a loading area.

She had texted Dean just before she left Alvin’s, but he hadn’t gotten back to her. She gave him a call so she wouldn’t have to ask around as to where she should deliver the boxes.

“Yeah, Kate?”

“Dean!” she said, glad to have him on the line. “I just paid five dollars to get past the gate—”

“Yeah, I know,” he said apologetically. “Be sure to pay the other twenty so you don’t get a ticket.”

“What the hell, Dean?”

“It’s not me! Six Flags has its own rules and regulations. I’m just a franchise owner and a partial one at that. I’ll reimburse you.”

She grumbled, but it seemed like a good enough solution.

“So, where should I drive these things?”

“Do you see the red and white tent?”

It took her a moment to scan the area for it, but she did and told him as much.

“Drive past it, and then hook around to the right. You’ll be driving on grass, but that’s fine. Go straight until you get to the field, and then come all the way back. I’m here with a few of my guys.”

Following his directions, which weren’t as cut and dry as they had sounded, Kate veered around vendors and rides, making her slow way toward the very back of the park that spilled out into a twelve-acre field spanning the lake. The area was pretty, and she could almost see the campground that it used to be. Once night fell and fireworks were popping over the smooth surface of the lake, it truly would be a beautiful spectacle, she thought, as her truck bounced with the bumpy terrain.

Dean was standing near a table where the field ended and the forest began. He raised his hand in the air and waved her over to a row of parked vehicles. Once she came to a stop, she killed the engine and hopped out.

“We can set the boxes on the table,” he instructed, popping the latch on the truck bed.

A few of his guys sprang to action, grabbing boxes and carrying them over to the table, which was lucky for Kate. There wasn’t a box left for her to carry.

As soon as Dean began opening the fireworks boxes to check that his order was complete, Kate angled in, saying, “Do you have something against Maxwell Stone?”

“Who?” he asked, distractedly.

“Maxwell Stone, he’s thirty-something but dresses like a skateboarder. He wanted to work at Wentworth Contractors, but you didn’t hire him.”

“Oh, Max. Yeah, I got a weird feeling from him.”

“Dean, you employed ex-cons to build this park. There’s no way one oddly-dressed young man could be that much weirder.”

Dean paced away from the table, giving Kate his full attention. “I told him he could work here at the park. Why do you care?”

“Because...apparently, I just hired him.”

Dean laughed. “That’s on you, then.”

She held her hand out. “I’ll take my twenty-five dollars now.”

After fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, Dean reimbursed her for parking and explained, “Celia is in charge of organizing the decorations so you can report to her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

Shrugging, Kate said offhandedly, “I thought she had her hands full at the Tribune.”

“She volunteered. I think the Tribune gets a little stuffy, both literally and figuratively. She wanted some fresh air.”

He explained where she could find Celia, and Kate started through the field, her gaze locked on the red and white tent in the distance.

When she reached it, she found a crowd of amusement park employees hustling around and carrying strings of colored lights. Celia was reviewing her clipboard and instructing a pair of employees on what to do with a giant banner.

Kate hung back and as soon as the employees started off through the park, she approached the woman who had spent hours with Doris Chestnut all those years ago.

“Kate! Great to have you,” she said, scanning her clipboard.

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

After a moment, Celia sighed and set her clipboard on a table where dozens of Gatorade bottles were floating in ice water. “Olivia was glad to have met with you.”

“Was she?” Kate glared at her, and then added, “Thanks for tricking me into that, by the way.”

“What? She definitely needed that shelving unit.”

“Not as much as she needed to strong-arm me into making a statement.”

“Which was off the record.”

“Which wasn’t exactly a statement.” They stared at each other a moment. “What did you tell her?”

“What do you mean? What would I have to tell her?”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“You’re implying something,” she stated, “but quite frankly I have no idea what.”

A cluster of employees barreled in between Kate and Celia, grabbing Gatorade bottles from the bucket and mentioning they had finished stringing up lights around the food court.

“Wonderful,” said Celia, as she handed them another bundle of colored lights. “Can you get these up around the carousel?”

“The carousel already has white lights—”

“So swap them out,” Celia told the young woman who had objected. “Go, go, there’s much more to do.”

After they shuffled off, Celia turned to Kate. “Don’t get bent out of shape over Olivia.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Here,” she said, changing the subject by handing Kate a plastic banner, which Kate presumed read, ‘Happy 4th of July’ though it was folded. “There are a number of ladders over there. Staple guns are right here,” she explained, indicating the table.

Kate grabbed one of the guns and tucked the banner under her arm. “I know you spoke with Doris Chestnut that night.”

Celia’s smile dropped.

“Ken wasn’t home. It was just the two of you. What did you say to her?”

“I don’t know why you think—”

“Maxwell Stone saw you,” she shot back. “He also saw Doris running from the house hours later, so I know you didn’t kill her. But what happened?”

When she answered, she spoke in a low and serious tone. “I am not going to be scandalized. After Ken’s murder and after...” she trailed off, overcome with emotion. “And after Eric’s role in that horrible conspiracy two years ago...it was a nightmare, watching his arrest—”

Kate wasn’t about to feel sorry for her and said as much, “You knew he was hiding Becky Langley.”

“Fine. It was still a nightmare, and it still took me over a year to recover. No one trusted me. My name kept coming up in the paper. I can’t go back there. I can’t go back to a life of having to prove I’m a good person.”

“It’ll stay between you and me,” Kate said encouragingly.

She let out a deliberating sigh. “Doris was paranoid. If you ask me, she wasn’t right in the head. She came to the house because she trusted Ken. She wasn’t there to talk to me. She wanted to speak with Ken, but he was out at the precinct. I told her to go there if she wanted to see him. But...she wasn’t making sense. And she refused to go to the station.”

“What was she saying that wasn’t making sense?”

“Oh, you think it’s going to make sense to you? If I couldn’t understand it, what makes you think you will?”

Kate leveled with her, insisting, “Just come out with it already.”

“She kept saying that the house, that old Victorian house, wanted her to kill. She said it was her punishment for getting involved with a married man; but Kate, she wasn’t making sense. At times she said her lover was the father of her child, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why being involved with the father of her child would cause her so much guilt. She told me that Mrs. Hyatt had given her a way out. And she kept twisting this gaudy ring around her finger. It was as if the ring itself was her way out, which obviously made no sense. She wasn’t afraid someone was going to kill her,” she reiterated. “She was afraid she would be the one doing the killing.”

“And how would Ken have helped her?”

“I’m not sure he could’ve. I’m not sure anyone could’ve. I honestly think she was mentally ill.”

According to Mrs. Hyatt, the ring should’ve protected her. Clearly, it hadn’t, unless the only way to prevent her from killing was to take her own life. But how could a ring accomplish that? Not to mention the fact that Doris had been poisoned.

“Did she eat or drink anything at your house?” asked Kate.

Celia thought for a moment then said, “No, not unless she did it in the bathroom, but in that case, it could only be tap water from the faucet.”

“Did she mention where she was going? Do you have any idea where she ran off to?”

“I assumed the precinct since Ken was who she was dying to speak with, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“And admit I might have been the last person to see her alive?” she asked. “I was a cop’s wife. I knew better.”

“But you didn’t tell Ken when he finally got home?”

“What would I tell him?” She shook her head. “I assumed she had gone there and spoken with him.”

Celia strode over to the row of ladders and began dragging one out for Kate.

“Doris was mentally unwell,” she concluded. “And if you ask me, so is Mrs. Hyatt, and it’s a good thing that old woman is off the street.”

“What’s Olivia’s interest in that house?”

Again, Celia shook her head. “I’m not sure she’s interested anymore.”

“She bought it.”

“That was before the body was exhumed. If anything, Olivia wanted that ring.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think she even knows. But she’s been investigating the urban legend as a pet project for years. The emerald ring kept coming up as a critical piece to the story. I think she just wanted to get her hands on it in order to find out why. But when you dug up Doris and the ring was taken into evidence, she had no way of getting her hands on it.”

“If that’s what she’s after, then why threaten me into poking around? Why not just ask me to get the ring out of evidence?”

Wiping the sweat off her brow, Celia said, “Olivia’s like a crab, incapable of heading in a straight line to get what she wants. She scurries left and right. She’s a strange woman.” Kate eyed the other woman for a long moment, which compelled her to add, “That’s all I know. Really. And please, keep it to yourself.”

Kate was inclined to press her for more, but she believed Celia. The woman’s honest eyes confirmed that she really had said all that she knew, so Kate took the ladder from her, asking, “Where do you want this banner?”

“Near the admissions turnstile where customers enter the park.”

Kate tucked the staple gun handle into one of the loops on her overalls, slung the ladder over her shoulder, and with the folded banner clamped under her arm, started through the amusement park toward the admissions entrance.

The sun beat mercilessly down as she walked. Sweat beaded across her hairline and over her chest. If her doctor had warned her against physical exertion, this was precisely what he didn’t want her doing. She felt her chest tightening and her breathing grow shallow, but soon she reached the turnstile. There were two posts on either side of the three turnstiles. She would have to staple each end of the banner to those posts, but just thinking about it was daunting.

She pitched the ladder and set the banner on one of the steps then walked over to a shady patch of grass, under one of the tents to catch her breath.

She could really use Maxwell Stone’s help right about now, not that he had helped her all that much. It had been a solid lead that he’d followed Doris to Celia’s house that night, but Celia hadn’t told her anything useful. So much superstition around a fancy ring...

Or maybe it wasn’t superstition. Maybe Mrs. Hyatt was right in her own convoluted way. Maybe the ring really did hold the answer. Maybe it had been Doris’s way out...but the harder Kate tried to consider this angle, the less sense it seemed to make.

Looking at the posts, Kate had half a mind to drive home, pop a handful of sleeping pills, and wash the world away. But that wasn’t who she was. She was strong, a fighter, and time hadn’t aged her. She had always had more energy than anyone else around her and she refused to be limited by some mysterious ailment.

She marched over to the ladder and climbed it, banner in hand. At the top of the ladder she flung the banner open and tried not to admit it felt like a thousand pounds. Her arms were aching, but she muscled the edge of the banner against the top of the post and stapled it on.

Breathing heavily, she climbed down the ladder, moved it to the other post, and shimmied up it, grunting with every step.

Once she had the banner secured she glanced up at it from the grass and cursed loudly.

The damn thing was upside down.

“Is that an artistic statement?” A man behind her asked.

When she turned, she found Maxwell Stone screwing his face up at her mistake.

“You’re hired,” she blurted out. “Just, Christ, just fix it and report to Celia at the red and white tent. I can’t be in this heat.”

Maxwell chuckled and she thanked him, lumbering off to her truck that she wished she hadn’t left at the back of the field.

She needed water. She needed to lie down. But something deep inside her forced Kate to keep walking.

By the time she reached her truck, she had resolved to get to the bottom of Doris Chestnut’s murder once and for all.

Chapter Seven

Kate knew the evidence lockers were located on the second floor of the precinct behind forensics and ballistics where a handful of analysts worked. When she drove through the Municipal Building parking lot, she circled around to the back, plotting to go through the stairwell to the second floor, and hopefully avoid Scott and the rest of the detectives all together.

After pulling into a spot, she scanned the parking area. There was no one around and only a few parked vehicles, so she climbed out of her truck and eased quietly through the back door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and when they did, she labored up the stairs, taking a breather on the landing as soon as she reached it.

The door opened into a corridor with offices to the left and right. If memory served her, she would find the evidence lockers to the right, so she ventured in that direction, all the while wracking her brain for the best way to get past the guard. What excuse could she offer to get the ring?

Nearing the guard, she had come up with no excuse that would sound believable. She smiled instead, saying, “Hi, Jonas.”

His eyes brightened, causing him to look decades younger than his forty years.

“Going to the big fireworks celebration tonight?”

He frowned. “That’s the hope, but Scott has us scheduled into the late evening,” he complained. “What brings you?”

Thinking on her feet, she said, “I think a personal belonging of mine got accidentally bagged as evidence from the Roberts’ Victorian house a few days ago.”

“No kidding?”

“Unfortunately,” she lied, hopeful he was buying it. “Would it be possible to have a look around?”

“I can get it for you,” he offered. “What did you leave behind?”

“Ah...” What could she possibly say to dissuade him from finding the item himself? “I’d prefer to get it myself.”

“No can do. We have strict policies against it.”

“Okay...well, it’s a lady product...”

He looked alarmed, swallowing hard. “Like?”

What would repulse him into allowing her entry? “A diaphragm.”

“A what?”

“A silicon dome I place over my cervix to—”

“Enough said.” He stepped aside and led her through the aisles of lockers and unlocked a large one toward the back of the room. “These are the boxes of evidence we collected,” he explained, stepping aside. As soon as she reached for one, he turned his back, embarrassed.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“And I’ll just be over here,” he said, shuffling away.

She watched him for a moment until he disappeared around the corner and then quickly began rummaging through the boxes in search of the emerald ring.

Awkwardly, Jonas called out, “Guess it’s good to hear your marriage is going strong!”

“Strong as ever!” she responded, and then to shut him up added, “Contraception at my age is tricky business!”

He muttered, ‘Oh God,” under his breath and she heard him amble out into the corridor.

Thank God he hadn’t asked how in the hell she could’ve left a loose diaphragm at a crime scene, or why she might have had cause to have one on her while working...

She found a plastic evidence bag containing the ring and quickly tucked it into her pocket, shouting, “Found it.”

Jonas hurried back and as he locked the locker, she stuck her hand into her overalls saying, “Here it is,” but he stopped her as she knew he would.

“Hey, now, I believe you. No need there, Kate, you can keep it in your pocket.”

“Thanks again!”

Quickly, she rushed out of the evidence room and rounded into the stairwell, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she realized she didn’t have the energy to press on. Instead, she sat on the stairs and pulled the evidence bag from her pocket, eyeing the emerald ring inside.

The gemstone looked as big as a nickel where it spanned the silver band. She opened the plastic bag and plucked the ring out, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It looked like a gaudy piece of costume jewelry.

Turning it over in her hands, she suddenly noticed two tiny hinges at one side of the emerald. Hinges? On the other side was a small silver latch. She frowned, staring at it.

She used her thumbnail to pop the latch and the gemstone jarred only a few millimeters. A compartment? She lifted the gemstone vertically, its hinges grinding on the other side. It reminded her of a locket, but when she peered inside the shallow compartment, she noticed it didn’t contain a photo, but what appeared to be white powder.

‘The ring will protect you.’

But from what? From murdering another person...

Doris had been poisoned.

All of a sudden, Kate understood what she was looking at.

The white powder was poison.

No one had killed Doris Chestnut.

Doris had killed herself.

Stunned, Kate stared at nothing in particular, remembering the many clues she had discovered: Mrs. Hyatt’s son had been furious that she had given the ring to Doris, Doris had supposedly killed him for this very reason, Mrs. Hyatt had insisted the ring could stop the madness, and she was right, but in a very twisted way.

What had happened to Doris that night?

Maybe Celia was right. Maybe Doris was mentally ill. She had bought into an urban legend so deeply that she ended up taking her own life out of fear she would kill again.

Kate startled when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

She exhaled deeply, snapping the emerald back into place and dropping it inside the evidence bag, turning her attention instead to the call.

It was Larry, so she swiped the screen. “Hey there.”

“Kate! It took some time, but I have a few names for you.”

Right, she thought quickly. She’d asked him to compile all the individuals who had bought asphalt. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” he said. “I have the Johnsons, so that would be Ken and Celia.”

“Got it,” she said, making a mental note.

“And I have Harry Stone.”

That was Maxwell’s father whom she had questioned in exchange for fixing his leaky faucet.

“Got it.”

“And I also have Doris Chestnut.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” he concluded.

“No one else?”

“Not in terms of small quantities of asphalt, no. That’s everyone.”

“Thanks, Larry.”

“No problem. So I’ll see you tonight at the fireworks?”

“That’s the plan,” she said before thanking him again and hanging up.

Using the railing, she pulled herself to her feet. Now the trick would be sneaking the evidence bag back into the locker.

As she traipsed through the corridor, she tried not to laugh at herself for her idea: ‘Sorry, Jonas, wrong diaphragm!’

No, that wouldn’t fly.

But as she rounded the corner, she came face to face with Scott, who didn’t seem at all pleased to see her.

“Kate, what are you doing here?”

Jonas was frowning at her as well, but Scott quickly ushered her around the corner.

“What’s this I hear? You told Jonas you left a...” he whispered sheepishly, “diaphragm—”

“Oh, he misunderstood me,” she said, brushing it over, not that her husband was buying it. “Okay, fine. I was curious.”

“You tricked your way into the evidence lockers because you were curious?”

“Look,” she said, taking the evidence bag from her pocket. “I was going to come find you and tell you.”

He didn’t look convinced, but she was barreling ahead anyway. When she had the ring in her hand, she popped the emerald. “I think it’s poison.”

Scott fell silent. “White powder.”

“Can you test it? I would bet anything it’s poison.”

“So Doris had the murder weapon on her the whole time.”

“That’s just it, Scott,” she began explaining. “I don’t think it’s a murder weapon. I think Doris killed herself and someone covered it up.” She studied his expression for a beat. “Is that a crime? To cover up a suicide?”

“It is,” he allowed. “But it’s not a felony charge. It would be a failure to report a death and failure to report disposal of a body. And when it’s a suicide, those charges can be more severe, because ultimately the medical examiner needs to confirm cause of death.” Scott secured the ring closed and dropped it back into the evidence bag. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. First I need to have the powder tested in order to confirm it’s poison and the same type that killed Doris.”

Finally, Scott got a good look at her and exclaimed, “Katydid, you’re beat red.”

“Oh, I was outside for a few hours.” She felt her cheeks, which were hot to the touch.

“What on earth were you doing outside?”

“Helping with the fireworks.”

He grumbled, “Would you please rest? Go home and take a nap.”

“I don’t know how. It’s against my nature.” She watched Scott tuck the evidence bag into his pocket. “Will you release Mrs. Hyatt?”

“It’s way too soon to tell. Not to mention, that just because Doris was wearing a poison ring doesn’t mean someone else didn’t take her life.”

“Oh come on, you don’t believe that?”

“Personally, I believe you. The more I hear about Doris Chestnut the more I think she should’ve been in a mental institution, but I have to be practical here.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “Promise me you’ll go home and get some rest before the fireworks tonight.”

Reluctantly she agreed, but blurted out, “After a cup of coffee.”

“Kate, you’ll never fall asleep if you’re all hopped up on caffeine!”

“Work with me here,” she pressed.

Scott walked with her down the stairwell and out to her truck. After opening the driver’s side door for her, he kissed her cheek.

“Will you come with me to the doctor’s tomorrow for those tests?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll give you a call around six and we can head over to the fireworks together.”

She agreed, climbing up behind the steering wheel. “Hey,” she said before he could shut the door. “I usually fight my own battles, but...”

“What’s going on?”

“You know Olivia Tartt over at the Rock Ridge Tribune?”

“What about her?”

She debated for a long moment.

“Kate?”

“She threatened to print my health results if I didn’t help her—”

“Help her how?” he demanded, suddenly infuriated.

“With investigating...”

Scott furrowed his brow and Kate could almost see him mentally tallying the various charges he could pile on Olivia. “Is that why you stole the ring?”

“I borrowed it,” she quickly corrected, but when he frowned at her, she added, “well, no, but I can’t stand her.”

“Let me deal with it.”

“Her interest in this whole Doris Chestnut mystery seems off to me. Plus, she was the one who bought the Roberts’ house. And as far as I can tell, she’s also manipulating Amy and Jack. I’m not sure they would’ve sold the house to her otherwise.”

Scott nodded, kissed her cheek again, and shut the door. As he eased back, Kate turned the key in the ignition and backed her truck out of the parking spot.

Driving through the heart of Rock Ridge, she wasn’t sure she would take a proper nap once she got home, but she’d certainly keep off her feet.

She pulled up to the curb in front of Bean There and killed the engine. If she was going to be a prisoner in her own home for the next few hours, she might as well soften the blow with a large cup of coffee. Just anticipating the aromatic dark roast perked her up, but when she got to the back of the line inside the coffee shop, she received a phone call that would change all that.

“Hello?” she asked, curious that someone from the hospital would be calling.

“Kate, hi, this is Nurse Roland.”

“Okay, hi...”

“You’re schedule to come in tomorrow at nine in the morning?”

“As far as I know.”

“And will your husband be with you?”

“I take it you think he should?”

She heard the woman’s breathy laugh through the receiver confirming as much. “In the meantime, I would suggest you stay away from caffeine and alcohol.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we need to run a few more tests.”

“This is ridiculous,” she complained. “I can’t work like I usually do. I’m supposed to rest. And now you’re taking away the few things that make this situation tolerable?”

“It’s for your health.”

“Are you sure it isn’t to torture me?”

“I’m very sorry,” said the nurse and Kate quickly apologized.

“It’s fine. We’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The line had been inching along and when she reached the counter her mind went blank.

Clara was already grabbing a large to-go cup, figuring Kate would order the usual.

“No coffee,” said Kate, disgruntled.

Clara’s mouth dropped open. “Are you feeling okay?”

She didn’t even know what to say to that so she blurted out, “I’ll have two, no three, chocolate chip muffins and a slice of blueberry pie and what’s that?” she asked, pointing to what appeared to be a ball of fudge.

“It’s a fudgy-pop,” said the barista.

“I’ll take five.”

If she couldn’t have caffeine, she would drown her sorrows in sugar and hope like hell that it would give her a boost.

Clara quickly collected the items and rang up her order as Kate glanced around the coffee shop, envying all the happy customers with their coffees.

Carrying the large bag of sweets to her truck, Kate noticed Amy Roberts who was standing several yards up the block. The young woman appeared to be arguing, but the other person was standing where Kate couldn’t see them.

She climbed into her truck and it was just the shift in perspective she needed to realize that Amy was arguing with Olivia Tartt.

She popped a fudge ball into her cheek, rolling her window down in hopes she might be able to overhear.

“This is going to come down on both of us,” Olivia hissed. “You know that.”

“There’s nothing I can do,” said Amy, who quickly deepened her tone. “You’ve been threatening my father, but he had nothing to do with Doris’s death and you know it. I’m sick of this. I sold you the house. Mrs. Hyatt’s locked up. What else do you want?”

“I want that ring.”

“The police have it. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Don’t you understand that they’re going to find out Doris killed herself, and when they do, they’re going to want to know who buried her in that basement?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Why do you think I moved away from here and haven’t been back?” said Amy.

“She will kill us,” said Olivia, her tone cracking with fear. “We need to make this go away.”

“So print a story. Make it go away,” Amy suggested.

“It doesn’t work like that. I can’t print fiction.”

“So publish something about that fix-it woman’s health. Create a distraction. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“That was just a threat. I was pushing it by just spreading a vague rumor. Printing confidential health records will cause all kinds of trouble, and we don’t need that, do we?”

Amy held her head high. “I don’t think she’ll kill us.”

“You fool.”

“We’re not kids anymore. She can’t make us do anything.”

“The only reason she hasn’t come after us is because your mother’s body stayed buried under a foot of asphalt. She’s not buried anymore. And I’m scared.”

Amy’s eyes widened as though an idea was taking hold. “So, we kill her.”

“When?”

“Tonight, at the fireworks. No one will hear it.”

“How?” asked Olivia before quickly pacing away and muttering, “This is crazy, we can’t do this.”

“Do you want to live in fear for the rest of your life? Or worse, do you want the police to find out what we did?”

Decisively, Olivia said, “Fine. Tonight.”

Amy smiled. “She’s as good as dead.”

Kate leaned back in her seat as the women climbed into Amy’s car and pulled out of the parking spot. As they drove away, Kate wondered who the mystery woman was, what she had made them do, and how, if at all, Kate might be able to prevent her murder.

Chapter Eight

Dusk was settling over Rock Ridge as Scott angled his truck toward the entrance gate. In the passenger’s seat, Kate fished the twenty-five dollars Dean had given her earlier that day out of her overalls and handed it to her husband.

“We won’t need this much,” he commented.

“Trust me,” she said, shooting him a knowing look.

“Highway robbery,” he grumbled, handing the cash to the girl inside the booth. After a moment, she passed a parking slip to Scott and he tucked it on the dash in plain view, rolling forward where a line of cars inched along, vying for parking spaces.

Kate had explained to him all that she had overheard between Olivia Tartt and Amy Roberts. In usual Scott fashion, her husband had downplayed the exchange, reminding her not to believe everything she heard. But Kate had a gut feeling about this. At the height of the fireworks display, someone would be killed.

“I’m going to check in with Celia,” she explained, climbing out of the truck as soon as Scott had parked near the back of the lot.

After trying and failing to rest at the house, Kate had spent two hours putting the pieces together. Doris might not have been entirely stable, but Mrs. Hyatt’s role in the matter boiled down to smoke and mirrors, nothing that could help Kate make sense of that dark night. Despite this, she gleaned that a woman had discovered Doris’s affair with Mr. Stone. Whether Mrs. Hyatt had supplied Doris with poison or the woman had, the result was the same. Doris had gone to extreme lengths to stop herself from falling prey to the evils of the Victorian house. In Kate’s mind, perhaps Doris had ingested the poison in Celia’s bathroom, maybe after. Only forensics would be able to identify how quickly the poison had taken effect in her system and they hadn’t determined that variable just yet.

Regardless, the results proved deadly.

And the woman, whoever she was, had either encouraged or forced young Amy and Olivia to mix asphalt and bury the dead body of Doris Chestnut. How the woman might have managed to do this was almost too dark to fathom. But her role had compelled her to threaten the girls.

Why?

If Doris truly had killed herself, then why not let her die in plain sight? Why not allow the police to discover the suicide? What had compelled the woman to cover it up?

And what was so important about it that she had held death threats over Amy and Olivia’s heads their entire lives?

In a sense, Kate felt that a strange sort of justice might be served if she kept out of it and allowed Amy and Olivia to kill the woman who had been hanging over their heads like a dark cloud. But her conscience wouldn’t let her. Rock Ridge had seen so many murders over the years and Kate had never before been in a position to stop one. She couldn’t turn her back on this town. Rock Ridge needed her now more than ever.

As she made her way through the slow moving crowd, zigzagging toward the red and white tent where she hoped to find Celia, Kate couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d been here apart from work. Jason and Jared had been with her, the amusement park in the midst of its grand opening. It hadn’t been a happy day, but a terrifying one as Jason came face to face with the woman who had stolen his heart and then shattered it, Becky Langley. But before that fateful moment, when they had walked as a family through the crowd, Kate had felt content. She didn’t blame her sons for moving away, quite the opposite. She felt their decision had been a good one. But she missed them all the more because of it.

The red and white tent came into view. Kate wondered about Celia. She had known the woman for ages and had seen Celia go through tumultuous ups and downs, but could her long-time friend have harbored such a terrible secret as having coerced two young girls into burying a suicidal woman in the basement of an abandoned house? Kate would like to think not, but Celia had admitted to spending time with Doris that night. Also, Larry had confirmed that one of the Johnson’s, either Celia or her husband at the time, Ken, had purchased asphalt. What if Celia had been so distressed that a crazy woman had confronted her in her house, that she perhaps momentarily lost her mind and wanted Doris to disappear? Or worse, what if Celia realized Doris had ingested poison, and as Doris had gone running from the house, Celia feared the suicide would appear to be a homicide and she would get arrested? Fear had the power to make sane people do crazy things. And there was just no telling.

Kate stepped under the tent and scanned the faces. Employees were standing behind a table and selling raffle tickets, but Celia wasn’t one of them. She worked her way through the residents, and when she reached the table, she shouted, “Have you seen Celia?”

The employee, a young woman who seemed overwhelmed, met her gaze. “Uh, she’s over by the food vendors.”

Following where the girl was pointing, Kate noticed a line of food carts across the way. Celia was picking at a puff of cotton candy. Kate hurried through the crowd toward her.

“Quite the vanishing act,” said Celia in mock compliment of Kate’s earlier disappearance.

Grabbing her arm, which got her instant attention, Kate said, “I think your life is in danger.”

“What?” She looked stunned but then burst into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I need to know if you threatened Amy Roberts…I mean Chestnut,” she blurted out, recalling that as a twelve-year-old, Amy would’ve had the same name as her mother. “And Olivia Tartt.”

“Threaten them? I hardly knew them. What on earth has come over you?”

“Celia, this is serious.”

“I can see that, you’re hurting my arm.”

Kate released her in favor of planting her fists on her hips. “Did you threaten those girls? Because if you did, I’m afraid they’re going to come after you and come after you tonight.”

Celia’s expression shifted from horror to interest, a glint of hunger flaring behind her eyes at the thought of learning some juicy gossip. “Amy and Olivia are going to kill someone? Right here at the fireworks celebration?”

“I know you bought asphalt,” she pressed. “I had Larry dig through his records.”

“Oh, Kate,” she huffed. “Do you have any idea how frequently Ken bought asphalt? Nearly every spring. The potholes in our driveway were atrocious, you know that. If you’re suggesting I killed Doris Chestnut and then poured asphalt over her dead body, why then, you’re crazier than Doris herself.”

Kate didn’t have time to badger her, considering she believed Celia was telling the truth.

“If they approach you—”

“I won’t go off with them, that’s for sure,” Celia supplied. “But they won’t approach me because I had nothing to do with any of that. Really.”

Celia was going on about how nuts Doris had been that night, but Kate wasn’t paying attention. She scanned the crowd, hoping to find Mr. Stone, who was another name on Larry’s list. She didn’t fear for his life, but Kate hoped that if she could present this grave information to the man, it might compel him to tell her everything.

As she started off through the crowd, Celia called out, “Nice talking to you!” But her tone was highly sarcastic.

She nearly reached the onset of the field where tons of residents had laid blankets down to reserve their spots for the fireworks display when she heard a guy shout, “Hey, wait up, Boss!”

Turning, she found Maxwell Stone jogging toward her.

“Where’s your dad?” she insisted. “Is he coming tonight?”

“Uh, why?”

“Is he?” she demanded.

Maxwell rounded his shoulders as he glanced around. “I think so, but we’re not exactly close. Want me to call him?”

“Could you?”

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he said, “I’ll be cashing in all these favors soon.”

“What favors? I’m going to pay you for your work today.”

As Maxwell hunched into his phone call, Kate caught sight of Amy and Jack Roberts through the crowd. As always, they appeared to be arguing, and if Kate wasn’t mistaken, she thought she spied an awfully big bulge in Amy’s purse.

Urgently, Kate told Maxwell, “Tell them to stay home.”

“They’re already here,” he said. “What’s this about?”

Locking eyes with him, she explained. “Do you remember a woman that night? A woman whom you might have seen with Amy and Olivia?”

“What do they have to do with it?”

“I think a woman forced them to pour asphalt on the dead body of Doris Chestnut,” she said grimly.

Suddenly, Maxwell looked ill.

“You know something,” Kate exclaimed. “What haven’t you told me?”

“Look, Kate, you have to leave it alone.”

“Why?” When he said nothing, she pressed, “I’m not going to leave it alone. Did you see a woman that night?” Again, he didn’t respond so she explained, “Amy and Olivia are going to kill whoever that woman is. If you don’t tell me—”

Abruptly, he stated, “I have to go,” and started off through the crowd.

Kate kept at his heels, but he was too fast, too energetic. She fell behind, though her eyes were glued to the back of his head.

Her assumption that he was rushing to find his father was expelled the second she realized he was approaching Olivia Tartt. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and began dragging her toward one of the tents. For a few seconds, Kate lost them and when she stepped into the tent, she couldn’t find them.

Panicking, she pivoted and scanned the crowd.

Amy Roberts was sneaking up behind an older woman near one of the rides. As Kate barreled through the wall of residents, she realized the older woman was Mrs. Stone, whom she had seen only briefly in the Stone’s kitchen.

Why was Maxwell confronting Olivia if Amy was in the process of taking Mrs. Stone?

That’s when it hit her.

The woman who had tormented the girls with threats their entire lives was Mrs. Stone and Maxwell was trying desperately to prevent her murder.

Quickly, Kate found her cell phone and dialed Scott, as she jogged after Amy and Mrs. Stone. But his ringer must have been off. She heard his outgoing voice message kick in and left a brief, muddled message.

Amy was dragging Mrs. Stone into the woods where it edged the lake. As Kate rushed after them, the billowing voices of the crowd softened.

Amy threw Mrs. Stone to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, whipped a gun out of her purse, aiming it at the older woman’s head.

“Wait!” Kate screamed, running up to Amy, who immediately spun, pointing the barrel at Kate.

“You think I won’t kill you too?” she hissed.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“I do. Do you have any idea what this woman did to us?” she demanded. “Do you?”

“I have an idea, but killing her won’t make it right.”

“She knew my mother was sick, that she couldn’t think straight.”

“And she wanted her dead because Doris had been having an affair with Mr. Stone, I know,” said Kate. “But she didn’t kill your mother. You can’t kill her for something she didn’t do.”

Overcome with emotion, Amy keeled over, sobbing, but soon reeled in her anguish. “She made us. She stood over us and made us pour asphalt onto my mom.”

“And that’s a crime,” said Kate. “She’ll be brought to justice, but it won’t be by your hand. Please, Amy, give me the gun.”

Mrs. Stone was cowering, too afraid to look up at either of them where she kneeled on the muddy shore of the lake.

In a flash, Amy returned the gun to Mrs. Stone’s head. “Tell her what you did.” The older woman only shrank and Amy screamed, “Tell her!”

Trembling, Mrs. Stone confessed, “I put poison in that ring.”

“Do you see?” Amy asked Kate. “Do you get it now?” Then, to the older woman she yelled, “Tell her!”

“Mrs. Hyatt had put some kind of potion in the ring. It was nonsense!”

“Tell her!”

“I think it was syrup, and Doris thought it was some kind of magical potion that would save her life. She was crazy! Your mother was insane! She killed Mrs. Hyatt’s son!”

“Shut up!” Amy screamed, pressing the gun to the older woman’s temple. Locking eyes with Kate, she said, “My mom wasn’t right in the head, but that night, when she ingested whatever was in that ring, she thought it would save her. But it didn’t. It killed her. Because you killed her!”

“They were meeting at my house! At my home!” Mrs. Stone insisted, settling into the mud. “It was awful! I was just supposed to act like I didn’t know? Like I couldn’t hear them? When she left that ring on the living room table... I did what I had to do.”

Kate heard a twig snap behind her, and glancing over her shoulder, she found Scott and Detective Kilroy stalking toward them, their guns trained on Amy Roberts.

Scott yelled, “Drop the gun, Amy.”

“I can’t,” she cried.

“You have to. Drop the gun.”

After an anxious moment, the disturbed woman tossed her gun to the mud and Detective Kilroy swooped in and apprehended her. Scott was quick to lift Mrs. Stone out of the mud, but when she thanked him, he said, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Doris Chestnut.”

Chapter Nine

Kate sat nervously on the exam table and studied the shape of Scott’s hand in hers. He was standing beside her, stroking her red hair and telling her softly everything was going to be okay.

“What’s taking the doctor so long?” she complained. Every inch of her felt stiff with tension.

“Doctors are always late,” he said easily.

After the ordeal of last night, the arrests of Mrs. Stone and Amy Roberts, it had been a struggle for Kate to enjoy the fireworks. She ended up sneaking out early with Scott, and when they got home and her head hit the pillow, she fell instantly to sleep. She had dreamed, but not in nightmares, the tall tales of the House of Slaughter having left her thoughts. Yet, when she woke she felt exhausted. Scott had nearly carried her out to his truck just to make this appointment, and between the waiting room and more waiting in the exam room and her doctor’s orders not to consume a gram of caffeine, Kate was suffering with a splitting headache.

Finally, the door popped open and Dr. Faulkner stepped in, his eyes glued to Kate’s medical chart.

“Good morning—”

“Please tell me you know why I’m tired and just fix it,” she begged. “I can’t go on like this.

As Scott hushed her, the doctor closed the door. “The good news is that I do, in fact, know why you’ve been so tired, and I can promise you it’s entirely temporary.”

Kate burst into tearful laughter. “Oh, that’s great. Thank God. Why?”

Dr. Faulkner smiled at Kate and Scott, but the suspense only made Kate want to punch a wall. “Well, the fact of the matter is...”

Kate blurted out, “Just tell me!”

“Congratulations! You’re pregnant!”

DEAD AS A DOORNAIL

Chapter One

January in Rock Ridge was brutal. It always had been and always would be. Sleet beat against the windshield in jagged sheets as Kate eased her truck through the slushy parking lot in front of the library. Though her windshield wipers were thwacking at their highest speed, it barely cleared the icy downpour. She was all bundled up with a puffy hat, warm gloves, scarf wrapped tight, and an extra-large winter coat, one she had bought online back in December in anticipation of her growing belly.

Kate Flaherty was very pregnant and would only get bigger.

After rolling to a stop in a parking spot closest to the library entrance, she flipped the headlights off and killed the engine. She eyed the walkway, which appeared dusted over with a thick layer of snow, though it was being eaten away by the pounding sleet. It was too overcast for her to tell if black ice was covering the asphalt, but she assumed it was and climbed out of her truck with extra caution because of it.

When she had gotten the news of her condition last summer, she was pitched into a state of shock that for all intents and purposes really hadn’t lifted to this day. For a woman fast approaching fifty, she hadn’t thought it was possible to get pregnant. She had assumed that getting pregnant at her age would’ve taken skill and careful timing and perhaps the help of a doctor’s hormonal pills, none of which she had used because she wasn’t trying to get pregnant. Neither was Scott. This pregnancy had been a complete surprise.

According to Dr. Faulkner, by the time he had properly diagnosed her fatigue as a symptom of pregnancy, she had been just over one month along. She and Scott had spoken in depth and for hours about what it would mean to have a baby at their age, but ultimately neither could imagine terminating the pregnancy. They had gotten together later in life, and it made sense to start their family later in life as well. It wouldn’t be easy, but they both felt strongly that it was meant to be.

Kate took slow, short steps, her boots shuffling through slush, as she made her way to the entrance door. She should’ve brought an umbrella, but she had been getting more and more forgetful these days. She blamed it on the fact that she’d given up caffeine for her unborn child’s health. Instead, she had been drinking herbal tea nonstop, which didn’t bode well for her crushed bladder. She was in a perpetual state of dying to pee.

The library was warm as she waddled through the lobby, stripping her puffy hat off her head and tearing her gloves off with her teeth. She felt a hunger pang twinge in her stomach as she rounded through to the front desk where Hazel Millhouse was scanning books into the computer system.

“Morning, Hazel,” she said in a soft voice since there were a number of library patrons seated at the table behind her. Most were retired and some elderly. They were hunched over their morning papers or squinting at their laptops and reading the news online. Luckily, there wasn’t much news other than reports on the increasingly nasty weather and its effect on local businesses.

Hazel lifted her eyes from the stack of books on the counter, and a huge smile spread across her face to see Kate.

“Look at you!” she exclaimed, shuffling out from the counter to touch Kate’s round belly, not that she’d be able to feel the baby kick. Kate’s winter coat was much too thick for that. “You get bigger every time I see you.”

“That’s because I’m constantly eating,” she said dryly. And it was true. It wasn’t just her middle that was growing by the day and Kate feared to imagine what it would take to get back into shape once she had this baby.

“Oh, you’re glowing,” said Hazel to hush her self-criticism.

Kate was tempted to tell her that she was glowing because her face was damp with sleet, but instead, she said, “I was hoping to check out some maternity books. I reserved a few online, but perhaps there are others I should get. I’m looking for books about having a baby later in life.”

“Of course,” said Hazel, as she rounded behind the counter. As soon as her knotty fingers hit the keyboard, she began typing quickly to pull up Kate’s account. “Ah, yes. I see the books here.” After a moment spent searching through the cubbyholes behind her, Hazel set two maternity books on the counter and scanned them. “We should have a few more,” she said, as she began leading Kate through the library, passing aisle after aisle, the last of which she turned toward.

“I have to say, I’m nervous about the delivery,” said Kate, as the elderly woman began perusing the shelves. “I had the twins nearly thirty years ago.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.” Hazel plucked a few books from the shelf and handed the first to Kate.

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting after Forty,” she read, eyeing the cover and thumbing through the table of contents. “Looks good.”

“And this one could be helpful,” said Hazel. “It’s about keeping your energy up.”

“Oh, great! I need to know about that,” she said excitedly, taking the book. “Without coffee, I’ve been struggling.”

Hazel gave the shelf a final once-over to be certain she hadn’t overlooked any other books that might be helpful, and then she led Kate back through the library. As they neared the counter, Mrs. Briar, an unfriendly older woman who also worked at the library—much to Hazel’s annoyance—was stepping out from the office behind the counter. She scowled at Kate even though Kate hadn’t made a peep.

“Good morning, Mrs. Briar,” she said quietly and the older woman hushed her as if she’d shouted.

“Hazel, look at this mess you’ve left,” she complained, indicating the books scattered across the counter.

“I didn’t leave a mess,” she objected. “I’m working on getting those books back onto the shelves.”

“I don’t see why you can’t use the cart,” barked Mrs. Briar, as she tapped a rolling cart that was behind the counter. “This way we can keep the counter clear.”

“All right, all right,” Hazel grumbled. “Let me get Kate squared away and I’ll clean up.”

As Mrs. Briar stepped out from behind the counter she glared at Hazel and then began stalking through the library.

“Unbelievable,” Kate whispered, resting her hands on the counter as Hazel began checking out the additional books for her. “I don’t like how she bosses you around.”

“Trust me, I don’t either.”

“I thought you two kept different shifts?” Kate asked, pulling her puffy hat onto her head.

“We were,” she grumbled. “And I’m her supervisor.”

“And she speaks to you like that?”

“It’s her personality. At least we only have one day a week together. It’s not pleasant, but I manage.” She shrugged. “Now, let’s see about finding you a plastic bag so these don’t get wet outside.”

After a few moments spent pulling the counter drawers open and shut, Hazel found an old grocery store bag, into which she placed Kate’s four books. As she handed the bag over, she mentioned, “You have these for three months.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Take your time reading them, and if you’d like to renew, just give me a call. But not on a Monday,” she warned, flicking her eyes at Mrs. Briar who was hovering over one of the library patrons at the communal table. “When’s the big day?”

Kate looked at her belly. “Not for another eight weeks, but I’m afraid the time will fly.”

“Well, you should be able to get through at least two books by then. The information should set your mind at ease.”

“That’s the hope.”

As Kate pulled her gloves on, juggling the plastic bag, Mrs. Briar stalked toward the counter. Kate and Hazel knew exactly what she was itching to say—that the counter still wasn’t clear.

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Briar,” said Kate, but it didn’t lift the sour woman’s mood. “See you later, Hazel.”

Before Kate reached the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. Briar. The woman was barking some kind of complaint in Hazel’s ear and Kate would’ve marched right over and given her a piece of her mind if the unpleasant woman wasn’t now stomping her way into the back office.

She gave Hazel a final wave and set off into the dreary morning, slinging her plastic bag of library books into the passenger’s seat of her truck when she reached it.

She drove slowly and carefully through the icy streets, her arms stretching long to reach the steering wheel around her big belly. It had taken more effort than she’d thought she had adjusting her seat and shifting the steering wheel height a few weeks ago with Scott’s help. Though he was a doting husband, he had been fighting her in terms of her business now more than ever thanks to the pregnancy. He didn’t want her exerting herself on the job and had argued that all of the heavy lifting would be bad for not only her back, but also the baby’s health.

To appease him, she had officially hired Maxwell Stone, the punkish thirty-something whose father had been involved in a secret and illicit affair with Doris Chestnut, whom Kate had accidentally found dead in the basement of the old Victorian house she was currently heading toward.

Justina, the top agent at Carnegie Real Estate, had bought the house last summer after Amy Roberts, the owner, had been arrested for the attempted murder of Mrs. Stone, Maxwell’s mother. The aggressive editor-in-chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune had been arrested as well, and with that disturbing case closed, Kate had been sleeping much better. But Justina hadn’t bought the house to live there. She needed to sell it and had hired Kate to renovate it top to bottom. Maxwell had helped, and finally the house was ready. All it needed was to be staged so prospective buyers could envision what their lives would be like should they choose to make a bid.

Parking her truck along the snowy curb in front of the old Victorian was a trick to pull off. Though snowplows had driven along this particular street several times during the last three snowstorms, their effort to clear the roads had left humongous snow banks where cars were meant to park. Kate rolled to a stop and checked her mirrors. She didn’t like how the left side of her truck was technically in the line of traffic. Visibility was low thanks to the sleet and the overcast lighting. If a driver was speeding along, he could easily clip her rear bumper, but with the snow bank, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do better.

Grumbling, she climbed out of her truck and glanced at the old Victorian. Lights were glowing from within the house, which told her that Maxwell had arrived early.

After locking her truck, she tottered her way up the snowy walk and when she reached the icy landing, she pushed the door open. It was warm inside, but she left the door wide open as she stomped snow and slush off her boots. She and Maxwell had worked tirelessly to tile the foyer with marble, and though a puddle wouldn’t warp their work, they had both agreed to do their best not to make a mess.

Bending over to remove her boots as she stood on the welcome mat just inside the entrance was a trick to pull off, but she slowly managed—first her right boot and then her left, which ended up stripping her sock off. She huffed, straightening up.

“Kate?” Maxwell called out from the living room around the corner. “That you?”

“You were expecting someone else?” she teased.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, hurrying into the foyer. He was dressed in his work jeans and a moth-eaten tee shirt, and Kate had no idea how he stayed warm without a sweater. “I ordered an extra-large cheese pizza for us.”

“Good Lord, why?”

“In case we get hungry.”

“Hungry? Maxwell, it’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“But you’re always hungry,” he argued, a considerate yet apprehensive smile forming on his face.

She sighed. She was always hungry, but she didn’t want to turn into Jabba the Hutt by the time she finally popped out this baby. “Did you order a few salads as well?”

Maxwell screwed his face up as though she’d spoken in a foreign language.

“Never mind. Thanks,” she said, padding past him and into the living room where all the furniture they had rented out from Corey’s Cabinets was gathered in a heap at the center of the room.

Kate had organized the furniture delivery, which had arrived yesterday. Maxwell had assisted the movers in terms of unloading the items off the delivery truck, but both Maxwell and Kate had been too tired yesterday to get started on the task of actually arranging any of it.

As she took stock of the items, attempting to visualize where each piece of furniture should go, she pulled her wallet from her sweater pocket and found a twenty, which she extended to Maxwell without looking at him.

“Thanks, Boss,” he said, which was better than his usual nickname for her—‘Bossy.’

He only meant it as a joke, and Kate had to admit it was funny. She was a bit bossy, but nowhere near as nasty about it as Mrs. Briar. It was starting to weigh on her that the grouchy librarian might need a good talking to and Kate had half a mind to do it. No one should speak down to Hazel.

“So what are you thinking?” he asked, planting his fists on his hips and scrutinizing the clustered furniture. After a beat, he stared at the fireplace and suggested, “Maybe we should arrange the couch and matching chairs around the fireplace and position the settee in front of the bay window?”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” she told him, as she fanned her face. Why was it that her fingers felt stiff from the cold but her face was hot and sweaty?

Before Maxwell jumped to task, he dragged the settee in front of the window and patted it, indicating Kate should have a seat. She didn’t hesitate, but shuffled immediately over and plopped down.

“Tea?” he asked.

She moaned but accepted, and he rushed off into the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to start drinking coffee again, but the fact of the matter was, that day was still a long way off. She would have to get through a good many months of breast-feeding before she’d be able to drink coffee, and when she did, it wouldn’t come freely. She would have to pump-and-dump after each cup.

“What are the options?” she called out.

From the kitchen, he responded, “I’ve got Chamomile—”

“That’ll put me to sleep!”

“And Rooibos—”

“You know how I feel about Rooibos!”

“What about Jasmine?”

“It doesn’t have green tea with it?”

He fell silent and she pictured him reading the box carefully. “No, it’s just Jasmine. It says herbal and no caffeine right here on the box.”

She sighed and told him it sounded fine. “Can you pour a lot of cream in it?”

“Will do!”

Moments later she heard the teakettle whistling on the stove, and then the bubbling sound of Maxwell pouring hot water into a mug. Gazing out the window, she hoped the sleet would let up. She didn’t mind snow. She had always thought that for some reason when it snowed the air warmed up a bit as though each flake pulled the freezing temperature out of the air. But this sleet was downright miserable. Even rain would be better.

Maxwell handed her the steaming mug, and as soon as she took a sip, he clapped his hands together, stating, “Let’s stage this house!”

As he began moving furniture near the fireplace, Kate realized her cellphone was buzzing in her overalls, which fit her strangely. She had found the extra-extra-large pair in a thrift store. Overalls weren’t exactly maternity wear, but she hadn’t been able to wrap her head around wearing sweatpants to work, so she’d bought the largest pair she could find. Though they fit her in her mid-region, the legs were too baggy and the straps kept falling down her shoulders. Bending forward to set her mug on the ground, the right strap fell off. She pulled it up her arm and grabbed her cellphone.

It was Scott so she swiped the LCS screen, answering the call.

“Hey there,” she said.

“How’s it going?”

Scott had been in the habit of calling her multiple times a day, which was sweet, but she’d come to understand what he was really after. Yes, he wanted to know how things were going with her, but really he wanted to hear that she was seated and resting and that Maxwell was doing all the work.

“I’m having some tea and watching my assistant muscle a couch through the living room,” she told him.

“Good, good,” he said, sounding relieved. “How about lunch at Daisy’s?”

Debating, she glanced out the window. “We have a pizza on the way. Plus the roads are downright terrible.”

“I can pick you up?”

“Do you want to eat here with us?”

“It’s a possibility,” he told her, but his voice was cut off momentarily at the bleat of the call-waiting tone.

“Why don’t we touch base in a few hours,” she told him. “I’ve got a call coming in.” After letting him go, she answered the other line.

“Kate? It’s Hazel.”

“Hey, Mrs. Briar isn’t driving you crazy is she?”

“No, thank goodness. She’s locked herself in the office. I found another book for you.”

“Great, I can swing by for it in the afternoon.”

She felt eyes on her as she wrapped up the call, and as she dropped her cell phone into her overalls, she found Maxwell staring at her.

“Mrs. Briar,” he said with distain. “Of all the people to get murdered in Rock Ridge, the fact that she wasn’t one of them is insane.”

Chapter Two

“So do you know the sex of the baby?” Maxwell asked between bites of his pizza.

This had to be the hundredth time he’d asked that question, the same as he had asked on a nearly daily basis for the past three months.

“No, Maxwell. You know that Scott and I decided to wait until the baby is born.”

“So, any names picked out?” He clamped his pizza between his teeth as he hopped up and reached for the kitchen stove where the teakettle was whistling. After pulling the kettle off the burner, he glanced back at her.

The kitchen table wasn’t terribly comfortable and she felt like she had been sitting there too long, so she rose to her feet. “We’ve brainstormed, but nothing has really jumped out at us. I’m sure that won’t be the case as soon as the baby is born.”

“Chuck is a good name,” he suggested.

“Chuck isn’t a name. It’s a nickname,” she pointed out, which seemed to momentarily confuse him so she supplied, “It’s short for Charles.”

“No kidding?” After a beat, he said, “Brent is a cool name.”

“I’m sure there are a lot of cool names out there.”

“Hey, I should start a betting pool.”

“Oh, God,” she grumbled. Not a day went by that Maxwell didn’t have fresh ideas about the various topics he and his buddies could bet on.

“Two betting pools, in fact. One for the due date and the other for the sex of the baby.”

“And what would your guesses be?” she asked, indulging him as he poured her a fresh cup of Jasmine tea.

He thought for a few seconds and said, “I’m betting it’ll be a girl since you’ve already had two boys.”

“I’m not sure it works like that, but okay.”

“And in terms of your delivery date... I don’t know, I’m guessing...” He was studying her stomach. “A week or two?”

“Maxwell,” she burst out laughing. “I’m only seven months along. You would lose that bet.”

“You’re huge,” he commented in disbelief.

“Thanks,” she said dryly, taking the mug from him before waddling out to the living room, which they’d arranged. “We need some flowers in here. We should give Carly a call.”

“You got it,” he said, pulling his cellphone from his baggy jeans.

“Not yet, let’s get the master bedroom squared away.”

“Right, we can think of flowers while we work.”

Kate rounded the living room with ease though she moved slowly, but when she reached the stairs and hoisted herself up a few steps, she felt out of breath.

“I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”

“To the second floor?”

“Damn.” After two heavy steps down, she reached the wooden floor and let out an exhausted sigh.

“Want me to—”

“No, I don’t want you to carry me.”

“I was going to say handle the bedroom myself.”

“Oh, yeah, that would be great. You remember what we decided?”

“Sure do.” He began bounding up the stairs.

“Hey, I’m going to go for a quick drive.”

Maxwell turned to face her and cocked his brow.

“I have another book waiting for me at the library.”

“Want me to drive you?” he asked, rushing down to her.

“No, that would just be a waste of time. I’ll be back in half an hour if not sooner.”

He looked scared, but it wasn’t at the thought of working alone. When Scott had stopped in for lunch a few hours ago, he’d made his point very clear that Maxwell wasn’t to leave Kate alone for any reason.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. You won’t even know I’m gone,” she assured him.

Getting bundled up in the foyer was a slow and arduous task, of which stepping into her boots was the most difficult. She hadn’t bothered with her sock earlier except to tuck it into the toe of her boot and she felt it now, all bunched and damp.

The sleet had let up, she noticed as she walked out to her truck. It was coming down in a fine mist, which chilled her bones, but wouldn’t cause the drive to be too treacherous.

After settling in behind the steering wheel and pulling her seatbelt on, she started off driving through the slushy streets into the center of town.

Maxwell undoubtedly had been a huge help in keeping her Mrs. Fix It business going throughout her pregnancy, but the fact of the matter was that Kate was a loner. She preferred to work in silence all by herself, and as good-natured as Maxwell was, he talked incessantly and it happened to drain her. Any time she could steal away for a breather, she jumped at the opportunity.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the library parking lot and found a parking spot even closer to the entrance than the one she had used that morning. She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Mrs. Briar, but she told herself the grumpy librarian might still be holed up in the back office.

Starting for the entrance, she made it only a few steps before she felt a strange tightness around her belly. It flared, swelling painfully and she grasped a nearby car, keeling over and breathing into the sensation.

“It’s fine. I’m okay,” she told herself, straightening up once the pain had past. “False contractions happen all the time in the third trimester.”

But as she set off again, taking cautious steps, the tightness hadn’t entirely subsided. She paused, breathing deeply and closing her eyes. The mist on her face was enough to pull the flush from her cheeks, and after a few moments she sensed that her belly felt as it always had. She sighed in relief and started off again, her boots shuffling through the slushy snow until she reached the entrance doors.

Inside the library, quite a few more patrons were seated around the communal table, and she noticed a short line of people holding library books at the counter where Hazel was hurrying to check out their books.

Kate glanced around the library on her way toward the line and didn’t see Mrs. Briar anywhere. When she joined the end of the line, she noticed the office door behind the counter was shut, indicating the crotchety librarian must still be inside.

Inching forward slowly, as Hazel tended to each patron, Kate debated whether or not she should interrupt Mrs. Briar and have a talk with her about being respectful. Her doctor had advised her not to engage in any activities that would rile her up, but Kate reasoned he had been referring to extraneous activities and not verbal confrontations.

Her cell began vibrating in her overalls. She muttered, “Darn,” as she wrestled the zipper of her winter coat down and rifled under her scarf. It was the mayor, Dean Wentworth calling. The library had strict rules against cellphone calls, but she didn’t want to keep the mayor waiting. Dean’s stress had skyrocketed ever since the first winter snow. His amusement park hadn’t pulled in nearly as much money as he had projected, and with the onset of bad weather, the park had closed down for the season.

“Hi,” she whispered, answering the call.

“Kate? Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the library. What’s up?”

He sighed. “I need a little help over here in my office.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning these windows are terrible. The heaters are right below them and all the heat is billowing out the seams in the windowpane. They’re so drafty that I’m certain my high oil bill is because the building has been leaking heat.”

“So you want me to insulate the windows?”

“Not the entire building.” he said quickly. “We can’t afford it. Just my office.”

“I’d have to swing by Grayson’s to pick up some materials.”

“Great, how soon can you be here?”

She paused for a moment, considering the timeline. She didn’t want to leave Maxwell for too long, and she knew it wouldn’t take him much more than a half hour to arrange the master bedroom. She also knew that Scott wouldn’t appreciate her working solo at the mayor’s office.

“Let me get back to you, Dean. I’m juggling a few projects right now.”

“But can you come by today?” he asked anxiously. “I’ve been wearing my winter coat and hat in the office.”

“I can make today work, yes, but it won’t be for maybe an hour,” she said, making promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. She resolved to make it work, however, as she got off the call just in time to step up to the counter.

“Good, Kate, you’re here,” said Hazel. “I found an excellent book for you in our system. It’s a Lamaze how-to for women in their forties. Apparently the breathing techniques are different if the mother is getting up there in age.”

“Sounds great,” she said.

“There’s just one problem.” Hazel glanced over her shoulder at the office door. “Mrs. Briar scanned it back into the system a few weeks ago, but I couldn’t find it on the shelf.”

“Which means it’s probably in the office?” Kate guessed, eyeing the door. “Is Mrs. Briar going to come out of there any time soon?”

“I have no idea. Clearly, she despises me and has been hiding in there to avoid me. Quite frankly, I can’t say I mind.”

Kate nodded, completely understanding where Hazel was going with her point. “I’ll be the bad guy,” she volunteered, striding toward the office door.

Hazel seemed to hold her breath as Kate rapped her knuckles against the door. “Mrs. Briar?”

There was no response, so she pressed her ear to the door and knocked again.

“She must be in one of her moods,” said Hazel, cautiously inching over.

Kate knocked a third time, announcing, “Mrs. Briar, I am going to come in if you don’t come to the door.”

But again there was no response.

Kate shrugged at Hazel, turned the doorknob and let herself into the room.

The window was wide open. Freezing air was whipping into the office and rustling papers on the desk. Kate’s gaze snapped up to Mrs. Briar, who was seated in the chair. It took a moment for her to register what she was seeing: Mrs. Briar’s eyes were wide open as well as her mouth, her hands splayed on the armrests, her body still as a statue.

There was a red mark across her neck, and as Kate rushed to the woman, she realized it was a laceration.

Mrs. Briar was dead.

Kate placed her fingers against the old woman’s neck just to be sure and when she felt no pulse, she said, “I think someone strangled her.”

Chapter Three

Hazel was wringing her hands and pacing near the communal tables. Kate stood against the windows and split her focus between her old friend and the police officers rushing around within the library office at Detective Kilroy’s instructions. The library had been stripped of patrons the second the officers had arrived, which meant that all of Rock Ridge would soon know that someone had strangled Mrs. Briar and then jumped out of the office window. Kate wasn’t looking forward to hearing the rumors, but for the time being, Hazel was her greatest concern.

She looked just about at the end of her rope.

Kate neared her, which got Hazel to stop pacing.

“I can’t believe this,” the older woman whispered. “I mean, I can believe it, but I can’t believe it. No one liked Mrs. Briar, but no one had a reason to strangle her.”

“It’ll be alright,” she said gently. “Scott will find whoever did this.”

Kate peered into the office where Scott was directing the medics to roll Mrs. Briar’s gurney toward the door. Though she was wrapped in a body bag, Kate could almost see the grouchy woman within. Hazel was right. No one liked the librarian, but Kate couldn’t imagine anyone disliking her so much that they would take her life. It just didn’t make sense. As unpleasant as the old woman was, she kept to herself. When she wasn’t at the library, she was at home. Kate couldn’t even recall seeing Mrs. Briar out and about in Rock Ridge. She lived alone. She had no family. Scott was going to have a hell of a time rustling up leads.

The medics rolled the gurney around the front desk and Scott stepped out into the library after them. Once he’d cleared the doorway, Detective Kilroy began posting crime scene tape across the entrance, though his officers were still gathering evidence inside.

After Scott watched the medics push the gurney out the entrance door, he approached Hazel and Kate.

“Thanks for your patience,” he said in a solemn tone. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Bewildered, Hazel locked eyes with Kate, who offered her a supportive smile, saying, “Go ahead.”

“Well, we were working together. Mrs. Briar had some complaints—the usual you might say—and then she tucked herself into the office. I’ve gotten to know her personality well enough not to dare disturb her. So I left her alone.”

“Around what time did she shut herself into the office?” he asked and Hazel again looked at Kate.

Scott guessed, “She was here with you?”

“I was,” said Kate. “I was checking out a few maternity books. I think Mrs. Briar went into the office around a quarter before nine because I showed up at the old Victorian at nine sharp.”

Scott was jotting this down. “So she was murdered between a quarter to nine and three in the afternoon.” When he glanced up from his notepad, he asked Hazel, “That’s an awfully long time for her to be in there all by herself.”

Hazel winced with guilt. “I should’ve checked on her. But we don’t get along, and I was relieved to have space from her.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Kate, wrapping her arm around Hazel’s shoulder.

“Did you hear anything? Did she call out or make any noise? Anything to help me narrow this window?”

Hazel considered the question for a moment, but told him, “No, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“So, it’s safe to say you also didn’t hear any commotion indicating the time she was killed?” he asked, pressing his pen against his notepad.

“No, I wish I had. I would’ve called the police,” she explained.

Scott eyed her carefully for a long moment then said, “Would it be possible for you to write up a list of everyone who was here in the library today?”

Kate didn’t see the sense in that. “Wouldn’t the killer have come and gone through the window?”

Hazel grimaced. “We generally keep the windows locked so the heat doesn’t escape.”

“But are you certain the office window was locked?” she challenged.

“It was last night,” she said openly.

“But did you check this morning?” Kate asked.

“Well, no, but that’s because Mrs. Briar is so pushy. She tends to take over the office on Mondays when we share the shift.”

Kate locked eyes with Scott as if to say she could be right about the window.

“Never the less,” he said. “Get that list to me when you can.”

“Shouldn’t you be canvasing the block outside?” Kate asked, which Scott didn’t seem to appreciate. She kept going. “There are businesses across the street. Someone might have seen the killer jump out the window.”

“Kate, I’m handling it,” said Scott curtly. “And yes, we will canvas. Hazel,” he continued, turning to the older woman. She seemed choked up with apprehension. Kate knew her memory wasn’t what it used to be and listing all the patrons for Scott would be no easy task. “In the past few weeks, or the past few months, did you notice Mrs. Briar get into any confrontations? Or did she mention she had friction with anyone?”

Kate would’ve laughed if this situation weren't so troubling.

Gradually, Hazel said, “Yes, of course,” and Scott seemed excited until she elaborated. “Mrs. Briar was in a state of constant friction with just about everyone. She had a bad attitude. She acted resentful toward the library patrons. She antagonized me. She was always complaining about this or that. She was a very difficult woman.”

“So you two didn’t get along,” he concluded, making some notes.

Kate didn’t like his tone.

“Can you tell me what you two didn’t get along regarding? Specifically, that is?”

“Whoa,” said Kate. “Hazel had nothing to do with this.”

“Kate, please. You were here just before nine in the morning and then you weren’t. Let me ask my questions.”

“Well, for one she criticized how I was keeping the front desk. She said it was messy and then she shut herself in the office,” explained Hazel.

“Any other arguments?”

“Oh millions,” she said with a disgruntled laugh. “Every time I came in for my shift I found countless post-it notes all over the counter and the desk in the office. Instructions on how I should be doing my job. She was so passive aggressive, I couldn’t stand it.”

Kate wanted to hush Hazel before she incriminated herself, but the fact of the matter was that disliking someone or not getting along wasn’t a motive for murder.

Scott continued, “And you didn’t go into the office at all to check on her?”

“No,” said Hazel.

“Well, I’ll definitely need to speak with all the patrons who were here.”

“Then why did you ask them to leave?” Kate questioned.

“My officers spoke to those who were here when we arrived,” he countered. “But people could’ve come and gone before then.”

Hazel told him she would get right on it and found a slip of paper behind the counter. Kate watched the older woman begin racking her brain, and it pained her to see Hazel so stressed out about this.

“You can’t possibly think she did it,” said Kate in a low tone, as she grabbed Scott’s arm.

“Who said I think she did this? I never said that.”

“But we both know what you’re doing. You don’t believe that she didn’t go into that office after I left. You want to talk to the other patrons to see if she’s lying.”

“Kate, calm down—”

“Did you just tell me to calm down?” she objected. “You never tell a woman to calm down!”

“Lord, fine. Sorry. No, I don’t think an eighty-year-old woman strangled a seventy-year-old woman unless this town has completely gone to hell. It takes a lot of physical strength to kill someone in that manner. Would you trust me to do my job, please?”

Kate sighed. “I’d appreciate it if you could set her mind at ease. I don’t want her panicking at her age. Look at her.”

They both did. Hazel seemed on the brink of tears. Her lower lip was quivering and she hadn’t yet listed one name on the piece of paper.

Scott grumbled out a sigh and promised he would go easy on her.

“Thank you,” said Kate. “Now, if I’m excused.”

“You are, but I want you to be careful,” he warned. “There’s a killer on the loose.”

“I doubt the killer will be a threat to anyone in Rock Ridge.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Hazel is telling you the truth. No one liked Mrs. Briar. I’m sure the old librarian offended the wrong person and they retaliated. They aren’t going to go after anyone else.”

“Retaliated? Kate,” he said, speaking sternly. “This was premeditated. This was planned. The cord the killer used isn’t a common household item and they didn’t find it in the office. Whether they came in through the front door or jumped through the window, killing wasn’t a last minute decision. It wasn’t retaliation and right now we don’t know that the killer was motivated by Mrs. Briar’s dislikable personality.”

“Well, what else could it have been?”

“This is a library,” he explained, theorizing out loud. “They could’ve wanted any number of things: information, a particular patrons records, a list of all the credit cards on file. And we won’t know if they got such information until my team goes through everything.”

Kate wasn’t hearing a solid reason for why she would need to be careful, but she nodded anyway.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“I have to swing by the mayor’s office and then I’ll be at the old Victorian house for the rest of the day.”

“The mayor’s?”

She knew what he was thinking. Since Maxwell wasn’t with her at the moment, she would obviously be alone until she returned to the Victorian house. “I’ll be fine,” she told him before kissing his cheek.

“What about dinner at Daisy’s?” he asked.

She agreed, but mentioned, “This town needs more restaurants.”

On her way out, she stopped at the counter where Hazel had managed only two names.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I’m heading out, but don’t get too worked up over this, okay? Scott knows you didn’t do it.”

“Kate,” she said very quietly, as she leaned over the counter. “I’m really worried.”

“Don’t be. I promise he doesn’t suspect you.”

“But he will,” she whispered. When Kate furrowed her brow confusedly, she clarified. “I went into the office.”

“What? When?”

“I swear she was alive when I went in there. It was about an hour ago—”

“You have to tell Scott. That greatly narrows down the window on the time of death.”

“I can’t,” she insisted.

“Why?”

“Because we got into a terrible fight.”

“What?”

Hazel grimaced and discretely pulled up her sweater sleeve, showing Kate four deep scratches on her arm. “I’d accidentally left a few books in the office and the patron was here to pick them up. Mrs. Briar was downright nasty to me when I walked in even though I apologized. When I reached for the books on the desk, she snatched them. So I grabbed at them, and that’s when she clawed me to get me out of the room.”

“Oh, no, Hazel. We have to tell Scott.”

“He’ll think I killed her,” she said in a distressed tone.

“Don’t you understand? Once the Medical Examiner finds skin under her fingernails everyone is going to think it belongs to the killer. Sooner or later they’ll figure out it’s your skin and you’ll be arrested.”

Hazel frowned. “But I’m not in the system,” she countered.

“That’s not going to matter. They’ll figure it out. It’s best to be honest now. Explain what happened.”

The older woman seemed to think it over. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll tell him.”

Expectantly, Kate waited, but Hazel didn’t round the desk.

“I’ve got to write this list first,” she explained.

“No, you don’t. Come on.”

“Just...” she trailed off, bewildered. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“I don’t have a few minutes.”

Fretting, Hazel set her pen down. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You didn’t kill Mrs. Briar so there’s nothing to worry about,” she offered.

Timid as she was, Hazel stepped out from behind the counter, clutching the slip of paper. She swallowed hard and allowed Kate to lead her over to Scott who was in the midst of a phone call.

They waited patiently for Scott to wrap his call up.

“Hazel has something she needs to tell you,” said Kate as soon as he had tucked his cellphone into his slacks.

“Well...” Hazel began just as Kate’s cellphone began vibrating.

She stepped aside, trusting that the librarian was launching into the events that had happened.

“Yes?” asked Kate, answering the call.

“It’s Dean again. Where are you?”

“Shoot,” she said, briefly checking the time on her cellphone. “Give me a half hour and I’ll be right over.”

Scott and Hazel appeared to be in the thick of it when Kate glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t want to interrupt them to say goodbye, so she started for the entrance door, zipping her winter coat up as she went.

Figuring she was already running late, she sent Maxwell an abbreviated text message instructing him to go ahead and order flowers from Sunshine Florist, and then she climbed into her truck. After letting the motor idle for a few minutes to warm the engine, she set off through the parking lot.

As she drove through the center of town, the lit-up sign for Bean There caught her eye, and she impulsively pulled up to the curb. Dr. Faulkner, along with her OB/GYN permitted her one cup of decaf coffee a day and now seemed as good a time as any.

The coffee shop was quiet when Kate stepped inside. Though there were a few customers seated at the tables near the heater, Bean There wasn’t nearly as busy as it used to be during the summer or even autumn. The bad weather and frigid temperatures were enough of an excuse for people to stay either at home or at their offices and as Kate approached the counter, she could tell from Clara’s expression that the barista and coffee shop owner was anxious because of it.

“Kate,” she said with a weary smile. “Nice of you to venture out.”

“I’ve gotta pay the bills somehow,” she said, as Clara wasted no time filling a large to-go cup with hazelnut decaf.

“Tell me about it,” she said, setting the full cup on the counter. “Would you like some sweets? A fudgy-pop? A yogurt muffin? Some cake?”

“Ah...” Kate eyed the options under the glass. She had already eaten half a cheese pizza and she knew that dinner at Daisy’s wouldn’t present the healthiest options. But it seemed the bagels and Panini press sandwiches were all gone. Clara looked so hopeful about making a few extra bucks that Kate didn’t have the heart to turn her down. “Sure. I’ll take a yogurt muffin,” she said, figuring it was the healthiest option.

“Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

Before she had even thought it through, the words, “chocolate chip” flew out of her and she sighed. The baby must have a sweet tooth, she thought.

As Clara placed a muffin inside of a bag for her, she commented, “To think I used to complain about all those reporters last summer. I was making a virtual fortune.”

“How are your online sales coming along?”

Clara shrugged. “I really need to partner with a baker. I miss Cookie. She was a marketing genius. I’m selling online, but the wholesale cost to buy the goods isn’t leaving me with much of a margin.”

Kate nodded in commiseration and handed her cash, and then when Clara passed her the change, she dropped it into the tip jar.

“So is it true?” asked Clara before Kate could turn for the door. “That Mrs. Briar was strangled to death in the library?”

“Unfortunately,” said Kate. “How did you hear so quickly?”

Clara shot her a clever glance. “How could I not hear so quickly? You know word travels faster than wildfire around here.”

Kate glanced at the few customers in the store.

“Oh,” said Clara. “My friend Gillian told me.”

“Gillian’s your friend now?” she asked. Kate had a fondness for the ex-convict who had turned her life around as of two years ago after narrowly escaping the underground drug ring that had nearly destroyed Rock Ridge.

Clara shrugged. “She’s a nice girl and she’s been helping out around here a few days a week. Apparently, Over the Moon hasn’t been doing so great either. Her hours as a receptionist got cut pretty badly last month.”

Everyone was feeling the sting of the nasty weather. Kate cocked her brow. “How did Gillian know?”

“She was there,” said Clara. “She ducked out as soon as she saw a police cruiser rolling through the parking lot.”

“So she didn’t speak with police?”

“Can you blame her?” asked Clara. “With her criminal record, she really can’t afford to be caught anywhere near a dead body.”

Kate agreed, but avoiding the police would only make her look suspicious.

After thanking her for the coffee, Kate made her way outside. The sleet was back, but in her estimation it was thicker than it had been that morning. She was loath to hope for the temperature to drop enough for the icy downpour to turn into snow, but snow would be a heck of a lot more tolerable.

She checked her cellphone as soon as she had climbed in behind the steering wheel and fastened her seatbelt. She had texted Maxwell, but he still hadn’t responded, so she placed a call. He didn’t pick up, which was unlike him. She left a brief voice message to ask him to give her a call with an update mentioning she needed to do a quick job for the mayor. Kate glanced up and down the street. It looked desolate. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Main Street so empty.

As she pulled her truck out into the road, she got excited about the espresso machine at Grayson’s, and then she remembered she was pregnant. “Ugh,” she groaned, drinking down her decaf. If only she could forget how rich and delightful a real cup of coffee was, the decaf wouldn’t taste so bland.

Grayson’s looked gray as she rolled her truck through the parking lot. Though a few other pickups were parked in the lot, she could tell Larry was probably also stressed about the lost income. A lot of contract work around town, especially the bigger builds, slowed to a crawl during the winter.

If Rock Ridge thrived in summer, it hibernated in the winter months.

She climbed out of her truck and knocked back the last of her decaf then grabbed her muffin from the passenger’s seat, which was a trick to reach for. After breaking off a piece of the muffin top and popping it into her mouth, she started for the entrance.

Larry wasn’t behind the counter when she reached it so she tapped the metal bell and glanced up a few aisles.

“Be right with you!” he called out from the very back of the store.

“Take your time, Larry!”

“Kate?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring at the espresso machine.

Soon Larry emerged from the aisle with two paint cans in his hands. He set them on the counter, asking, “What can I do for you?”

“I need to insulate Dean’s windows at the mayor’s office.”

Larry twisted his mouth to the side. “I can see what I have in the back, but I’m pretty sure we sold out.”

“Oh, no, don’t tell me that. He’s desperate.”

“Give me a second,” he told her, as he quickly made his way through the hardware store.

Kate followed after him, keeping at his heels.

“You’re still working in full force?” he asked over his shoulder as they stepped into the back supply room where he also kept machinery to rent out.

“With a little help, yes,” she admitted.

Larry began searching the shelves and finally said, “Oh good,” taking a window insulation kit down. “You’ll need a hair dryer to melt the tape to the plastic, but this ought to tide Dean over until I restock my shelves.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she said and they started back for the cash register.

“So Maxwell is still helping you out?” he asked as he scanned the insulation kit into the cash register.

“He is,” she said with a smile.

“Has Holly Griffin nosed in yet?”

“Who’s Holly Griffin?”

Larry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You’re lucky if you don’t know.” When Kate tilted her head, curious, he went on, “She is hands down the pushiest woman I have ever met. She moved here a good month ago looking for work. Don’t ask me why she decided to relocate to one of the sleepiest towns in all of Pennsylvania during the dead of winter, but that’s what she did. She stopped in here, and she didn’t ask for a job—she demanded one. I told her that my hands were tied. I don’t have the customers to afford another salary. Well, not a day later and she was in Sunshine Florist, yelling at Carly and demanding the same thing. Unbelievable! No one can afford to take someone on this time of year.”

It made Kate wonder: if Holly Griffin had been making the rounds, had she stopped off at the library?

Larry added, “If she swings by the old Victorian demanding work, be firm with her and turn her down right away. I was too soft about it. Well, in my defense I didn’t realize how aggressive she was until it was too late. It took me nearly a week to shake her.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” she said, handing him her debit card.

“Are you sure you don’t want to put this on your tab?” he asked.

“Would that be a problem? I know times are tight.”

“But they’re tight for you as well, and you have Maxwell to pay.”

She sighed and accepted his offer.

A moment later he had applied the window insulation kit to her tab and told her to have a great day and stay warm.

One chocolate chip muffin later, Kate was both stuffed and pulling up to the curb outside of the old Victorian house. The fact that Maxwell hadn’t responded to her text message or voice mail was nagging at Kate badly, but she decided not to explode at him, not yet anyway. First she needed to make it up the walkway.

She used slow, cautious steps. The sleet had made the slushy asphalt especially slick and soon her thighs were burning. It wasn’t until she stepped through the door that she realized her heart rate had rocketed through the roof. She was breathing heavily and felt strange, as though her chest had broken out into a cold sweat.

“Maxwell?” she called out, but not as loudly as she would’ve thought.

After closing the door behind her, she edged through the foyer, expecting to see Maxwell, but he wasn’t there.

“Max?”

Grumbling, she inched toward the stairs and grabbed the railing. Her heart rate should be lowering by now, she thought, but it didn’t stop her from hoisting herself up the first three steps.

“Maxwell, do not make me yell and yell for you, please!”

Annoyed that he was probably working with his headphones on, which Kate had warned him against time and again, she began climbing the stairs. It felt like gravity was working against her, but she refused to be limited just because she was as big as a house.

When she reached the landing, she called his name one more time. It didn’t sound like he was up there, though. Even if he was listening to music at full volume, she would at least hear his feet shuffling on the hard wood floors.

Nevertheless, she made her way up the hallway and into the master bedroom. It was staged beautifully with a four-poster bed and a dresser. She smelled flowers, which she soon realized were set across the windowsill. It looked like Maxwell had ordered pink roses from Sunshine Florist and Carly had delivered quickly.

She stood for a moment, racking her brain to remember if she had seen Maxwell’s beat-up Volvo on her way inside. But all she could remember was the hazy wash of gray sleet on a dreary afternoon that was fast approaching dusk.

Where would he have gone?

It made no sense and aggravated her to no end.

Digging deep, she inhaled a lung full of air and then shouted, “Maxwell?” But her effort had been too great.

Immediately, she felt her belly tighten and then a sharp stabbing sensation hit her deep in her gut. Keeling over and crying out, she suddenly feared the worst.

Something was wrong with the baby.

Chapter Four

Kate was lying in a hospital bed in the maternity ward of Rock Ridge Mercy. She was anchored to a plethora of monitors that beeped and whooshed. Some of the monitor pads were stuck to her head and heart, but most were on the mound of her bare stomach.

Scott held her hand and looked even more concerned than she felt. They had been waiting for the OB/GYN, Dr. Willard for an awfully long time.

Getting to the hospital had been a disaster. Kate had been in so much pain that she’d plummeted to her knees in the master bedroom. Her winter coat had been bundled too tight. Unzipping it in order to find her cellphone had been a Herculean feat. It felt like an eternity had lapsed before the ambulance finally arrived, and just as the medics had rushed up the stairs, she’d passed out from the pain, waking only once in the back of the ambulance when it hit a sheet of black-ice and careened off the road.

Several times she had demanded that the medics call Scott, but they had been too busy transporting her on a gurney through the raging sleet into a second ambulance since the first had pitched onto a snow bank, rendering it nondrivable.

She wasn’t sure which had been worse for the baby, the early contractions or the stress Kate suffered at not being able to get a hold of her husband.

At least he was here now, she thought, but it did little to comfort her from the agony of waiting for her doctor to arrive.

Finally, Dr. Willard burst through the door with one nurse in tow who was rolling in an ultrasound machine.

“Apologies for the delay,” she explained, plowing her fingers through her short, sandy-blond hair.

Though it shouldn’t be a reason for Kate not to trust the gynecologist, in her mind it didn’t bode well that Dr. Willard was also pregnant, though only in her second trimester.

“Let’s see how the little guy is doing,” she suggested.

Which sent Scott into a tizzy. “Little guy? Guy? It’s a boy?”

“No,” said Dr. Willard with a smile. “I know not to tell you the sex of your child. It was just a turn of phrase.”

Scott let out a loud huff. To Kate he looked like he was about to throttle the woman.

After squeezing some gel onto her instrument, Dr. Willard began rolling the ultra sound wand over Kate’s belly and fell eerily silent.

Nervously, Kate asked, “Why did this happen?”

“You said you had just climbed the stairs?” asked the doctor, and Scott glared at Kate.

“You did what?”

“Oh, they were just stairs,” she said defensively.

“Well, certain exertion could be problematic,” said Dr. Willard. “If you take your time up the stairs, it’s fine. If you run up them—”

“I didn’t run up the stairs,” she objected. “Let’s face it. I waddle and I’m not particularly fast.”

“Okay,” said Dr. Willard, eyeing the monitor, which to Kate had always looked like snow. “Your baby’s heart is beating just fine. I’d like to run some tests, but so far it looks like he or she is in good health.”

Sighing with relief, Kate smiled at Scott, who looked distrustful.

“She should be on bed rest, shouldn’t she?” he asked the doctor.

“For two months?” Kate blurted out. “Don’t be insane!”

But Dr. Willard didn’t seem to think it was such an insane idea. “The more bed rest the better,” she allowed. Before Kate could fly into more objections, she added, “Ordinarily I tell mothers to stay active, but in your case we really can’t afford to bring on contractions this early.”

“So the baby was trying to come?” asked Scott.

“Well, not necessarily. False contractions are common, but I think in your case”—she was looking at Kate, as she continued—“and at your age, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I got it, no more stairs,” she said quickly.

But Scott was quick to correct her. “No more exertion.”

“I’m not exerting. Maxwell exerts. I drink tea and watch him from wherever I’m sitting.”

Dr. Willard was rolling the ultrasound toward the corner and asked them to give her a few minutes as she left the room.

As soon as they were alone, Kate launched into making her case. “I cannot sit at home doing nothing. I’ll go crazy.”

“Think about the baby. We’re getting on by the skin of our teeth if you think about it. This is a very complicated pregnancy. I don’t have to tell you that. God forbid you go into labor months early.”

Kate considered his point, because it was a good one. It would be detrimental to give birth so soon. The financial implications alone could very well bankrupt them; having a premature baby who would need around the clock hospital care would be a nightmare. But that didn’t concern Kate even a fraction as much as the emotional toll she would take in such an instance.

“There has to be some compromise,” she told Scott.

“Like a wheelchair?”

She snorted a laugh. “I doubt I’d be able to manage with all the slush and ice outside. No, I mean, I can work half-days, avoid stairs, and keep my heart rate down.” It looked like he might argue against her. “It’s not that I exerted myself too much. I went to the Victorian and got really annoyed that I couldn’t find Maxwell. See, it’s just that I shouldn’t let myself get mad.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but soon his expression shifted. “Where was he?”

“I have no idea. He hasn’t responded to my text or answered my call.”

As if mere mention of Maxwell had conjured him into existence, Kate became distracted by the faint sound of her cell phone vibrating in her overalls that were folded on the chair. Scott was quick to fish her cell out and when he looked at the screen, he mentioned, “It’s Maxwell.”

“Give it here,” she said and answered as soon as he did. “Where the heck have you been?”

Scott said, “Keep calm, Kate.”

She made herself breathe, as her assistant told her, “Someone tried to kill me.”

“What?” she blurted out and Scott angled his ear to the phone. “Who tried to kill you?”

“I have no idea. I’m at the house.”

“You’re at the Victorian?” she asked for her husband’s benefit. He seemed to be struggling to hear.

“I was here when you were. I was in one of the kids rooms up the hallway, fighting for my life.”

“I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Let me speak with him,” Scott demanded, but she wouldn’t give up the phone.

Maxwell was explaining, “I never saw the guy. He must have snuck up behind me, and the next thing I knew, I was being strangled. I couldn’t get any air.”

“Oh, my God.” She noticed Scott was rushing toward the door. “Scott’s on his way. Just stay where you are. How did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I knew the killer wouldn’t give up unless I was dead, so I dropped. I played dead. They held the cord around my neck for a few extra seconds and then he jumped out the window. I was too weak to even turn my head.”

“Thank God you’re okay. I’ll stay on with you until Scott gets there.”

“Who would do this?” he asked.

“I have no idea, but you’re not the first.”

“What?”

“Someone killed Mrs. Briar this afternoon in the exact same manner.”

Chapter Five

The next morning, Kate was in a mixed state of relief and dread. According to the tests that Dr. Willard had run, her baby was doing great. Maxwell, on the other hand, was not. And when Scott finally returned to the hospital to take her home, she hadn’t been able to get a straight answer out of him. He didn’t want to upset her, but what he didn’t realize was that being in the dark was more upsetting than anything he could’ve said.

The teakettle on the stove began whistling. Kate hoisted herself out of the kitchen chair, found a mug in the cabinet along with a box of Orange Zinger tea, and doctored her tea with cream and sugar as Scott lumbered into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.

“Are you and your team going to be at the old Victorian today?” she asked, since he hadn’t updated her on his investigation. Now that Maxwell had been attacked by the same assailant as Mrs. Briar, she assumed the police would want to dust every inch of the house for fingerprints.

“We did everything we could yesterday,” he said, adding milk to his coffee before settling into a chair at the kitchen table. “But that doesn’t mean you should go back to work on the house.”

“It’s nearly done, and I’ve told you a million times that Maxwell is doing all the real work.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. Scott knew when to press his point and when to keep his mouth shut because doing anything else would only incite her, and this was one of those times. “As long as you take it easy.”

“Thank you,” she said in an exasperated tone as Scott rose to his feet, slurping down his coffee.

“I’ve got to head out,” he said and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

She listened to him walk through the living room and into the bedroom. As he knocked around getting dressed, she found her cellphone on the coffee table in the living room and composed a brief text message to Maxwell so that he would know to meet her at the mayor’s office. Insulating Dean’s windows wouldn’t take long and they might as well tend to the job before finishing up at the old Victorian.

Maxwell texted back right away that he would meet her there, so she joined Scott in the bedroom to get dressed herself.

Like ships passing in the night, he was out the door, but mentioned over his shoulder, “The hospital threw a wrench in our dinner plans last night so why don’t we head to Daisy’s around six?”

“Sounds good,” she told him, and then quickly added, “Could we invite Carly and Larry? We’ve been seeing less and less of them, and I’d like to spend as much quality time as possible with friends before the baby comes.”

Scott considered it for a moment. He was social in terms of keeping up with his band, The Law, and enjoyed attending big, summer barbeques, but when it came to conversing in small groups, he’d always felt awkward and on the spot. Surprising her, he said, “Sure, that sounds nice,” and then made his way through the house.

She didn’t exactly have many options when it came to what to wear, so she threw on the same oversized overalls she had basically lived in the past four weeks along with a thick sweater and woolen socks, and made her way back into the kitchen to clean her mug.

As soon as she turned the faucet on, the doorbell chimed. Did Scott forget his keys and lock himself out?

Quickly—not that she was able to move very fast—she rounded through to the door and opened it, but Scott wasn’t on the other side.

Rather, it was a woman she had never seen before. Appearing in her mid-thirties, though her face had a few deep creases indicating a smoking habit, the woman was dressed in jeans and a puffy winter parka. Her mousy-brown hair was in a ponytail, though Kate could tell it was curly, and her nose and the tips of her ears were red from the cold.

“Can I help you?” asked Kate when the woman hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah,” she said gruffly, her tone deep and raspy. “I hear you’ve got a business, a fix-it business. I’m good with a hammer.”

Larry had warned her about this, and Kate didn’t have to ask to know she was speaking with Holly Griffin.

Keeping her tone even so as not to provoke the woman, whom Kate was sure had a volatile personality, she explained, “I already have all the help I need.”

“If you have more hands you can get more jobs,” Holly argued.

Larry was right. She was pushy.

“Well the fact of the matter is that business slows down a great deal during the winter months and not just for me. Most of the stores around here aren’t looking to take anyone on.”

“Do all you guys have something against outsiders?”

It was as though Holly hadn’t even heard her.

“This is discrimination,” she went on.

“It really isn’t. Have you been down Main Street? It’s a ghost town. There’s nothing I can do for you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Kate began closing the door, but Holly slapped her palm against it. “You’re going to be on maternity leave soon. I can take over.”

Appalled, words wouldn’t form as Kate stared at the woman. Finally, she said, “I have an assistant and if anyone takes over, it’ll be him, not some stranger who had the audacity to show up on my doorstep and make demands. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“I thought your assistant was dead.”

“What?” The realization hit Kate like a pail of ice water to her face. Holly had heard about the attack on Maxwell, but she’d gotten her facts all wrong.

“Didn’t someone kill him?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“You’d rather lie about some dead kid working for you than hire me?”

“First of all, Maxwell Stone isn’t dead, and second of all if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police.”

Holly snorted a laugh of disgust, but turned for the walkway. After watching her round through the sidewalk and climb into a brown Saab that looked at least ten years old, she shut the door.

Shaking off how bizarre their exchange had been, Kate padded into the kitchen where she filled the teakettle under the sink faucet and cranked the burner. She needed to get to the mayor’s office, but didn’t feel like diving into her day until she had a thermos of creamy tea. As she waited for the kettle to whistle, her cellphone vibrated from the coffee table in the living room.

It was Hazel.

“Good morning,” she said.

She sounded downtrodden as she explained, “I just had the most bizarre confrontation.”

“Holly Griffin?” she asked, hitting the nail on the head.

“How did you know?”

“She was just at my house.”

Hazel launched into a tirade. “She came here demanding a job. Her whole argument was that Mrs. Briar was dead, and therefore I needed to hire her. It was insane. She didn’t even have a resume or references, and she was so aggressive. I could tell she didn’t care a woman had been murdered.”

Listening to Hazel, Kate suddenly wondered about Holly. Though word traveled extremely fast in Rock Ridge, she knew Maxwell enough to trust he hadn’t told anyone but Scott and the police about the attack. So how did Holly know about it?

Was Holly running around Rock Ridge murdering people in order to take their jobs? It sounded insane, but she reasoned that anyone who had it in them to take a life had to be at least a little insane.

“Can you ban her from the library?” Kate asked.

“I’m not sure what good it would do.”

“I’d like for you to tell Scott,” she said.

But it only confused Hazel. “Why?”

“What if Holly somehow got into that office and demanded that Mrs. Briar hire her? Knowing Mrs. Briar, she probably said some very rude things to Holly. What if by doing so, Holly was provoked into killing her?”

“You think that’s possible?”

“I think you need to stay around other people at all times. If I’m right, then you aren’t safe since you sent her on her way.”

“Kate, that means you aren’t safe either.”

“I know.” After a moment, she added, “Give Scott a call.”

But Hazel didn’t confirm that she would. She only told Kate to be careful and then ended the call.

After bundling up in the foyer, Kate stalked through the snow. It looked fresh and powdery and made her wonder if perhaps there had been another snowstorm last night while she was sleeping.

The windshield of her truck was crusted over with a jagged sheet of ice so she grabbed the scraper from the glove compartment, slammed the passenger-side door closed, and began scraping the ice off. The effort made her warm and she felt her heart rate climb so she paused, taking some deep breaths until her pounding heart subsided into a relaxed rhythm. As soon as it did, she started scraping again. Soon the front windshield was clear, but the back one was still frosted over. She didn’t do as thorough a job on it, only scraping a little circle on the glass where she would need to see through if she looked in the rearview mirror.

Eight minutes later, she climbed in behind the steering wheel and cursed that she should’ve gotten her truck idling. It would’ve been warm already if she had.

Nevertheless, she pulled out into the street, driving toward the center of town and hoping the vents would soon blow warm air.

It wasn’t until she was pulling into the parking lot of the Municipal Building that she realized she had forgotten her thermos of tea. She gasped. Had she remembered to shut the burner off? Oh God. She racked her brain, but couldn’t recall doing so.

Quickly, she called Maxwell, whose beat-up Volvo was parked near the entrance.

When he picked up after the first ring, she exclaimed, “I think I left the stove on at my house!”

“What? Where are you?” he asked.

“In the parking lot.”

“Well, drive back and check—”

“Is Dean there? Is he waiting?”

His lack of an immediate response was confirmation enough.

“I’ll come up and give you my keys.”

“You want me to drive back and check?” he asked even though they both knew it was obvious that Kate had implied as much. “Fine.”

She made her way toward the entrance, and for the first time she didn’t cross through the lobby for the stairwell but pressed the call button for the elevator as soon as she reached it.

After a few moments the doors swooshed open and she stepped inside, ascended swiftly, and then crossed down the hallway to the mayor’s office.

Dean was hunched over his desk, a woolen hat on his head and gloves on his hands.

“Arg,” she groaned. “The insulation kit.”

Maxwell asked, “It’s at the house?”

“No, it’s in my truck.” Why am I forgetting things? She wondered. Is it stress? She handed Maxwell her key ring.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he told her, jogging off to retrieve the kit.

“You’re right,” she said, now that the air was hitting her. “It is drafty in here.”

“Drafty? It’s freezing,” he corrected.

Kate neared the windows behind his desk and placed her hand less than an inch from the pane. She could feel a subtle breeze. Eyeing the metal frame more closely and running her hand along it, she realized where the cold air was seeping in.

“Well, it’s not going to look pretty, but I can seal the windows,” she explained.

“How?”

“The kit is airtight plastic. I’ll seal the frame with a sheet of plastic with some insulation behind it. The real issue is your heater.” When she reached it, she placed her hand near the metal radiator. No heat was coming off it so she touched it. “This is stone cold.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Dean, you can’t work in here. You’ll catch your death.”

He said nothing so she fiddled with the radiator valve, and when she turned it, a whoosh of steam spit out and then the thing clanged to life. Not a second later, she felt heat coming off the metal and stared at Dean.

“I’m trying to save money,” he explained.

“By keeping your heater off in the dead of winter?”

“The amusement park is a financial failure.”

“So you’re freezing in order to save a hundred bucks a month?”

He shrugged, sliding onto his chair.

Maxwell jogged back into the office, the window insulation kit in his hands.

“Arg,” she groaned.

“What now?” asked Maxwell.

“I need a hair dryer.”

Dean quickly mentioned, “You could try the ladies room up the hallway.”

Kate looked at Maxwell, but her assistant blurted out, “I’m not going to go into the ladies room.”

Grumbling, Kate strode off. The ladies room proved more bountiful than she could’ve ever imagined. Not only did she find a hair dryer, but also there was also a curling iron, a flat iron, a wealth of deodorant, and more feminine products than she’d ever seen in one place with the exception of aisle fifteen at the supermarket.

When she returned to Dean’s office, Maxwell was using a box cutter to open the kit for her.

“Max! My house could be burning down as we speak!”

“I’m on it!” he said, jumping up and rushing out.

“Forgetful?” asked Dean.

“But it can’t be related to the pregnancy, can it?”

He twisted his mouth to the side, and it made her realize she ought to call Dr. Willard to be on the safe side. But first she pulled the insulation from the kit and got started on sealing the window.

“So how are you getting on without a receptionist?” she asked, as she fixed the plastic around the windowpane.

“Barely,” he complained. “Unfortunately employees are always the biggest expense, so I had to let my receptionist go for the winter. I only hope she’ll be available come spring when we’re bouncing back.”

It made Kate curious. “You haven’t been approached recently—”

“You bet I have,” he said, knowing exactly where she was going with her question.

“Holly—”

“Griffin? Yeah, she came by twice. It was alarming. She acted as though I owed her something, like she was entitled.”

“She did the same thing to Larry and to Hazel at the library, and to me just this morning.”

“I hope she gives up and leaves town.”

Kate had positioned the plastic over the window, so she plugged in the hair dryer and flipped it on, running the hot air over the sealant tape to melt it. Once she felt the plastic was taut, she shut off the noisy hair dryer.

“Have you thought about throwing a winter wonderland party?” she asked. “At the amusement park, that is. You wouldn’t have to get the rides going, but maybe you could hire a band and get the food vendors back. If you charged twelve bucks per ticket, I’m sure you could get the whole town to go.”

Dean perked up from where he was sitting at the desk. “That’s a really good idea.” Excitedly, he pulled a calculator from one of the desk drawers and began mumbling, “A population of two thousand, times twelve dollars, equals...” His eyes widened. “That’s not bad, though I’ll have expenses.”

“Maybe not,” she countered. “You don’t have to pay the food vendors. You could get a band to play for free.”

“What band?”

Kate smiled. “Scott has a band.”

“The Law?”

“They’re more interested in playing in front of an audience that isn’t just me than they are in getting a check. They’d probably do it for a case of beer.”

Stepping back to examine her work, Kate coiled the electrical cord around the hair dryer handle. “That ought to do it,” she concluded. “If you keep the office door closed, you might get away with blasting the heat for an hour in the morning then shutting it off until the afternoon when it gets chilly again.”

“Thanks so much,” he told her, rising to his feet. “What do I owe you?”

“Let’s say the cost of the kit.”

“No labor?”

She smiled at him, as she began filling out an invoice. As soon as she handed it to him, Dean began writing a check.

“I can’t tell you how much I miss Jared,” he mentioned as he gave her the check.

“You and me both.”

Kate made her way down to the lobby and waited just inside the glass door. Light flurries were coming down, and the sky looked drearier than ever as she watched for Maxwell’s Volvo to return.

A brown vehicle caught her eye as it puttered down the street, but it wasn’t her assistant’s Volvo. It was a brown Saab, which she recognized immediately as Holly Griffin’s car. Thinking fast, though she was unsure of what exactly she was doing, she scurried through the parking lot and hoisted herself into her truck, all the while keeping her eyes glued on the Saab.

It made a left onto Pennsylvania Avenue, darting out of sight, but Kate was already reversing out of the parking spot. She hit the gas as soon as she’d thrown her truck into gear. She turned onto the street and made the same left.

She scanned for the Saab and switched lanes to see if she could get a better view. A block ahead, the Saab darted right, pulling a sharp turn onto Rock Ridge Blvd.

The traffic light that Kate was driving toward flipped yellow, but she didn’t slow down. Pressing her foot on the gas and veering around a slow-moving Toyota, she slid through the intersection in the nick of time, pulling the same right-hand turn. But the Saab was picking up speed.

Whoever had killed Mrs. Briar and then went after Maxwell, had to have used some kind of cord in order to strangle them from behind. Kate had a hunch the killer hadn’t discarded the murder weapon, but instead kept it close, perhaps in their house or in their car. She couldn’t explain the bad feeling that Holly had given her, and it wasn’t lost on her that following the woman wasn’t entirely rational, but she had to see for herself.

Keeping her truck at a healthy distance from the Saab so as not to be seen should Holly glance in her rearview mirror, Kate realized they were heading out of the town center and into the suburban neighborhood where all the houses were on a symmetrical grid of blocks. Soon the Saab slowed down and pulled along the curb. Kate checked her side mirror and then yanked the steering wheel, coming to a skidding stop along the curb as well, though a decent half-block behind Holly.

She waited, watching the vehicle, which appeared to be idling. Exhaust was billowing out the tailpipe. She eyed the houses in front of the Saab and across the street but didn’t recognize either address.

Holly climbed out of her vehicle and started up the walkway. Kate spied her approaching the front door. She didn’t knock, but rather tested the doorknob, which must have been locked because when Holly slammed her shoulder against the door, it didn’t open.

The woman backed up a few steps, eyeing the door and the windows on either side of it. After what appeared to be a frustrated moment, she began stalking through the snow and rounded the side of the house where she disappeared beyond Kate’s view.

Was she about to break into someone’s house?

Kate slid out of her truck and kept hunched down. She shuffled in the slushy street toward the Saab. When she reached it, she peered into the rear window, but the back seat was clean and clear. There was no cord, not that Kate was naive enough to think the killer would leave the murder weapon in plain sight. She glanced at the driver’s and passenger’s seats next, but there was nothing unusual about them.

Looking at the house, she noticed the mailbox and rushed across the sidewalk to it. She pulled the tin door down and found a stack of mail resting inside. At least she would be able to find out whose house it was. She plucked an envelope out and read the recipient: Mrs. Briar.

Why would Holly Griffin have come to Mrs. Briar’s house? Why would she stalk around the back of the house?

Kate grabbed the entire stack of mail from the mailbox and began flipping through. There were bills and junk mail, all addressed to Mrs. Briar, but then a card-shaped envelope caught her eye. It was also addressed to the deceased librarian, but when she read the sender’s name and address, her heart began punching up her throat.

It was from Holly Griffin.

She heard boots stomping through the snow, an indication that Holly was making her way back, so Kate jogged at a sluggish pace down the sidewalk. She darted into the street when she reached her truck, having forgotten the entire stack of mail in her hands.

After hopping up behind the steering wheel, she watched Holly pace to her Saab, climb in, and peel out into the street.

Kate let out a heavy sigh and set the mail on the passenger’s seat.

Was Holly family or a friend? Why would she write Mrs. Briar a letter? Had Holly moved to town with expectations of being in Mrs. Briar’s life, and then killed her when the grouchy woman rejected her in some way?

Immediately, Kate found her cellphone in her overalls after fishing under her bulky winter coat, and sent a call through to Scott’s cellphone.

When the line opened up, she could hear a distressed woman in the background shouting, “Get your hands off of me!” and “You’re making a mistake.”

“Scott?”

“Yeah?” he said gruffly before covering the mouthpiece. When he said, “Take her down to the station and put her in Interview Room Two,” he sounded muffled. “Sorry, Kate, are you there?”

Hearing the woman’s aged voice in the background, Kate had a sinking feeling she knew who it was. “You’re not arresting Hazel, are you?”

Chapter Six

Kate barreled through the police precinct, ignoring the receptionist who had greeted her and then shouted objections. Detective Kilroy met her with the same reaction, but she hurled past him as well, as she labored through to Scott’s office in the back of the bullpen.

“He isn’t in there,” said Kilroy, trailing after her.

Her heart was pounding, but there was nothing she could do about it. Once again, Scott had arrested the wrong person, and this time it had cut too close to home. Hazel Millhouse was a sweet old lady who hadn’t killed anyone.

Whipping around to face the detective, she demanded, “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Hazel Millhouse?”

“Scott talking with her in one of the interview rooms,” said Kilroy.

Damn it, she knew that. She had overheard as much.

“Kate, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just furious. All right, I’m not okay. Why did you arrest Hazel?”

But he didn’t have to answer. She knew. Hazel must not have explained to Scott the altercation she’d had with Mrs. Briar.

“You found skin under Mrs. Briar’s fingernails that matched Hazel’s and you think she killed her?” she challenged. The look of remorse on the detective’s face was confirmation enough. “They got into a scuffle, but Hazel didn’t kill her.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Kate gaped at him in astonishment. “She’s a little old lady.”

“And so was Mrs. Briar. The way I see it, they could’ve been worthy opponents.”

“You seriously think Hazel strangled her co-worker to death?”

“The evidence is the evidence, not to imply I’m leading this charge, Kate. I’m only following Scott’s orders.”

“I’d like to talk with her.”

Kilroy sighed. “Scott’s talking with her, and then I’m sure Hazel is going to want to meet with her lawyer.”

Kate glanced down at the envelope in her hand and when she returned her eyes to the detective, she said, “I’ll wait.”

“He locked his office,” said Kilroy apologetically.

“Fine,” she shot back and made her way to the bench across from the receptionist’s desk.

As soon as she settled, Kilroy offered her a glass of water. “Or tea, perhaps.”

“No thank you.”

She watched him trail back through the bullpen, and then she slipped the envelope out of her pocket. After eyeing it for a moment—she was fairly certain there was a card inside—she wedged her finger under the flap and began tearing it open. Several times she glanced up at the receptionist and at the room to make sure there were no prying eyes.

Pulling the card out, she noted it was a birthday card and opened it. Though the inside of the card had the printed note, ‘You’re only as old as you feel,’ there was a handwritten letter around it.

Kate began reading.

Grandma, I know it’s been ages and you don’t want to hear from me. I didn’t side with Grandpa. It’s not that I don’t love you, but he’s sick. We both know it. He can’t take care of himself. I felt responsible for helping him. It doesn’t mean that I don’t believe you. I wish you would’ve returned my calls. Letters are so slow. I’m writing you because Grandpa wandered off. Considering his dementia, I’m worried for your safety...because I DO believe you and I’ve ALWAYS believed you. If he thinks it’s 1985 again, then he’s going to come after you. I’m coming to Rock Ridge. I’ll see you soon. Love, Holly.

Kate glanced up from the card. She was stunned.

Clearly, Mrs. Briar had escaped an abusive marriage. Her husband had fallen sick with dementia and their granddaughter had taken care of him. The letter didn’t say who the husband was. Kate thought back. Had she seen any elderly men around town? Had any of them seemed disoriented? She couldn’t recall. No one was coming to mind.

But even if Mrs. Briar’s husband had slipped into a dissociative state thinking it was 1985 and came to Rock Ridge to kill his wife, why then had Maxwell been attacked? Why would Mrs. Briar’s husband sneak into the old Victorian house, know to go to the second floor where Maxwell was working, and try to strangle him?

She felt like she was on to something and yet so far away from the truth. At the very least, however, the letter would shed doubt on Hazel’s involvement. She sprung to her feet and walked toward the receptionist who was setting her telephone down.

“I need to speak with Scott,” Kate blurted out.

“I can let you know as soon as he’s finished talking to his suspect.”

“Tell him I have information on the case,” she insisted, but the receptionist only grimaced and she knew what would come next.

“He really shouldn’t be too much longer,” she promised.

Kate knew where the interview rooms were, and she doubted the skinny receptionist would stop her, so she barreled down the hallway, the card in her hand, and mentally prepared to barge into the interrogation and slam the new evidence onto the table.

But she didn’t get that far.

Her cell was vibrating in her pocket, and when she saw Maxwell’s name and number flashing across the screen, she answered it immediately.

“I have two seconds,” she barked.

“You might want to make a little more time...”

“Why’s that?” she demanded.

“Well, if you really must know,” he began, matching her tone. “I just spent the last twenty minutes fighting a kitchen fire. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he added sarcastically. “I thought you wouldn’t want your husband and the whole town finding out. We both know Scott would never let you out of the house again if he knew. So, long story short, we have a brand new fix-it job on our hands and it’s called your entire kitchen.”

“Oh, God.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“Crap.” She stared at the door of Interview Room Two, but Maxwell was right. “I’m on my way.”

“Meet me at Grayson’s,” he interrupted. “I made a list of everything we need to buy.”

After agreeing, she ended the call and started through the hallway. She stepped outside and the wind bit into her, whipping sideways and stinging her cheek.

By the time she was pulling her truck through the parking lot in front of Grayson’s, Maxwell was standing under the portico, his shoulders hunched against the freezing wind.

“I took pictures,” he told her, as she shuffled through the snowy parking lot.

When she reached him, he held the door open for her and then produced his cellphone. They paused just inside the hardware store and he handed her the evidence.

As she flipped through the photos of charred cabinets and melted appliances, she said, “Do you think it’s possible that an elderly man attacked you?”

He seemed offended.

“Ah, no,” he said, keeping a lid on how annoyed he was. “I’d say the guy was young and very strong. I’m not that out of shape. There’s no way an old guy could’ve taken me down like that.”

“I can’t look at these anymore,” she said, handing him the phone and feeling a bit ill.

“Well, did it refresh your memory in terms of the type of cabinets we need to buy?”

“Oh,” she said, stealing the cellphone again to have another look.

“We don’t want Scott coming home to a brand new kitchen...”

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, making her way to the counter where Larry was nursing a tiny cup of espresso.

“How goes it?” he asked.

“Cabinet aisle?” said Maxwell before discretely asking Kate, “When is he getting home?”

“Around six, but I could ask him to meet me at Daisy’s. We have dinner plans.”

“You might want to plan on that in case we run out of time. I can finish up.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”

They followed Larry down one of the aisles where a number of cabinets were hanging on display.

“I’ve also got the catalogues,” he said, indicating a few that were resting on one of the shelves. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

As he started for the front of the store, Kate said, “Hey, Scott and I wanted to invite you and Carly to dinner at Daisy’s tonight.”

“Yeah? That sounds fun. I’m sure we can make it. What time?”

“After six. I can text you with an exact time,” she told him.

Before long, Kate had found cabinets that resembled the ones in her kitchen. They weren’t an exact match, but she was willing to bet Scott wouldn’t notice. He barely registered when she cut her hair. Larry scanned the cabinets into the system and she paid for half the cost, leaving the balance on her tab, which she planned on paying in a few weeks.

She thanked him, told him she would see him at Daisy’s later, and Maxwell carried the boxed cabinets out to her truck. The bed was covered in a few inches of snow, but she reasoned the cardboard was thick enough that the cabinets wouldn’t warp in the few minutes it would take her to drive home.

By the time she was pulling onto the street, Maxwell’s Volvo was close behind her truck.

He seemed convinced an elderly person couldn’t have attacked him, but the fact of the matter was that Maxwell had lived. Was that a sign he was clever—he had mentioned he’d played dead essentially so that the killer would give up—or was it a sign that his attacker lacked the physical strength to succeed?

When they reached her house, Kate parked as close to the front door as she could manage and Maxwell pulled his Volvo in beside her truck. He was quick to lower the tailgate of her truck and pull the boxes out.

As soon as she entered the foyer, she realized she had a much bigger problem on her hands than replacing part of her kitchen: it smelled like a fire.

“Open all the windows,” she suggested, though she knew it wouldn’t fully fix the problem.

Maxwell hopped to it and they began removing the charred cabinets and swapping them out for the new ones.

As they worked, Kate made sure to rest whenever her heart rate climbed too high.

“About the attack,” she began. “Do you remember what the cord looked like?”

Maxwell gave it some thought as he selected a screwdriver from Kate’s tool kit. “It whipped over my head so fast.”

“But was it rope? Was it beige or black? Like a nylon cord?”

“It looked dark, black maybe.”

The charred smell was easing off, she thought, or else she was just getting used to it. Realizing that gave her an idea.

“Did the killer smell any particular way?”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“He would’ve been close to you, right at your back. Did he smell like anything?”

“Kate, I thought I was going to die. I wasn’t paying attention to what he smelled like.”

“Give it some thought,” she said encouragingly.

“The whole house smelled like flowers, like roses. Carly had just dropped off all those bouquets.”

“She had? How long before you were attacked?” asked Kate.

Maxwell exhaled and planted his fists on his hips, thinking. “Maybe ten minutes, maybe.”

“Enough time for you to put the bouquets around the house?”

“No, she did that. I only went up into the room on the second floor because I remembered the closet hinges on the door were creaking. So I sprayed some W-D40 on and the next thing I knew... It smelled like W-D40,” he supplied, but his gaze was softening as though a memory was taking hold. “The guy smelled like metal, come to think of it.”

“Metal?”

“Like hot metal and oil. Wait, I know that smell...” he trailed off thinking hard. “It’s like a garage.”

“A garage?”

“Yeah, like when I bring the Volvo in to my mechanic.”

Suddenly, Kate felt dizzy. Black spots were flickering through her vision and her head was swimming. She grasped for the kitchen table, but missed. The next thing she knew, she felt hands on her. It was Maxwell guiding her onto one of the chairs. In a faraway voice, he kept saying, “Kate? Are you okay?”

But she couldn’t respond. She felt on the brink of fainting and could barely feel the table though she had clamped her hands around the edge in a white-knuckle grip.

Thankfully, the feeling gradually receded. Her vision came back and her hands no longer felt numb.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I think so. Where’s my cellphone?”

Before he could answer, she found it in her pocket and scrolled through the call log to find Dr. Willard’s number, as Maxwell rushed to fill a glass with water for her.

He set it down for her and she took a sip, listening to the ring tones in her ear. “Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said, but soon her doctor’s receptionist picked up. “Hi, Maria? It’s Kate Flaherty, uh, York I mean. I’m feeling faint.”

“Let me get Willard,” she said quickly then asked, “Have you eaten today? Have you had enough sugar and Vitamin C?”

“I’m not sure, maybe not.”

“I’ll get Dr. Willard, but eat something if you can. Hold on.”

Kate covered the mouthpiece and said, “Max, could you get me an apple or an orange?”

Immediately, he began hunting through the refrigerator and found both. After grabbing a paper towel, he wasted no time peeling the orange for her and setting out the pieces on the paper towel. She ate a few before the line opened up again.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, I was feeling faint and wanted to call you.”

“Can you get to the hospital?”

“I think so, my assistant can drive me,” she said. “I’ll head over.” After hanging up, she said, “We better get this place cleaned up.”

“Uh, I think we should go to the hospital right now.”

But Kate wasn’t having it.

Twenty minutes and two oranges later, the kitchen looked as good as new. Maxwell loaded the charred, old cabinets into the bed of her truck, and Kate asked him to leave all the windows open for the place to air out.

He drove slowly and carefully through town with Kate in the passenger’s seat. She felt nervous, but reminded herself that anxiety would be worse for the baby than anything.

“Didn’t they run a bunch of tests the last time you were at the hospital?” he asked, making a left at the center of town to hook north toward Rock Ridge Mercy.

“They did, and I got a clean bill of health, so I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Maybe the receptionist was right and you just needed to eat something. You should be eating all day long, shouldn’t you?”

She had been and that was the trouble. Or at least she thought she had been. Now that she was thinking about it, ever since she’d found Mrs. Briar dead in the library office, she hadn’t been eating as much if at all. She hoped that feeling faint had been caused by something so slight as her oversight. That would be much better news than discovering that Dr. Willard had misread one of the tests.

Maxwell helped her out of the passenger’s seat when they reached the hospital, and as they approached the desk he asked right away where Dr. Willard’s office was.

They rode the elevator to the maternity floor and didn’t wait long in the waiting room. As a nurse called Kate into one of the exam rooms, Maxwell was quick to hoist Kate out of her chair.

“I can take it from here,” she told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He asked, “How will you get home?”

“I can take a taxi. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

He seemed reluctant, but eventually agreed and told her to get in touch if she needed anything.

As she followed the nurse into the exam room, it occurred to Kate how much Maxwell reminded her of her boys. He looked nothing like Jason and Jared, but he had the same sweetness.

“I’m going to get you set up with an IV drip to balance your blood sugar and electrolytes,” explained the nurse as she swabbed Kate’s inner elbow with an alcohol pad.

“I also want to mention I’ve been forgetful all day.”

The nurse seemed to consider the symptom, but told her that Dr. Willard would be right in to see her.

As Kate leaned back on the exam table and the nurse got the IV flowing into her arm, she wondered about Mrs. Briar’s husband and if his dementia could’ve driven him to kill.

Chapter Seven

Kate was the first to arrive at Daisy’s Luncheonette, having taken a taxi directly there after learning once again that her health and the health of her baby seemed to be doing just fine. Dr. Willard had pinpointed Kate’s dizziness to low blood sugar, which the IV and an hour’s rest had cured. She checked the clock on her cellphone. It was fifteen minutes before six, but she had asked Scott to come early if he could make it.

Kate stood just inside the door to the restaurant, where the heat blasted onto her from above to keep her toasty as she waited. Soon she spotted Scott’s truck driving slowly along the road as it passed under a streetlight. As he pulled into the parking lot she debated telling him about her doctor’s visit, but reasoned that if everything was okay, then there was no need to worry her husband.

She decided to just tell him that Maxwell had dropped her off at the diner. After a quick kiss hello, she stared up at him.

“You arrested Hazel?”

“Let me guess, you think I shouldn’t have,” he supplied, gazing off at the wintery darkness.

She found the envelope in her pocket and handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“Reasonable doubt,” she stated, which caused him to quirk his brow. “Read it.” As he pulled the card from the envelope, she added, “It’s a letter from Holly Griffin to Mrs. Briar.”

“Who’s Holly Griffin?”

“Her granddaughter, apparently.” Kate held her tongue, letting him read, and watched his expression shift from irritated skepticism to marked interest.

He turned the envelope over in his hands and eyed the two addresses. “Kate,” he groaned.

“You have to find out who her husband is. Clearly he’s in town and could’ve very well killed her. Talk to Holly Griffin. I’m sure she won’t be hard to find.”

He held his hand up, silencing her. “You took this from Mrs. Briar’s mailbox.”

“So?”

“So you can’t steal evidence.”

“Well, I did, so clearly I can.”

“It’s inadmissible,” he barked. “I can’t use this, because I didn’t get it by legal means.”

“You can still investigate accordingly, can’t you?”

He ran his hand down his face.

“We have proof that Hazel did it,” he stated regretfully.

“Because Mrs. Briar had skin under her fingernails,” said Kate, annoyed to be circling around the same bend again.

“Not just that.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” he said, handing her the envelope. He must have been able to read the disappointment on her face, because he added, “Let’s say Mrs. Briar does have a husband, and let’s say Holly Griffin is right and the elderly man came after her. Why then would he attack Maxwell Stone?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“And?”

She didn’t have an answer. “I think this is worth looking into. Plus, I saw Holly Griffin go into Mrs. Briar’s house.”

“If she’s her granddaughter...”

“But she didn’t go in through the front door. She didn’t have a key. She stalked around the house, and I think she broke in.”

“You think or you know?”

“I think?”

He sighed, but not for the reason she had assumed. “You’re telling me you spent part of the day alone when you had promised you’d be with your assistant?”

“I said I would work with my assistant and he would do all the heavy lifting. I don’t recall telling you I wouldn’t spend a minute alone.”

“Something tells me it took a lot longer than a minute to drive over to Mrs. Briar’s house and steal her mail. What made you think to head over that way in the first place?”

“I was following Holly Griffin.”

It wasn’t the best defense, but at least it was over. Carly and Larry were approaching in the dimly-lit parking lot. Carly spread her arms and gave Kate a hug the second she reached them, and Larry and Scott shook hands.

“Thanks for the get together,” said Carly, as they started for the entrance door.

Larry held it open for everyone to enter, and when Scott reached the hostess he told the young woman they would need a table for four.

Once they all got settled in one of the booths, Scott ordered beers for Larry and himself, and a glass of wine for Carly.

“I’d like a decaf coffee,” said Kate. When everyone stared at her, she squeaked, “My doctor told me I could have one cup of decaf a day. What?”

The hostess rushed off to fetch their cocktail order and Carly asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, good,” said Kate, downplaying the roller coaster of her health that day. Changing the subject, she turned to Scott. “You know Dean Wentworth is considering throwing a winter event at the amusement park and he might need a band.”

Scott chuckled. “Please tell me you didn’t volunteer The Law.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters half the original members are gone or dead,” he explained grimly. “And second, we haven’t practiced in years.”

“I think you should consider it,” she said. “If Dean contacts you, then why not?”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order, and the evening unfolded with appetizers. Scott seemed relaxed and Kate had to admit that spending a little time with her lifelong friend helped get her mind off the daily stresses she had been navigating for quite some time. As they polished off the last bites of their dessert, Larry asked her, “How did it go with those cabinets?”

Scott shifted his eyes from Larry to her, asking, “What cabinets? I thought you were finished with that old Victorian house?”

“I am,” she said quickly, scrambling for what she could say without revealing she had set a small fire in their house. “The cabinets were for another job.”

“That sounds strenuous,” he commented with a frown.

“It wasn’t. I didn’t do any of the work.” Eager to shift the conversation away from her, she asked Carly, “You were at the Victorian the other day to drop off those bouquets, right?”

“I was,” she said easily. She seemed very relaxed after three glasses of wine and was leaning into Larry.

“According to Maxwell, you left right before he was attacked, inside of ten minutes. Did you happen to notice anything unusual inside the house or on the street?”

Scott objected, “Kate, can we please not do this.”

“I know you think Hazel did it, but—”

He leaned in and assured her, “I’m going to look into that card you showed me.”

“Well, have you spoken with Carly?”

Perhaps to ease the tension between them, Carly offered, “I really didn’t see anything or anyone.”

“What cars were on the street?” Kate asked quickly. “Did you notice?”

But Carly looked like she was at a loss, but not more so than Larry, who asked, “What’s this about? I thought Hazel Millhouse did it. Scott, is that not true?”

“There may have been a development worth looking into,” he said to appease his wife. “But we also have evidence to hold Hazel. Of course our highest priority is to press charges against the guilty culprit.”

Kate knew he was saying that for her benefit and not because he was actually open minded to anyone else having killed Mrs. Briar.

“You know I had a chat with Clara at Bean There,” said Carly, making a point to make eye contact with each of them, and Kate suddenly remembered her own conversation with the barista. “Clara mentioned to me that an ex-con was in the library. Gillian O’Reilly. Apparently, she slipped out before the police arrived. You might want to talk with her.”

Scott looked like he was annoyed but trying to hide it. It was so like him. He’d always been this way. He never appreciated outside help when he was working a case, and yet the fact of the matter was that he often didn’t crack cases or close them until someone like Kate dug up a new angle to explore.

“I think that’s a valid point,” said Kate, supporting her friend. Clara mentioned the same thing to me, though I’ll admit, I don’t see why Gillian would be behind this.”

“Thank you, both,” said Scott in a deep tone that Kate knew was meant to conclude the conversation.

But Kate wasn’t quite ready to put the matter to bed. “Have either of you seen an elderly man around town? A new face?”

Carly and Larry exchanged a glance, which to Kate seemed as though they were silently arriving at a decision to either open up or keep what they knew to themselves.

“We have actually,” said Carly after a long moment. “But we didn’t think anything of it.”

Kate elbowed Scott, as she said, “Tell us.”

“For about a week now, each night right before we went to bed, I’ve seen a man walking along the sidewalk. I usually see him when I’m getting myself a glass of water at the kitchen sink. Those streetlights along our block aren’t particularly bright, so I was never sure of the man’s age. But I did find it peculiar that he would be going for a walk so late at night.”

“And when it’s so cold out,” Larry added. “But again, we thought nothing of it. There’s no law against going for a walk.”

“But he doesn’t look like any of your neighbors?” asked Kate.

Carly shook her head. “I can’t say I ever got a really good look at him, though.”

The waitress brought the bill over and slipped it onto the table. Larry reached for it, but Scott’s hand covered it first and a gentlemanly argument ensued over who would pay.

As they worked it out, Carly and Kate made their way through the restaurant.

“If you see him, could you give me a call?” asked Kate.

“You mean tonight?”

“Do you mind?”

“And what are you going to do? Drive over at eleven o’clock?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

Carly stared at her like she had two heads, but eventually agreed and when Scott and Larry joined them, they hugged goodbye.

“Let me pull the truck up,” Scott told her and Larry echoed the sentiment to Carly.

As the men started off through the dark and snowy parking lot, Carly mentioned, “I hope they find the guy. I know as well as you do that Hazel couldn’t have possibly killed anyone.”

“What exactly did Clara tell you about Gillian?”

As they waited for their significant others to drive toward the entrance, Carly explained how she had gotten a cup of coffee a few days ago and Clara mentioned offhandedly that Gillian had snuck out.

The aspect that didn’t sit right with Kate was that she considered herself a highly aware person. She had been at the library that morning. She had glanced over at the communal table several times, and had noted that she didn’t personally know anyone there. She would’ve remembered Gillian at the very least. More likely, if Gillian had been in the library, Kate would’ve said hello, and failing that, Gillian certainly would’ve gotten Kate’s attention to say as much.

The first truck to pull up to the door was Scott’s so Kate gave her best friend another hug and pushed the door open, stepping out into the biting wind. Scott pushed the passenger’s side door open from the inside for her and once Kate got situated and buckled up, he began backing out.

After a few minutes of driving Kate realized the silence between them was tense.

“I’m sorry I brought up the investigation,” she said to smooth things over and then tacked on a joke. “I was like this back when we were dating so you can’t say you didn’t know.”

He didn’t find it very funny. “Look Kate, you know there are things I can’t always tell you when I’m investigating.”

“I know.”

He let out a long sigh. “We found the cord.” She stared at him to prod him. “I don’t want to compromise the investigation by cluing you in so I hope you can keep this between us, but we arrested Hazel Millhouse because we found the murder weapon, a nylon cord, ordinarily used for rock climbing, in her house.”

It was impossible to accept, though she had enough good sense not to question him. Why would Hazel Millhouse have rock-climbing equipment in her house? And even if she did, as an elderly woman, why would that be her prime choice of murder weapon. For Kate the answer was crystal clear. Hazel wouldn’t. But things weren’t as obvious to her husband.

Still, she began thinking out loud, “The thing that makes no sense is Maxwell. I don’t believe Hazel killed Mrs. Briar, but I can play devil’s advocate and accept the possibility that Hazel had a motive. Though, by those standards, I have just as much motive as she does because Mrs. Briar wasn’t very nice to me either—or half the people in this town. But how can you possibly believe Hazel would try to kill Maxwell?”

“Things don’t always add up,” he said as he steered the truck up their long and winding driveway. “That’s why cops rely on evidence. Motives can be murky but evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Unless it’s planted.”

“I told you what I know. I’m not going to get sucked into further debate.”

After parking as close as he could get the truck to the front door, Scott pulled the key from the ignition, and Kate said a silent prayer that their house wouldn’t smell like smoke.

Scott helped her out of the passenger’s seat and the effort it took Kate to walk to the front door reminded her how tired she felt. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she knew she would fall asleep. and she couldn’t wait. But after Scott unlocked the front door and they started through the foyer and into the living room, she sensed something was very wrong.

“It’s freezing in here,” said Scott, as he flipped on the living room light.

Kate gasped. The living room was trashed. It looked as though someone ransacked the area and when she glanced at the kitchen, she saw that it was in even worse disarray.

“We’ve been robbed,” said Scott, stampeding through the living room to get into the kitchen where there landline telephone hung on the wall. “The crook left all the windows open.”

No, thought Kate. Open windows were how the crook had gotten in.

But Kate had a dark feeling that it was no common crook that had done this.

Chapter Eight

It seemed as though the police might never leave the house. Kate and Scott were up almost until sunrise working with Detective Kilroy and the rest of the Rock Ridge police, going over a list of items that the robber had stolen, which centered mostly on Scott’s firearms. Kate hadn’t mentioned that in fact she had been the one to leave the windows open. And when Detective Kilroy smelled smoke in the air, she hadn’t owned up to the small kitchen fire she had accidentally set. Kilroy’s theory was that the robber had planned to burn the house down, but had to jump out the window when Scott and Kate were stepping inside the house.

She didn’t like how badly the waters had been muddied. It was obvious to her that Mrs. Briar’s killer had gotten into the house and done this, but because the actual crime was a robbery, neither Scott nor Detective Kilroy made the connection.

Kate woke with a ball of dread in her stomach. She rolled over. Scott’s side of the bed was cold. Last night he had been less disturbed by the fact that a stranger had been in their house, and more alarmed that three of his police-issued weapons were now on the streets. If they were used in crimes, to rob or to kill, he would never forgive himself. Kate didn’t have a clue as to how he would go about retrieving the guns, but she figured that Scott must have some idea because he was already out of the house to accomplish just that.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was half past eleven in the morning, so she bolted upright but felt immediately tired. She guessed she had gone to bed around six in the morning, so despite sleeping late she hadn’t really gotten a full eight hours.

After taking a quick shower and dressing slowly, she made her way into the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the wall. She punched in the number for Carnegie Real Estate and asked for Justina as soon as the receptionist picked up.

“Hey, it’s Kate. I wanted to touch base about the old Victorian.”

“Yes, Kate,” said Justine. “Maxwell already called me. The house is ready to be shown. Thank you so much. I have a check here at the office for you. Would you like me to mail it?”

She debated. Could she afford to wait a few days just to spare herself from driving into town? She decided mailing the check would be fine and after conveying that to Justina, she asked, “Do you have any other projects coming up?”

She heard Justina sigh into the receiver. “Things have really slowed down, but I’ll let you know as soon as I have something.”

Kate thanked her and returned the phone to the wall, staring at the coffee maker all the while. She didn’t feel exhausted, but she was tired and a strong cup of coffee would quickly shake off the cobwebs. But those days were long behind her.

She put on a kettle of water and stood at the burner until it was whistling. Being sure to kill the flame so there would be no further accidents, she filled a mug with boiling water, and then she dropped an herbal tea bag into it.

Just as she was about to sit at the kitchen table, the telephone rang.

“Hello?” She said, bobbing the tea bag in and out of her mug to steep it.

“Kate? It’s Amelia Langley. You didn’t answer your cellphone.”

“Oh, it’s probably in the bedroom. How can I help you?”

“The toilet in one of the rooms at the inn has been acting up...”

Kate was tempted to remind her that she wasn’t a plumber, but she didn’t want to turn down the work. “I can handle it.”

“Could you come now? I’ve booked the room and I’d like it fixed before the guests arrive.”

She assured her that she would, hung up the receiver and found her cell phone on the bedside table. She called Maxwell. “Can you meet me at Over the Moon?”

“Sure, now?”

“Yeah, and bring a toilet plunger.”

He groaned, knowing exactly what the job would entail.

After splashing a hearty amount of cream into her tea, she poured the contents of the mug into a thermos, bundled up in the foyer, and set out for her truck, hoping all the while that ice hadn’t built up on the windshield.

It had, of course, and it was ten minutes before she’d scrapped it clear enough to drive.

The Over the Moon inn looked quaint against a winter backdrop. Amelia Langley was quite the salesperson and had advertised huge discounts online to anyone who wanted to book a long weekend in Rock Ridge. Surprisingly, her business hadn’t dried up as badly as the rest of the shops in town, mainly because Amelia had milked the holiday season well into January.

But wasn’t that always the way? Amelia Langley had virtually no financial constraints since her husband, Lance, had a lucrative mustard company.

Kate made her way into the cozy lobby, where Gillian was tending to a room service call behind the front desk. A few moments passed as Gillian jotted down lunch specials, and then she set the phone in its cradle and smiled at Kate.

“Long time, no see,” she said.

“How’s business?”

“Surprisingly busy,” said Gillian, as she typed on her computer. Kate figured she was placing the food order with the kitchen, everything was online these days. “You’re here about the toilet?”

“That’s right.”

“Give me one second.”

As Kate waited for her to wrap up her task, she wondered about Holly Griffin. Had she found her grandfather yet? Was her intense need to find a job based solely on needing a roof over her head and supplies for a short period of time as she located him? Or was she planning on moving here? Had he killed his wife? And if so, why had he gone after Maxwell and then stolen Scott’s firearms?

Gillian rose to her feet and rounded the desk. “Right this way,” she said.

“Oh, my assistant should be here any minute.”

“I’ll send him up,” said Gillian. “Maxwell, right?”

The way she had asked it, her particular tone, reminded Kate of how she used to sound when she had spoken about Scott York after he’d first moved back to Rock Ridge.

“Do you know him?” asked Kate with a sly smile.

“I’ve seen him around.”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Kate took a few deep breaths, which Gillian didn’t notice. She was already climbing up them, and it wasn’t until she reached the landing that she realized Kate wasn’t right behind her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, starting back down. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’m fine. I just move a little slower these days.”

Taking the treads one at a time with several seconds of rest in-between, Kate made her way, and it felt like an eternity had passed before she reached the landing.

Then she remembered her tool kit and cursed. It was in the bed of her truck.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gillian.

“Hang on a sec,” she said, pulling her cell from her coat pocket. She composed a brief text message to Maxwell, asking him to grab her tool kit on his way in, and then she tucked her cell into the front pocket of her overalls after wrestling her coat zipper down.

Gillian led her into Room 7 where the toilet tank lid was resting on the bathroom floor. Kate said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you...”

“Yes?”

“You weren’t at the library a few mornings ago when Mrs. Briar was killed, were you?”

Gillian stared at her confusedly for a beat. “No. Why would you think that?”

“I didn’t. I was there myself and I would’ve seen you.”

Not grasping the implication, Gillian asked, “Then why were you wondering if I was there?”

“Someone mentioned to me that you were.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” she insisted, suddenly worried. “Do the police think I was? They haven’t talked to me. Oh, this is bad…”

She began pacing the room.

“If you weren’t there, then there’s nothing to worry about,” said Kate reassuringly, but it didn’t reach Gillian’s ears.

“But I’m not credible,” she argued. “The police don’t readily believe people who have gotten out of prison after doing hard time.” She turned on her heel and asked, “Who said I was at the library?”

This was how the worst kind of gossip was started, and Kate really didn’t want to fuel the fire worse than she already had. “I’ll deal with it,” she said. “And really, the police haven’t heard the false information. I would know. I married to the Police Chief, remember?”

It seemed to settle her nerves, but barely.

“Want to walk me through what’s wrong with the toilet?”

Distractedly, she mentioned, “It’s not flushing.”

Kate entered into the bathroom and peered into the tank. “Oh this shouldn’t be too tricky,” she said, noting that the metal chain had come unhinged from the lever.

“I’ll be downstairs if there’s anything you need,” said Gillian. “Just give the lobby phone a ring so you don’t have to go up and down the stairs.”

Kate thanked her and had a closer look at the toilet, but soon glanced over her shoulder when she heard approaching footfalls. Maxwell appeared in the doorway, the tool kit in his right hand and a plunger in his left.

“Good news,” said Kate with a smile. “It’s not clogged.”

“Oh, thank God,” he said, falling onto the bed.

“Just hand me a set of pliers and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

Her assistant was ready on the quick, and as Kate worked on reattaching the chain, she pondered why Clara would have fabricated the story of Gillian O’Reilly being at the library on the day Mrs. Briar was murdered. It wasn’t merely that Clara had fabricated it, Kate realized. She had been actively working on spreading the rumor since she had told Carly and Kate. Why would she do that?

The only thing Kate could figure was that all of Rock Ridge knew that Kate couldn’t resist a good mystery. Had that been the reason Clara told her the lie about Gillian? Had she also told Carly because she knew Carly was Kate’s best friend and would surely pass on the information, thus reinforcing the suspicion that Gillian had something to do with the murder?

But again, why would Clara do that?

Kate was so deep in thought that it wasn’t until she set the toilet lid on the tank and turned toward the bedroom that she realized Maxwell and Gillian were chatting and giggling in the hallway.

She dropped her pliers into her tool kit and strained to close it as it rested on the floor. She joined the pair in the hallway, her tool kit in hand. If she wasn’t mistaken, it looked like they were flirting.

“All set here,” she announced.

Gillian smiled at Maxwell, but she eventually turned her attention to Kate. “Come to the front desk and I’ll write you a check.”

As Gillian started for the stairs, Maxwell hung back and took the tool kit from Kate, who whispered, “Do I sense a love connection?”

“Shh,” he said, embarrassed. “No, nothing like that.”

Kate wasn’t buying it. “How about you put my tool kit in my truck, and then wait for Gillian to write that check. Stay and chat awhile. You can deposit the check when you meet me at Bean There. I need to eat.”

Maxwell was grinning ear to ear.

Kate thwacked his chest and said, “You better hope Dean goes through with his winter wonderland...it could be very romantic.”

“Winter wonderland?”

“He might throw a winter event at the amusement park to pull in a little income for the town.”

“From the town, you mean.”

“It will be a win-win, won’t it?”

Once outside, Kate climbed into her truck and got it idling as her assistant set her tool kit in the truck bed as she’d asked. He waved at her from under the portico as she backed out, and then disappeared inside.

Gradually, her truck warmed up as she drove toward the heart of Rock Ridge. Several times she used the sleeve of her coat to wipe condensation off the windshield; the frigid temperature had warmed up slightly. She sensed it might snow. It always warmed up a handful of degrees right before a storm.

As she turned onto Main Street, the coffee shop a solid four blocks away, Kate spotted a beat-up Saab parked in front of Harriet’s Hairdos. She squeezed the brakes, pulling up along the curb behind the vehicle, which she was certain belonged to Holly Griffin.

Climbing out, she glanced up and down the street, wondering if Holly had parked here as a matter of convenience or if she really was having her hair done. As she neared the storefront windows of the hair salon, she spied the many faces of the stylists and customers. Holly was seated in one of the chairs near the register, flipping through a magazine in such a way that told Kate she was probably waiting for her appointment.

Kate pulled the glass door open and stepped inside, offering the receptionist a quick nod to suggest she wasn’t here for an appointment. Holly didn’t notice her arrival until she sat in the chair next to her.

“Unless you had a change of heart...” said Holly annoyed.

“You’re Mrs. Briar’s granddaughter,” she stated. “That’s why you came to town.”

“So?”

“So, it doesn’t seem like you’re mourning her death at all.”

“And that’s your business, because...?”

Kate squared her shoulders at the difficult woman and quietly said, “Have you found your grandfather?”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth drifted open. “How do you know about my grandfather?”

“Welcome to Rock Ridge, where everyone knows everything about everyone else.”

Holly snorted a laugh.

“You think he wandered off to this town in search of Mrs. Briar,” she said as if to prompt Holly into opening up.

“Well, I found him so you can relax.”

“You did?”

Holly widened her eyes at Kate, but soon glanced down at the magazine in her lap.

“Where did you find him?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because you thought he was going to kill his wife, and the next thing to happen in this town was Mrs. Briar’s murder. Did he do it?”

“He has dementia and he’s back in his nursing home now.”

It didn’t even remotely answer Kate’s question.

“What did he used to do for a living?”

“What?”

“Humor me,” said Kate.

“You know what,” said Holly, slapping the magazine shut in her lap. “You didn’t humor me when I came to you for a job. So no, I’m not going to humor you.”

Kate studied her for a moment. “What if I had a lead on a job?”

She cocked her eyebrow skeptically.

“There are only two people in this town who haven’t suffered because of the weather.”

“I’m listening.”

“Amelia and Lance Langley,” she stated. “Amelia runs an inn called Over the Moon, and Lance has a factory and packing plant for his mustard brand.”

Holly seemed to process the information. “I haven’t spoken with them.”

“I doubt they’d turn you away...” When Kate saw a subtle smile form on Holly’s face, she again asked, “What did your grandfather do for a living?”

“One of those places better pan out for me,” she warned. “He was a professor at a community college.”

“A professor?”

“Art history.”

Nothing could’ve been further from a career in automotive repair. Regardless, Kate asked, “Did he have any hobbies like restoring cars?”

“What? No. He was a grumpy old professor who didn’t treat my grandmother very well thanks to his drinking problem, and then dementia set in. Restoring cars? Why would you think that?”

“No reason,” said Kate, getting to her feet. “Good luck with the Langley’s.”

As soon as Kate stepped out onto the snowy sidewalk, she felt like a short walk would do her good. Bean There was only three blocks away, and with all her health concerns she hadn’t been getting nearly enough light exercise.

She was sure to take slow, cautious steps, figuring there could be black ice beneath the compacted snow. The air felt crisp, but not frigid, and as she crossed block after block she felt her heart rate climb, though not too high. This was healthy, she thought, swinging her arms and breathing deeply. Nothing wrong with a sensible walk.

By the time she reached Bean There she expected to find Maxwell’s Volvo parked along the curb, but it was nowhere in sight, so she pulled the door open and stepped inside the coffee shop.

There wasn’t a single customer in the entire shop, and perhaps because of it, Kate didn’t see Clara or any of the baristas behind the counter.

“Hello?” she called out.

“Be right there!”

She recognized Clara’s voice and a moment later the woman stepped out from the back. “Here for your daily decaf?” she asked, seeming in a chipper mood.

“Lunch actually.” Though she loved her daily decafs, she had drunk a cup last night at dinner. She took her doctor’s ‘once a day’ order very seriously, which meant she really shouldn’t indulge until this evening. “Let’s see,” she said, eyeing the display sandwiches under the glass countertop. “Maybe a chicken Panini? Those look good.”

“You got it,” said Clara, who disappeared in the back to throw Kate’s sandwich on the hot press.

When she returned, Kate ordered a bottle of water and paid for both with cash.

“So,” she began, eyeing the barista as she made change in the cash register. “Carly mentioned the whole Gillian at the library thing to me.”

“Oh, did she also see Gillian there?”

“No, but you had mentioned it to her as well.”

“Right,” said Clara, looking suddenly apprehensive.

“But I spoke with Gillian and she wasn’t there that day.”

Clara attempted to laugh it off, but it landed badly. “I wouldn’t trust the word of a criminal.”

“She’s not a criminal anymore,” Kate pointed out, but the barista shot her a ‘don’t give me that’ look.

“Come on,” she said. “You don’t believe that. Hey look, I’m not saying she did it. I’m just saying she was there, and if the police don’t know that, then it amounts to lying. And lying to the police during an investigation...well, that looks guilty to me.”

The hot press dinged from the back and Clara rushed off.

From the corner of her eye, Kate saw a man approaching the entrance door and when she glanced over, thinking it was Maxwell, she found a tall man in his mid-thirties opening the door. He looked rugged in weathered jeans, a beat-up Carhartt jacket and work boots.

She didn’t want to stare, so she began perusing the cupcakes on display, and soon Clara returned with her Panini on a plate.

“Enjoy,” she said, handing Kate her lunch, but her eyes were locked on the man.

Kate grabbed her bottle of water off the counter and made her way through the coffee shop where she decided on a table next to the window. She sat facing Clara and her customer, who by the looks of it wasn’t only a customer.

Clara had stepped out from behind the counter and thrown her arms around the man. They were both smiling and speaking softly between kisses, holding each other.

Kate didn’t recognize the man, but that was no big surprise. Though business had slowed down greatly, the summer months had drawn all sorts of characters to Rock Ridge thanks to Dean’s amusement park. Over the years, people had fallen in love with this small town and ended up staying into the autumn months, and a few stragglers had even decided to stay permanently. She figured the man was one of those die-hards that hadn’t been able to bear going back to whatever state they called home.

After she’d eaten a few bites of her Panini, Maxwell barreled in from the cold and spotted her easily. He waved then stepped up to the counter to place his order.

Minutes later, the man had left the coffee shop, and Maxwell was approaching with a plate of chocolate cake.

“Don’t tell me that’s your lunch,” she said.

“I’m a kid at heart.” He slid into the seat opposite her and asked, “There’s a rock climbing club around here?”

Confused, she said, “No there isn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“What makes you ask?”

“That guy,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to where the man had been kissing Clara. “He was trying to get the barista to go rock climbing with him.” Maxwell shrugged. “Maybe there’s a climbing club a few towns over or something.”

Rock climbing?

Kate suddenly remembered the murder weapon. Scott had explained it was a black nylon cord that would’ve been used for rock climbing.

And the new man in Clara’s life enjoyed the hobby...

Chapter Nine

Kate stood next to Maxwell in the snow along with eight other amusement park employees, as they listened to Dean Wentworth excitedly explain the glory that would be the First Annual Rock Ridge Winter Wonderland Extravaganza, a name so long Kate had begged him to reconsider.

“The food vendors will set up over here,” he said, motioning to a row of tents at the wayside. “Imagine hotdogs and cotton candy...”

Leaning into her ear, Maxwell whispered, “And all the food items we always have at the park. Where is he going with this?”

“And the band will play over here,” Dean went on, gesturing toward a snowy expanse. “That’s what I need you all for, to build the bandstand. Kate? Want to take it from here?”

She sighed. She really didn’t want to take it from here, but Dean had hired her to oversee the construction of the bandstand for the winter event. She made her slow way toward Dean, and when she turned toward the employees, Maxwell gave her two, gloved thumbs up.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, speaking up so even those whispering to one another in the back would be able to hear. “We have all the materials right over there. The first order of business will be shoveling the snow. Shovels are in front of the stack of wood.” Again she pointed to the materials tent off to the wayside. “We need to clear an area approximately twenty by twenty feet. Maxwell Stone will set up the perimeter.” As soon as she said it, Maxwell sprung to action and grabbed a roll of pink tape from a table near the shovels. Another employee helped him by scooping a pile of stakes into her arms and they marched through the snow to get to it.

“Once we’ve cleared the snow, we’ll build the structure. Maxwell and I have drawn up blueprints, but you won’t need to worry about that. There’s a camper in the parking lot. If you get cold, don’t hesitate to warm up inside.”

Dean stepped in close and reminded her, “Don’t forget about the decorations.”

“Right,” she said, and then resumed shouting. “I’ll need a team of three to hang decorations, but that won’t be until the snow is shoveled off. Remember people, we only have six hours before sunset. That’s not a lot of time to pull this off.”

As the employees dispersed, grabbing shovels and lumbering over to the snowy area, Kate turned to Dean. “When I suggested a winter wonderland, I didn’t mean for you to throw one three days later. I don’t know if we have time, Dean.”

“You can do it,” he said excitedly. “I’m thinking if this goes well, we can hold the event once a week. Think of all the money we’ll pull in. I’m also thinking about putting in a skating rink.”

“A skating rink?”

“It takes money to make money,” he argued. “I need to make a few calls.”

Maxwell was finished lining the perimeter so he jogged over to Kate. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ll need to do a little work or else I’ll freeze to death.”

“You can’t shovel. It’s way too strenuous. People have heart attacks all the time from shoveling.”

“Fine, then I’ll get started on the decorations.”

“You can’t climb a ladder in your condition,” he argued.

“Fine, then I’ll start unloading the wood.”

“That’s too intense.”

“Fine, then I’ll...” she glanced around, but there weren’t that many jobs to do.

“Why don’t you make hot chocolate runs for us? It’s a short walk to the camper and back.”

“I’m a fix-it woman not a waitress.”

“Well, you could just stand here and oversee everyone’s work but then you’d get cold.”

She nearly groaned but held her tongue. “How did it go with Gillian?”

“What? We’re just friends.”

“Right,” she said teasingly. “But she’s coming tonight…”

“If Amelia will give her the hours off.”

Kate thwacked his shoulder and smiled as though of course Gillian would get the night off from the inn. In fact, she would be willing to bet good money that Holly Griffin had already demanded her way into a job at the inn and wouldn’t hesitate to cover Gillian’s shift.

As the hours ticked onward, gradually the snow was cleared and Kate began directing the employees in the construction of the bandstand. At times she made trips over to the camper, setting cups of hot chocolate in rows on a tray and carrying them back. As soon as the bandstand had been erected, she instructed a handful of workers to decorate it, while Maxwell led another team in hanging lights around the amusement park.

By the time the sun was lowering on the horizon at half past four, the park was ready for the winter wonderland celebration.

Dean stalked across the bandstand, his fists planted on his hips, as he inspected every inch of it. Kate climbed the stairs, joining him.

“How do you like it?”

“Look great,” he said, smiling and gazing out at the darkening landscape, the white twinkling lights throughout the park, and his employees who were nursing hot chocolate and deciding on where to go for dinner. “We’ll open the admission gate at eight.”

She nodded and walked off, pulling her cellphone from her pocket and scrolling through her contacts for Scott’s number.

He had taken the afternoon off to rehearse with his band, a brief respite from the complications from the murder investigation. Though it had taken days of heavy prodding, Kate had gotten him to look seriously at Holly Griffin’s letter to her grandmother, as well as revisit the possibility that the murder weapon had been planted in Hazel’s house.

Despite her efforts and his open mindedness, he hadn’t had enough to drop the charges against Hazel, though to Kate that decision seemed more political than rational. Unfortunately, all of Rock Ridge felt safer with someone behind bars, even if that someone wasn’t the real killer. It was by that logic that Scott hadn’t set the elderly woman free.

Kate had also pressed the possibility that Clara had lied and perhaps for a reason, but after Scott had spoken with her briefly at the coffee shop, he reported back to his wife that there was nothing further to investigate in that regard.

Placing her cell to her ear, she listened to it ring a few times before the line opened up.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said. “How’s it going over there?”

He sounded out of breath, saying, “Great! Can you remind me when our sound check will be?”

Sound check?

She made her way over to Dean who was marveling at the giant bandstand sign. “Dean, when should The Law get here for their sound check?”

“Ah, my electrician should be here in an hour to wire the speakers, so any time after that,” he explained. “It depends on how much time they need to warm up.”

Kate relayed as much to Scott, and then she asked him what he felt like doing for dinner.

“I’m not sure we’re going to get a dinner,” he told her with an edge of remorse in his tone. “We need to practice. Kilroy keeps botching his bass lines...”

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll see you here whenever you show up.”

With a few hours to spare, she found Maxwell amongst the employees and waddled her way over. But just as she was about to get his attention, his gaze locked on the parking lot. When Kate glanced over, she saw Gillian coming over and soon Maxwell jogged off to meet her.

“Looks like I’ll be dining alone,” she muttered, starting through the snow toward her truck.

As she popped the driver-side door open, she noticed a few flurries fluttering down and looked up at the night sky. It would snow tonight, which might be pretty, unless it turned into an all-out blizzard.

She could use a sugary snack, she thought, hoisting herself behind the steering wheel.

“Kate!”

Glancing over, she saw Dean’s wife, Jessica, crossing through the parking lot. Jessica’s son, Bradley was trailing after her, looking at the sky, his palm held up as if it would give him insight in terms of the weather to come.

“Hi Jessica,” she said, sliding her boots to the snow.

“Look at how big you are,” she exclaimed and gave Kate a hug as soon as she’d reached her.

“I’m not that big,” she grumbled. “I’ve got another eight weeks until I’m due.”

Bradley shot her a forced smile. Jessica frowned at her son then quickly mentioned to Kate, “Bradley had plans at that new rock climbing facility over in Scranton.”

“Scranton?” asked Kate. “That’s a ways off.”

“And totally worth it,” said Bradley. “Indoor rock climbing is all the rage.”

“And Scranton’s the closest one you could find?” asked Kate.

“It’s not that far,” he argued.

“In this weather,” said Jessica, annoyed, “it’s a suicide mission just getting there and you know it. Besides, Dean has worked really hard on this winter event.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jessica huffed out a long sigh and smiled at Kate. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Definitely,” she said, but when Jessica started off toward the bandstand, she quickly asked Bradley, “Tell me about this rock climbing place.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Actually, I’m wondering if you know of any other Rock Ridge residents who like to go there.”

“A few,” he said. “Sometimes we carpool, you know, to save on gas.”

“Who do you carpool with?”

“Um...” he glanced down at her round belly. “You’re thinking about getting into the sport?”

“Hardly, Bradley, just answer the question.”

“I go with Samantha sometimes. She works with Bobbie Hamden over in the permits department.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah, but I mostly rock climb with Samantha.”

By the sound of his tone, Kate could tell he had a crush on Samantha, but it wasn’t at all what she was interested in hearing about. “Who besides Samantha?”

“Harold Fink,” he said. “But we don’t have as much in common.”

“Who’s Harold Fink?” She neared him, and then realized she was being too insistent, so she took a step back.

“Technically, Harry doesn’t live in Rock Ridge, but he’s been seeing Clara from Bean There, so it seems like he’s in town all the time.”

“Does Harold bring his own gear?” she asked eagerly.

“We all do—”

“Do you know what he does for a living?”

“Uh...you could ask him yourself.”

“I’m asking you,” she blurted out. It took all the patience she had not to grab him by the shoulders and shake the answer out of him.

“I haven’t bothered to learn that much about him, and if I’m being honest with you, I stopped carpooling with him for a reason. He guy stinks.”

“What does he smell like?”

“Car oil and gasoline. It’s too cold this time of year to drive with the windows down. The last time I drove with him, I was dizzy by the time we reached Scranton.”

“I need you to tell me everything you know about Harold Fink.”

Chapter Ten

The snow was coming down in big, fluffy flakes as residents lined up at the admissions gate, payed for their tickets and raced off toward the food vendors.

By the looks of it, Dean would make a pretty penny, but Kate wasn’t convinced that hosting an event of this magnitude once a week would be profitable. She kept her opinion to herself however as she stood beside the mayor and watched Scott and his band, The Law, tune their instruments on stage.

“This was a great idea,” he told her before wrapping his arm around Jessica to help warm her up.

A gust of wind blew sideways through the park kicking up snow, and a bunch of people yelped in response.

“It’s really coming down,” Kate remarked, eyeing the sky and then glancing at the food vendors. There were at least twelve things she felt like eating.

Scott smiled at her from the stage, as his bandmates set their instruments in stands and made their way to the stairs.

As soon as he had joined them, Kate walked toward him through the snow, which had accumulated to nearly six inches.

“Feel like a snack?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

They started for the food area, but Scott kept peeking over his shoulder at the instruments on stage.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s really cold out. I don’t want our gear to get damaged.”

When they neared the end of a line for pizza, Kate felt an incredible urge to tell him everything she had learned from Bradley about Harold Fink.

“I’m going to eat light,” he said, “so I don’t get a cramp singing.”

She had no idea that was a thing. “Do you not want pizza?”

“No, I’ll have a slice. Just one slice,” he smiled. “Thanks for making me do this.”

She thwacked his shoulder, saying, “I didn’t make you.”

“You twisted my arm.”

“I did not, and you're welcome.” They inched up with the moving line. “Any luck with finding your firearms?”

She shouldn’t have asked him. His good mood plummeted and his smile fell into a frown. “Not a single lead. Whoever was in our house didn’t leave any clues behind, not a fingerprint, not a follicle of hair.”

The line was moving quickly and soon Kate stepped up to the counter and ordered four slices of cheese pizza.

“I only want one slice, remember?” he asked.

Sheepishly, she said, “I’m eating for two...”

“You’re going to eat three slices?”

“It’s not unheard of,” she groused, as they stepped aside for the next customer.

As they waited for their pizza, she asked, “Have you heard of Harold Fink?”

“No, who’s that?”

“He’s a rock climber,” she explained, but Scott didn’t immediately understand the connection, which to Kate had seemed glaring. “He would’ve had nylon cords just like the murder weapon.” Her husband didn’t seem enthralled by her discovery, so she added, “He smells like car oil, just like Maxwell explained.”

“He what?”

“Maxwell didn’t tell you that his attacker smelled like he worked on cars for a living?”

“No, but just because this Harold Fink character does, doesn’t mean he’s a killer.”

“It means he’s worth looking into,” she insisted.

One of the employees behind the counter set their pizza slices near the condiments and Kate began sprinkling a mountain of parmesan cheese on hers, while her husband hung back and stared. When she finally stepped aside, holding her plates, he remarked, “Are you sure you don’t want more cheese?”

“Oh, you be quiet,” she smiled. She wanted to insist to her husband that he ought to interview Harold. Maybe a mere conversation could intimidate the guy into coming out with the truth.

But just as she was about to argue as much, Scott told her, “I have a special song prepared.”

“For tonight?”

“Yeah, what do you think? Of course for tonight.” He led her to one of the picnic tables and brushed snow off the seat for her. As she sat, biting into one of her slices, he added, “I wrote it for you.”

“You did?” she said, her mouth full of pizza. “That’s so sweet.”

“I hope you like it.” He shrugged and broke off a chunk of crust from his slice. “I’ve never written a song before.”

As he went on to explain the types of songs he liked best and how he drew from their composition in order to compose her song, Kate spied Clara entering the amusement park with Harold Fink. They were arm-in-arm and after surveying the crowd, they wandered toward the bandstand.

She had a gut feeling about this. Something told her that Harold was behind the murder as well as the attempt on Maxwell’s life and the break-in at her house, but she couldn’t for the life of her fathom why.

According to Bradley, Harold Fink came to town a few months ago and was heavily focused on Clara, courting her and spending as much time as possible at Bean There. He wanted to get out of his line of work as an automotive mechanic and had suggested he take over the baking at Bean There, essentially replacing Cookie Halpert who had been killed a number of years back. How Harold had known about Cookie piqued Kate’s interest, but the fact of the matter was that the string of murders back then had been heavily publicized. Harold had gone to the library several times to check out books on both cooking and business management, and though Bradley hadn’t mentioned any stories about Mrs. Briar giving him a hard time, it wasn’t difficult for Kate to imagine that she had.

It was nagging at Kate, however, that the attack on Maxwell had greatly muddied the waters. Bradley hadn’t mentioned that Harold knew Maxwell at all. And the crimes just didn’t add up. If they did, Kate would’ve been insistent with Scott that he should look into things immediately. But as it stood, she was too far from the truth to demand anything.

How were Mrs. Briar and Maxwell connected? That was the real clincher. Who would need to kill both of them? And why? And why would that person then trespass into the police chief’s home and steal guns?

Looking back at all the murders she had solved over the years, Kate couldn’t deny that the current one was the most convoluted. It just didn’t add up.

Dean’s voice boomed over the PA speakers, alerting the crowd that the band would begin in five minutes. Scott shoved the last bit of pizza crust into his mouth and began collecting their paper plates. As he threw them in a trash bin, Kate hoisted herself up from the picnic table.

“Can I say break a leg?” she asked him, as they walked hand in hand toward the bandstand.

“Knock ‘em dead?” he suggested.

After giving him a kiss at the bandstand stairs, she told him to knock ‘em dead and then found Maxwell and Gillian at the front of the crowd.

“So you got the night off?” Kate asked her, as Dean began his opening remarks from the stage.

“Yes,” said Gillian quietly. “Amelia hired this new girl, thank God. I’ve been pulling doubles since Thanksgiving. It was long overdue.”

Kate smiled at Maxwell who looked both elated and nervous enough to puke, and then turned her attention to Dean. Behind him the band was picking up their instruments and getting ready to start their first set.

She couldn’t take her eyes off Scott. As he glided his guitar strap over his shoulder, a time warp enveloped Kate. He looked just like he had in high school when he used to play with his band. They had been dating at the time, and who would’ve thought that one rocky marriage later, Kate would end up marrying her high school sweetheart. She had never been happier and as soon as the baby arrived, she knew her life would be even better.

Dean shouted, “Rock Ridge, give a warm welcome to The Law!” and backed away from the standing microphone, clapping and giving Scott room. The crowd broke out into excited applause.

Scott leaned into the mic and said, “This first song is dedicated to the love of my life. You might know her as Mrs. Fix It, but to me she’ll always be Mrs. York.”

Laughter erupted and when Scott strummed the first chord, everyone fell silent.

As The Law began playing an upbeat song that made Kate blush, Maxwell turned abruptly to Gillian and whispered something that Kate assumed was a sweet nothing until he began weaving his way to the edge of the crowd.

Kate returned her gaze to Scott, but couldn’t ignore the bad feeling rising in her chest. She glanced over in the direction Maxwell had taken and found him starting through the snowy darkness, nearing the edge of the forest.

“Where did he go?” she asked Gillian, who only shrugged and resumed bobbing to the song.

“I love you, Kate!” Scott shouted from the stage before the chorus of the song picked up again.

She smiled and waved, but when he launched into the catchy tune, she began shuffling through the crowd after Maxwell.

As she neared the forest, she scanned the darkness.

Soon she locked her gaze on his silhouette through the trees, but he wasn’t alone. It took her a moment to realize a woman was facing him. They looked as if they were arguing, and then the woman whipped a gun from her coat pocket.

Scott’s gun?

Was that Clara?

Keeping in shadow, Kate neared a tree trunk and peered out at them, but she wasn’t close enough. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Shuffling to the next tree, snow kicked up into her boots and she realized that without a crowd of people all around her, it was downright freezing. She peered out again and was able to overhear pieces of their strained argument.

Clara said, “I’ve got nothing against you, kid.”

“You’ve got nothing against me, but you tried to kill me?”

“That wasn’t me and you know it,” she insisted.

“But you're helping him. You’re an accomplice,” he argued, his voice cracking with fear. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I love him,” she said easily. “He reminds me of someone I used to love very much.”

Kate knew exactly whom Clara was referring to. Clifford Green had been the local bad boy some years back and Clara had engaged in a secret affair with him. Ultimately, Clifford was murdered, a tragedy that wasn’t entirely surprising given his rough lifestyle. Why was Clara attracted to these types?

“That guy from the coffee shop?” Maxwell demanded. “That’s who you’re doing this for?”

“I’m not doing anything,” she countered.

“Just holding me at gun point,” he snapped. “Why does he want me dead? Why did he try to strangle me to death?”

Clara pressed her mouth into a hard line and then said, “If he wants to clue you in, he will. It’s not for me to say.”

“I’ve never done anything. No one has a reason to kill me.”

“Oh, come on now, Maxwell. If that was true you wouldn’t have agreed to meet me in the woods like we are.”

“Just because Mrs. Briar liked me, just because I was probably the only person in town she actually enjoyed being around, doesn’t mean I deserve to die.”

Clara snorted a laugh. “All you had to do was get her out of her house. That’s all. And you wouldn’t.”

“That was you?”

“No,” she corrected and again insisted she was only helping.

“I didn’t even pay attention to that note, and it was months ago,” he said, thinking out loud. “Your boyfriend wanted me to get Mrs. Briar out of her house, why?”

“For her gun collection.”

“Why?”

“Harold wanted guns, but as you can see, he managed to get his hands on others.”

“Why not just buy guns?”

Clara glared at him and Kate sensed she was about to reveal something, but before she understood what was happening, she felt the hard barrel of a gun digging into her back.

The man behind her said, “You should’ve stayed at the party.”

Chapter Eleven

“You did this for guns?” Kate demanded. “You killed Mrs. Briar for some gun collection?”

Harold threw her down into the snow and Maxwell immediately rushed to help her up. Kate’s heart was pounding. Adrenaline surged through her veins.

As her assistant lifted her to her feet, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you mention you were close with Mrs. Briar?”

“Because every time I did people looked at me like I had two heads.”

Harold aimed his gun at Kate’s head. “Shut up.”

But she wouldn’t. “You threatened him with a note?”

“Thanks for making it so easy for me to get what I wanted,” he said smugly.

“What do you even need guns for?”

“That’s my concern. Not yours.”

“And you couldn’t simply buy them?” she pressed.

“Shut up!” he yelled, cocking the gun fast with his thumb. “It’s a new business venture.”

“Laundering weapons?” she guessed, staring at him in disbelief before glancing at Clara. “Your life is over, Clara. Do you get that? You’re going to go away to prison for a very long time for this.”

“No, actually,” she said. “My life isn’t over. Yours is.”

Would she really do it? Pull the trigger? Could she? How long had Kate known Clara? How many times had she stopped in Bean There, asked about the barista’s day and shared with her about her own life?

Would she really risk the sound of a gunshot with thousands of people standing not fifty yards from where they were? Did she love Harold so much that she’d take Kate’s life?

Kate didn’t think so.

Without hesitation, she bolted, sprinting as fast as she could, Maxwell calling after her. It wasn’t until the forest got darker and darker that she realized she was running deeper into the woods and not away from it.

She leapt over snowdrifts and ducked under branches in a chaotic dash for safety, vaguely aware that she hadn’t heard gunfire, though the sound of boots stomping through the snow wasn’t too far off.

Suddenly, she felt out of breath. She had no choice but to ease her pace to a jog. Looking over her shoulder in hopes of seeing how close Harold was, all she saw were the shapes and shadows of the woods. She stopped and braced against a tree trunk with both hands, catching her breath and scanning the forest.

Without warning, her entire belly tightened and a terrible stabbing pain hit her. She keeled over, willing herself not to scream, and began sucking air quickly through her teeth as if oxygen would ease the pain.

After a moment, it subsided and her ability to think returned. If she could jog in a wide arch, she could make it back to the amusement park and get Scott or Detective Kilroy or any number of police officers in attendance.

Digging deep and promising herself that this would soon be over, she drew in a lung full of wintery air, snow falling all around her, and began jogging.

But she didn’t get farther than five steps before the stabbing pain returned and this time when she keeled over, she let out an agonizing cry.

“You can run, but you can’t hide,” yelled Harold from the shadows and it was just the motivation she needed to start off running.

Or so she thought...

She took one heavy step after the next, holding her stomach and praying that the baby would be okay. She nearly lost her balance, and she fell sideways against a tree trunk to catch her breath.

She took another step and then another, fighting the pain and reminding herself that getting back to the crowd would be the only way to save her baby. If Harold caught up with her, if he got a clear line of sight and shot, then both her and her unborn child would be dead.

She kept moving, one foot in front of the other, but all of a sudden she felt hands grasp her shoulders and she fell forward into the snow, screaming out, “Help!” on her way down.

Kicking and clawing at the snow and yelling, she fought, but he was too strong. He flipped her over, pinning her, his cold hands clamping around her throat.

“Don’t do this,” she said softly. There was no air.

“I have to,” he said. “It’s what I do.”

As Kate’s world went dark, she heard a gunshot in the distance and Maxwell sprung to the forefront of her mind.

Chapter Twelve

The sound of a blaring siren brought her back into consciousness. As Kate’s eyes popped open, an incredible pain tightened around her stomach that she was all too familiar with.

Contractions.

Her eyes darted around and she realized she was in the back of an ambulance. Two medics were sticking needles in each of her arms, as the ambulance bounced with the snowy terrain.

Scott grabbed her hand, but one of the medics urged him back.

“Kate! You’re okay!”

“Where am I?” she asked, even though she knew. “Why am I in an ambulance?”

“Ma’am,” barked one of the medics. “You can’t sit up. Lie back.”

She did, so Scott stood over her so that she wouldn’t have to strain to see him.

Before she could ask another question, the band around her stomach tightened again, this time the pain was so great that she screamed, curling into a ball and vaguely aware that the medics were remarking to one another how much time they had.

“No,” she told them when the pain eased off. “I’m not due for another two months.”

“We can’t fight nature,” one of the medics told her. “And the baby wants to come now.”

Kate locked eyes with Scott, who looked just as terrified as she felt. “Is my baby okay?”

“We don’t have the equipment here to answer that, but we’ll be at the hospital soon.”

Scott demanded, “Can’t you drive any faster!”

The driver called over his shoulder, “The roads are a mess, Sir!”

“Maxwell!” She blurted out, bolting upright, but they only forced her onto her back again. “Where is he? Is he all right? I heard a gunshot.”

Scott squeezed her hand and explained, “He saved you.”

“What? What do you mean? What does that mean? Is he okay?”

But he wouldn’t answer her except to say, “Maxwell provoked Clara into firing her weapon and if he hadn’t done that, no one would’ve known you two were out there. We came running. We arrested Harold Fink and Clara. It’s all over. You need to rest now.”

Kate felt tears streaming down her face, as the ambulance swung a left hand turn and came to a stop moments later.

“We’re here,” said one of the medics, who crouch-walked to the back of the ambulance, opened the doors, and jumped out, while the other rolled the gurney Kate was on.

It wasn’t until they had expanded the gurney wheels and began pushing her toward the emergency room entrance that Scott jumped out of the ambulance and jogged after them.

“Scott!” She called out, as another contraction hit her. “Where’s my doctor?”

“She’ll be here soon,” said a medic, who let go of the gurney, while a number of nurses swarmed around her.

The next thing she knew she was shrieking in pain inside of the delivery room. “Can’t you give me something?” she demanded. “Something to stop the baby from coming?”

“You’re too far along,” said a nurse before setting an oxygen mask over Kate’s nose and mouth.

She felt immediately relaxed as the air flowed up her nose so she slapped it away. She didn’t want to be knocked out for the birth of her baby.

What would this even mean? She couldn’t have her baby eight weeks early. It would be detrimental to the health of both of them.

Dr. Willard rushed into the room and began instructing Kate on what she needed to do and Kate refused until Scott barreled through the doors and took hold of her hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “You can do this.”

“But it’s too soon,” she breathed, as another contraction hit her.

An hour later, Kate had given birth to a premature baby girl. After cleaning the baby up and swaddling her in a pink blanket, the nurse allowed Kate to hold her.

“Just a minute,” she warned. “Then we’ll need to get her to NICU right away.”

Kate smiled down at her tiny daughter as Scott leaned over them, smiling as well.

Maxwell was right, she thought, remembering the silly betting pool he almost started. She had given birth to a girl and her baby had come far too soon.

As the nurse stepped out of the room, swinging the door wide open, Kate caught sight of Maxwell standing in the hallway.

He was alive.

And all would be right in the world.

BODY ON THE BALCONY

Chapter One

Kate Flaherty stilled from walking down Main Street to adjust the shoulder straps of her baby carrier as her daughter, Josephine, giggled. Kate and her husband, Scott, had sprung for a heavy-duty carrier, but it had its drawbacks. Namely, the thick, nylon straps that dug into her shoulders and the fact that the carrier felt like it weighed at least ten times as much as her baby.

All of Rock Ridge was in bloom, though it seemed the snow was refusing to melt. Tulips were springing up through snow in the planters that lined the sidewalk. And the air smelled warm and fragrant.

After tightening the straps to minimize chaffing through her gray t-shirt, Kate picked up her tool kit and continued down the block toward Bean There, her favorite coffee shop.

It had been three months since Clara—the barista and owner of Bean There—was arrested in connection with the murder of Mrs. Briar, one of the Rock Ridge librarians. Clara had also been charged with the attempted murder of Kate’s assistant, Maxwell Stone. But the coffee shop owner hadn’t been the primary assailant. Her boyfriend, Harold Fink, had been the one to commit the crimes in a convoluted attempt to illegally garner firearms. What he’d been planning on using the weapons for was still murky in Kate’s mind, though she told herself that by stopping Harold and Clara, she had prevented even worse crimes from unfolding.

To Kate, it felt like only yesterday and whenever she headed along Main Street for her morning walk with Josephine, she partially expected to see Clara behind the coffee shop counter.

As Kate approached the glass door, she noted Molly Parker placing a muffin into a pastry bag for her customer. Though they had drifted apart over the years, Molly and Clara had been friends since childhood. To pay her defense attorney’s fees, Clara had sold Bean There to the plump, blonde woman.

Juggling her toolkit, Kate pulled the entrance door open and made her way to the back of the line, which didn’t at all go unnoticed.

She had always been one to keep to herself beyond the necessary, brief greetings, but now that she had an adorable baby girl, it seemed everyone wanted to stop her to tickle her daughter’s feet, make funny faces, or just plain marvel that her once-preemie baby was looking healthier and happier than ever.

“How many months now?” asked one of the customers, a middle-aged woman whom Kate had seen around town more and more now that the weather had finally turned warmer.

For possibly the millionth time, Kate said, “Three.”

“You should dress her in pink,” said another customer, who looked like a disgruntled mailman in plain clothes. “She doesn’t have enough hair for anyone to tell she’s a girl.”

Kate glared at him.

Josephine was an alert and precocious baby, and for the last three weeks she’d been very vocal about her clothes. Though pre-lingual, whenever Kate held her on her hip and rifled through her dresser, Josephine would reach for the yellow garments, cooing and gurgling loudly. And Kate hadn’t seen the point in denying her daughter’s preference.

The nosy man inched up in the line, which afforded Kate the opportunity to ignore his old-fashioned suggestion.

Angling to see over the man’s shoulder, she scanned the pastries on display. She had been fighting a sweet tooth ever since she was a few months pregnant, but once Josephine had arrived and she’d felt well enough, Kate had been working a number of walks into her day to burn off the pregnancy weight she’d gained. Thanks to her efforts, she was able to fit into her old overalls.

Behind the counter, Molly asked, “How’s the little one this morning?”

“Josie is doing just great,” she said. “She can cry her head off all night and have plenty of energy the next day. I, on the other hand...” Kate rubbed her eyes and contemplated ordering a coffee. “I’ll have a yogurt muffin,” she said, figuring she could get away with a healthier version. In fact, she had just breast-fed Josephine so technically she could drink coffee and then pump and dump, but she was skeptical about how long the caffeine really would stay in her system. According to her doctor, she really shouldn’t have any caffeine until her daughter reached six months. “And a decaf,” she added. “Small please.”

“You got it,” said Molly, tossing her wavy blond hair over her shoulder.

Kate swayed ever so slightly as she waited for Molly to grab her muffin and pour the decaf. Josephine had quite the personality, and it hadn’t taken long for Kate to understand what her daughter liked and what would make her fussy. For some reason, Josie liked being on the move and whenever Kate held still for too long, she began whining.

“Here you are,” said Molly, and Kate handed her cash.

After the barista made change, Kate dropped the coins in the tip jar and stepped aside for the next customer as she shoved the bills into her pocket.

Decaf didn’t even remotely have as much flavor as fully-caffeinated coffee so when Kate reached the condiment station, she set down her tool kit and splashed a generous amount of half and half into the to-go cup.

Josephine cooed loudly on her back, prompting Kate to bounce a little before taking a sip of her coffee. Just as she was reaching for her tool kit, her cell began vibrating in the front pocket of her overalls.

She took a quick glance at the screen and saw Amelia Langley’s name and number flashing. She swiped the LCD and said, “Good morning.”

“Kate? It’s Amelia.”

“I know. You’re number has been in my cell for years, Amelia. What’s up?”

The woman let out a breathy laugh. “I have a project for you.”

Kate sank into her hip, clamping her cell between her ear and shoulder, and guzzled down her coffee, as she listened.

“Things have been going great at the inn, and I was thinking that since the landscape behind Over the Moon is so beautiful, it might be nice to have a balcony on the second floor.”

Nearly choking on her coffee, Kate said, “You want to build a balcony?”

“No, I want you to build a balcony,” she corrected.

Kate widened her eyes and frowned. “Amelia, I’m barely working. I have a three-month-old daughter.”

“So hire a sitter.”

As the old expression goes, parents usually loosened their parenting grip after their first child, but with Kate the opposite was true. She had no interest in handing her child off to a babysitter, much less spending hours apart, which was why Kate had only taken on short and simple fix-it jobs in the past few months: a drawer here, a doorknob there, the occasional leaky faucet. Building an entire balcony would be a major undertaking, one she had no interest in diving into unless she could work with her daughter strapped to her back.

“I don’t know,” she said, debating. “I’m trying to take it easy and only work a few hours a day. A balcony would be at least a month of ten-hour days.”

“Don’t you have an assistant? What’s his name?”

“Maxwell?” she supplied. “I do, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to hire a team of contractors.”

“Why don’t you hire a team of contractors?” she suggested. “You can oversee the project and wouldn’t have to do the actual manual labor.”

Another customer needed to use the condiment station, so Kate grabbed her coffee from the counter, clamped her cell between her ear and shoulder again, and grabbed her tool kit.

The innkeeper's suggestion wasn’t a bad one, she thought as she made her way outside. The warm sun felt good on her face and arms.

“Tell you what,” said Kate. “Let me swing by and take a look at the second floor. I’ll look it over and give you my opinion on whether knocking out a wall to build a balcony would even be structurally sound.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “And will you bring the little darling?”

“Always,” said Kate, after which she thought to herself, that’s the problem, it won’t be easy wielding a hammer with an infant on my back. “See you soon.”

She had intentionally parked six blocks away, which was her strategy in terms of peppering light exercise into her day. Generally, she made between one and three house calls a day, fixing minor issues at her customers’ homes or businesses, which meant that in her estimation, she walked a full hour each day. Once a week, while Josephine napped, she popped in a yoga DVD and stretched in the living room. And each weekend Scott and she went for a jog down their rural street, pushing Josephine in a stroller all the while. If she kept this up, not only would she lose all of the pregnancy weight she had gained, she was certain she’d get down to her college size. And Scott wasn’t looking half bad either.

As she made her way down block after block, she looked up at the blue sky, the white popcorn clouds overhead, and the green grass that was pushing up through the snow in the planters. In a matter of weeks it would be quite warm, and then the long summer would be bearing down on her. So she relished the mild temperature and hoped the spring wouldn’t fly by too fast.

When she reached her truck, she unlocked the passenger-side door. There wasn’t much space behind the seat, but Scott had managed to fit a baby car seat inside. She wriggled the carrier down her shoulders, which Josephine seemed to like. Her daughter giggled and trilled noisily as Kate lifted her from the carrier and set her into the car seat.

Kate wasn’t a fan of baby talk so she spoke in an adult tone as she strapped Josie in. “We’re going to take a little ride across town. Let me know if it gets too windy back here.”

After kissing her daughter’s forehead and gazing down at her big brown eyes, the wispy tuft of strawberry-blonde hair on the crown of her head, and expressive mouth, which was puckered into the shape of a heart, Kate carefully shut the door, rounded the hood of her truck, and slid in behind the wheel.

She rolled the windows down as soon as her truck was idling and threw it into gear, easing cautiously into traffic that was flowing down Main Street at a steady pace.

As she drove through town toward Over the Moon, Kate wondered how Scott was doing.

Almost three weeks ago, Bobbie Hamden—a brassy woman who worked at the Permits Department with whom Kate had worked several times when she’d needed to build an addition on a customer’s house—had been found murdered in her own home. Though Detective Kilroy was the lead investigator, Scott had been overseeing the case because all of Rock Ridge had grown concerned. The police department had a decent track record of bringing charges against guilty persons in a timely manner. But whoever had killed Bobbie had covered their tracks and covered them well. As far as Kate could tell, this might be one case that would go unsolved.

It didn’t bode well, not for Scott, not for the residents, and certainly not for Kate, who would prefer to see her husband more and the Tribune reporters less. Rock Ridge had become a virtual hotbed of national news, each murder upping the town’s footprint in the public eye. Sooner or later, Kate’s beloved town would be considered the murder capital of the country, and the stigma wouldn’t be the worst of it. Property values had been dropping. Businesses had suffered. And tourists no longer wanted to venture to Rock Ridge for long weekends at the amusement park, because they were too afraid they’d wind up dead and a national headline.

Despite this, Amelia Langley’s inn hadn’t suffered in the least; quite the opposite, in fact, since the clever innkeeper had initiated her “murder tour” much to the town’s horror. Amelia had bought a tour bus, one where customers could sit on its open top and take pictures of all the locations around town where someone had been brutally murdered.

It made Kate’s stomach churn just thinking about it, but she had to hand it to the woman. Amelia knew how to profit from just about any tragedy.

Josephine laughed uproariously from the backseat, clapping her hands to catch the wind.

“Not too windy?” Kate asked over her shoulder, not that she could see her daughter. Josie’s car seat faced the back of the vehicle in order to best protect her in case of an accident.

It was almost too windy for Kate. She had let her red hair grow out over the months, figuring her hard-earned money would be better spent on diapers than a fancy trim. Her hair was just past her shoulders, but she wouldn’t get away with it for much longer. Not only was it starting to look straggly, but also Josephine often clamped her little fists around it and a tug-of-war was required to free the locks.

Kate drove her truck to a stop near the inn’s entrance and killed the engine. She groaned at the thought of pulling the baby carrier over her shoulders again. Grabbing a tube of lotion from the glove compartment, she reminded herself it would only be a matter of time before she’d broken the nylon in.

After rubbing lotion on her shoulders, Kate climbed out of her truck, grasped the carrier from where it had been resting in the passenger’s seat, and began the slow and tedious task of wrangling her daughter’s pudgy legs through the holes before strapping it on her back.

Josie had been born eight weeks early. Though the labor didn’t last long—it had been induced when Harold Fink had attacked her in the snowy woods last winter—Josie’s recovery had.

She had spent almost five weeks in an incubator in the neonatal intensive care unit. Kate hadn’t left the hospital, but held her daughter’s hand through a hole in the Plexiglas, reading children’s stories out loud and promising to never let her out of her sight so long as Josie made it out of the hospital.

She had. In the few months that Kate had nurtured her, she had gained four pounds and six inches, and because of it Kate had nicknamed her Fudgy-Pudgy, for both her cute, plump weight and the alarming rate at which she went through diapers, though that was an inside joke between Kate and her husband.

Deciding that she wouldn’t need her entire tool kit, she slipped a tape measure into her pocket and grabbed her estimate pad, and then she locked up her truck and started for the inn.

The lobby was cool thanks to the air-conditioning unit that was whirring in the window. Gillian O’Reilly was seated at the front desk, flipping pages in a magazine, but glanced up as Kate neared her.

“Is that little Josephine?” she asked in a high-pitched tone meant to entertain the infant.

“No, it’s another baby,” said Kate, dryly. “I found her on the side of the road and she looked hungry.”

“Can I hold her?”

Kate’s stomach clenched. She was an overprotective mother and saw nothing wrong with that. “Uh, she’s been fussy,” she lied. “Better not.”

Gillian frowned and lifted her desk phone to her ear, asking, “You’ll need Amelia, right? For the balcony?”

“That’s right,” said Kate easily.

The receptionist relayed the message, and as she set the phone in its cradle, she mentioned, “You can go on up to the second floor. Amelia’s at the end of the hallway.”

“Thanks,” said Kate, who didn’t get so far as two steps before Gillian stopped her.

“I can watch little Josephine while you meet with Amelia.”

“Thanks for the offer,” she said after turning on her heel. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” said Gillian, stopping her again before she reached the lounge. “Where exactly was Bobbie Hamden murdered?”

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “In her house.”

“I know, but where?” When Kate only stared at her, she clarified, “Amelia wants to know for the tour. Did Scott tell you?”

Sighing, Kate said, “In her living room.”

“She was hit in the back of the head with a tire iron, but do you know if she was sitting on her couch or standing?”

It dawned on Kate that soon she wouldn’t be able to have these conversations. Once Josephine began picking up sentences and phrases, the last thing Kate would want to discuss is the particulars of how someone was brutally murdered.

“She was on the couch watching TV,” she said, and then she quickly scooted off before Gillian could ask for any more grim details.

The lounge was full of guests. Some were nursing brunch cocktails and others picked at elaborate breakfasts. It smelled like pancakes and maple syrup, but soon Kate had reached the stairs and climbed them quickly, putting a bit of extra bounce in her step for her daughter’s benefit.

When she reached the landing, slightly out of breath, Amelia waved at her from the end of the hallway where bright late-morning light shined through a row of windows. “Kate! So glad you could come!” As Kate neared her, the innkeeper asked, “Where’s your assistant?”

“I thought I’d check out the project before involving him,” she explained, sizing up the windows.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Amelia began, making large, sweeping gestures at the windows. “We knock these out and build a doorway entrance to the balcony, but preserve these two rooms.” She pointed to the two guest rooms flanking the hallway. “This way the balcony will be outside their rooms.”

“Okay,” said Kate, understanding her vision but not necessarily seeing its practicality.

“So the actual structure will be an outside build,” she clarified.

“It’ll be noisy.”

“But you can’t work long hours anyway, so the guests shouldn’t be bothered that much. They’ll probably be out and about in town if not on my new tour.”

“The murder tour,” she supplied, eyeing the excitable woman closely.

“Have you taken it? It’s quite accurate.”

“How nice for you.” Kate whipped her tape measure out of her pocket and began taking measurements around the windows.

“So you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll build my balcony?”

“It’s not impossible,” she allowed. “But I’ll have to take a look outside.”

“I’ve already begun sorting through resumes for you.”

“What?”

“Since you’ll need to hire contractors to do the bulk of the work,” she explained. “Like we talked about over the phone.”

“You already looked into contractors?”

Amelia smiled sheepishly. “Technically, I started looking last week.”

Kate knew what she was implying. Amelia had tried to find cheaper labor than Mrs. Fix It and had come up dry.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone else but you building my balcony,” she said quickly, but the compliment seemed disingenuous for some reason. “Your daughter is so well behaved.”

Kate figured she was trying to change the subject and that was just fine by her. She wasn’t about to have a confrontation over being insulted. All told, she didn’t feel insulted. She only worried if she’d actually have time to oversee a project of this magnitude.

After jotting down some measurements onto the margins of her estimate pad, Kate asked, “Can I look around outside?”

“Of course,” Amelia said, leading Kate down the hallway and then the stairs.

Once outside, they stalked around the side of the inn over melting snow and soggy grass. Kate was wearing sneakers, but wished she’d thought to put her boots on. Puddle water was seeping into her shoes.

As they rounded the back of the inn, Amelia asked, “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to pick your brain about all sixteen murders that took place in Rock Ridge over the past four and a half years. You know, for my murder tour.”

Chapter Two

Three busy days passed. Kate interviewed contractors to assist her in building Amelia’s balcony, and she ordered materials from Grayson’s Hardware. She resisted having fully-caffeinated coffee exactly seven times and changed approximately a dozen diapers, many with Maxwell’s help, though he had difficulty doing as much without going on and on about how great things were going between him and Gillian O’Reilly.

Scott had been home less and less due to the Bobbie Hamden case and Kate felt like she hadn’t seen him in days as she left the house with Josephine and drove over to the Permits Department in the Municipal Building.

According to Joe Swenson—the town auditor who had not only worked closely with Bobbie, but had been married to her for just over four years—the building permit Kate had applied for on Amelia’s behalf had been processed and was ready to pick up.

With Josephine on her back, Kate started through the parking lot. It was warm for ten o’clock in the morning, which told her that the afternoon would be hot and working outside with a baby on her back might prove exhausting. But she was eager to work. Sticking to small fix-it jobs over the month had kept her busy, but it hadn’t satisfied her need to undertake an impressive project.

The lobby was cool when she stepped inside the municipal building. She checked the marquee to refresh her memory as to where Joe Swenson’s office was located. Just as she read the floor number, Josephine yanked on Kate’s hair and yelped excitedly.

Gritting her teeth, she loosened her daughter’s grip and found a hair elastic in the back pocket of her overalls. As she braided her hair, Maxwell barreled in through the entrance door.

“It’s gonna be a hot one!” he exclaimed.

Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed his nose was covered in a thick layer of pink sunblock.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit?”

“I’m optimistic,” he said with a smile. “Today’s the day all the leftover snow will melt. Spring has sprung!”

“All right,” she said, skeptical, as she started for the stairwell.

Maxwell trailed after her, offering, “Need me to take her?”

Unlike the majority of residents in Rock Ridge who had been vying to hold her daughter, Kate actually trusted her assistant to hold and even watch Josephine for short periods of time. At this point, Maxwell was the only other person aside from her own husband that she allowed to hold her daughter. Nevertheless, her shoulders weren’t tired and she didn’t mind climbing the stairs with a little extra weight on her back.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got her.”

When they reached the second floor, Maxwell held the stairwell door open for her and they found Joe’s office at the end of the hallway.

“So how late do you think we’ll go tonight?” asked Maxwell, implying he had already made plans with his new girlfriend.

“It won’t be a long one,” she told him. “We’ll have to call it a day at sundown.”

“But sundown will be around seven-thirty,” he complained.

“Do you need to take off sooner?”

He held the door to the Permit Department open for her and mentioned, “I made reservations for seven and I’ll need to shower and freshen up.”

How could she argue with budding love? “Fine,” she grumbled. “You can leave at six-thirty.”

“Six,” he countered.

Kate stared at him and he shrunk before Joe Swenson saved him by booming out a hearty greeting. “Kate! I got your permit right here.”

Nearing the middle-aged, balding man, Kate wondered at his apparent good mood. She hadn’t seen Joe around town too much, but when she did, he struck her as someone who had soared through the mourning and grieving process and came out on top.

It made her wonder why Scott hadn’t scrutinized Joe’s whereabouts the night of his wife’s murder.

“Thanks, Joe,” she said, taking the permit and eyeing the terms carefully to be sure his office had included all the materials and structural additions she planned on making at the inn. “How’re you holding up?”

Joe tempered his overzealous grin, clearing his throat. “One day at a time. I have to say, though, this warmer weather has me in a great mood.”

“And it’s going to be a hot one,” Maxwell pointed out, tapping his pink nose.

“Looks good,” said Kate, as she folded the permit and tucked it into her overalls.

“Hey,” said Joe. “I almost didn’t notice the little one.” As he rose from his desk, leaning over to squeeze Josephine’s socked foot, he said in a baby-voice, “You’re going to grow up to be a contractor just like Mommy, aren’t you?”

Maxwell chimed in, “Or a cop.”

Kate grimaced at both options and mumbled, “Let’s hope not.”

After thanking him again, Kate started for the stairwell. Maxwell was quick to open the door for her, and as they began climbing down the stairs, he asked, “You never thought to look into Bobbie’s murder?”

“Scott’s handling it,” she said easily.

“But isn’t that kind of your thing?”

She stopped on the third tread and glanced at him. “What’s my thing?”

“Solving unsolvable crimes.”

“Bobbie’s murder is solvable,” she objected.

“Technically it hasn’t been solved.”

“And Scott is handling it, like I said.”

“Is he?”

She was glaring at him now. “Yes,” she asserted. “He is. Besides, I don’t need to run around Rock Ridge getting into trouble when I already have ten pounds of trouble strapped to my back.”

Maxwell frowned and tickled Josephine’s foot.

“Come on,” she said. “I’d like your novice opinion on the contractors I’ve hired.”

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, as they made their way through the lobby.

Outside, Kate got her daughter situated in the car seat and then asked Maxwell if he was hungry. If Kate thought being pregnant had gotten her appetite churning, breast-feeding had magnified her cravings tenfold. It hadn’t been an hour since breakfast and already she was starving for lunch.

“Bean There?” he asked, which reminded her she hadn’t finished her muffin.

“No, I’ll make it.”

“You sure? Oh hey, I have a box of protein bars in my trunk.”

“Bring them,” she said as she climbed in behind the steering wheel.

Maxwell jogged off to his Volvo and Kate waited in her idling truck as he backed out beside her.

Soon they were driving through Rock Ridge. At times Kate glanced at the rearview mirror, checking that Maxwell’s Volvo was still directly behind her truck, as well as spying Josephine’s kicking feet.

When she pulled into Over the Moon, a few of the contractors she had hired were smoking cigarettes just outside the door and it made her blood boil in a matter of seconds.

She jumped out of her truck and marched over.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

The contractors exchanged a confused glance. The shorter of the two was about Maxwell’s age. He wore a weathered baseball cap over his shaved head and looked like he hadn’t laundered his clothes in months. The other, a portly man who had worked on constructing the amusement park a few years back and who the mayor, Dean Wentworth, had recommended to her because of it, pulled a long drag off his cigarette and blew it in her face.

“You got a problem with smoking?” he asked as if provoking her was a fine source of entertainment.

“There will be no smoking on this job, not out front, not during breaks, not out back, not even in your vehicles as you drive into the parking lot. Got it?”

The men chuckled, but appeased her, dropping their cigarettes to the soggy grass and stepping on them.

Kate glanced over her shoulder. Maxwell was settling Josie into the baby carrier, which he strapped to his back.

“Have you both met my assistant?” she asked them, “Maxwell Stone.”

Maxwell walked over and shook hands with Carter Davie, who flipped his hat off during the introduction.

“Mitchell Williams,” said the older of the two.

“Let’s hope the others are inside already,” said Kate curtly.

Behind her, Carter asked Maxwell, “Ever heard of a condom?”

Kate turned on her heel and glared at the young contractor. “Ever heard of minding your own business?”

“Touchy,” said Mitchell.

But Kate was already interrupting him. “She’s my daughter, not Maxwell’s. Remember that the next time you’re thinking of cracking a joke. It wouldn’t be wise to offend the woman who signs your paychecks.”

The men frowned, and as Kate threw the entrance door open she wondered if it had been necessary to bark out her response. After a moment, however, she decided it was. She had worked in a male-dominated field almost her entire life and if you didn’t put your foot down hard and fast at the first sign of disrespect, then things could quickly spiral out of control.

Of course getting to the lounge, much less to the second floor, was no easy task. As soon as Maxwell saw Gillian behind the desk, he made a detour to flirt and show off the adorable three-month-old.

Realizing Maxwell was lingering, Kate called his name and waited with the two contractors as her assistant gave Gillian a long, lingering hug.

“Can I crack a joke about that?” asked Carter, watching them.

Kate suppressed the smile that was threatening to blow her authoritative resolve, and when Maxwell finally joined them, she started off again.

After climbing the stairs, she neared the windows at the end of the hallway. “We need to remove the panes, secure the wall, and install a doorway. I’ll put you two on this task and get the others started outside.”

“Where are the others?” asked Maxwell.

Kate frowned, pulling her cell from her overalls and not looking forward to the phone calls she would have to make. But just as she was scrolling through her contacts for Zack Bristow, he stomped onto the landing and Kate’s eyes snapped up.

At 6’4” and 320 lbs., Zack had a formidable presence, but Kate needed his brawn. His arms were covered in tattoos and his brown hair was buzzed so short she could see the sheen of his scalp when the angle was just right.

“Great, you’re here,” she remarked. “One less person to call.”

“Eddie’s on his way,” said Zack in a deep tone that nearly rumbled the earth.

“Driving over?” she asked.

“Locking up the truck. We carpooled.”

She was tempted to remind them to be on time as soon as Eddie managed to make it upstairs, but she decided to hold her tongue just this once.

To Maxwell, she explained, “I’ll work with Zack and Eddie outside, and you get Mitchell and Carter started on the doorway.”

Kate helped her assistant to shoulder out of the baby carrier and once Josephine was securely on her back, Kate led the tremendous man through the hallway and down the stairs.

“I read about you,” said Zack as they crossed through the lounge where the guests had fallen silent to stare at the gigantic man in their presence. “You went into labor when that killer attacked you.”

“Something like that,” she said, not entirely comfortable with having a personal conversation.

As they wound through the lobby, Eddie Jackson stepped in through the entrance door. He was small and wiry, but his expression gave away his age. He had probably worked in construction for all his adult years and if Kate had to guess, she’d say he was fast approaching fifty.

“Eddie,” she said, shaking his hand. “Good to have you.” Before continuing on around the inn, she added, “There’s no smoking and I want to be very clear about that.”

“Got it,” said Eddie. “I chew.”

“Tobacco?” she asked, trying not to sound disgusted. At least it wouldn’t produce second-hand smoke.

“I won’t chew on the job,” he explained. “And Zack here doesn’t smoke.”

“Good to hear.”

Kate led them outside. Zack seemed interested in the marble fountain as they passed it and soon they came upon all the building materials she had arranged with Larry to drop off earlier.

“Fancy place,” he commented, jabbing Eddie’s shoulder. “Have you taken that murder tour yet?”

“Man, please,” said Eddie, sounding annoyed. “The rich keep getting richer and the rest of us can barely make rent.”

Zack frowned. “You make rent just fine, and you wouldn’t have to scrimp so much if you spent less on beer.”

“And who drinks all my beer?” he challenged, giving Kate the impression that Zack and Eddie were more than just work acquaintances.

“All right, guys, let me walk you through this.”

Kate rolled out the blueprints she had devised over the past few days and held it up for them to review. As she began explaining the course of action they would take, she pointed to the various stacks of materials that were resting under giant blue tarps.

After a lengthy tutorial, the men got started, pulling boards and hammering in the support structure.

Though the balcony would be made of wood, Amelia had asked that it have a stone finish, so Kate had ordered stone tiles, and laying them would be the final step.

Kate texted Maxwell several times as the hours unfolded, asking him to run a protein bar down to her. By the time she called for a lunch break, Zack and Eddie had built a solid frame and Kate had eaten exactly four protein bars.

Zack wandered off toward the front of the inn and after Eddie had admired the structure for a beat, he started after his friend. Kate hung back, eyeing the structure. The windows on the second floor had only been partially removed, which begged the question: how much work had Maxwell really gotten done up there? One of the windowpanes was resting against the window frame that had yet to be removed from the wall.

At least Josephine had been good. She hadn’t made a peep in the last hour except to snore breathily in Kate’s ear.

Kate rounded the house. All four contractors had gathered in front of a truck that she presumed was Eddie’s. She nodded at them, calling out, “Forty-five minutes!” and then she ducked inside.

She found Maxwell on the second floor. He was unscrewing the last window frame, but when she reached him, she said, “Give it a rest. Where do you feel like going for lunch?”

“Anywhere but Daisy’s,” he groaned. “If I eat there one more time...”

“All right. I feel like having a hamburger.”

He seemed game for that, so he set his power drill next to a tool kit and gave one final look at the window.

“It’s fine,” said Kate impatiently. She was starving and figured that Josie would be ravenous as soon as she woke up from her nap.

Downstairs, Maxwell lingered at the front desk where Gillian was filing a few bills.

“Feel like a hamburger?” he asked her.

And Kate quickly interjected, “Gotta make a fast decision. I’m starving.”

Gillian rose to her feet, but looked indecisive in Kate’s opinion.

“Does it have to be hamburgers?” she asked, when suddenly a loud crash came from the back of the lounge.

Kate jogged into the lounge and her gaze immediately locked on the window where just outside she caught sight of one of her contractors on his back. If she wasn’t mistaken, it looked like the windowpane had fallen on him.

Quickly, she jogged back through the lounge, out the door, and around the inn with Maxwell at her heels.

The windowpane hadn’t just fallen on one of her men.

Eddie was lying unconscious on his back. The pane of glass had broken on impact and its jagged edge had sliced through the man’s neck.

“Oh my God!” yelled Kate, as she rushed to him. “Call an ambulance.”

Maxwell was already on it, frantically describing the accident as Kate pressed her fingers to Eddie’s throat, hoping for a pulse.

There wasn’t one and as she wiped the blood from her fingertips she glanced up at the second floor, catching sight of a man’s shoulder as he walked away from the open window frame.

It was then that Kate knew this had been no accident.

Chapter Three

Kate sprung to her feet and quickly paced around the side of the house, while Zack Bristow crouched over Eddie’s dead body. The image of the man turning from the window frame was burning into the forefront of her mind and she had every intention of rushing into the inn and up the stairs to catch the killer. As she picked up her pace, her sneakers sloshing through soggy grass and patches of melting snow, Josephine bounced in her carrier on Kate’s back.

When she rounded the front of the inn, Mitchell and Carter were loitering near the entrance.

“Did you see anyone come out this way?” she demanded, out of breath and advancing on them.

It occurred to her that both of them looked a bit serious.

Mitchell said, “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, or you know that no one came out of the inn?” she insisted, her hand already reaching for the entrance door.

“No one came out,” said Carter before exchanging glances with Mitchell.

“Call 911,” she ordered, throwing the door open.

But they were too confused to process her demand, and as Kate barreled into the lobby, she grabbed her cellphone and dialed the police herself.

As the call rang, she rushed to Gillian who was still working behind the front desk and told her, “Keep the guests inside. No one can go outside.”

“I’ve already called the police,” she said, just as the 911 operator greeted Kate from her cellphone.

“Hi, yeah, I’m at Over the Moon and one of my contractors just had a windowpane slice through his neck. I think he’s dead.”

“Kate,” Gillian interrupted. “I already called them.”

Ignoring her, Kate rushed into the lounge, expecting to ask everyone to go back into their rooms as if she might be able to prevent them from ogling Eddie through the window.

But they already were. Gathered around the window at the back of the lounge were at least a dozen guests. Some were taking pictures with their cellphones and others were murmuring about the accident.

“Everyone,” Kate began, speaking up over their hushed conversations, “it would be best if you could return to your rooms.”

They weren’t listening. Only a few guests glanced over their shoulders at her, but when she met their gazes, they seemed more enthralled than horrified.

Gillian had trailed in behind her, which Kate realized as she turned. “Maybe Amelia can get them to go to their rooms,” she suggested.

Gillian winced and her agreement sounded doubtful as she said, “Maybe.”

“Did you call her? Where is she?”

The receptionist winced again and as a frown came over her expression, Kate realized she had sounded blameful.

“She’ll be right here,” said Gillian finally.

And she was.

Amelia breezed into the lounge. Kate noticed a strange smile on her face, which the older woman quickly straightened out, clapping her hands and shouting, “Guests, please step away from the window. The police will be here any moment and they’ll need their space.”

“Was it murder?” one of the guests asked excitedly.

Amelia shot him a reassuring smile. “Fortunately, it looks like an accident.”

Kate wasn’t so sure about that.

Speaking in a low tone, the innkeeper asked, “What exactly happened? The window fell out of the frame upstairs?”

Until the police arrived, Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to make any statements, but she also didn’t want Amelia suspecting foul play, which would only spread around Rock Ridge like wildfire.

“It looks like it,” she agreed.

“Well, I hope that poor man has insurance,” said Amelia, glancing toward the window where her guests hadn’t dispersed one bit.

“Life insurance? I’m not sure he has a family, but if he does, I hope so too.”

“You’re insured for this type of thing, correct?”

Kate closed her eyes and sighed. In fact, she was insured with worker’s comp and all of her payments were up to date, but realizing the endless paperwork she would have to deal with knocked the wind right out of her.

However, if she was right and this was no accident, then all the insurance in the world wouldn’t help her. She didn’t like that Maxwell had been working on that window minutes before it fell. The last thing she needed was for her assistant to be arrested for involuntary manslaughter.

Josephine began whimpering in her ear and then broke out into full-blown wailing.

“I’ve got to feed her,” said Kate.

Amelia met her gaze and nodded understandingly. Kate started off through the lounge and after passing through the lobby where Maxwell was consoling Gillian, she stepped outside into the warm afternoon.

Mitchell and Carter were still hanging out around the entrance. They hadn’t followed her inside and they hadn’t asked what all the commotion was about.

She found it odd.

“You both should stay here. The police will want to talk to you.”

“Police?” asked Carter.

How could they be so oblivious?

“Eddie was just killed when one of the windowpanes fell onto him from the second floor,” she explained.

Carter’s eyes widened and Mitchell’s jaw dropped, but he snapped his mouth shut, composing himself before asking, “He’s dead?”

She pressed her lips into a hard line, which was her way of confirming the strange news, and then she started for her truck.

After wriggling her shoulders out of the baby carrier and scooping her daughter out of it, she grabbed a diaper and the changing mat from her baby bag on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat and brought Josephine to the back of the truck.

A quick smell confirmed Josie could use a diaper change, so she laid out the changing mat onto the truck bed and set her daughter down. As soon as she had swapped the soiled diaper out for a fresh one, Josephine quieted and began smiling up at the blue sky. Kate hopped onto the truck bed and as she unfastened one of her overall straps and began unbuttoning her cap-sleeve shirt, she hoped she would get at least a few minutes of breast-feeding in before police cruisers tore through the parking lot.

She wasn’t nearly so lucky. After less than a minute of feeding her daughter, while Mitchell and Carter snuck sideways glances at her, snickering and at times frowning as if disgusted, Kate saw Scott’s truck, followed by two police cruisers, driving down the road.

When the vehicles turned into the inn parking lot, Kate snapped her maternity bra cup closed, smoothed her shirt down, and fastened her overalls, all the while holding Josie on her lap.

“I gotta put you back into your carrier,” she softly apologized, making her way to the driver’s seat where she had left the carrier.

Scott stepped out of his parked truck as Kate got her daughter situated in the carrier, which she soon slung over her shoulders.

“Where’s the body?” he asked, walking toward her.

Detective Kilroy was climbing out of one of the cruisers behind him and started over as well.

“At the back of the inn,” she explained, grabbing his arm. “I’m not sure this was an accident.”

“A sheet of glass fell on him?” he asked in a tone meant to shake her resolve. “There are much easier ways to kill a man.”

She released him the second Kilroy stepped in next to his chief.

“An ambulance is on its way,” he mentioned, planting his fists on his hips. “The guy’s dead, so they aren’t exactly rushing over with sirens blazing.”

“Did you see what happened?” Scott asked her.

“I heard it,” she offered. “But no, I didn’t see it.”

“Someone must have,” said Kilroy.

And Kate assured him, “At least a dozen people had a front row seat, the guests in the lounge.”

Scott instructed his detective to get started with the guests.

When Kate was sure Kilroy was beyond earshot as he neared the entrance door, she told her husband, “After I knelt down beside Eddie, the man who was killed, I glanced up at the second floor and saw a man turning away from the window frame.”

He didn’t seem especially intrigued.

“Scott, I think someone on the second floor pushed the glass. I think they meant for it to kill Eddie.”

Though he probably didn’t mean to seem mirthful, Scott let out a breathy laugh. “Kate, do you have any idea how much room for error that allows? You think someone meant to kill Eddie so they dropped a windowpane on his head?”

“Why else would someone turn away at that precise moment?”

“In a quaint bed and breakfast filled with over a dozen guests, I can think of at least a hundred reasons.”

She scowled at his point, but mostly because she couldn’t dismantle it. Yet she had a gut feeling about this, and her gut was rarely wrong.

Scott smiled at Josephine and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “She’s been good with you working? She’s not fussy?”

“I think she likes watching the show,” she said. “It’s entertaining.”

“I’m not sure we need you here,” he explained. “And since we’re going to have to make a full report, I doubt there’ll be much time afterward for you to get work done, so you might as well go.”

“A report?”

“I don’t know what kind yet. It could be an accident report. It could be a homicide. I need to get in there.”

She held her tongue. Pressuring him one way or the other would be a waste of time, so she gave him a hug.

Together they walked toward the entrance, but Scott then veered around the side of the building, and Kate got Mitchell and Carter’s attention.

“It looks like you’ll have the rest of the day off,” she explained. “But let’s plan on being here tomorrow morning at eight. I’ll call you if for some reason the police are still here, but at the moment, I’m sure they won’t be.”

“You got it, Boss,” said Carter, as he thwacked Mitchell’s chest. “An afternoon to ourselves.”

The contractors wandered off toward their vehicles and Kate started for the back of the inn where she was certain Zack was still fretting.

She heard an engine growling through the parking lot and glanced over her shoulder to find the ambulance creeping through, but she continued on.

Zack was standing with his arms folded and looking on as Scott and a number of police officers eyed the body. As she neared the contractor, she overheard Kilroy comment, “Hell of a coincidence, but there’s no way this wasn’t an accident.”

“I’m with you,” said Scott.

Zack glanced at her as she stepped in beside him.

“So, you should take the rest of the day off,” she said softly. “The police will be a while.”

“An accident,” he said under his breath, shaking his head. His gaze was locked on Eddie.

A pair of medics rolled a gurney around the side of the inn, and when they reached the body, they collapsed the gurney legs. Scott and Kilroy stepped back so that the medics could place Eddie on the stretcher.

Finally, Zack met her gaze. “The glass cut him clean across the neck.”

“I know,” she said regretfully.

But Zack wasn’t musing. He was making a point. “So Eddie must have been looking up.”

“Reflexes are fast,” she explained. “He probably sensed a falling object, looked up, and the timing of it all killed him.”

Experimenting with her theory, Zack looked to the sky a few times. Each attempt was faster and soon he shook his head at her.

“Then it should’ve hit him in the forehead.”

“What are you saying?”

Zack grumbled, folding his arms again. “The pane was broken. The jagged edge sliced through his neck. You saw it. It was almost horizontal.”

“You think someone on the second floor broke the pane, threw one half down, which made him fall on his back, and then threw the second half of the pane down so that it would slice through his neck?”

Zack held her gaze and the answer was in his eyes. He thought so.

“Then someone in the lounge must have seen it. Someone would’ve seen two halves of the glass fall.”

“You think these jerks are going to ask around?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the cops. “They already ruled it an accident. That’s how it is in this town. If you aren’t loaded, if you aren’t some rich prick, no one cares.”

Kate placed her hand on his forearm. “That’s not true, Zack.”

“Yeah. Right,” he said, not at all convinced. “Eddie was a good guy. He didn’t bother anyone. He worked hard. He turned his life around. You know this contracting job meant the world to him. He was proud that you hired him. He thought it would mean big things for him. He thought he would start getting more high-end contracting jobs with this inn on his resume. And now he’s dead.”

Kate didn’t know what to say. She wanted to defend the police and assure Zack that if this wasn’t an accident, Scott would find the killer. But she couldn’t say that. Zack was right to a degree. The police did think this was an accident and at this point only she and Zack thought otherwise.

Hoping not to sound insensitive, she said, “We’ll meet back here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Try to get some rest.”

His response was a grunt.

She touched eyes with Scott as she started off for the front of the inn. When she reached it, she passed through the lobby where Maxwell was still conversing with Gillian, so she stopped by the front desk.

“Obviously work is over for the day. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow. Have fun on your date tonight,” she said, offering Gillian a somber smile before heading into the lounge.

Amelia was chatting with a few guests, and though about half the guests had tucked themselves into their rooms, there were still a handful seated in front of the windows watching the police and medics deal with the body of Eddie Jackson.

Approaching the group, Kate sized each of them up carefully. Had anyone seen what really happened?

A woman in her mid-thirties rose to her feet, but her boyfriend caught her hand. She whispered that she was only going to the bathroom and he released her.

As she stepped away from the cluster of chairs, Kate locked eyes with her and said, “Excuse me.”

The woman looked unusually tan for this time of year, and judging from the sundress she wore, Kate guessed that perhaps she was visiting from California or maybe Florida.

“Yes?”

“Did you happen to see?” asked Kate.

The woman glanced down the length of her and Kate could almost see in her expression that she was trying to place whether or not Kate was a plain-clothes officer.

“I’m not a cop,” she explained. “Just interested in what really happened.”

“Oh, it was crazy,” she said, as her eyes lit up. “I heard a thud and when I looked over, a sheet of glass was slicing through that guy’s neck.”

Kate pondered the account for a bit then repeated, “You heard a thud, and then you saw the glass fall?”

It sounded like Zack’s theory.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A thud would indicate Eddie had fallen to the ground... And then she saw glass fall.

“Did your boyfriend see what caused the thud noise?” she asked, glancing at the man who was now seated alone.

“I’m not sure,” she said. She turned, saying, “Hey John, come here for a sec.”

He looked like a business professional thanks to his slick haircut and tailored slacks, but he was also wearing casual sneakers and a t-shirt.

“Yeah?” he said, joining them.

“Did you see what happened?” asked the woman.

“The glass cut him across the throat,” he quickly supplied.

Kate asked, “So when you glanced through the window, the man was already on his back on the ground?”

“Ah...” he seemed to think about it for a moment, but agreed, saying, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

Kate turned for the lobby and found Detective Kilroy staring at her from under the archway connecting the lounge and the lobby. As she neared him, she tried to sound noncommittal and casual. “So, an accident?”

“What are you doing?”

The way he was staring at her, his brow furrowing, had her momentarily thrown. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Uh, I didn’t know I was expected to take off immediately.”

Detective Kilroy leaned in and as he spoke, his tone had an edge of warning. “I know what you’re doing. You’re poking around, and this time it won’t be acceptable.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think I’ve made my point clear.”

“Why would you be concerned with me talking to people if this was only an accident?” she challenged, in terrible timing to Josephine giggling and kicking her little feet.

“People in this town trust you,” he stated, but it didn’t sound like a compliment. “You don’t have to tell them outright that you think this wasn’t an accident. They’ll infer it if you ask around. And I don’t want the residents getting the wrong idea.”

“These aren’t residents. They’re tourists from out of town.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “People talk. You should know that better than anyone.”

She stepped in, closing the gap between them. “And what if I don’t think it was an accident? What if I don’t care about the rumors I stir up?”

Detective Kilroy snorted a laugh. “I like you, Kate. But I won’t stand for your meddling. Not this time.”

“What’s so special about this time?” she demanded.

His sarcastic expression turned serious and he jabbed his finger at her chest, as he warned, “Stay out of it.”

Chapter Four

Kate parked her truck exactly six blocks away from the Rock Ridge Park, where she had agreed to meet Carly for lunch.

Josephine was conked out in her car seat and Kate wished she didn’t have to wake her. She packed a few diapers and the changing mat into the baby bag, which she slung over her shoulder, and then hopped out.

Her daughter felt like warm putty in her hands as she lifted her out of the car seat. It wasn’t until Kate was sliding Josie into the carrier that her daughter woke, yawning and blinking her eyes.

“Time to see Carly,” she cooed, engaging Josephine just enough as she pulled the carrier over her shoulders and fastened the waist and chest straps.

After locking her truck, she started down the sidewalk. The air was warm and if she wasn’t mistaken she would guess it was in the mid-sixties. A few residents were out for a stroll, but for the most part Kate had the sidewalk to herself.

She picked up her pace, swinging her arms and dreaming of the sandwiches that Carly had promised to bring. The impromptu idea had been a picnic, but Kate knew the grass would be much too soggy to actually lay a blanket down. With any luck, they would find a dry picnic table and she would get a little sun before checking in with Marla Zook, whose kitchen sink was once again in need of fixing.

As she walked briskly, Detective Kilroy’s strange attitude sprung to the forefront of her mind. She had always gotten along with Kilroy, and in the past he’d seemed to appreciate the clues she had brought to the table as a sleuth investigator. What had changed? Why was this case different? Considering that Kilroy had insisted Eddie’s death had been an accident, his attitude was especially puzzling. Why warn her to stay out of it if he truly believed there had been no foul play? There would be nothing to stay out of if it was only an accident. The reason he had provided seemed thin. Yes, gossip could and would easily flourish if the residents caught on to Kate’s suspicions, but so what?

For all intents and purposes, Eddie’s death was the most peculiar one she had ever come across.

Carly was draping blankets over the long, wooden seat of a picnic table as Kate strolled into the park. She had set a picnic basket on the table, and though Kate was a good twenty yards away, she could still tell the wooden table was sopping wet. The sun must have melted whatever snow was left on the picnic table, and Kate hoped the blanket her friend had laid down would be thick enough to spare her bottom from getting damp.

“Hey, there she is!” Carly called out, smiling and addressing Josephine, no doubt.

Carly was completely in awe of the infant girl, and after months of begging, she had convinced Kate and Scott to appoint her and Larry as Josephine’s godparents. She had taken her new role very seriously in the past month, giving extravagant gifts that Josie wouldn’t have use for until she was much older: child-sized clothes, young adult books, and toys with tiny pieces that Josie could easily choke on according to the warning label on the front of the box.

“It’s nice out today,” said Kate, nearing her.

Carly was already reaching for Josie, but Kate urged her back before her friend could lift her daughter out of the carrier.

“She’s napping,” she explained.

“She looks awake to me,” said Carly.

Changing the subject, Kate asked, “How’s it going over at Sunshine?”

Carly rolled her eyes, indicating that business at her flower shop hadn’t exactly picked up. All the local businesses around Rock Ridge had suffered during the long winter months and most were slow to bounce back.

“I have a few orders trickling in slowly,” she explained. A sly smile spread across her face, as she asked, “How’s it going over at the inn?”

Clearly, Carly had heard about Eddie Jackson.

“I got the rest of the day off,” said Kate. “What does that tell you?”

“If the police think it’s an accident, why are they taking so long at the inn?”

“Good question,” she said as she carefully slid the shoulder straps of the carrier down her arms. Josephine was relaxed but not asleep, so Kate laid the changing mat on the picnic table and then set her daughter on it. “I think there’s more to investigate than meets the eye and hopefully Scott agrees and that’s why his team is taking their time over there.”

“Poor Scott,” she remarked and when Kate cocked her eyebrow, she clarified. “He doesn’t have the best track record for working two crimes at once.”

Unfortunately, Carly was right so Kate changed the subject again, asking, “What’s for lunch?”

As her friend began setting plastic plates on the table and placing the sandwiches on them, she explained, “I got tuna melts from Daisy’s.”

It made Kate’s mouth water just to see the warm sandwiches, the toasted bread that smelled amazing, and the little pickles beside them, but as she was about to sit on the blanket-covered bench, she spotted the mayor, Dean Wentworth, jogging along the dirt trail that wrapped the park. It occurred to her that he might have known Eddie Jackson, since the contractor had worked on the construction of the amusement park a few years back.

“Hey, can you watch her for a few minutes?” asked Kate.

Without hesitation, Carly jumped at the chance, lifting Josie off the picnic table and saying, “Take all the time you need.”

Kate started off toward Dean who was rounding the bend, but he didn’t see her so she picked up the pace, jogging to cut him off at the pass.

“Dean!” she called out, and the mayor glanced over his shoulder.

He turned and began jogging in place, pressing his fingertips to his neck to get a read on his heart rate.

“Thanks,” she said, out of breath as she reached him. “Do you have a minute?”

“I just started my workout.”

That was a no, so she said, “Talk and jog, but slowly, Dean. I’m still getting back into shape.”

As they started off at a mild jogging pace, Kate asked, “Did a man named Eddie Jackson work at the amusement park when it was under construction? His friend Zack Bristow did...”

“Ah, the name rings a bell,” he said. “What did he look like?”

“Almost fifty, he’s a small guy, wiry build, he’s friends with a virtual giant?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I remember him. Eddie, you say? I remember him as Edward, you know, always putting faces to paychecks.”

“Right,” she said, as she waved her hand, “slower.”

“Kate, you’re killing me here.”

Dean slowed to a walk for her.

“Did you ever hear of anyone having a problem with Eddie?” she asked, eyeing him as she heaved to get air in her lungs. She was certainly earning her tuna melt with all this exercise.

“If I did, it was two years ago, more than that actually.” He thought for a moment then clarified, “Two and a half years. Did something happen to Eddie?”

“He was killed and I don’t believe it was an accident.”

He guessed, “But the police do?”

“At this point, they do.”

“Well the only thing going on in Eddie’s life back then was a divorce, but he didn’t let it affect his job. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that,” he added as a delayed reaction. “Eddie seemed like a good guy.”

“A divorce? Do you know his wife’s name?”

“Not off the top of my head, but it would be in my records since Eddie was using the health insurance my company offered. He would’ve listed his wife.

“Can you get her name to me when you’re back in the office?”

He mumbled in agreement and then took off jogging.

When she turned, she realized she had migrated a ways from the picnic table.

One brisk walk later and she was sitting beside Carly. She placed her hand on her sandwich and was relieved to discover it was still warm.

They ate and chatted, and gradually the conversation meandered onto the subject of Amelia Langley and her uncouth murder tour, which was certainly bringing the older woman business, but both Carly and Kate agreed it was at the expense of the town’s reputation.

“Maybe we should bring it up at the next town meeting?” Carly suggested. “I doubt you and I are the only ones who feel this way. If we put it to a vote, maybe we could shut down her tour.”

“Isn’t that vindictive?”

“Hey, if people aren’t buying flowers because Amelia’s murder tour has hurt a wider tourist market, then no. We would be completely justified.”

“So you’re saying that Amelia is attracting gawkers and not real tourists who want to go out into town and spend money.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The majority of my usual customers are the shop owners along Main Street. They like to spruce up their stores with flowers. But if tourists aren’t shopping there, then they aren’t going to splurge on bouquets. And guess what, none of them have been ordering bouquets.” Carly raised her eyebrows as though she had made an airtight case.

“When is the next town meeting?”

“I’ll ask Larry, but you’re with me, right?”

“Sure, I’ll back you up.”

As they finished their sandwiches, Kate’s cellphone began vibrating in her pocket. She swiped the screen to answer the call when she saw that it was Marla Zook.

“Hey, Marla, you’re calling about the sink?”

“Yeah, when can you come over? The bucket under the pipe has been filling faster than I can dump it.”

“I’ll head over now,” said Kate. “See you soon.” After returning her cell to her pocket, she said, “Gotta head out. Thanks again for lunch.”

Carly helped her get Josie situated in the baby carrier on her back and then Kate started off on the six block walk to her truck.

She wondered about Eddie’s divorce. If he were in the midst of it two years ago, would his ex-wife circle back years later to get her revenge? Just because they had gotten divorced didn’t mean the process hadn’t been amicable, she thought. But it was as good a place to start as any, and she hoped Dean would get in touch soon about the woman’s name.

Kate was yanked from deep thought when she noticed a folded note on the windshield of her truck. Immediately, she had a bad feeling and glanced up and down the street but no one was around. After cautiously approaching her vehicle, she pulled the note out from under the windshield wiper, unfolded it, and read:

Back off or you’ll be next, Mrs. Fix It.

Nerves ratcheted up her spine. She crumpled the note in her fist and had a good mind to chuck it in the gutter, but shoved it into her pocket instead and unlocked her truck. After getting Josie settled into the car seat in the back, she stalked around her truck and examined each tire, making sure no one had slashed them. Convinced that they looked fine, she climbed in behind the steering wheel and debated whether or not to tell Scott about this new development.

In Kate’s mind, a threatening note only confirmed her suspicion that Eddie Jackson had been murdered. What puzzled her was that word couldn’t have traveled through town that fast, and only a handful of people had seen her at Over the Moon.

Detective Kilroy came to mind.

But she pushed the thought out of her head. There was no way Kilroy could’ve been involved in Eddie’s murder. He didn’t even know the guy. Plus, he had arrived at the inn with Scott and therefore couldn’t have been at the inn at the time the glass was pushed from the second floor. She would’ve noticed him or recognized his personal vehicle in the parking lot.

Kilroy was probably just being territorial, and perhaps the daily stresses of being a cop had finally gotten to him.

But then who had left the note?

She started her truck up, twisting the key in the ignition. The walk had taken her long enough and Marla Zook lived on the other side of town. So she eased her truck into the street and drove off, hoping Marla wouldn’t have to wait too long for her sink to be fixed.

Josephine fell asleep during the ride. There was something about the bumpy dirt road that led to Marla’s house that put the infant right to sleep. Kate squeezed the brakes, rolling to a stop in front of the single mother’s house, and as she climbed out and rounded the hood of her car, she spotted at least three repairs on the outside of the house alone. The storm gutters had bent downward at strange angles, no doubt from the weight of snow all winter. The front steps were cracked. And one of the first floor windows was so tarnished it should be replaced with clear glass.

With her tool kit in hand, she was carefully making her way up the cracked stone steps and then knocked on the door, which caused commotion inside the house that to Kate sounded like teenage girls scuffling around.

Moments later the door popped inward, revealing Marla’s two teenage daughters.

“Mom’s in the kitchen,” one of them said, widening the door for Kate to step inside. As she walked through, the girl smiled at Josie and said, “He’s so cute! What’s his name?”

“Uh, she’s a girl, actually. And her name is Josephine.”

Both girls screwed their faces up and exchanged a skeptical glance.

“Trust me,” said Kate. “I know the sex of my child.”

“Why is she dressed in yellow?” the other girl asked. “Isn’t that more of a boy’s color.”

“Colors don’t belong to boys or girls,” she explained. “Colors are for everyone.”

The girls shrugged and raced off through the living room, and Kate continued on into the kitchen, where Marla was crouched beneath the sink and swapping one full bucket for an empty one.

“Thank God you’re here!” she exclaimed. “Tell me you can fix this! My arms are tired.”

“Here, let me get under there,” said Kate, as she set her tool kit down, opened it, and found a wrench.

Marla seemed hesitant, but aligned the empty bucket under the dripping pipe, shuffled back, and rose to her feet.

Instantly, Kate identified the problem. A plastic ring connecting two pipes had cracked, but in her expert opinion, the leak shouldn’t produce the outpouring of water that it was if Marla wasn’t running the faucet.

“Have you been using the sink?”

“It’s clogged,” said Marla.

Quickly, Kate got to her feet and glanced in the sink. It was full of dirty dishes sitting in dingy water that was nearly to the basin’s brim.

“So you have two problems,” she concluded.

“Would you like me to hold the baby while you work?” she offered.

Kate tensed at the suggestion, but knew she would have to lie on her back to fix the leak. She wished she hadn’t let Maxwell take the rest of the day off. These days, he was just as valuable as a babysitter as he was an apprentice contractor.

She reasoned she couldn’t keep coddling Josephine forever, and as she got to her feet, she fully intended to take Marla up on her offer. But when she spotted a reclining baby swing in the corner of the kitchen, she had a better idea.

“Do you mind if she sits in this?” she asked as she walked over to the swing.

“Oh, that’s my sister’s. Sure,” said Marla. “She visits every now and then with her little one.”

Kate slid Josie into the swing, discretely checking its legs all the while to be certain it was structurally sound. Convinced that it was, she crawled under the sink, turned onto her back, and began replacing the cracked connector with a new one from her tool kit.

“So,” began Marla, making small talk. “It’s just Hazel over there at the library nowadays?”

“That’s what I hear,” said Kate, speaking up since she was shoulder deep in the cabinet beneath the sink. “I’m not sure the town has the money to hire another librarian.”

Marla tapped her foot as though doing so helped her think. “Even if a new librarian only cost the same as Mrs. Briar?”

“Well, I think the town has been looking to save money, so when Mrs. Briar was killed, they took it as a financial blessing...not to sound crude.”

“I was thinking about applying for a job there.”

Kate angled her head so she could see Marla. “You’re a librarian?”

“Technically,” she supplied. “I went to school for it, but then I became a housewife and mother. But Terry has been dead for years, nearly a decade in fact. And I have to start thinking about the girls’ college fund.”

“I hear ya,” said Kate just as her cellphone began vibrating in her overalls. “Shoot,” she muttered, reading the screen. It was Dean Wentworth calling. “I should take this.”

Kate got to her feet and swiped the LCD screen.

“Dean, that was fast,” she said quickly. “You got a name for me?”

“Barbara Jackson,” he supplied. “Though after the divorce, I’d have thought she would have reverted to her maiden name. And the address listed on the insurance form is, of course, the old house she shared with Eddie.”

“Still, that’s helpful, thanks a lot!”

“Oh I went the extra mile for you,” he interjected. “I made some calls and found out the divorce was never finalized.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, so either Eddie and Barbara decided that they loved each other too much to go through with filing the papers, or things between them got especially messy.”

Or perhaps neither had the money to pay the kind of attorney’s fees that often come with processing a legal divorce, thought Kate.

“You might want to give Amelia Langley a call,” he added.

“Why’s that?”

“Because according to the town files, Barbara Jackson’s current address is Over the Moon.”

Chapter Five

Kate sat on the living room floor with an intimidating amount of paperwork to sort through, fill out and file as a result of Eddie Jackson’s death.

Scott was holding Josephine on the couch. The infant was not thrilled that her father was attempting to feed her using a baby bottle.

The morning sunlight cut into the living room at an angle that glared in Kate’s eyes. Overwhelmed, she wasn’t so much reading the forms as staring at them.

“What have you got planned today?” Scott asked after another attempt to wedge the rubber tip of the baby bottle into Josie’s mouth, which made her squirm in protest.

“Filing these accident reports, for one,” she grumbled. “Then I have to hire a new contractor to replace Eddie, and with any luck we’ll be back on track at Over the Moon.”

“Do you want to connect for lunch?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Then dinner?”

She glanced up at him and the look on his face told her that Scott could use a night out.

“And bring Josephine?” she asked, remembering that there were few restaurants in town that would tolerate their daughter. As soon as Josie had reached a healthy weight, Kate and Scott had started venturing out with her to see if they could reclaim even a fraction of their prior lives. But Josie was unpredictable. At times she had been quiet and they were able to dine like normal people. And other times she had screamed her head off, giving the restaurant manager no choice but to ask them to leave.

“She’s been good at Daisy’s,” said Scott.

“But the manager always seats us in the back next to the bathrooms just in case she acts up. It’s dismal.”

“Kate, I think we need to consider hiring a babysitter,” he said, and it wasn’t the first time he had suggested as much. “You wouldn’t have to be away from her that long, just an hour.”

“Hiring a babysitter is a commitment,” she countered. “Babysitters don’t want to work for only an hour. They want to know they’ll be needed regularly and for long stretches of time. Otherwise they feel like they’re just doing us a favor, and who would do us that kind of favor?”

“I can think of at least two people,” he said, right off the bat.

She knew exactly of whom he was speaking—Carly and Maxwell. But she was sure Maxwell would have another date with Gillian. They had been getting serious, though Maxwell had been consistently denying it. Carly was a fair option, but for Kate the bottom line was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be separated from her daughter for that long, even if it was only an hour.

“What if we had dinner at Carly’s?” she asked. “Or invited her and Larry over here? We could order delivery and get the benefits of eating out without actually eating out.”

“That’s not the same,” he complained. “Listen, Josephine might be my first child, but I think you’ve been too attached to her. It’s good for her development to spend time without you in the company of other people. It will help strengthen her individuality.”

“She’s three months old, Scott. She doesn’t need to be an individual.”

“Don’t you want a night off?”

Kate paused thoughtfully, but only so it would seem like she was considering his question. She already knew that she didn’t feel the need for a night away from her daughter.

“I’ll give Carly a call,” she said finally. “I’m sure she and Larry won’t mind having us, especially if we bring dinner.”

Kate pressed her pen against the first field on one of the forms, but then said, “If we hire anyone, it should be someone who can fill out these forms. I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.”

Scott rose to his feet with Josie in his arms and then put her down in her playpen. “I’ve got to get to the precinct. Give me a call after you’ve spoken with Carly,” he said.

Kate had already showered and was dressed in her overalls, so a cup of decaf coffee was all she needed before heading out. In the kitchen, she brewed a pot and grabbed a thermos from the cabinet. After pouring a few ounces of half-and-half into the container, the coffee maker began spitting and steaming, an indication the pot had brewed.

She filled her thermos and tried not to remember the taste of real coffee as she sipped decaf on her way back into the living room.

It took a few minutes to get Josephine strapped into her car seat on the living room floor. As she rose to her feet, she heard Scott lumbering from the bathroom into their bedroom so she called out, “I’ll see you later!”

“Have a good day!” he responded.

She collected all of the loose forms, tucking them into a manila folder and with Josie’s car seat in her other hand, she made her way outside.

It was windy and much cooler than it had been. She laced the seat belt around Josie’s car seat in the back seat on the passenger’s side and shut the door.

As she rounded the hood of her truck, she pulled her cellphone from her pocket, found Maxwell’s contact number, and put through a call.

“Morning, Bossy!”

“Very funny,” she said. “I have to do a few things, but could you get the guys started at the inn? I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but it would be great if you could have that doorway on the second floor finished by the time I get there.”

“I’ll do my best,” he told her. “When will I see you?”

“I have to file all this paperwork for Eddie, which I haven’t even filled out, so an hour? Maybe two?”

“Okay, no problem,” he said.

Kate returned her cellphone to her pocket after hanging up and climbed into her truck.

As she drove down the long and winding driveway, and then into the center of town, Kate hoped someone at the Municipal Building would be able to help her fill out the stack of forms in her folder.

Pulling into the parking lot, Bobbie Hamden crossed her mind, but the recall was only a flash. Bobbie had been great at going the extra mile and helping Kate with forms even when they didn’t so much relate to acquiring permits. But Bobbie was dead. Maybe her widower, Joe Swenson would step up to the plate.

With that hope in mind, Kate grabbed the car seat, locked her truck, and carried her daughter into the building.

When she reached the second floor, she found Joe settling behind his desk with a steaming mug of coffee that made her slightly jealous.

“Good morning,” she said. “I have a number of forms to file and I was hoping to get a little help.”

Joe seemed happy enough to take her folder and as he thumbed through it he mentioned she was in the wrong department, but he would help her anyway.

As Kate sat across from him, she watched Joe fill out the form slowly and carefully. Here and there he asked her for information, which she supplied, and within fifteen minutes her morning headache had been remedied.

“Do you need envelopes? Some stamps?”

She hadn’t even thought of that. “Yes.”

It seemed to be no trouble at all and Joe started through his office to get the materials. She followed him with her eyes and when he reached a mailing station, a woman approached him from down the hallway.

The woman looked about Joe’s age, in her mid-forties, but she clearly kept in shape. Her bare arms were toned, which her sleeveless blouse showed off, and the black pencil-skirt she wore accentuated her lean figure. She draped her arm around Joe’s shoulder, distracting him in a way he seemed to like. And as she leaned in, she whispered something in his ear that made him first laugh and then glance around in a manner that told Kate he didn’t want to get caught in this exchange.

The second he started for his desk, Kate quickly turned her head so he wouldn’t know she had been watching him.

Bobbie Hamden hadn’t been out of the picture for an entire month and already Joe was involved with an office flirtation? It didn’t seem right to Kate. Had that been an innocent flirtation, she wondered? Or was it an indication Joe was already in a new relationship?

“You are almost all set,” he said, lowering into his chair. He folded the forms, stuffed them in envelopes, and placed stamps on each one. “Just fill out the addresses and you can drop these in the mail slot in the lobby.”

Kate thanked him and did just that, peeking into each envelope and jotting the address down, and then sealing the envelopes in the lobby before slipping them through the mail slot.

As she reached for Josie’s car seat, her daughter smiling up at her from where she was lying, Kate felt her cell vibrate.

It was Amelia.

“Good morning—”

“Kate, why aren’t you here?” Amelia demanded. “Are we behind schedule?”

She sounded anxious. “I’m on my way, and yes we’re behind schedule, but only by a day. My contractors are there,” she pointed out.

“Is there any way you can work longer today to make up for it?” she asked. “I’d like my balcony finished as quickly as possible.”

Kate had no idea why finishing a day early made such a difference to the innkeeper.

“I’m a man short,” she explained.

“Well, hire someone else,” insisted Amelia. “I have the resumes here. Just pick someone out when you get here.”

Arguing with the woman would only be a waste of time so she agreed, dropped her cell into her overalls after hanging up, and grabbed Josie’s carrier from the ground.

Dean’s phone call to her yesterday had been weighing on her mind. Eddie Jackson and his wife, Barbara, hadn’t finalized their divorce two years ago, and Kate found it curious that Barbara had been living at Over the Moon. Had she been at the inn when the glass pane fell on Eddie? What did she make of her husband’s abrupt death? Had she been in the lounge and chose not to identify herself?

Or worse, was it possible the man she had glimpsed on the second floor—the onewho had been turning away as Eddie lay dead on the ground—hadn’t been a man at all, but a woman?

Kate could only hope that when she reached the inn, Amelia wouldn’t jump on her right away. She wanted to have a few minutes to ask around about Barbara.

She rolled to a stop in the parking lot of Over the Moon and pulled her key from the ignition. Josephine was sleeping in her car seat, but Kate roused her as she got her situated into the baby carrier and then slung it on her back.

As she pulled the entrance door open and stepped into the cool lobby, Amelia was nearing Holly Griffin, one of the receptionists. Kate had helped Holly find work a number of months back after the out-of-towner had more or less demanded her help. It seemed Holly had been working out for Amelia and vice versa, but Kate wasn’t sure the brassy woman would take it very well if Marla Zook managed to get a position at the Rock Ridge Library. The library, after all, had been one of the first places Holly had tried to get hired.

“Push the tour,” said Amelia firmly. “The bus should never be only half full. Push the tour, push the tour, how many times must I tell you? Push the murder tour!”

“All right!” Holly barked from where she sat behind the desk.

Amelia sighed as if exasperated, and what she said next sounded more like a reminder than anything. “Tell them there was a murder here just the other day.” She noticed Kate and smiled, straightening up from towering over Holly. “Wonderful! You’re here. I have resumes for you.”

She grabbed a stack of papers from the desk and as she approached Kate, she said, “I’ve organized them so that the best candidates are on top. You can let Holly know if you need help scheduling interview, and I suggest you get right on this. We don’t want to lose another day.”

After thrusting the stack of resumes against Kate’s chest, she marched off toward the lounge and boomed out hearty greetings to her guests.

Maxwell bypassed her, heading into the lobby. “Hey, Kate. My power drill is acting up.”

“You can use mine,” she offered. “It’s in the truck, and grab my tool kit while you’re at it?”

He started off, and Kate began flipping through the resumes. As she neared Holly, she pulled her cellphone out and asked, “So Amelia thinks it was a murder?”

Holly shrugged. “Whether it was or wasn’t, she profits more if people think it was premeditated.”

Two other people had already been killed at Over the Moon: Amelia’s first IT specialist and also Donna Kramer. They were each murdered in the same room upstairs. And for Amelia, that wasn’t enough?

“Can I ask you about a specific guest?” she asked when she reached Holly’s desk. The receptionist lifted her brows as if to indicate that she could. “Is a Barbara Jackson staying here?”

Holly typed the name into her computer and scanned the screen. “Yes, why?”

“She was Eddie’s wife. Could you tell me what room number she’s in?”

“That’s kind of against the rules,” said Holly.

And Kate quickly pointed out, “Rules you wouldn’t have to follow if I hadn’t helped you get this job.”

Grumbling, Holly checked the computer monitor and said, “Room 7.”

“Do you know what she looks like?”

“Why?”

“In case she isn’t in her room.”

“I really don’t know. She’s nondescript, but I haven’t seen her in the lounge, so she’s probably in her room.”

Kate thanked her, and as she started for the stairs on the other side of the lounge, Maxwell walked through with her tool kit and power drill in his hands.

“Give me a few minutes,” she told him and stole her tool kit, as he passed her.

On the second floor, she found Room 7 a few doors down from the landing. As she neared it, she heard the muffled voice of a woman and it sounded like she was engaged in a phone call. Kate listened for a long moment and soon the woman’s voice quieted, indicating she had perhaps ended the call.

She knocked. Someone approaching on the other side of the door prompted Kate to take a few steps back as the door opened, revealing a woman in her late-forties with brown hair and wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “Hi, Barbara Jackson?” she asked.

“Yeah, what’s this about?”

“I’m Kate.” She held up her tool kit. “Just here to make sure you don’t need any repairs.”

“I didn’t call the front desk about any repairs,” she said. “But the toilet has been running. I jiggle the handle but it doesn’t help.”

Barbara widened the door for Kate to come in.

The bathroom was in disarray. Clothes were heaped on the tiles. The shower stall looked dingy. And a slew of makeup and toiletries lined the sink, all of which told Kate that Barbara had in fact been living here for a good long while.

“You work with a baby on your back?” she asked, smiling at Josephine.

“She seems to enjoy it,” said Kate as she set the toilet lid on the tiles and glanced at the chain and lever inside the tank. It had detached, so she found her pliers in her tool kit and began fastening the chain where it belonged.

As she worked, Barbara hovered in the doorway, watching her.

“So,” said Kate, wading into a conversation that would best satisfy her curiosity about the woman. “Did you hear about that man who was killed the other day?”

“Strange stuff,” said Barbara, acting casual.

“I think people are starting to wonder if it really was an accident.”

“How could it not have been?” she countered, folding her arms.

“Oh, I don’t know...it seemed accidental to me. Were you there?”

“No.”

“So you weren’t in the lounge with everyone else who saw the glass hit Eddie?”

“Nope.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder at her, hoping a little eye contact would inspire Barbara to disclose where she had been at that particular moment.

It worked.

“I was up here.”

“On the second floor?”

“In my room.”

“So, did you hear the crash?”

“Not really. How long is this going to take?” she asked, jutting her chin at the toilet.

“I’m almost done.”

In fact, Kate had already fixed the toilet, but she was too curious about why Barbara hadn’t admitted that she not only knew Eddie, but also was married to him.

“You know, you might have some money coming to you.”

Barbara furrowed her brow. “Because of the toilet?”

“No, because of Eddie. Didn’t he have a life insurance policy?”

“Who are you,” she demanded, stalking toward Kate and planting her fists on her hips.

“I am a handy woman, but I also worked with Eddie,” she admitted, getting to her feet and placing the lid over the tank. As she faced Barbara, she continued, “I know you were in the midst of a rocky divorce a few years back and that it never went through. And then Eddie just happened to die in the same inn that you’ve been staying at?”

“I suppose next you’re going to ask me why I haven’t spoken with the police.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Well, you already have your reason. We tried to get divorced but couldn’t afford it in the long run, so we separated, not legally of course. But if you think Eddie’s death was anything other than an accident, you’re crazy.”

“What if it wasn’t an accident?”

The look on her face told Kate that the woman was more than skeptical, so she explained, “I saw someone turn away from the open window frame after the glass killed Eddie. I find the timing suspicious.”

“You can’t possibly think I did it.” When Kate said nothing, she exclaimed, “You think I killed my husband?”

“You were up here.”

“I’d like you to go now, and don’t come back.” Barbara stomped into the bedroom then turned on her heel, expecting Kate to rush off.

She dropped her pliers into her tool kit, closed the lid, and made her way to the door, which Barbara was now holding open for her. “If you come to my room again, or try to talk to me at all,” Barbara warned, “then I’ll call Child Protective Services. I’m sure their agents would be interested to know you keep an infant with you while working dangerous contract jobs where people die of accidents.”

“What if he was killed,” she pressed. “Did Eddie have any enemies?”

“I thought you implied I had done it.”

“Tell me what you know.”

Barbara held her breath, folding her arms and glancing down at the floor. “I really hadn’t spoken with him in years,” she began. “But when we ran into each other here...”

“You saw him the other day?”

“He didn’t know I had been staying here, and I didn’t know he’d been hired to build the new balcony. Trust me; we would’ve avoided the entire situation if either of us had known. I would’ve just stayed in my room. But yes, I saw him and we spoke briefly. He seemed agitated and quite frankly paranoid, but I assumed it was because of his growing debt. He’s always so stressed out about making his bills. Then he told me he had run into some problems on his last job. He had been hired to build a guesthouse, and his customer accused him of pocketing a huge portion of the budget meant for building materials. Eddie said he hadn’t done it, but honestly, I could see him taking money, you know, bending a rule to meet his bills.”

“Who was the customer?”

“There’s no way they did it,” she insisted. “And even if they had, trust me, there’s nothing you or the police would be able to do about it.

“Barbara,” she said firmly. “Who was the customer?”

Reluctantly, she said, “Dean and Jessica Wentworth.”

Chapter Six

“What do you mean Zack never showed up for work?” Kate asked, alarmed that Maxwell hadn’t mentioned the fact as soon as she set foot in the inn. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I called him and left a message and also sent him a text.”

Kate figured that Zack was having a hard time accepting that his close friend had died, but it was still no excuse for not calling her or Maxwell to explain he needed a few days to himself.

She sighed, pacing away from the stacked materials behind the inn. Now she was down two contractors. She had tucked the stack of resumes Amelia had given her into her tool kit, so she popped the lid and began reviewing her options more carefully as Maxwell instructed Mitchell and Carter to continue building the balcony structure.

The first few applicants looked promising. They had both worked on the amusement park and for the past two years had been handling large-scale jobs with Wentworth Contractors. Dean crossed her mind. It was highly peculiar that he hadn’t mentioned he had known Eddie Jackson and that the man had built the guesthouse behind the home he shared with his wife, Jessica. According to Barbara, Eddie had been paranoid about Dean. Would Dean have tried to intimidate the contractor because he suspected Eddie had pocketed a portion of the money the mayor had laid out for the job?

She shook the notion from her mind, as Josephine gurgled and coughed on Kate’s back. She decided to give the first two applicants a call. Who knew if they would be available on such short notice? As she grabbed her cellphone out of her pocket, she saw that the third resume was a female applicant, which interested her. There were few female contractors in Rock Ridge, and though Kate would need someone as strong as Zack, if the giant man weren't planning on returning to work, she liked the idea of getting to know another handywoman in town.

After placing all three calls and setting up impromptu interviews to take place in the lounge over the next hour, Kate reviewed the blueprints, offering directives to her team and reminding Maxwell of specific details before he could accidentally skip over them.

The first applicant, Craig Clark had mentioned he could be at the inn within ten minutes since he lived close, so she checked that Maxwell’s work was on target, checking her level at the base of the balcony structure and a few other points to be certain the structure wouldn’t tilt off kilter, and then started for the front of the inn.

Josephine had been making her hungry noises, and Kate wondered if she could get away with a few minutes of breastfeeding before Craig arrived. Deciding that she could, Kate wriggled Josie’s carrier off her shoulders, popped the passenger-side door of her truck open, and sat with her daughter in her arms. She kept a vigilant lookout as she fed Josephine and made a mental note that she needed to buy more breastfeeding-friendly shirts. Her overalls were cumbersome enough, but fitting her daughter under her tee shirt was twice as bad.

Soon a beat-up Dodge Ram came crawling into the parking lot. Kate quickly lifted Josie out from under her shirt, fastened her overall straps, and fit her daughter back into the carrier, which she slung over her shoulders. As the truck pulled into a parking spot, she shut the passenger-side door and locked her own truck, then started for Craig’s vehicle.

“You must be Kate,” he said, stepping out of his truck.

Craig Clark was younger than she would’ve thought from his resume. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties and wore a backwards baseball cap, a ratty gray t-shirt, tight work jeans, and oil-stained work boots.

After shaking hands and welcoming him to follow her into the lounge, Kate asked about any recent jobs he might have done that weren’t included on his resume.

“I did a few simple jobs for that real estate company,” he explained, “putting up new doors inside the high-rise apartment complex on the south side of town.” He smiled at Josephine then returned his gaze to Kate as they crossed through the lounge toward a set of upholstered chairs. “Your taking a month off after your daughter was born was good for business. But I’ve been out of work for the past three weeks. I’m glad you gave me a call.”

She invited him to sit, and she took the adjacent chair. She dove into her interview questions, which ranged from his experience handling heavy materials without the assistance of a power-lift or other hydraulic machines, to whether or not he would be willing to work over time. He was agreeable with every scenario, and Kate couldn’t help but notice his responses seemed poised as though he had prepared for every possible question during his drive over.

Concluding the interview, she thanked him and explained that she would make her decision before the end of the day.

Craig saw himself out, and as he strolled through the lobby, Kate grabbed her cellphone, riddled with guilt over replacing Zack so soon.

She sent a call through to the absentee contractor, but like Maxwell, she was met with Zack’s outgoing voice message.

“Zack, this is Kate. You can’t just disappear like this. If you don’t return my call and give me an idea of when you’ll be back to work, I’ll have no choice but to replace you.”

She punched the end call button on the LCD screen and let out an annoyed sigh just as a woman stepped into the lounge. It had to be Patty Nealson. She was tall and the t-shirt she wore showed off her muscular arms, but those physical traits weren’t what stole Kate’s attention. Patty was wearing overalls and her hair was a fiery shade of red. She looked like Kate’s clone.

“Hi, Patty?” she asked, approaching the woman, as Josephine kicked her little legs against Kate’s ribs.

“Yeah, thanks for giving me a call,” she said in a tone that was surprisingly deep. “I can start immediately,” she added, gesturing to the tool kit in her hands.

“That’s good to know, but I have a few questions to make sure you’re the right fit.”

As Kate led her to the chairs, Patty mentioned, “I can do any job. I have a ton of experience, but I’m no babysitter.”

“Huh?”

“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to change dirty diapers and keep an eye on your kid,” she asserted.

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to,” she assured her, all the while wondering where this was coming from. Though it was fair of Patty to assert as much—Kate had dealt with similar sexist assumptions years back when she was first starting out. The fact of the matter was that Kate hadn’t indicated any such help with her daughter would be required, so it seemed as though Patty had defensively jumped the gun.

Nevertheless, Kate conducted the interview. Patty’s responses were adequate and equally defensive, and though Kate was dying to ask her if she realized she looked exactly like Kate, she held her tongue.

As Kate concluded her questions, an idea struck her and she asked, “Would you be willing to work on a trial basis for the next few days…at the same pay rate, of course?”

Patty seemed skeptical but agreed, so Kate directed her to walk around to the back of the inn and report to Maxwell. As the clone contractor started off in that direction, Kate placed a quick call to Craig, inviting him to work on a trial basis as well. Her plan was to get a huge head start and a ton of work done on the balcony with the extra helping hands, that way she could appease Amelia’s ever-shortening timeline. It would also give Kate a chance to get to know each of the new guys, so she would be able to make her decision on whom to hire permanently a lot more easily.

When Alexander arrived, she raced through the same interview questions and proposed a trial-basis hire, which the contractor also agreed to.

By the time she was walking Alexander around the side of the inn, Craig jogged up behind them, having driven back. Kate introduced them to Maxwell as well as Mitchell and Carter, and just as she was turning to head back into the inn since she needed to use the bathroom, she locked eyes with another woman. She was dressed in a purple skirt suit and black high heels, and she was stalking through the muddy grass with a sense of entitlement.

A reporter.

Kate grumbled and was quick to meet her before the reporter could accost her contractors.

“You can’t be back here,” she asserted. “This is private property.”

Lifting a handheld tape recorder to Kate’s mouth, the reporter asked, “Did you witness the murder of Eddie Jackson.”

“No comment. You have to leave.”

“Were you outside when he was killed?” she pressed.

“I just told you I’m not commenting. Now you can either leave peacefully or I’ll have the owner call the police.”

“Calm down,” she snapped. “Amelia Langley invited me here. I’m doing an expose for the Rock Ridge Tribune and—”

“Amelia asked you to come?” she asked, alarmed.

“That’s right. She gave me full permission to interview you and all of your contractors.”

Amelia had been hell-bent on insisting that Kate hurry up with the construction of the balcony, and yet she thought Kate and her entire team had time to answer a reporter’s questions?

It took all of two seconds for Kate to realize what Amelia was doing—promoting her murder tour, generating buzz with news articles and hoping once again to profit big.

But Kate wasn’t having it. “Amelia doesn’t have the right to consent to an interview on my behalf, so I won’t be making any comments and neither will any of my contractors. You might as well leave. You’re wasting your time.”

“Zack Bristow was willing to speak with me.”

“Good for you,” she said dryly. “Now leave. I’m not going to ask you again.”

“No, you’re not,” she agreed, smiling smugly, as she continued on toward the back of the inn where Maxwell was shouting orders at his new team of contractors.

Unnerved, Kate walked briskly along the side of the inn and when she entered into the lobby, she demanded, “I need to speak with Amelia,” and Holly snapped her eyes up immediately.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something’s wrong. Where’s Amelia?”

“Just a second,” said Holly, lifting the desk phone to her ear and punching in an extension. It took three calls before she located the innkeeper and as she returned her phone to its cradle on the desk, she mentioned, “Amelia will be right down.”

It took longer than a minute, and Kate was further annoyed that she really needed to use the bathroom. But soon Amelia breezed into the lobby from the lounge.

“Yes?”

“You’re tying my contractors up with some reporter? How am I supposed to get your balcony finished if my guys are stuck answering questions?”

“Oh, Wanda will only take a few minutes of their time.”

“We don’t have a few minutes,” she insisted.

“Yes, you do. Now, is there anything else you needed to discuss?”

Perturbed, Kate told her that there wasn’t and Amelia breezed off again, disappearing into the lounge.

After quickly using the restroom at the back of the lobby, Kate emerged, blotting her damp hands on her overalls. Zack Bristow hadn’t answered any calls from Maxwell or Kate, but he’d sat down for an interview with some reporter named Wanda?

Kate had a good mind to drive over to Zack’s apartment and confront him, but first she needed to check on Maxwell and make sure he would be okay overseeing the contractors for an hour or so.

When she reached the back of the inn, Mitchell and Carter were struggling to hold a tall, wooden post in place while Patty and Craig poured cement in the foundation at its base.

“Hey,” she said, getting Maxwell’s attention. “I’m going to go to Zack’s.”

“We have more than enough hands,” he countered.

“Still,” she said, falling into deep thought. “I think it would be worthwhile.”

“Do you want to leave Josie with me?” he offered.

“No, I’ve got her. Call me if anything happens.”

Maxwell nodded that he would, and she started off for the parking lot. Her office boiled down to an accordion file folder that she kept behind the driver’s seat. It contained all of her employees' forms along with her project budget and all of the receipts she had collected of materials she’d purchased for the build. She found Zack Bristow’s W-4 and noted the address then returned the sheet to the filing folder.

After getting Josephine situated in her car seat, Kate climbed in behind the steering wheel and hoped that when she reached Zack’s house, he would still be there.

Zack Bristow lived on the south side of town not far from Justina’s high-rise apartment complex, which Kate had renovated a few years back.

As she drove her truck up the short, dirt driveway, she saw movement through the windows on the first floor, indicating Zack was home.

Kate lifted Josie from the car seat after parking, climbing out of her truck, and opening the rear door. It took a moment to slip her daughter into the carrier. Josie was getting fussy and her little legs kept squirming, but soon Kate had her daughter on her back.

At the front door of Zack’s one-story bungalow, which looked as though it hadn’t been renovated since the 70’s, Kate knocked and took a few steps back.

From within the house, Zack yelled, “Who is it?”

But instead of announcing herself—obviously the contractor had been avoiding her, so if he knew she was the one waiting outside, he might ignore her altogether—she knocked again.

“Damn it, who’s there?” he yelled.

Kate stepped toward the door so he wouldn’t be able to see her if he peeked through the windows and pounded again.

But he didn’t answer the door, so mimicking the reporter’s assertive and high-pitched tone, she called out, “I forgot to ask you something. It’s Wanda!”

Immediately the door popped inward, but as soon as Zack realized Kate had duped him, he tried to slam the door closed. She smacked her palm against it, however, preventing him from getting rid of her so easily.

“What are you doing? You didn’t show up for work,” she stated. “You didn’t pick up when I called and now you don’t want to talk to me? What did I do?”

“I should’ve quit formally,” he admitted. “I can’t deal with any of this right now.”

“Because Eddie’s death is consuming you?”

“Not death,” he corrected her, “murder. Eddie was murdered and the only person who’s doing anything about it is Amelia Langley.”

“You think that just because she invited a reporter to investigate that means she’s doing something about it?” she challenged. “The only reason she asked that reporter to come was for her own personal gain.”

“At least it’s something. The police aren’t doing anything.”

“I’m doing something about it.”

Skeptically, he asked, “What are you doing about it?”

“I’ve been asking around. I talked to Eddie’s wife, Barbara.”

“Barbara couldn’t stand Eddie,” he said as though the fact meant that his wife had no vested interest in catching Eddie’s killer.

In order to prove otherwise, Kate said, “She told me that Eddie was perhaps intimidated by the mayor. She said Eddie had been working on Dean Wentworth’s guest house, and Dean accused him of misappropriating funds meant for building materials.”

“Eddie didn’t steal any money.”

“But if Dean thought he did, then the confrontation Barbara told me about could’ve been true.”

“You think the mayor killed my best friend.” he said in a condescending tone.

“Do you have a different idea?”

All of the animosity rushed out of him, and Zack slumped into a defeated hunch. “I don’t know, but at least Wanda is using her reporting muscle to demand answers.”

Kate pressed her mouth into a sympathetic line then asked, “So, I’m going to lose you? You’re not coming back to work?”

“You’ll get by.”

“Don’t you need the money?”

“Not as much as I need my sanity,” he countered. “Plus, Barbara isn’t stepping up to the plate in terms of making Eddie’s funeral arrangements. I’m not going to let the town put my best friend in a plywood box. He’s going to have a nice funeral, and making those arrangements is too time consuming to manage along with working ten hours a day at the inn.”

“Understood,” she said. After holding his gaze for a long moment, Kate regretfully turned to start down the walkway, but he stopped her.

“Someone left a note on my car, on the windshield specifically.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “A threat to make you back off?”

“How did you know?”

“I got a similar threat,” she said.

“What is so weird about it was that I had gotten two threats, but since talking with Wanda over the phone the other day, I haven’t gotten any more notes on my windshield. You’d think that talking to a reporter would provoke whoever left the note to threaten me worse than they already had...”

It was strange.

She asked, “Do you think there’s any validity to Eddie’s fear of the mayor?”

“I really don’t know,” he said. “But Dean didn’t pay Eddie.”

“He didn’t?”

“Not the last payment. Dean had given Eddie money up front, mostly for materials plus a small portion of Eddie’s contracting fee. Eddie was expecting a big payoff after finishing the guesthouse, but he never got it. Maybe Eddie confronted him and Dean turned the tables, accusing him of pocketing funds. I don’t know. It’s all I’ve got to go on at this point.”

“Is that what you told Wanda?”

“For the most part.”

Kate grimaced. She had known Dean for years, and though he had a sordid past before he’d moved to Rock Ridge, she couldn’t imagine him having anything to do with Eddie’s murder. But the fact that he hadn’t mentioned Eddie had been working on his guesthouse gave her a bad feeling. She thanked Zack for his time and told him that if he changed his mind about working for her, he just needed to say the word and he could come back.

When she reached her truck, she found her cellphone in her pocket and scrolled through her contacts for Dean’s cell number. She got Josie situated in her car seat and then sent the call through as she climbed in behind the steering wheel.

“Hiya, Kate,” he said cheerfully.

“Hey, can I swing by the office and talk to you?”

“Ah...” he trailed off thinking. “I’m at home at the moment. Jessica wanted to have lunch together, but you can stop by over here if you like. What’s this about?”

“I’d rather not get into it over the phone,” she said. “I’m heading over.”

“Sure, see you soon.”

As Kate drove through town, her thoughts darted from one suspicion to the next. How could Dean afford to build a guesthouse if he had been having financial difficulties? Why hadn’t he mentioned hiring Eddie? Who had threatened Kate and Zack with notes on their windshields? Could it have been Dean? If Dean had killed Eddie, he couldn’t have done it himself since Kate was certain he hadn’t been at the inn that day, so who did he hire?

Pulling her truck along the curb across the street from Dean’s house, she noticed a dumpster that was resting at a strange angle over the sidewalk and street in front of the mayor’s house. Dean had probably asked the town to deposit the dumpster so that Eddie could legally dispose of the leftover building materials from the guesthouse. She eyed it for a moment, and then she noticed Joe Swenson and the female co-worker he had been flirting with at the Municipal Building walking down the sidewalk.

Dean’s house wasn’t that far from the center of town, but in Kate’s opinion it was further than walking distance, so why were they here?

She noticed a black garbage bag in Joe’s hand. It looked about half full. When the couple reached the dumpster, Joe glanced up and down the sidewalk, but luckily didn’t spot Kate in her idling truck. He then threw the bag into the dumpster and started back up the sidewalk in the direction he and the woman had come from. As they walked, Joe wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek before turning the corner.

After waiting a few moments to be sure they wouldn’t return with another trash bag, Kate pulled the key from the ignition, hopped out of her truck, and made quick work of slipping Josie into her carrier. She looked both ways before jogging across the street, and when she reached the dumpster, she peered inside, scanning for the trash bag.

She found it and had to step onto a metal rung on the side of the dumpster to reach it.

It wasn’t until she had jogged back to her truck with the garbage bag in hand that she opened it, releasing the truck’s rear door latch and setting the bag on the bed.

Amidst common household trash, she discovered photographs of Dean Wentworth, which weren’t alarming until she saw the date and time stamp printed on the lower right corner of each one. The photographs showed Dean leaving a house at nighttime. Each shot was grainy and she didn’t immediately recognize the house, but according to the printed date, she had a pretty good idea.

Dean Wentworth had left Bobbie Hamden’s house on the night she was murdered.

“Kate,” said a man approaching her from behind. “Is there a reason you’re parked outside of the mayor’s house?”

When she turned, she saw Detective Kilroy staring down at her and the look on his face wasn’t at all friendly.

Chapter Seven

Kate and Scott didn’t have much time to get ready. They had plans to eat dinner with Carly and Larry, and because spending time at their friends' house had been a compromise between going out and staying at home with Josie, each of them wanted to look nice.

Standing in front of her closet, Kate perused the options. Though it had been warm earlier in the day, the temperature had cooled off and she didn’t want to feel chilly.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked Scott, who was partially dressed in a nice pair of black jeans and an undershirt, which gave her an impression of which direction he was going.

“I’ll throw on a button-down, but I’m wearing sneakers.”

Part of her wanted to slip into her overalls, but instead she reached for a thin, green sweater and a pair of blue jeans that she had only worn twice.

As she stepped into her jeans, she hoped like hell they would zip up. She hadn’t worn them since before getting pregnant with Josie and there was just no telling what her hips had done since then. But to her surprise, she was able to zip and button the jeans easily. She stepped into a pair of black sneakers and then pulled the sweater on before walking into the living room. Josephine was in her playpen, laughing at herself in the attached baby-proof mirror.

Kate was looking forward to spending time with Carly and not having to worry about cooking dinner, but she hadn’t yet gotten a chance to speak with Scott privately about her encounter with Detective Kilroy.

It had unnerved her.

Why had Kilroy been outside of Dean’s house at that particular moment? Had he met with the mayor for some reason? Had he been overseeing the strange deposit that Joe Swenson and his co-worker lover had placed in the dumpster? Or had it been a coincidence?

Why would Joe dispose of evidence that could very well link Dean to Bobbie Hamden’s murder?

What if Dean really had been behind Bobbie’s murder? What if he had made some kind of deal with Joe where the government worker had no choice but to return the evidence? And what if two seconds after Kate had gotten off the phone with Dean, he had called Kilroy to come over and make sure that Kate didn’t overstep her bounds?

Was a brand new conspiracy blossoming all around her?

She hoped not, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the way in which Detective Kilroy had stared down at her instilled the same dread in her gut as she had felt when she read the threatening note. What if Kilroy had left the note as well as the one on Zack’s car?

It was a disturbing thought.

“Ready?” Scott asked, as he entered the living room.

“You’ll drive?” she asked. “I’m too tired.”

As she crouched to pick up Josie, Scott relieved her of the task, scooping his daughter into his arms and saying, “Sure, we can take my truck. I’ll get Josephine settled in her car seat.”

Kate held the door open for him and locked up after Scott had started for his truck. As he fastened Josie into her car seat behind the passenger’s seat of his truck, Kate climbed in and rested her head back.

Detective Kilroy truly had intimidated her outside of Dean’s house. By the time he had left and Kate knocked on the front door, all resolve to question the mayor about his true relationship with Eddie Jackson had shrunk and instead of confronting him, she had merely asked for his opinion on how she was going about building Amelia’s balcony—soliciting advice she didn’t actually need.

“How are things going with Kilroy?” she asked as they drove down their long and winding driveway.

“Great,” he said easily. “He’s a good guy.”

Clearly, Scott was so concentrated on the road that he hadn’t caught Kate’s apprehension, so she asked, “Is he tight with the mayor?”

“Not as tight as you,” he pointed out. “Where is this coming from?”

“I visited Dean today at his house and Kilroy was there.”

“Okay...” he said, waiting for her to make her point.

“Did you send him over there?”

“No, but other than pursuing leads on Bobbie Hamden’s murder, of which there are literally none, there isn’t too much going on at the station. It wouldn’t surprise me if Kilroy felt like making the rounds and saying hi to the mayor, after all, Dean is the guy who signs our paychecks and approves our budgets.”

“Did you know Dean and Jessica built a new guesthouse on their property?”

The information gave Scott pause, and he glanced at her before making a left toward the center of town. “Strange timing,” he finally noted. “Dean gave the whole town the impression that no one is under worse financial constraints than he is.”

Kate had been grappling with telling Scott about the photographs she had come across. Unless she was sure that Dean really was guilty of Bobbie Hamden’s murder, the last thing she wanted to do was incriminate him, but the longer she thought about it, the more the pros of doing so outweighed the cons.

“I found something in the dumpster outside of Dean’s house,” she began, and of course Scott groaned. “Just hear me out. I should’ve told you before when I got home, but we were so pressed for time to get out of the house.”

“What is it?”

“I saw Joe Swenson dump a garbage bag in Dean’s dumpster, and after he left I looked inside the bag. There were photos of Dean leaving Bobbie’s house on the night of her murder.”

Scott slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel, pulling off the road and along the curb, which was so abrupt that Josephine started shrieking in the back seat. “What? Where are the photos?”

“In my office organizer in my truck,” she explained, turning and tending to her daughter. “It’s okay, Josie.”

“And you’re telling me this now? Kate, we haven’t had a single worthwhile lead. I need those photos.”

“I’ll give them to you as soon as we get home,” she said, rocking Josie’s car seat, which helped her daughter to quiet.

Scott furrowed his brow and she could tell he was debating turning around just to see those photos.

“They’ll be there when we get home,” she argued.

“Why the hell would Joe Swenson dump evidence of his wife’s murder?”

“I was wondering the same thing, but Joe’s been canoodling with a co-worker. From the looks of it, he seems to have quickly moved on.”

“Why would he dump it in front of Dean’s house?”

“I’ve been asking all the same questions.”

Scott grumbled and there was no question he would be wrestling with this all night until he reviewed the photos for himself.

“And you’re sure they’re from the night of Bobbie’s murder?”

“They were date and time stamped.”

Decisively, Scott angled the truck into the road and started speeding. “I’ll drop you off,” he stated. “I can’t sit on this; I’ll have to go back.”

She couldn’t argue. “Understood,” she said.

When they reached Carly and Larry’s house, Scott did just that, pulling up to the front door and helping Kate unfasten Josie’s car seat from the truck so that she could carry their daughter inside. She set the car seat on the ground and fished her own keys out of her purse for Scott.

“What else was in the trash bag?” he asked, tucking her truck keys into his pocket.

“Regular trash,” she explained. “I didn’t see any other evidence.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me when you want to be picked up.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Keep an eye on Kilroy. He’s been acting strange.”

“Noted,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn’t exactly appreciate her suspicion.

Kate watched him climb in behind the steering wheel and drive off before she neared the front door and rang the bell.

Carly threw the door open and gave Kate a big hug, exclaiming, “I’m so glad you guys found the time!” As she stepped back and glanced at Josie in the car seat and then the darkness behind Kate, she asked, “Where’s Scott.”

“He got a lead on the Bobbie Hamden murder.”

“Aww, Larry is going to be disappointed. Come in,” she said, leading Kate through the foyer and into the dining room where Larry was setting out boxes of Italian take-out on the table.

“Bad news, Babe,” said Carly, rubbing her husband’s back. “Scott had to rush off.”

“But I recorded the game. I got beer. I was counting on guy time.”

“And I was counting on an evening spent with Kate,” said Carly. “But we’ll all have to make do.”

“The food smells great,” said Kate, as she settled Josephine’s car seat at the far end of the table.

Carly began setting plates on the table and said, “I heard Marla Zook got hired at the library.”

“Oh yeah?” said Kate. “Good for her.”

“Can you drink wine or are you sticking with water and decaf?” Carly asked.

After a moment’s consideration, Kate decided she could pump and dump, so she said, “I’ll have a glass of wine.”

Carly hurried into the kitchen where a bottle of chilled Chardonnay was resting on the counter next to two long-stem glasses. As she was in the kitchen, a blindingly bright light shined through the windows from the front of the house.

“God, what is that?” asked Larry, shielding his eyes.

Carly rushed into the dining room with the bottle of wine in her hands, and then quickly crossed through the living room to peer out the window.

“What in God’s name?” she yelled angrily.

Over a PA speaker system, they all heard a man say, “And this is the home of Larry Stadt, whose father brutally murdered Jackie York, the police chief’s first wife.”

Kate rushed to the windows, and as she stood beside her friend, she saw a huge tour bus idling outside. There were at least two dozen tourists seated on top of the bus, taking pictures of the house.

Kate marveled, “Amelia thinks this house is a worthwhile stop on her murder tour?”

The tour guide continued, saying, “Residents of Rock Ridge have often wondered if Larry Stadt would turn out to be a murderer just like his demented father. But only time will tell.”

Furious, Carly charged outside, yelling and balling her fists, “Get the hell off my property!” But it only entertained the tourists who began taking rapid-fire photos.

Kate pulled Carly back inside. “We’ll call the police. They’re trespassing.”

“She has to be stopped, Kate,” she said with an emotional edge in her tone. “The town hall meeting is tomorrow night. I say we make the committee vote.”

Kate couldn’t agree with her more.

Chapter Eight

The next day Kate arrived with Josephine at Over the Moon just as Maxwell was pulling his Volvo into the parking lot. As soon as Kate stepped out of her truck, Mitchell and Carter, who were hanging out near the entrance, dropped their cigarettes and stomped on them to put out the smoke. She glared at them, grousing, but didn’t have the energy to lecture either of them.

After reviewing all that Maxwell and the team had accomplished the day before, Kate instructed them to get started on plastering tiles on the surface structure. With all the helping hands, it looked as though the balcony could be finished in a matter of days, though there was still quite a bit of work to be done on the second floor.

As the day unfolded, the temperature rose into the upper 80s. Maxwell kept offering the contractors sunblock and had even made a run to the local grocery store to buy a crate of Gatorade so that no one would get dehydrated.

They worked quickly, and soon the air cooled off as the sun lowered on the horizon. Kate challenged herself not to get irate over Amelia’s murder tour, which had been nagging at her. Was her deceased ex-husband, Greg, just another stop on Amelia’s tour? Was Scott’s deceased ex-wife, Jackie, also on the tour? It made her blood boil to think that Amelia was profiting by dredging up the painful pasts of so many residents. She couldn’t wait for the town hall meeting that night, but she also feared that if she stood with Carly and opposed Amelia, she might not have a contracting job much longer.

Not only was building the balcony a nice chunk of change for Kate, but in fact Amelia had been a loyal customer. Whenever the inn was in need of a small repair, she hadn’t hesitated to call Kate. If Kate took a stand against her, that aspect of her business would certainly dry up.

After helping her team tidy up behind the inn by stacking what was left of their materials and covering the piles with giant, blue tarps, Kate walked Maxwell around the building to the parking lot.

“Are you coming to the town hall meeting tonight?” she asked, which made him screw his face up. “Carly and I are going to suggest an important vote.”

“Politics really isn’t my thing,” he said.

“It could affect you, though.”

“How’s that?”

Kate neared him and spoke quietly. “We want to shut down Amelia’s murder tour.”

“I’m not seeing how that affects me.”

“Do you want your home to be another stop on her tour?” she asked then clarified, “When Doris Chestnut was found in the basement of the old Victorian house, your name was brought up in the mix as well as your father’s. You think Amelia will spare you just because you didn’t kill anyone?”

Immediately, he asked, “What time is the meeting?”

“Eight o’clock in the town hall,” she said.

He checked the clock on his cellphone and then returned it to his pocket. “That doesn’t give me much time to wash up at home.”

“So, I’ll see you there?”

“Sure,” he said before lumbering toward his Volvo. He stretched his arms and climbed in.

Kate didn’t have much time either, but she reasoned that she wouldn’t need to shower since she had overseen  the day’s work but hadn’t actually lifted a finger. As she strapped Josie into her car seat, she decided she should get something to eat before the meeting. After reversing out of her parking spot, Kate started driving into town, all the while wondering about how things might have gone for Scott last night.

By the time she had gotten home from Carly’s, Scott was still off pursuing the lead of the Dean Wentworth photos. She had waited up for her husband to return, but when the clock struck one in the morning, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. After waking and glancing around their bedroom that morning, Kate had seen signs that Scott had in fact come home and slept for a few hours, but he had already left.

She was tempted to call him as she pulled her truck into the town hall parking lot, but then decided against it. Whenever Scott had good news on a case, he generally told her about it. It would seem he was still struggling to fit the pieces of Bobbie Hamden’s murder together, and she didn’t want to put undue pressure on him. She figured that she would shoot him a text message after the town hall meeting if she still hadn’t heard from him, and she climbed out of her truck.

After sliding Josie into her carrier, Kate turned for the entrance door and noticed the mayor rushing inside the building. Perhaps Scott had questioned Dean, but came up dry, or maybe her husband was taking his time to gather more evidence and build an airtight case around the mayor.

But had he really done it? Or had he been at Bobbie Hamden’s home that night for another reason? Maybe Joe Swenson knew in his heart that Dean hadn’t killed Bobbie, and that was why he had returned the photos, dumping them outside of Dean’s house.

Kate found Carly seated in the first row. Her best friend waved her forward, though Kate would’ve preferred to sit much farther back. As she walked down the aisle, she noticed the reporter, Wanda, seated in the middle row, which annoyed her, but Amelia was also there. It was good news for Carly. With Amelia in attendance, they would have a better shot of suggesting a last-minute vote on the issue of her offensive murder tour.

From the table at the front of the hall, Dean banged a gavel, bringing the meeting to order, which prompted Carly and Kate to sit quickly.

Kate tried to be as quiet as possible as she positioned Josie on her lap and rested the carrier by her feet, which her neighbor to the right didn’t seem to appreciate. The older woman scowled and then shushed her when Josie gurgled.

Just as Dean was launching into the agenda, Carly boldly sprang to her feet. “I have an issue I’d like to add to the agenda.”

Dean stared at her confusedly. “Uh, can I read through the agenda first?”

“No,” she asserted. “This is an important matter that affects all of us.”

“Make it fast, Carly,” he said.

“I think the town should vote on whether or not Amelia Langley should be permitted to run her murder tour.”

The residents in attendance broke out into alarmed murmuring that to Kate’s ears sounded like relieved agreement.

“Amelia has been profiting from our misery,” Carly went on. “But the real issue at hand is that her hideous tour bus has been trespassing on private property. It has blinded me personally with its glaring spotlight. And half the things her tour guide says aren’t even true, which means she’s defaming our good names.”

The residents broke out into applause and Amelia sprang to her feet, shouting, “It’s a free country! Freedom of speech! I can say whatever I like, which by the way, is all true! And if you don’t like it then you should stop murdering each other!”

Dean banged his gavel several times to quiet the room and bring order.

“Clearly,” he began, “most of you are passionate about this subject, so I say we do put it to a vote.”

“You have no right to put it to a vote!” Amelia objected. “This is my business! It’s my livelihood!”

“Oh pipe down,” said Carly. “Your inn and that mustard factory are your livelihood, and for the record, I noticed your tour bus isn’t stopping off at your husband’s factory even though that particular location was critical in the drug ring that plagued our town years back.”

“It’s called the murder tour, not the drug-ring tour,” she stated, as she folded her arms. Suddenly, she glared at Kate, and though Dean was talking loudly, she said, “Don’t you dare vote against me.”

Kate gulped, but she wasn’t about to be intimidated by anyone.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” said Dean, rising to his feet.

“That’s not fair!” yelled Amelia. “There are barely one hundred people here! If you vote, then you have to include the entire town!”

“Not for a preliminary vote that is required in order for us to proceed. We need to know if a formal vote is worth printing the amount of ballots that we would need. You know we’re under immense budgetary constraints.”

Carly yelled, “The only people who would vote for you are tourists and they can’t...because they’re tourists.”

Kate urged her best friend to sit so that Carly’s emotions wouldn’t tie her tongue any further.

Dean said, “All those in favor of Amelia Langley continuing her murder tour, raise your hands.”

Kate glanced around the room. No one had raised their hand except for Amelia.

“All opposed?” Dean asked.

Immediately, everyone’s hand shot into the air and Amelia frowned. “This is still America, isn’t it? What is the matter with you people?”

Banging on his gavel, Dean told her to quiet down and have a seat and soon the meeting progressed. At times, Carly whispered in her ear the various ideas she had about getting the word out around town to vote against Amelia at the formal vote.

An hour later, the meeting wrapped up. Dean rose from his chair and the residents stood as well, stretching and murmuring their opinions on the topics discussed.

Kate kept her eye on Dean as he shook hands with the town council members. Carly asked her about whether or not she had eaten.

“I need to speak with Dean,” she said, helping Josie into her carrier, smiling and praising her all the while that she had been so good and quiet. As soon as she had Josie secured on her back, she started for the front of the hall.

She approached Dean just as he was turning up the aisle.

“When is this vote going to take place?” she asked him.

“In a few days most likely,” he said easily.

It wasn’t what she wanted to ask him, so she said, “Can we talk privately?”

He stared at her a moment, and then offered, “I can walk you out.”

“Privately, Dean,” she insisted, glancing over her shoulder at the residents who were slowly filtering out of the hall.

“Sure,” he said, still confused.

They walked outside. The residents were mingling in a crowd in the parking lot and making slow work of getting to their vehicles. Dean indicated a lamppost at the side of the building where no one was standing, and once they reached it, she immediately said, “I saw the photos.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, confusedly. “What photos?”

“Of you leaving Bobbie Hamden’s house the night she was murdered.”

He looked stunned and said nothing.

“Why did Joe Swenson drop those photos into the dumpster outside your house?”

Dean seemed to slip into deep thought and a worried look came over his face.

“You were at Bobbie’s house that night?”

He said nothing.

“Who took the photos?”

“Joe did,” he admitted, but when she waited for him to elaborate, he again fell silent.

“Dean,” she said firmly. “I have to ask you, because this looks really bad...did you have something to do with her murder?”

His lips parted as if to answer her, but before he could, Scott charged toward him with Detective Kilroy and two uniformed police officers in tow.

“Dean Wentworth,” began Scott, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Bobbie Hamden.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes snapped to Kate as the police officers apprehended him, pulling his hands behind his back and slapping handcuffs around his wrists. “I didn’t do this.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Scott went on, which prompted the mayor to press his mouth into a hard line.

As Scott continued reciting the Miranda Rights, the officers carted Dean off toward a police cruiser that was idling in the parking lot.

Kate hurried after them, and though she kept shouting questions, “You really think he killed Bobbie? Who have you spoken with? Did you find his prints on the tire iron?” Scott ignored her until he had shut the rear door, securing Dean inside the police vehicle.

“Go home,” he said. “I won’t be back for a good long while.”

Carly rushed up to them, staring in disbelief at Dean, the blazing cruiser lights, and Scott. “What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing to see here,” said Scott.

“Nothing to see? You’ve arrested the mayor,” she protested.

But Scott was already stalking off toward his truck. The police officers hopped into the cruiser and as it pulled out, driving through the parking lot and onto the street, Scott followed behind in his truck.

“What was that all about?” Carly asked her.

She swallowed a carefully measured sigh and stated, “He thinks Dean murdered Bobbie Hamden.”

“Did he?”

Kate thought for a long moment before saying, “I really don’t know.”

“God,” said Carly. “You think you know a person.”

They looked at one another and Kate wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake telling Scott about those photos. Should she have investigated on her own and gotten a better feel, one way or the other, for Dean’s guilt or innocence. She could’ve spoken with him. She could’ve spoken with Joe Swenson and found out why he had dumped the photos there. She could’ve waited longer, discovered more, and been absolutely certain before handing it all over to Scott.

“Do you need help getting Josephine home?” Carly asked.

“No, thanks, I’ll be okay,” she said as they crossed through the parking lot to Kate’s truck.

Carly lent a helping hand with getting Josie situated in her car seat, and after she set the baby carrier in the passenger’s seat and shut the door she said, “Call me if you need anything,” and then started off toward Larry who was leaning on their car.

As Kate drove off, the magnitude of Dean’s arrest hit her. If Dean was convicted—if he really had done it—then Rock Ridge would be in quite a predicament. Who would take Dean’s place? And would their intentions be good or self-centered. Dean had done right by this town. He was honest and hardworking, and his efforts to bring money and job opportunities into Rock Ridge had been successful, though the town was still recovering from the long winter.

She tried not to get ahead of herself as she pulled her truck to a stop in front of her house. The air felt cool and damp as Kate climbed out of her truck and around the rear. She popped the door open and scooped Josie out of the car seat, grabbed the baby carrier from the passenger’s seat, and unlocked the front door when she reached it.

She noticed the Rock Ridge Tribune rolled in a sleeve of plastic at her feet so she picked it up before stepping inside.

The house was dark except for one lamp in the living room. After shutting and locking the door behind her, she turned on lights as she went into the kitchen. She was craving coffee and figured a hot cup of decaf might satisfy the urge, so she settled her daughter in a baby seat on the table and put on a pot of coffee.

As the coffee maker began brewing, she sat at the table and pulled the newspaper from its plastic sleeve. The headline on the front page read, Another Day, Another Murder, and beneath it was a photograph of the back of the inn with the balcony in mid-construction. Kate noted the reporter who had written the article was Wanda Levin. As she read on, she realized that the article wasn’t so much a report on Eddie Jackson’s bizarre death as it was an advertisement for Amelia Langley’s murder tour. Even the quotes Wanda had pulled from interviewing Zack Bristow seemed skewed to promote Amelia’s side business:

“In Rock Ridge, you never know who will be next.”

“There’s a lot of dark history in this town.”

And, “Rock Ridge is becoming known for the multitude of people who are killed here.”

Kate got a strange feeling as she set the paper down on the kitchen table. Amelia had invited Wanda to the inn to report on Eddie’s death, and she clearly influenced Wanda to believe it was in fact a murder. It made Kate wonder about Amelia’s motives.

No one had benefitted more from Eddie’s murder than the innkeeper.

Chapter Nine

The morning sun was beating down and heating up the asphalt as Kate walked briskly down the sidewalk. Josie had balled her little fists around Kate’s hair from where she jostled in the baby carrier on Kate’s back. She should’ve pulled her hair into a ponytail, she thought, as she used her free hand to loosen her daughter’s grip. She slowed, took a sip of decaf coffee from the thermos she was carrying, and handed Josie a baby rattle to get her to let go of Kate’s red locks. It seemed to do the trick, but as Kate continued on toward the Rock Ridge Tribune, having parked a good six blocks away, her daughter began tapping the rattle against Kate’s head. She sighed. It was just going to be one of those days.

The Tribune offices looked sleepy, Kate noticed, slipping through the entrance door. It was just after eight and though the receptionist was stationed at her desk, the majority of desks throughout the newsroom were vacant.

Stepping toward the young woman who looked both frazzled and half asleep, Kate asked, “Is Wanda Levin in yet?”

The receptionist turned her big, brown eyes up at Kate. “She’s talking with the new editor-in-chief. I can let her know you’re here when she gets out. What’s your name?”

“Kate Flaherty.” She hesitated to have a seat on the bench across from the receptionist’s desk. “Let me ask you,” she said, leaning toward the woman and speaking quietly. But she didn’t get the chance to continue.

The receptionist was smiling and making funny faces at Josie. “She’s so cute,” she said.

Pleased, Kate asked, “You can tell she’s a girl?”

“Of course. My parents always dressed me in gender-neutral colors when I was growing up. I had a bowl-cut until I was thirteen,” she said, laughing. “But it worked in my favor, I think. In grade school my teachers didn’t tell me to smile or comment that I looked pretty, like they did to the other girls. That crap has an effect on a young person, you know.”

“Your parents sound very thoughtful,” said Kate, while in the back of her mind she thought that Josie’s choice of dress wasn’t her doing but her daughter’s. “I wanted to ask you about Wanda Levin’s front-page article that was printed yesterday, the one about Eddie Jackson.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “The chief hated it,” she said, shaking her head.

“He did?”

“People don’t realize that with the financial downturn, the paper has been affected as well, and we couldn’t turn down the extra income.”

“Income?”

“It wasn’t an article,” she explained. “We call them ‘advertorials’ and we usually put them in the back of the paper. They’re advertisements written as an article, ‘advertorials’... get it?”

“I see,” she said, putting the pieces together. “Amelia Langley paid the Tribune to write that article?”

The young woman sighed. “She practically wrote it herself. And she paid five times our going rate to get it on the front page.” She became suddenly distracted when Wanda strode out from the editor-in-chief’s office. “I bet she just got chewed out for it some more,” she commented. “Amelia contacted her about another article. I guess the town is trying to shut down her murder tour, so she came in two seconds after I got here to try to buy another front page advertorial.”

“And the chief doesn’t want to print it,” Kate surmised.

“Wanda doesn’t want to print it. We’re a small paper but we still take pride in what we do.” The receptionist stood and waved Wanda over. “Kate Flaherty here to see you.”

She started over, saying, “I really don’t have time.”

“Just a few minutes?” asked Kate. “I’m not here to give you any trouble.”

“I tried,” she stated, planting her fists on her hips and continuing with remarkable intuition. “I tried to get your statement and statements from your contractors. I tried to get some cold, hard facts from Zack Bristow. I’m just as annoyed by that article are you are, I’m sure, but when a customer pays they have final say about the content.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Kate urgently. “I think this story could be much bigger.”

Interested, Wanda’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead. “How?”

“I think it’s connected to Bobbie Hamden’s murder.”

Wanda snorted a laugh. “Tell me you have proof.”

Frustrated, Kate pressed her mouth into a thin line then said, “I’m sure you’ve heard Mayor Dean Wentworth has been arrested for Bobbie’s murder.”

“I did. It’s front page news, which is why I don’t have time for this conversation.”

“I’m not so sure he did it.”

Wanda sized her up for a long moment. “If you can get me something tangible, I’ll print it. The chief is dying to bump the next Amelia Langley advertorial. But it has to be solid.”

“Okay,” said Kate.

“Who do you think did it?” she asked, curious. “Who would want both Bobbie Hamden and Eddie Jackson dead? As far as I could tell from my research, the two didn’t even know each other.”

Kate was reluctant to speculate so she simply said, “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” said Wanda before Kate could turn for the door. “You’ve got some serious guts.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your husband arrested Dean, and now you’re going to try to dismantle his case?”

Kate smirked. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Outside, she walked briskly, getting her heart rate up further with each block she crossed. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky overhead, and she made a mental note to put a sunbonnet on Josie as soon as she reached her truck. Today was going to be a hot one. The dregs of leftover snow that had been lining the grassy planters along the sidewalk had completely melted, and if this kept up, the landscape wouldn’t be soggy much longer. Why did spring have to be such a short season? She wondered, but was jarred from thought when she noticed a folded note tucked under her truck’s windshield wiper.

She rushed and grabbed the note, glancing around before reading it. There was no one in sight, only the occasional car driving down the street.

Had she been followed?

She opened the note and read, ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

She stared at it and tried to process the threatening insinuation. Was someone going to come after her?

“Kate.”

She whipped around and found Detective Kilroy approaching from up the block.

As he neared her, he said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Discreetly, she tucked the note into her pocket and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Just out for a walk,” he said easily.

“You’re out for a walk when you guys have the mayor in custody?”

“He lawyered up,” he explained with a shrug. “But it won’t matter. That’s one murder solved.”

Kate feigned a smile, saying, “Congratulations,” and then unlocked her truck.

“What was that?” he asked, his gaze falling to her pocket.

“Uh, nothing, just a Chinese take-out menu.”

Kilroy narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, don’t throw it away,” he suggested in a way that unnerved her. “You might need it.”

“I have enough menus at home.”

They both knew this wasn’t about Chinese take-out.

He winced, feigned a smile at her and pressed his point, “Some restaurants can be persistent. You might keep getting menus on your windshield until they’re certain they’ve convinced you.”

“Is that right?”

“Just a little friendly advice.”

“That I should order take-out,” she supplied, all the while growing terrified deep down.

He shrugged and said, “Have a nice day,” as he continued on down the sidewalk.

She let out a heavy breath, watching him turn the corner. She quickly settled Josie into her car seat.

When she climbed in behind the steering wheel, her cell began vibrating in her pocket. It was Maxwell, so she answered the call.

“What’s up?”

“I thought you’d be at the inn by now,” he said. “I can get the guys started, just wanted to check in.”

“I need to deal with a few things, but I’ll be over soon.”

After ending the call, she began driving off toward the Municipal Building in the center of town. Wanda was right. There was no clear connection between Bobbie Hamden and Eddie Jackson. If the same person had killed them both, what was the reason? If Joe Swenson had those photos in his possession, then he might know who had taken them. And if Kate could talk to that person, she would get one step closer to finding out the truth.

She rolled to a stop close to the entrance door and glanced in the backseat at Josie. Maybe she should consider Scott’s suggestion and look into hiring a babysitter. Her daughter wasn’t a preemie anymore. She was healthy and happy, and her personality had flourished though she was only a few months old.

Like second nature, Kate lifted Josie out of the car seat and slid her into the carrier, which she strapped to her front this time. She locked up her truck and made her way into the building where she found Joe Swenson’s office after climbing to the second floor.

He was nursing a mug of coffee at his desk as other government workers lumbered through the office as if reluctant to start their day. Lifting his eyes as if sensing that she was staring at him, he said, “Morning, Kate. What brings you to the auditor’s office?”

She sat in the chair across from him and said, “It’s not business related.” His expression shifted, but she continued. “Dean was arrested because of the photos that you threw in the dumpster outside his house.”

“Photos?” he asked, playing dumb.

Has Scott not spoken with him yet?

“I saw you Joe,” she pointed out. “You and that woman you work with dumped a garbage bag in the dumpster outside of Dean’s house. Did you take those photos?”

He set his mug on the desk and clasped his hands together then said, “No.”

“Then how did you have the photos?” When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Who took them? And why was that person following Dean?”

“If you ask me, the killer took them.”

“So you don’t actually know who took the photos?”

“No, they were left in my mailbox after Bobbie was killed.”

“Did they come with a note?”

His eyes widened. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Do you have the note?”

“Not with me.”

Kate pulled the handwritten note she had found under her windshield out from her pocket and placed it on the desk. “Does that look like the handwriting?”

Joe studied it for a while, but seemed at a loss. “It might. How am I supposed to know if the same person wrote this?”

“So someone left you photos in your mailbox that incriminated Dean Wentworth,” she said, thinking out loud. “And you never brought them to the police?”

He looked suddenly remorseful. “I didn’t see how he could’ve done it. I felt instinctively that the killer had left the photos, like they were trying to frame Dean, and I wasn’t going to be a pawn in their game.”

“So you gave the photos back to Dean in a very indirect way.”

“That was the plan,” he said. “But somehow your husband got his hands on them.”

It was Kate’s turn to feel remorseful, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and asked, “Why did you wait so long to return them?”

“I thought I could squeeze Dean for some money. I’m not proud of that fact, and if you really must know, it didn’t go well. He refused to pay me...that is until Eddie died. Then he contacted me right away.”

Kate mentally walked through the logic. Maybe Dean had changed his mind for the same reason he had lied to Kate about having known Eddie Jackson. How things looked didn’t always reflect the truth, and if Dean was suddenly caught up in Scott’s suspicion over two murders then Scott would have an easier time arresting him for both.

Leaning forward and speaking in a low tone, she asked, “Did Bobbie know Eddie? Or do you know anyone who knew both of them?”

“That’s what kills me about Dean’s arrest,” he said. “The only person I can think of is Dean.”

Which meant that Kate had to talk to him.

“I’m glad Carly said something at the town hall meeting last night,” he said, changing the subject. “Amelia and that damned bus of hers have been stopping off at my house almost every night. I blast my TV and the radio and shut all the windows and I can still hear her tour guide describing in terrible detail how Bobbie was killed. I can’t stand it. I hope she gets shut down.”

Again, Kate pondered how Amelia had been benefitting from the recent murders. But the notion that Amelia Langley could be behind all of this was outlandish. No one would kill just to add another stop on their murder tour. And yet, Bobbie’s murder as well as the peculiar manner in which Eddie had died didn’t really make sense. They weren’t connected. No one had a real motive to take their lives. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made that Amelia might have orchestrated all of this.

But without proof, she still couldn’t trust the gut feeling that was twisting her stomach into knots.

She thanked him and rose to her feet, cradling Josie against her chest. “Who’s the lady?”

“What?”

“The woman I’ve seen you with?”

He turned pale.

“Joe? You’re obviously involved with her; I’m just curious who she is.”

“Jennifer Baxter,” he said in a whisper. “And she means a lot to me.”

Kate cocked her brow, prompting him to explain his defensiveness.

“I started seeing her before Bonnie was killed. That’s the real reason I didn’t expose the photos to the police. Dean had known. If I fingered Dean, then he would tell Scott that I’d been having an affair and we both know how damning that would be for me.”

Reassuringly, she said, “I know you didn’t kill her, Joe. You don’t have to worry.”

She thanked him for his time and started off, swinging the glass door open, walking down the hallway then down the stairs. The Municipal Building was connected to the precinct where the jails were, so Kate turned the corner in the basement and found a guard standing post outside the cells.

“I’d like to talk to Dean, if he’s not meeting with his lawyer,” she told him.

The guard seemed agreeable and opened the door for her.

“Kate!” said Dean, wrapping his hands around the bars as soon as she came into view. “Are you here to help me?”

“What were you doing in Bobbie’s house that night?”

He drew in a stiff breath. Suddenly seeming on edge that she didn’t believe he was innocent. “I meet with her sometimes for work, to go over budgets, and to assess new buildings with the planning commission.”

“Did you see anyone outside on your way in or out?”

“No, I don’t think so. It was quiet, but really I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, someone took those photos and then got into Bobbie’s house and killed her.”

He thought for a long moment. “I saw Detective Kilroy drive by.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I recognized his vehicle, and as soon as the headlights were out of my eyes, I saw him behind the wheel.”

“Was this on your way in to talk to Bobbie or on your way out?”

“On my way in. I didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t like his siren was blaring.”

Kate thought long and hard about the detail. Kilroy had been intimidating her, though it was too subtle for her to be absolutely certain. What stumped her was the notion that Kilroy would want Bobbie dead, or Eddie for that matter...unless...

“I have to go,” she said.

“Wait, no,” he protested. “I can’t stand being in here alone.”

“When is your bail hearing?”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from my attorney. It could be days.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you’re probably safer in here than anywhere.”

“What?”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

He called out her name as she walked down the aisle, passing the empty jail cells on her way to the door, but she ignored him.

Rock Ridge had been suffering financially, but there was one person who hadn’t been affected.

Did Amelia Langley have Detective Kilroy in her pocket, and if so, what lengths would she go to keep her murder tour alive?

Chapter Ten

Kate sat in her idling truck across the street from Detective Kilroy’s house, a one-story ranch with a shallow front porch and a garage attached to the left side. She checked the clock on the dashboard. It was a little after ten in the morning, which told her Kilroy was likely at the precinct. No one had followed Kate; she was certain, having kept her eye on the rearview mirror as she drove to this neighborhood.

She was cradling Josie in her lap, breastfeeding her daughter as she surveyed the detective’s home.

Josie sputtered and pushed her away so Kate held her daughter against her as she fumbled to lower her t-shirt and fasten her overalls. She then threaded her arms through the baby carrier so that the pouch was in front, and lifted and lowered her daughter in.

Looking every which way, Kate climbed cautiously out of her truck. The neighborhood was sleepy and most of the houses along the block seemed vacant. There were no cars in the driveways.

She grabbed her tool kit from the truck bed and began rifling through for her screwdriver, which she tucked into her pocket, all the while hoping that Kilroy’s house wasn’t outfitted with an alarm system.

As she neared the front door, she noticed a number of locks, two of which were deadbolts. It seemed like overkill and she didn’t want to stand on the porch for anyone to see, so she quickly rounded to the back of the house where she found a door. It had two locks but at least she was beyond view of any prying eyes.

She used her screwdriver to work on the door handle. There were four screws around it, and after what felt like an eternity, she pulled the doorknob from its hole, wedged her hand through, and reached for the deadbolt lock. She had to strain to turn it, but soon the door swung inward and she stepped inside the house.

If Kilroy really was a dirty cop who could be paid to do anything, then there would have to be some record of that payment. She crossed through the living room and noticed a home office, which she entered. It was surprisingly organized and when she reached the desk, she began opening the drawers. She found a number of hanging folders in the bottom drawer and after flipping through the tabs, she discovered an unmarked folder. She sat, setting the filing folder on the desk, and opened it.

There was a stack of receipts inside, or so she thought. She looked at them more closely and realized they were ATM deposit receipts and each contained a snapshot of a check. The image was small, but she squinted her eyes to read the company name and address in the upper left corner.

Over the Moon.

Amelia Langley’s inn.

She began scrutinizing the memo line on the first check image. It was almost too small to read, but she caught the word, ‘percentage’.

Straightening up and gazing out the window, she realized that Amelia had been paying Kilroy a percentage of her earnings on the murder tour, probably in exchange for his help at insuring more murders continued.

But had Kilroy killed Bobbie Hamden himself?

Had he killed Eddie?

Kate was certain that Kilroy hadn’t been at the inn that day. But what if Amelia had someone else on her secret payroll—someone who had been willing to hang out on the second floor of the inn and throw the windowpane on Eddie at the right moment?

Quickly, she grabbed her cellphone and began taking pictures of the deposit slips, hoping the resolution quality would be good enough for Scott to read once she showed him.

She startled at the faint sound of a key scraping into a lock and sprang to her feet, hushing Josie from making gurgling noises.

Kilroy’s voice came from the foyer as he stepped inside. “I have to get back to the precinct.”

“They can live without you for ten minutes,” said a woman, whose voice Kate recognized immediately. It was Amelia.

Frantically, Kate spun this way and that around the office, looking for a place to hide and because of it Josie let out a giggle.

Kate gasped and gently placed her hand over her daughter’s mouth, whispering, “Shhh.” Then she listened hard for whether or not they had heard her.

“I have a lot of paperwork to do at the station,” said Kilroy, which told Kate neither had heard her daughter.

“The case is closed, I thought,” said Amelia. “And it couldn’t have been more perfect. With Dean locked up, the town will have to postpone the vote.”

“That’s our next problem,” said Kilroy. “I need that money coming in.”

“Oh, don’t you worry.”

As Kate listened, their conversation quieted and soon she heard kissing noises that turned hungry.

Were they taking each other’s clothes off in the living room?

She heard their feet shuffling and sensed they might come into view. She cursed that she had left the office door open, and thinking fast, she ducked under the desk, which Josie didn’t at all like.

“Quiet,” she breathed in her daughter’s ear. The last thing Kate needed was to turn into another stop on the murder tour. But Josie wouldn’t stop fussing.

From the living room couch, Kilroy asked, “Did you hear something?”

But Amelia must have pulled him in for a long kiss, because things went quiet again after that.

She had to get out of there, but the couch they were making out on was right beside the back door. Her stomach dropped. If either of them looked at the door, they would see that the doorknob was missing.

Abruptly, Kilroy asked, “Can we trust him?”

“I’m paying him to keep his mouth shut.”

“But for how long?”

Amelia paused, and then said, “The murder tour loses its charm when a death becomes old news. We’ll need him again.”

“You think he did a good job with Eddie?”

“It wasn’t ideal,” she admitted.

“No, it wasn’t,” he agreed, sounding a bit put off. “It was a disaster if you ask me. If it wasn’t for Wanda, no one would even think it had been a murder.”

“So he jumped the gun and improvised,” she said easily. “He’s learning.”

“You’ve already had murders at the inn. We needed a new location and he messed that up for us.”

“Oh, calm down and take your pants off,” she ordered.

Who were they talking about? Who had killed Eddie? And if it had gone according to plan, where should he have been killed?

Kate’s heart skipped a beat when her cellphone vibrated. She rushed to grab it, and as soon as she glanced at the screen, she realized it was an incoming text message. Quietly and carefully, she swiped the screen, opening the message, which was from Maxwell.

Carter’s a no show. WTH?

Carter?

The short, young man who wore a baseball cap had been hanging out at the front of the inn at the time Eddie had died. Or had he? Kate had gone inside the lobby. How long had she been in there? Could Carter have slipped in, crossed through the lounge, and jogged up the stairs? Could he have pushed that windowpane onto Eddie and made it back down to his friend by the time Kate had gone outside again?

There came a knock at the front door, and Kilroy immediately asked, “Who’s that?”

“How should I know?” Amelia responded.

Grumbling, Kilroy walked through the living room and into the foyer where he opened the front door.

“I know she’s in here,” said a man. “I followed her.”

“You can’t just barge in here, Carter,” yelled the detective.

“Out of my way.”

Kate heard them scuffling, but Carter must have made it into the living room where Amelia was, because she heard him demand, “Where’s my money?”

“It’s being processed,” said the innkeeper.

“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “I’ve been waiting a month for Bonnie and now you owe me for Eddie too.”

“You messed the second one up,” asserted Kilroy.

“So you’re not going to pay me?”

“I never said that,” Amelia assured him. “But you’ll have to be patient.”

“I’ve been patient. I want my money now, in cash.”

Amelia laughed. “I don’t keep cash at Kilroy’s house.”

“Then I’ll drive you home, or to the bank or wherever you need to go.”

Kilroy yelled, “You should be at work. People are going to wonder why you’re gone.”

“Don’t tell me where I should be!” Kate heard the sound of a gun drawing out of its holster and then cocking, and Carter yelled, “Whoa!”

Kilroy said, “You are going to get the hell out of here, and you are going to wait patiently for your money.”

“Or you’re going to kill me?”

“It certainly looks that way,” he said coolly.

“You wouldn’t, not with your own weapon—that can be traced.”

Kilroy snorted a laugh as though the contractor was some kind of moron. “You’re in my house. All I have to say is that you broke in and I defended myself.”

Without warning, Josie began wailing.

“What the hell is that?” asked Amelia, springing to her feet and rushing toward the sound of the baby’s cry.

Panicking, Kate crawled out from under the desk, but it was too late. Amelia filled the doorway, as Detective Kilroy stepped in behind her.

“Don’t kill Carter yet,” she said. “Not until this one is dead.”

Chapter Eleven

Kate sat in a wooden chair in the center of the living room, watching her assailants argue. Her hands were tied behind her back, which wasn’t half as bad as the fact that Amelia Langley was holding Josephine. She wanted to leap across the room at her, but the ropes bracing her to the chair were much too tight.

“We can’t kill the police chief’s wife,” said Carter, who looked as though he was coming undone. He was pacing and plowing his fingers through his hair.

Detective Kilroy agreed, saying, “He’s right.”

“But she broke in!” yelled Amelia, pointing at the missing doorknob.

“There’s no way I’ll get away with killing her!” Kilroy shot back. “Even if she did break in, with all the daylight here I’d never be able to convince Scott that I didn’t know who I was shooting.”

“Give me my daughter,” said Kate in a guttural tone.

“You can’t hold her,” she said with a smile. “Your hands are tied.”

“Then untie me,” she insisted. “He’s aiming a gun at me. I’m obviously not going anywhere.”

“Why couldn’t you stay out of it?” Amelia sneered.

“When have I ever stayed out of it?” she challenged.

And Amelia immediately turned on Carter, yelling, “This is your fault. If you hadn’t killed Eddie at the inn, then she wouldn’t have had the impulse to poke around.”

Josie tore out in a wailing cry.

“Give me my daughter!” Kate demanded. “She needs me!”

“She doesn’t need you. She needs a mother.”

Kate gaped at her in utter astonishment. “You think you can get away with taking my baby?”

“Shut up,” she said, rocking Josie in a way she didn’t like. She turned to Kilroy and asked, “Can we make her disappear? Make it look like she left town?”

“This is bad, Amelia,” he said.

Kate wondered if she could play off his moment of clarity. Thinking fast, she said, “If you let me go, if you give me Josie and just let me go, I won’t say a thing to anyone. No one has to know.”

“I’m not buying it,” said Amelia.

“You don’t have any other options.”

“I have plenty, and they all end with you dead.”

Kate locked eyes with Carter and said, “She was going to kill you. Don’t help her.”

But Kilroy swung his gun around, aiming it at Carter. “Don’t even think about it.”

Carter lifted his hands in the air, but Kate wasn’t deterred.

“You can do this, Carter. You can run out of here, go to the police.”

“He’ll shoot me,” he whimpered.

Amelia lashed out, saying, “You’re an idiot for even considering it. Of course he’ll shoot you.”

“You did all of this so that you could add a few more stops on your murder tour?” Kate asked her, glaring up at the innkeeper whom she had once considered a close family friend. “After everything you’ve been through with your daughter, Becky, you really have no conscience about taking lives for a lousy profit?”

Amelia stared at her but said nothing.

“You know you’re going to get shut down,” Kate pressed. “You’re not even going to have a tour much longer.”

“There won’t be a vote,” she hissed. “Dean’s in jail, remember?”

“There will be another mayor, another vote. It’s all over for you and you know it.”

Angered, Amelia charged toward Kilroy and snatched the gun right out of his hands, juggling Josie on her hip. She aimed the gun at Kate and fired again and again and again, as Kate hunched forward, cowering.

But not one single bullet hit her.

As Amelia calmed, she said over Josephine’s screaming, “I don’t have to miss, you know. Now keep your mouth shut!”

Kate’s ears were ringing from the gunshots and as she straightened up and glanced over her shoulder, she saw bullet holes in the wall.

Decisively, Amelia ordered, “Carter, you do it. Now,” and offered him the gun.

“You haven’t paid me for the others yet,” he objected.

“Just do it!”

Holding the gun, Carter’s hands began shaking, and when Kate glanced at Kilroy, he looked nervous.

“Carter,” said Kate. “You have all the power. You can end this.”

“But...” he whispered.

“You can end this, Carter,” she insisted.

“But I killed them,” he said softly, as he aimed the gun at her head. “I’d only go to prison.”

Suddenly, a loud thud came from the front door and before Kate could process what the sound meant, Scott was spilling into the living room with four police officers, all with their weapons drawn.

“Freeze!” he yelled, and Carter dropped the gun. “Everyone down on the ground!”

Before they lowered, however, he rushed to Amelia and took his daughter in his arms, as the police officers swarmed Carter and Kilroy.

“Whoa!” said Kilroy as if he could convince them he was innocent.

“Don’t play me, Kilroy,” said Scott. “I know exactly what your role has been.”

As the officers carted them out of the house, Scott untied Kate with one hand, being careful to hold Josie securely.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “911 got a call about gunshots and we raced over. We didn’t know what we’d find.”

“It was Amelia all along,” she said, getting to her feet now that she was freed. She took Josie in her arms and kissed her head. “I’ve given it some thought,” she said, staring up at him. “And I really think we need to find Josie a babysitter.”

Scott laughed, pulled her in for a hug, and kissed her before saying, “It’s about time. I couldn’t agree with you more.”

ROOFTOP KILLER

Chapter One

Kate gently set her daughter, Josephine, down into the playpen and snapped the cup of her bra back into place, pulled on her gray t-shirt that she’d draped on the arm of the couch, and glanced out the living room window at the landscape.

Rolling hills unfolded with luscious green grass. The forest in the distance was thick, each tree a plume of healthy leaves. The sky overhead was stark blue and cloudless.

Though the air conditioner in the living room hummed noisily, Kate felt hot just looking outside. It was early July but felt more like the height of August, every summer coming on stronger than the last. She wasn’t looking forward to the day ahead since she was scheduled to work outside.

She would much rather stay home with her five-month-old daughter. But after Scott had arrested Amelia Langley and taken down her grim murder tour, and he’d charged Detective Kilroy and Carter Davie for the conspiratorial murder of Eddie Jackson, Scott and Kate had agreed that it would be best for Josephine to stay home with a babysitter until she was old enough for day care.

For Kate, being separated from her daughter all day wasn’t easy.

Sitting on the couch, she watched Josie examine a yellow rattle. Her hair had been growing in. No longer fine wisps, her hair was now tufts of bright red waves just like Kate’s, though Josephine had Scott’s eyes. She smiled, waving the rattle, and then tossed it against the mesh siding of the playpen.

The doorbell chimed, Kate checked her wristwatch and thought to herself, right on time.

After crossing through the living room and foyer, she opened the door to find Maxwell slinging a backpack over his shoulder from where he stood on the front step.

“Morning,” he said with a crooked smile.

Inviting him in, she asked, “Coffee?” and led him into the living room.

While Kate still wasn’t drinking regular coffee due to breastfeeding, she had developed another kind of craving—offering dark roast—which gave her a vicarious thrill. She liked to brew coffee, smell the rich aroma, and watch her friends drink it.

“Sure,” said Maxwell. “I’ll have a cup. Cream and sugar?”

As Maxwell got settled in front of Josie’s playpen, Kate padded into the kitchen, grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker, and poured her babysitter a mug, which she doctored to his specifications.

Maxwell had been an excellent contractor, and she had needed his assistance during her pregnancy. When the time came for Scott and her to find an appropriate babysitter, Maxwell had surprised them, volunteering for the job. At first Kate hadn’t known what to make of it, but the fact of the matter was that she trusted him and no other applicant had made as much sense.

Kate handed him the mug as she sat beside him on the couch.

“I just fed her,” she explained. “And her diaper is still fresh. I pumped several bottles so you’ll find those in the fridge the next time she gets hungry.”

He shot her a teasing glance, which Kate was all too familiar with. Every time Maxwell showed up in the morning she had a tendency to go over every detail of Josie’s needs as if it were his first day. She stopped herself from elaborating further and said, “You know. I know you know. I’m just being thorough.”

“She’s in good hands,” he said, lifting Josie out of the playpen and setting her on his lap. “Five again?”

“I’ll be home by five, yes. Five or six,” she said with a sigh, already dreading the hot conditions she would be working under.

“How’s the roof coming along?”

“It’s coming,” she said, rising to her feet. “I agree with Sandra that those roofing shingles need to be replaced, but I think we saw the last of the rain in June.”

“Sunscreen and water,” he suggested. “That’s how you’ll get through the ninety-degree heat.”

“It’s going to be in the nineties again?” she asked, alarmed.

“According to the weather report.”

Kate reminded him to call her if anything happened, even though he knew to do that already, and then kissed Josie goodbye. When she reached the foyer, she called out, “Want me to set the alarm for you?”

“Just lock up,” he countered. “I’ll set it in a minute.”

“Have a good one!”

As soon as Kate was on the other side of the door she listened out for the sound of her daughter fussing, but Josie had gotten quite used to Maxwell and rarely cried after Kate left for the day.

It caused her mixed emotions.

On the one hand, she was glad her daughter was finding independence. It gave her and Scott a long leash of freedom, and they had been finding time to go out more, just the two of them. But on the other hand, Kate felt a strange sense of loss, as if she was missing out on the adorable day-to-day of her daughter’s life.

More and more she thought about hanging up her tool belt for good. She hadn’t discussed the possibility with Scott, doing so would make the idea far too real and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. But she did like the thought of being a full-time mommy instead of a full-time handywoman. Scott’s income at the precinct was comfortable enough that technically she didn’t have to work. Her twin boys were adults, their college loans having been paid off long ago.

Rather than get sucked into the notion yet another time, she put the idea to rest, at least for today, and started for her truck. The truck bed had a box of roofing shingles, the last of three she had carted over to Sandra Conway’s house, the roof of which had been leaking with every rain for the last month.

Kate climbed in behind the steering wheel and turned the engine. Once it settled into a healthy idle, she cranked the air conditioner and angled the vents at her face. She backed out in an arch, threw her truck into gear, and started off down the long and winding driveway.

Sandra Conway’s house was a split-level Homestead set in the middle of a block in the most suburban part of Rock Ridge. In Kate’s mind, she called the area “cookie cutter,” because every house looked exactly the same and the blocks were on a grid where every fifth block had a dog park, mailbox, and chain coffee shop, which Kate happened to despise.

Nevertheless, it was good for business that Kate had infiltrated this neighborhood. The houses weren’t especially well built and since most of them had been around for over a decade, things were starting to fall apart.

She pulled her truck along the curb in front of Sandra’s house, climbed out, and slid the box of roofing shingles off the lip of the bed, hoisting it against her hip so that she could carry it one-handed. Lastly, she grabbed her tool kit and made her way to the front door where she rang the doorbell.

It chimed faintly inside the house and a moment later Sandra swung the door inward, exclaiming, “Please tell me this is your last day. I can’t take the banging.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Kate with a smile as Sandra led her through the house and out the back door.

Sandra worked as a writer, managing a number of projects, which ranged from blogging, ghostwriting non-fiction, and working on a novel. She worked from home and as far as Kate could tell, she was extremely sensitive to noise.

Outside, Kate set down her tool kit and box next to the ladder that rested against the back of the house, while Sandra hovered in the doorway. “I’m going to keep this closed so the AC doesn’t escape.”

“No problem,” said Kate.

“If you come in to use the bathroom or get a drink of water, would you please be quiet about it?”

Kate couldn’t recall ever being noisy in Sandra’s house, but she agreed and the forty-year-old writer quickly disappeared, closing the door and grumbling to herself.

It was times like this that Kate missed Maxwell, she thought as she stared up at the ladder and then down at her box and tool kit. The last thing she needed was to break her neck climbing up one handed because she was juggling a box.

She grabbed her tool kit first and started her ascent. Taking the rungs carefully and watching her step, she inched her way up the ladder, set her tool kit on the flat roof, and quickly shuffled down again.

The box wouldn’t be quite so easy, but she set it firmly against her side, holding it with her right hand, and began climbing once again.

When she reached the roof, leaning against the ladder, she gingerly set the box beside her tool kit, and then shimmied a few more rungs and stepped onto the roof.

Before assessing her progress, she glanced out at the many houses, the many roofs in all directions. It was bizarre, a wealth of identical houses. She was glad she lived in the rural part of town. Her house was unique and there were no others around. If Sandra Conway was so hell-bent on things being quiet, Kate wondered why she’d chosen to live in the middle of the most suburban area in town. But she figured the mortgages on these split-levels were far cheaper than a house on five acres would be.

Kate grabbed her tool kit and stepped lightly across the roof, mindful that Sandra could hear her every step. She kept on the toes of her sneakers and kneeled when she reached the section of the roof that needed replacing. She had left a modest stack of shingles out yesterday so she reasoned she would start with those and then drag the box over.

She found her hammer and a box of nails in her tool kit then plucked a starter strip from the pile. Once she had laid the strip, she set a new shingle over it and began nailing it down so that it overlapped its neighbor. After she completed the row, she grabbed a piece of chalk and a ruler from her tool kit, and began marking where the next row of shingles should align.

The sun was beating down. Sweat formed across Kate’s brow, but she wiped her forehead dry with her arm and continued nailing the shingles.

“Kate?” called Sandra, who had just stepped out onto the back yard.

She cringed, expecting the writer to accuse her of being too loud with her hammer, but when she tiptoed to the edge of the roof and glanced down at Sandra, the writer explained, “I need to go out for printer ink. I won’t be long.”

“No problem,” she said, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand.

“I’m going to lock the front door, but I’ll keep the back door open in case you need to use the bathroom.”

“Thanks, see ya soon.”

As Sandra walked out of view into the house and shut the door, Kate returned to her line of shingles and wondered what Maxwell and Josie were up to. It was a little after ten, which meant Josie could be napping or maybe they were playing with one of the educational toys Scott had bought for her. Or were they watching a Disney movie. Josie loved Beauty and the Beast, and though she wasn’t yet talking, she had an ear for music and waved her arms and vocalized whenever the songs were playing.

Kate sighed, lowering to her knees and reminding herself to focus on this roof. The sooner she finished up, the sooner she could get back to her daughter. And for the first time in her life, the fact that she didn’t have another fix-it job lined up after this one was a huge relief. Maybe she could schedule a week off before her next job and really spend a lot of time with her daughter. Crime in Rock Ridge had been virtually nonexistent so maybe Scott could take a week off as well.

The very thought of it was a wonderful motivator and she hopped to it, nailing down shingle after shingle until it was time to draw another chalk line.

Her lower back was starting to ache from being crouched for so long so she stood up and braced her hands on her butt, leaning backwards and stretching out her spine. She could barely look up the sky was so bright. To stretch her legs she paced and gazed out at the row of houses. She spotted more than a few roofs that could use re-shingling, and made a mental note to go door-to-door offering her services after she got a number of days with Josie.

As she turned to pace in the opposite direction, she noticed a man standing on one of the roofs about four houses down.

His fists were planted firmly on his hips and from this distance she could only guess his age. Judging from his sandy-blond hair and the style of t-shirt he wore, she pegged him for his mid or late twenties. He wore Converse sneakers as well and nothing about his appearance told her he belonged on a roof. Not to mention that he wasn’t chatting on his cellphone, he wasn’t drinking a beer, he wasn’t sunning himself, and he didn’t have any company.

When she reached the edge of her own roof, she knelt, observing him.

He was just standing there, and the longer she stared, the more she realized he looked distraught and so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her even though they were facing one another.

A red Ford Thunderbird rumbled its way up the street and pulled along the curb in front of the house where the man was. He startled, rushing toward the edge of the roof and peering down and when he paced back, he plowed his fingers through his hair in such a way that seemed to indicate he knew he was in deep trouble.

Kate drew in a deep breath and told herself not to be nosy, but she couldn’t seem to tear herself away.

A moment later a second man appeared on the roof and the blond guy whipped around.

At least Kate thought it was a man.

She realized she had stopped breathing at the sight of him. He was dressed all in black despite the stifling weather, but that wasn’t what took her breath away.

He was wearing a black ski mask.

Without warning, the masked man charged at the young guy and a struggle ensued. As they fought—the masked man attempting to choke the young guy, and the guy throwing desperate punches to get him off—they fell together out of view.

Kate sprung to her feet, panic surging through her. She was momentarily dumbfounded, registering what she’d seen, and it took her a great deal of effort to snap out of it and find her cellphone in the pocket of her jean shorts.

Just as she was dialing 911, the young guy sprung out into view again, but the masked man rushed after him, slipped a wire around the young guy’s neck, and began strangling him with expert precision.

“Oh God!” Kate breathed. Her hands were shaking, but she sent the call through. When she lifted her eyes, both men had fallen out of view again. “Hello?” she exclaimed as soon as she heard the 911 operator’s voice. She spat out the address and then yelled, “I think I just witnessed a murder!”

Chapter Two

Kate stood on the sidewalk and nervously waited for the police to arrive. She folded her arms, staring in the direction she had seen the red Ford Thunderbird pull a U-turn and tear down the street. She hadn’t had a prayer of reading the license plate.

What was taking the cops so long? Anxiety was skewing her sense of time. She couldn’t tell if she’d been waiting seconds or hours.

Whose house was that? Did the young man live there? Was no one else home? And why had he been waiting there on the roof like a sitting duck? Had he known he was about to be murdered? And if so, why on earth hadn’t he gone to the police?

Without realizing it, she started down the sidewalk and it wasn’t until she came in front of the house that it dawned on her she was acting reckless and downright crazy. What was she going to do, knock on the door? Climb up to the roof? Examine the body?

She glanced at her watch, but the time didn’t help her to know how long she’d been waiting. She suddenly understood that she didn’t just feel anxious. She felt guilty. She should’ve shouted, jumped up and down and waved her arms. She should’ve made herself known, gotten the killer’s attention. Maybe her being a witness could’ve scared him off. She should’ve done everything in her power to prevent him from killing, but instead she had been petrified. She hadn’t thought straight and she hadn’t done a thing worthwhile.

Realizing this compelled her to cross up the walkway and knock on the front door. She wasn’t exactly thinking this through, but she had to do something.

To her surprise, the front door popped open almost immediately, and Kate found herself staring down at a young boy who looked about ten years old. His hair was a mess of brown cowlicks and he was squeezing a raggedy teddy bear under his arm, which struck her as odd. He seemed too old for stuffed bears.

“Hi,” she said cautiously. “Are your parents at home? Any adults?”

The child just stared at her.

“You’re not home alone, are you?”

He squeezed his bear tighter.

“I was working on a roof a few houses down and I saw some commotion on your roof. I’m Kate. I’m the police chief’s wife. You know that the police are safe people, right? You can trust me.”

He blinked.

“Can I go onto your roof?”

When he again said nothing and didn’t react, she wondered if he was developmentally stunted in some way. He didn’t seem to comprehend her, but to make sure, she asked, “I like your teddy bear. What’s his name?”

“Mr. Bear,” he said in a small voice.

“Mr. Bear,” she echoed. “I like that name. What’s your name?”

He only shrunk into a shy hunch.

“Okay, I’m going to have to get onto your roof. The police will be here soon and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Can you tell me how to get up to the roof?”

Again, he fell silent and she took a deep breath, lifting her eyes. Her gaze happened to land past him to the living room where a large window revealed a ladder at the back of the house. She smiled at him and said, “I’ll be back soon.”

Quickly, she made her way around to the back of the house and started up the ladder as soon as she’d reached it.

The roof shingles were weathered and peeling up, and Kate saw where the two men had scuffled and fought—the shingles were completely loose. She followed the path of stripped shingles and gasped when she found the body of the young guy. He was lying on his back. There was a wire around his neck and his fingers were hooked under it as if he had died attempting to breathe. As she kneeled down beside him, she guessed that the wire was some kind of piano cord, because she didn’t recognize it as a building material.

Strangled on a roof in broad daylight, she thought.

Why?

Kate knew that Scott wouldn’t appreciate her tampering with a crime scene, but it didn’t stop her from reaching into the guy’s pants pocket and pulling out his wallet.

Searching through it, she found a photo of the dead guy with the strange ten-year-old boy. There was little resemblance between them, but they seemed close enough in age that they could be brothers. She found his driver’s license next and read his name: Nathan Robillard. According to his birth date, he was twenty-eight and wore corrective lenses. He had four credit cards and banked at Wells Fargo, and she found a number of punch-cards for various fast-food joints outside of town—Subway, Tasti D-Lite, Domino’s Pizza—plus one for a store she hadn’t heard of, Vape Mods, where he appeared to be due a free...something.

Sirens wailed up the street so she tucked his wallet back into his jeans and made her fast way to the ladder, which she descended quickly and carefully. As she rounded the house, a police cruiser pulled up to the curb and two officers jumped out.

“Where is he?” one of them demanded.

“The body is on the roof,” she said regretfully. “And the killer drove off.”

“Stay here,” the other ordered. “Scott is two seconds away.”

As they rushed toward the front door, Kate shouted, “There’s a ladder around back and a kid inside.”

The officers divided, one knocking on the door while the other jogged around to the back of the house.

A moment later, Scott’s truck pulled up behind the cruiser and he jumped out. They locked eyes as he walked briskly and met her on the front yard.

“What happened?”

“I was working on Sandra Conway’s roof and saw a masked man attack this blond guy on the roof of this house. Scott, he strangled him to death.”

He clenched his jaw, eyeing the roof. “Okay,” he said, contemplatively. “I’ll send an officer down to get your full statement.”

After touching eyes with her briefly, he started around the back of the house just as the police officer that had entered through the front door came out.

Kate rushed to him and asked, “Is the little boy okay? I spoke with him briefly, but he didn’t seem to understand.”

“I have no idea,” said the officer, whose nameplate read, Chesterfield. He was new to the force but not young, and as far as Kate had heard, he’d made a career switch to law enforcement after two decades of working as a paralegal. “But I called his parents.”

Kate glanced over Officer Chesterfield’s shoulder where the little boy had opened the front door and was peering out at them.

“Robillard?” she asked him.

“Huh?”

“Is that the family name?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” he asked.

She wasn’t about to tell him she had rifled through a dead man’s wallet, so she shrugged, saying, “It’s a small town.”

The other officer returned. “Scott told me to collect your statement, Kate.”

“Sure,” she said, shoving her hands into her shorts pockets. “All I can say is that the killer wore all black including a black ski mask. I didn’t see his face.”

“But you’re sure it was a man?” he questioned.

She thought about it then explained, “He had the height and build, but no, I guess I can’t be sure.”

Officer Taite, who was also new to the force but much younger than Chesterfield, began jotting her account down on a form.

She watched until his pen slowed then added, “I saw a red Ford Thunderbird pull up to the house. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I think it was the killer’s car. It sped off pretty fast after the murder.”

“Okay, good,” he said, scrawling the detail quickly onto the form.

“But that’s all I know.”

As Kate waited to be excused, she glanced at the child who hadn’t stopped staring. And it occurred to her that even if the police didn’t need her anymore, she’d rather not leave the little boy until his parents arrived.

“Okay, Kate,” said Taite. “That’s all we need from you.”

She shot him a knowing look and said, “I hope you catch the guy. He seemed to know what he was doing. If you ask me, this was premeditated.”

“You might be right about that,” said Chesterfield. “But we’ll handle it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Kate walked off, but even when she reached the front step where the little boy was wavering, she felt the officers’ eyes on her. They didn’t know her personally, but it was safe to assume her reputation had preceded her. The residents around Rock Ridge were all too familiar with her penchant for solving crimes, and while that afforded her accolades around town, the cops had a much different attitude about it. Nobody at the precinct wanted their toes stepped on and many were on guard that Kate would do just that even when there wasn’t an active investigation taking place.

Softly, she said, “Hey, Kiddo,” as she gazed down at the boy. “This is pretty nutty, right? All these police officers at your house?”

He blinked and began thumbing one of his teddy bear’s ears. She kneeled down and looked up at him.

“Is Nathan your brother?”

“Nate,” he corrected her. “He used to live here.”

“Right,” she said, encouragingly. “He doesn’t anymore because he’s an adult now. Do you know where he works?”

The child screwed his face up. Clearly he had no concept of where his brother worked.

“There was a red car here earlier. Do you know what car I’m talking about?”

His eyes widened, but only for a flashing moment, and then he seemed to cower in fear.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “But I’d like to know who drives that car.”

He stared at her, but she was patient, giving him a chance to respond.

When he didn’t, she pressed, “Do you know who drives that car?”

Finally, he nodded and in a very small voice he said, “Nate,” without looking at her.

She took a deep breath and straightened up since her legs were cramping. It was Nathan’s car, yet someone else was driving it. His killer. It told her that Nathan knew his killer very well, which meant that the masked man had concealed his face not to shield his identity from his victim, but from anyone who might happen to see him on that roof.

Again, she kneeled down in front of the child. “Does Nate have any very close friends he liked to lend his car to?”

Without warning, the child darted out across the yard and when Kate turned, she saw two very concerned looking parents jump out of a silver SUV and rush to him.

The mother exclaimed, “What in God’s name is going on?”

While the father scooped his strange son into his arms and began walking over to the police officers to demand an answer to the same question.

After watching them for a beat, Kate started off down the sidewalk toward Sandra Conway’s house where she spent the rest of the morning nailing down shingles on the roof. At times she glanced up the street at the Robillards’ house and spied the police working the crime scene on the roof.

Sandra wasn’t thrilled about all the noise Kate was making, as she hammered row after row of shingles, and the writer was even less pleased when at five-thirty Kate called it a day even though the roof still wasn’t finished.

“Will it be finished tomorrow?” Sandra asked angrily from the doorway as she glared at Kate.

She took a deep breath and gripped her tool kit tightly as a means to direct her frustration anywhere but at the writer. “I should hope so. I’m sorry about today, but things got delayed when I called the police.”

Sandra couldn’t argue with that, but the look on her face told Kate she very much wanted to. “Figures,” she complained.

“That I would’ve called the police?” Kate challenged, trying to hold back how appalled she was that Sandra would have a problem with this.

“No, of course not,” she said. “Anyone would’ve called the police. I’m saying it figures that the Robillards would eat into my day like this.”

“With their inconvenient murder?”

Sandra caught her point but still fired back. “I’ve made several noise complaints about their house. All the loud music late at night. And you know those parents aren’t home. They have a weekend cottage over in Upstate New York. They leave their kids unattended and all hell breaks loose. If you ask me, this is just another example.”

“They play music so loud that you can hear it four houses away?”

“That’s right,” she said indignantly. “It’s those friends of his.”

“Nathan’s friends?”

“Yeah. Troublemakers if you ask me, and they’re all in their late twenties for God’s sake! They should’ve outgrown that terrible college behavior by now. No wonder one of them ended up dead.”

Kate was taken aback. “Sandra, loud music doesn’t usually kill people.”

“Well loud music wasn’t all they were up to over there.”

“What else were they up to?”

Sandra leaned in as if what she had to say next was highly confidential and stated, “Drag racing.”

“They were racing cars?”

“Can you believe it…in this quiet, family-oriented neighborhood? Oh, they would wait until four in the morning when everyone was asleep and the roads were clear. But it woke the whole neighborhood up! Their cars don’t have mufflers, not all of them anyway. All the revving engines and screeching tires. It was awful.”

“Did you call the police to make noise complaints?”

“Of course! But Nathan and his friends would just drive off before the cops came, and then they’d return once the coast was clear. Quite frankly, if there were no consequences, I would’ve killed every last one of them myself.”

It was a very strong statement to make, and the fact of the matter was that Sandra Conway had just left the house at the time Nathan Robillard was about to be murdered.

Chapter Three

Kate didn’t so much walk into the foyer of her house as spill through the door. Her legs felt like rubber and her arms were sore from working on Sandra Conway’s roof all day. The squatting, the constant hammering and sweating had left her feeling drained. She was craving a bath and a glass of wine, but knew she couldn’t have both.

As she moved into the living room, Maxwell said, “Hi Honey, how was your day?”

“Knock it off, Max,” she groused.

He was seated on the couch, Josie in her high chair beside him. He had outfitted her in a bib and was spoon-feeding her applesauce, which appeared to get on her face more than in her mouth.

As he worked a soft lump of sauce onto a small plastic spoon, he commented, “So, not the best day?”

“I’m just tired. Are you rushing off?”

He lifted his eyes to her after coaxing the baby to swallow the morsel. “I don’t have to, why?”

“I’m not sure when Scott’s getting home and I could use a bath, but I’ll settle for a quick shower.”

Nodding that he had no problem hanging out, he mentioned, “There’s still a bottle and a half of breast milk in the fridge...and a bottle of Chardonnay chilling beside them.”

“You read my mind,” she said with a tired smile. After doing the math on whether or not a bottle and a half would get her daughter through the evening, Kate decided it would be just enough. She could pump and dump well before Josie would want her usual midnight snack.

“When is Scott getting home?” he asked, as Kate set her tool kit on the living room floor.

“There’s no telling.”

Maxwell cocked his head, reading between the lines, and she realized she shouldn’t have alluded to his new case.

“Something happened today?” he asked, interested.

“Unfortunately,” she replied. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Rather than make a beeline for the bathroom, Kate detoured into the kitchen and poured herself a modest helping of white wine. As she crossed through the living room, Maxwell was cleaning applesauce off Josie’s face.

“So...?” he asked. “You want to fill me in?”

She shot him a look that indicated, not really, but ultimately caved. “There was a murder near Sandra Conway’s house.”

“Who did it?”

“If we knew who did it, Scott would’ve been home by now,” she explained. “The guy was wearing a ski mask.”

“You witnessed it?”

She shrugged. “Just my luck, right?”

“Do you know who was killed?” He was scooping Josie out of her high chair now and helping her into her playpen.

“A guy named Nathan Robillard.” She took a few steps toward the bathroom, and then turned on her heel. “Do you know him?”

“By face and name,” he offered. “But not personally. I’ve seen him around.”

She paced toward him. “Do you know where he works?”

Maxwell took a moment to think, but it did no good. “I don’t, sorry.”

She nodded, absorbing the fact and how it impacted the uphill battle she feared Scott would be facing. Even Nathan’s parents hadn’t offered up where their son worked. Kate had hung around eavesdropping long enough to overhear as much.

Checking her wristwatch, she noted the time and took a sip of her wine. It tasted crisp and refreshing, and since she hardly indulged anymore the alcohol took its effect within seconds, but only lightly.

She smiled at Josie, who was looking up at her from her playpen, and then started down the hallway and into the bathroom where she adjusted the faucet, drawing a hot bath. As the water ran and steam billowed up, she found a bottle of bubbles under the sink and squeezed the lavender scented liquid under the faucet. Soon the water was coated with a thick layer of frothy bubbles.

She undressed after setting her glass of wine on the tiles and then eased into the hot water, which immediately began loosening her muscles. She sipped wine and breathed deeply, and after fifteen minutes, she decided she had gotten everything she could out of the time alone.

After drying off, she wrapped the towel around her, walked into the bedroom, and threw on a comfy t-shirt and a thin pair of sweatpants that wouldn’t have her overheated.

When she returned to the living room, Maxwell was building a handful of Josie’s cloth blocks into a tower inside the playpen.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, getting to his feet as Kate crossed into the kitchen to refresh her wine glass.

“That would be great,” she called out, pouring the wine. And as she returned, she mentioned, “I believe tomorrow will be my last day with Sandra, and then I’m hoping to take a few days off at least.”

He furrowed his brow, asking, “Really?”

“Shoot, Max, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just that you haven’t needed me on the weekends and it’s not like I work anywhere else.”

“I can pay you for the days anyway.”

Perking up, he said, “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I totally get it.”

He smiled, picking up his backpack, where it rested beside the couch, and slung it over his shoulder. “I should probably work on getting more customers, but I’m not sure babysitting is my thing, not in general anyway. I just like watching Josephine.”

“Do you miss contracting?”

He gave it some thought. “Not since Eddie Jackson got killed on the job.”

“Well, he was killed on the job, yes, but it wasn’t the job that killed him.”

“True.” He patted Josie’s head and she glanced up at him. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, bright and early.”

Kate held the door open for him when they reached it, and she hoped Scott would be home soon. She wanted to ask him about taking some time off, not that this would be the best timing. Until Nathan Robillard’s killer was caught and brought to justice, it was a safe bet that Scott would be working around the clock. But still, initiating the idea would have to happen sometime and it might as well be now.

In the living room, she sat on the couch, drank a sip of wine, and set the glass on the coffee table so she could lift Josie out of her playpen. “Where is your Daddy?” she asked, bouncing and swaying Josie in her arms. Her daughter giggled and clutched at Kate’s red hair. She was overdue for a trim, she thought, but had no time to stop by Harriet’s Hairdos.

Carrying Josie, she went into the bedroom and grabbed her laptop computer off the nightstand. When she returned to the living room, she set Josie in her playpen, opened the computer on the coffee table, and sat on the couch.

One of the punch cards she had seen in Nathan’s wallet was nagging at her, but she didn’t know why.

Vape Mods.

What type of business was it? It couldn’t be in Rock Ridge. She’d never heard of it, and according to the other punch cards for fast food places, Kate was getting the sense that Nathan, though born and raised in Rock Ridge, actually spent most of his time out of town.

She opened Google on her computer and typed in the name of the business along with the state, Pennsylvania, and hit Search. Less than a second later, a list of websites popped up, but she took a moment to drink more wine before scrolling through.

When she did scroll through and click on the business’s website, she was surprised to find that Vape Mods was in fact located in Rock Ridge. The address noted a strip mall on the outskirts of town, and according to the satellite view of Google Maps the store was poorly marked.

“Oh, vape,” she said out loud as she read the website over.

The store sold vaporizers and nicotine liquid, as an alternative to smoking cigarettes.

If Nathan Robillard had gone there frequently enough to earn himself a free product, then the employees might know him, or at the very least, they might be able to pull up his rewards account and let her know his home address.

At this point it wasn’t just idle curiosity or her low-grade hunger to solve murders that was compelling Kate to conduct her own investigation. She really would like to take at least a few days off from her repair work, ideally a full week, but the thought of Scott being tied up and unable to join her soured the prospect. If she could put this murder to bed, Scott would have no excuse not to use his vacation days.

Kate drank another sip of wine and noticed Josie was getting drowsy so she set down her glass on the coffee table, picked her daughter up from her playpen, and brought her into Scott’s old office, which they had converted into Josie’s bedroom.

After laying her daughter down in her crib, Kate pulled a blanket over her and adjusted the air conditioning unit in the window so that the temperature was cool but not too cold.

As she circled back into the living room, the front door opened and Scott stepped through, closing the door behind him.

Kate plucked her glass of wine off the coffee table and turned, asking, “How did it go today?”

“Rough,” he said before noticing her glass of wine.

“Want one?”

“Immensely,” he sighed. “But I can’t stay. Forensics finally identified the murder weapon and we now have a list of places to check out.”

“Was it a piano wire?” she asked, walking toward him.

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“I saw it,” she said, then drank more wine.

“Unless you have the eyes of a hawk, there’s no way you could’ve seen it from four houses away.”

Kate widened her eyes and told herself not to drink anymore wine. Clearly, her judgment was impaired and she’d just let slip the fact that she had gone up onto that roof to get a closer look at Nathan.

“Kate?” Scott asked, displeased.

Changing the subject, she said, “I’ve been thinking about taking time off. I think you should too.”

“How can I do that?”

“Once the case is closed,” she clarified. “We could spend a full week with Josie.”

“Once the case is closed?” he asked, considering the proposal. “It’s a definite possibility. Remind me again after I’ve caught the guy, and Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“You know better than to traipse through a crime scene. This time you really have to stay out of it.” He started for the bathroom, mentioning, “I just need to shower and throw on some fresh clothes.” Before closing the bathroom door, he asked, “She’s sleeping?”

“I just put her down.”

He looked disappointed. Soon Kate heard the shower running. She was all too familiar with the feeling. More often than not, when she got home Josie was already down for her nap and Kate had to wait hours for her to wake.

She crossed through to the kitchen and tried to wrap her thoughts around what to make for dinner. She had been keeping up with her intermittent walks, parking six blocks away from wherever she was headed, and the light exercise here and there had worked wonders for helping her lose the baby weight. Considering this, she decided it would be acceptable to order delivery from Gino’s, so she quickly placed the call and asked them to get it over to the house as soon as possible.

When she heard Scott lumber out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she called out, “I got you a calzone from Gino’s! It should be here in ten!”

“I might have to take it with me,” he responded. “But thanks!”

After setting her wine glass on the kitchen counter, she walked through the living room, down the hallway, and into the bedroom where Scott was buttoning up a freshly laundered shirt, having chosen a different pair of slacks.

“What if the killer didn’t buy a piano cord? What if he owns a piano and simply cut one of the strings off?”

“You think I should be looking into everyone around town who owns a grand piano?”

“It might be a shorter list,” she mentioned.

“What if he’s a piano tuner? Or piano repair man?”

“He could be.”

“Or a piano teacher,” he added. “Then why murder Nathan on the roof?”

“Why did Nathan agree to meet him on the roof?”

Shooting her assumption down, Scott said, “You don’t know that he agreed to meet.”

“He looked like he was waiting.”

“Why the roof?” Scott pondered, as he pulled his shoes on, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She shrugged, thinking out loud. “It wasn’t the worst idea. No one would’ve seen them. The fact that I was on Sandra’s roof was a fluke.”

Scott glanced up at her. “You’re lucky the killer didn’t see you. He strikes me as the type to come after you if he had.”

His words had been light, but his tone was strong. She caught exactly what he meant and it was also a warning that she not meddle in this case.

“This guy is the most calculated killer I’ve ever come across,” he added, getting to his feet. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, holding her shoulders. “I might not have time for that calzone.”

She walked him to the front door and asked, “How late do you think you’ll be?”

“It’s hard to say. If I get back after one, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I was only curious.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to wake the baby by stumbling exhausted down the hallway.”

He kissed her again and then opened the door, just as the Gino’s delivery car was speeding up their driveway.

“Well, that’s some good news,” said Kate, who quickly rushed back to the living room to grab cash from her wallet.

By the time she returned, Scott had already paid the delivery guy so Kate tucked her money in her sweatpants pocket.

Once Scott had grabbed his wrapped calzone, he handed her the bag and kissed her again.

Kate watched him climb into his truck and drive off, smelling her fettuccine alfredo shrimp pasta all the while.

When she reached the kitchen, she grabbed a plate and dumped her dinner onto it, found a fork in the drawer, and made her way out to the living room. As soon as she set the plate on the coffee table, she thought about having one last glass of wine and doubled back.

She sat on the couch, having poured herself a generous glass, and took a few bites of pasta.

Sandra Conway was on her mind.

She didn’t like the coincidental timing of Sandra leaving her house and Nathan being murdered. She had no reason to believe Sandra and Nathan knew one another well, but she also didn’t know that they didn’t.

Using Google on her laptop, she typed in Sandra’s full name along with the word writer and the woman’s website came up at the top of a long list. She clicked it and began perusing the various pages.

When she got to a page called, “Events,” she found a bunch of photos of the author at book signings and speaking engagements. Scrolling down the photos, Kate was startled.

There on the screen in one of the photos was Sandra with her arm around Nathan Robillard, who was holding one of her novels.

Kate studied the novel in his hands.

It was called, Notes of a Strangler, and featured a piano with musical notes on the cover.

Chapter Four

The next morning, Maxwell arrived right on time and after a quick pass off of Josie, Kate was out the door with thoughts of Sandra Conway and her mysterious relation to Nathan Robillard at the forefront of her mind.

She drove through town with the windows rolled down. It felt cooler than it had yesterday, but judging by the cloudless sky overhead, that could easily change and the afternoon could prove as hot if not hotter than it had been all week.

As she pulled along the curb in front of the split-level house, she noted Sandra’s car in the driveway. Yesterday had been a rare occasion in terms of Sandra leaving the house. For all the days Kate had worked here, the writer hadn’t so much as gone for a walk other than the day Nathan had been killed, which didn’t bode well in terms of Kate having a look around the house.

Nevertheless, she climbed out of her truck, grabbed her tool kit from the truck bed, and crossed up the walkway. She knocked then rang the doorbell, and a moment later Sandra opened the door.

“Please tell me this will be your last day here,” she complained as she had each morning.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You said that yesterday,” said Sandra, widening the door for Kate to step inside.

“A lot of writers like coffee shops,” she mentioned, gently nudging Sandra to take the hint. It didn’t work.

“Coffee shops have intolerable levels of noise, not to mention they often play music. I can’t have any sound, much less pop lyrics blaring overhead.”

Sandra was leading her to the back door, and as Kate followed her through the living room she glanced around.

There was a room off the main area, and if Kate wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw a few guitars hanging on the wall.

“You’re a musician?” she asked, slowing her step.

“I have many hobbies, but only one of them pays the bills,” she said grumpily as she held the back door open for Kate. “If you would let me get back to work...?”

“Of course,” said Kate. After stepping outside, she turned and asked, “Any errands today?”

Sandra narrowed her eyes. “None that I’ve planned. I’m going to keep this door shut.”

“Right,” said Kate, as the writer closed the back door.

With her tool kit in hand, she climbed the ladder, and when she reached the top, she dragged the last box of shingles that had been sitting on the roof over to the last stretch of weathered shingles that needed to be replaced.

Kate worked tirelessly into the late morning. At times she glanced over the edge of the roof at the driveway just in case Sandra had slipped out, but her vehicle remained. She had one more row of shingles to nail down, and then this job would be over. How would she snoop around Sandra’s house if she no longer worked here?

After drawing a long chalk line, she nailed the remaining shingles slowly and two hours later, her work was complete. She gathered the leftover shingles, placing them in the box. She piled the weathered shingles into a plastic garbage bag, which she threw onto the lawn behind the house.

Placing her hammer and the box of nails into her tool kit, she looked down the row of houses to the Robillard’s roof and wondered how that little boy was holding up. Were his parents making funeral arrangements? Did the child understand Nathan had been killed?

Kate remembered when Jason and Jared were that age. They were quick-witted and highly outgoing. Every child’s personality was different, but there was something about the boy’s demeanor that didn’t strike Kate as an introverted personality so much as it had seemed he was afraid...

Which meant he knew something.

She climbed down the ladder with the box in her hand, set it on the ground, and then shimmied up again for her tool kit, which she also carried and set on the lawn. She recalled a number of trash bins out front so she slung the garbage bag full of old shingles over her shoulder and walked quickly to the front of the house.

Sandra Conway’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Kate paused, wondering why she hadn’t heard the engine fire up. After checking out which garbage bin was for regular trash, she tossed the bag into it and walked briskly to the back door.

She stepped inside quietly and looked around.

Sandra’s laptop computer was humming on her desk in the corner of the room, but there were no other signs of the writer anywhere.

Taking advantage of the time, Kate quickly went into the music room where she had seen a few guitars.

Sure enough, tucked into the corner of the room was a baby grand piano.

Without wasting a second, she approached the large instrument.

The case that contained the many strings was down flat and there were a number of framed photos across its lid. Carefully, she took down the photos, setting them on the floor, and then lifted the lid and propped it upright with its wooden stick.

She scanned the many strings. Each was equidistant from one another, but then she noticed a gap at the far end. When she examined it closely, she realized there should’ve been a string there, but it had been removed.

Kate gasped.

Sandra was the killer. She had taken one of the strings, dressed up in a black ski mask and gone over to meet Nathan on the roof.

Had it been some kind of twist on the novel she had written? Had she killed Nathan even though he had clearly liked the book and even went to one of her book signings to get his picture taken?

How then did the red Ford Thunderbird fit in? Sandra wouldn’t have needed to drive over and if she had, Kate surely would’ve heard the loud muffler. Not to mention the red car hadn’t been coming from the direction of Sandra’s house, but from the opposite end of the street.

Kate resolved that it didn’t matter. She had enough evidence for Scott to make an arrest. Forensics would be able to prove the murder weapon had come from this piano.

Quickly, she pulled her cellphone from her shorts pocket and dialed Scott.

“Katydid, you’re not done working, are you?” he asked in a pleasant voice.

“Scott! You have to get over here. I’m at Sandra’s house,” she insisted and recited the address. “She did it!”

“Whoa, slow down. She did what?”

“Killed Nathan! I’m in her music room right now and there’s a string missing from her piano!”

“Sandra Conway?”

Interrupting him, she blurted out, “I didn’t mention, but Sandra left the house right before Nathan was murdered.”

“All right, I’ll come over and check it out. Where is she now?” he asked and then Kate heard him ordering a few of his officers in the background to head on over to the address.

“I don’t know,” said Kate. “She drove off without telling me.”

“I want you to get out of the house in case she comes back. Go sit in your truck and lock the doors. We don’t know how dangerous she might be if she finds you there.”

“Okay,” said Kate. “Come quick.”

She returned her cellphone to her pocket and turned for the door. She didn’t lower the piano lid or return the framed photos where they belonged.

Her heart was in her throat as she crossed through the living room and out the back door. Kate had good timing as well as bad, and this was not one of those times she could afford to get caught in a killer’s home.

Outside, she shut the door, grabbed her tool kit and the box, and rushed around the side of the house. When she reached her truck, she set both items in the truck bed.

“Rushing off?” said Sandra behind her.

Kate whipped around, confused that the writer’s car still wasn’t in the driveway.

“Are you finished?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

Sandra furrowed her brow as if Kate was overlooking something important. “Don’t you want your check?”

“Uh, that’s okay,” she said. “You can mail it to me.”

“You’re in a hurry?”

“What?”

Sandra planted her fists on her hips. “I’m not paying for anything until I see that the work has been done perfectly.”

Kate threw open the driver-side door of her truck, saying, “Take all the time you need. I stand by my work.”

“No, let’s have a look together...right now.”

There was no way in hell Kate was going to go up onto the roof with her. Where the heck is Scott? This neighborhood isn’t that far away from the precinct.

“You know,” said Kate, stalling. “I think I might have gotten sun poisoning, so I’m just going to head home.”

“You look fine to me.”

“Look, Sandra, I don’t want any trouble,” she asserted, hopping into her truck, slamming the door, and locking the doors as fast as she could.

As if appalled, Sandra began knocking on the passenger-side window. “What has gotten into you?”

Yelling through the glass, Kate asked, “Where did you go yesterday?”

“What?”

“Yesterday you left the house and then Nathan Robillard was murdered! I saw your website, Sandra. I saw the photo of the two of you. I saw the book.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “He’s a fan of mine!”

“Notes of a Strangler?” she yelled. “Seems a bit uncanny if you ask me.”

Sandra stared at her through the glass.

Kate continued yelling, “Leave me alone! I’m a mother! I have a baby!”

“You think I’m going to hurt you? Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Then where were you yesterday?”

“Around!” she insisted. “I went to the post office and got my nails done while getting an oil change, and a bunch of other things.”

“Where’s your car now?”

“I moved it,” she exclaimed, pointing up the sidewalk to where she had parked. “I’m going to hose down the driveway, not that it’s any of your business! Would you come out of your truck? I hate screaming through glass at you!”

“I doubt you have alibis,” said Kate, twisting her key in the ignition.

“Alibis? You’ve lost your mind!”

Kate was about to pull out into the street when she saw Scott’s truck barreling down the road. Two police cruisers were driving behind him and they all came to a screeching halt.

“What in God’s name?” cried Sandra, as the officers jumped out of their vehicles and apprehended her. “Has everyone lost their mind?”

“Calm down, Ma’am,” ordered Chesterfield, who had her by the arm.

Scott approached and first glanced at Kate through the passenger-side window to make sure she was okay. He then ordered two of his men into the house to check out the music room. Finally, he said to Sandra, “You’re coming with us.”

“Why?”

“We have some questions for you,” he said vaguely.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet, but I can file the charge if you refuse to come willingly.”

His threat seemed to knock the wind right out of her and she stopped resisting and allowed Officer Chesterfield to bring her to the back of his cruiser.

After she climbed in, he shut the door and it was only then that Kate stepped out of her truck.

Scott asked her, “Why didn’t you tell us that Sandra left the house yesterday right before Nathan was killed?”

“I didn’t think anything of it. People leave their houses all the time. I didn’t make the connection. But Scott, this book she wrote, it’s called Notes of a Strangler, and I found a photo of her and Nathan at a book signing.”

“I need to check out her piano and wait for the warrant. It shouldn’t take long. As soon as forensics matches the piano wire used to kill Nathan with the piano in her house, this is all over.”

Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “And we’ll get some days to ourselves?”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“It would.”

After giving her a kiss, he stalked across the front yard toward the front door. As soon as he disappeared inside the house with the other officers, Sandra began pounding her fists on the squad car window.

“Kate!” she demanded. “You did this? You called the cops?”

Kate tried not to look at her as she walked around the hood of her truck for the driver-side door, but it was impossible not to hear her.

“I didn’t do this! I didn’t kill him, Kate! I have receipts for all the places I went to yesterday! You can ask anyone who works at any of those places! Call my mechanic! Call the nail salon! I would never hurt Nathan!”

Unnerved, instead of hopping into her truck, Kate yelled, “You said it yourself, you would’ve killed any one of them for being noisy, Sandra!”

“But not Nathan! I loved him!”

“You what?”

“I did! Our relationship started when I went over to that house one night to get them to shut up!

Kate couldn’t hear anymore of her pleading lies. She climbed in behind the steering wheel, threw her truck into drive, and pulled out into the road.

But when she got home, she was hit with the sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Chapter Five

Kate threw the entrance door of Bean There wide open and stepped into the cool air conditioning. Her hair was still wet from her morning shower. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of using a hot hairdryer, much less plugging it into the wall and getting down to business. She had left Josephine with Maxwell at the house, relaying the plan that she would probably need him to babysit until Scott could get time off work.

As she edged into the coffee shop, she glanced around for her best friend, Carly, whom she had called earlier to meet for breakfast. But it looked like Kate was the first to arrive. She didn’t see Carly amongst the many customers who were lounging at tables, drinking coffee, reading books and the morning paper, scrolling through their laptops and trying to get a little work done away from their offices.

Molly Parker, the new owner of Bean There was stationed behind the counter. She was a short, plump woman in her early thirties with wavy blond hair and an optimistic attitude.

Joining the end of the line of customers, Kate eyed the various pastries under glass at the counter. Now that she had lost the baby weight, thanks to her daily walks, her biggest challenge was trying not to splurge on sweets, which would only put the weight right back on.

The line inched along and by the time it was her turn to step up to the counter and order, she knew exactly what she wanted.

“What can I get ya, Kate?” asked Molly, thrusting her hip out and planting her fist on her waist.

“A bran muffin,” she said, pointing out the particular one she wanted, “a small decaf coffee, and also a large green tea.”

“You got it,” said Molly, turning for the pastries. After setting the muffin on a plate, she poured the coffee and the tea and organized the items on a plastic tray so it would be easy to carry.

Kate handed her the exact change as soon as Molly had told her the cost, and she started through the coffee shop. After setting her tray on a vacant table near the windows, she doubled-back with her decaf coffee, placed it on the condiment station, and began doctoring it with cream and sugar. Senseless calories, she was well aware, but she had to do something to improve its taste. Decaf was a far cry from the real thing.

As soon as she settled into her chair, Carly breezed into the coffee shop, scanned the faces, and waved at Kate. She held up an I’ll be there in a sec finger, stepped up to the counter, and asked Molly for a large coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel with strawberry cream cheese.

Moments later, Carly sat across from Kate and asked, “Did you hear about Over the Moon?”

Kate furrowed her brow because she hadn’t, not beyond the scandal of the inn’s owner, Amelia Langley, being arrested two months back. She’d been charged for soliciting murder in order to promote her uncouth bus tour that made stops at every location where someone had been killed in Rock Ridge.

“No,” said Kate. “What about it?”

“Well, Lance doesn’t want to keep it running with Amelia in prison,” she explained. “I can’t blame him. Anyway, he’s decided to level the place.”

“Level it? He’s going to tear it down?”

“Apparently.”

“Why not sell it?”

Carly opened her bagel and used a plastic knife to spread the cream cheese. “That’s what I would do. Knocking the inn down seems senseless, but word on the street is that he wants to build a nursery.”

“For children?” she asked, stunned.

“No! Oh sorry. Of course you would think for children. No, for flowers.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were. He’s putting up a greenhouse and planting all kinds of flowers in the back yard. He has five acres, you know. That’s a lot of land to grow flowers.”

As Carly went on in great detail about the many plans Lance had, Kate began to feel terrible for her friend. Sunshine Florist had its ups and downs. In the summertime, Carly’s flower shop did fairly well, but it tended to wane badly during the long winter months. If she suddenly had competition, she could easily go under.

“What are you going to do?” asked Kate.

“What can I do?” She drank her coffee and added, “Fantasizing about burning it to the ground certainly isn’t healthy.”

“No, I should say not.”

“Larry thinks I should go into business with him,” she said, shrugging. “Not that Lance needs my help.”

“Why would Larry suggest that?” she asked, wondering where Carly’s husband’s loyalties lie.

“He’s looking out for me,” she explained. “The idea is that if I can sell Lance’s flowers, and offer to be his exclusive distributor, then Lance won’t open his own flower shop right there at the nursery. I’m telling you, Kate, if he opens his own shop, I’m done for.”

“But your location is much better. You’re right here in the heart of Rock Ridge, and the inn is way out in the rural end.”

“But think about it,” she said, leaning over the table. “Lance is creating a whole shopping experience. His customers can wander around the rose bushes outside. They can go into the greenhouse and see orchids in bloom. They can literally pick out which flowers they want. I can’t do any of that. And the fact of the matter is that I order my flowers from a wholesaler anyway. I might as well get them from Lance.”

Her friend had a solid point, but Kate didn’t like the idea. Though Lance had never been a criminal or killer like his wife and daughter, both of which were currently in prison, Lance had been in his fair share of trouble. Years back when a drug ring had nearly swallowed this town, he had been strong-armed into allowing the kingpins to store boxes full of their drugs at his mustard factory warehouse. He was easily taken advantage of and didn’t have the good sense to recognize that both Amelia and Becky were hardened criminals, which told Kate that the man attracted those types. She did not want her best friend getting wrapped up in any nonsense.

“I don’t know, Carly...”

“The Langley’s have tons of money, old money and new money...mustard money. If I propose this arrangement, I’m not going to have slow winters. It’ll be steady income year round.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Don’t forget that the customers are the residents and things slow down for everyone around town during the winter. That’s just how it goes.”

“But Lance has a lot of experience packing and shipping. He could help me get my website in tip-top shape. We could have customers all over the country.”

“Unless he offered to help in that department, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Why are you being negative?” she asked, shifting her tone, which took Kate aback. “I’m trying to get excited about this.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound negative. I thought you were apprehensive as well.”

“I am.” She sighed and set her bagel down as though she had lost her appetite. “I’m just trying to see a silver lining here.”

“Then you should talk to Lance. See if he’s up for it. Really, I didn’t mean to be negative. It could be a great business venture.”

Carly lifted her coffee mug to her mouth and drank. When she set it down again, she asked, “You off today?”

“I finished Sandra Conway’s roof.”

“That crazy woman,” she mused. “What is it about Rock Ridge and killers, I’d like to know.”

Kate winced, and when Carly asked her what the face was all about, she explained, “I’m having my doubts.”

“Kate,” she said in a leveling tone. “You’re the one that discovered Sandra was the murderer.”

“How do you know that already?”

“How could I not? People talk, you know that.”

“I’ve been having the strangest feeling that Sandra was set up.”

“Framed?”

“If she drove a red Ford Thunderbird, I wouldn’t think twice. It’s the one detail that doesn’t add up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s true that Sandra left the house in perfect timing with Nathan Robillard being killed,” she began, leaning in and speaking quietly so none of the other customers would overhear. “But at the same time, this red car drove up to the Robillard’s house. It was coming from the opposite direction. It stopped in front of the house and I never saw the driver get out because the angle was bad, but minutes later the killer was on the roof. I know that Sandra and Nathan knew each other personally, so now I’m thinking that the real killer also knows Sandra and took advantage of her, framed her.”

Carly drew in a deep breath as if processing an overload of information.

“The worst part,” Kate went on, “is that Scott has obviously stopped investigating since he thinks he arrested the killer.”

“So you’re going to have to do it?”

“Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“I’m not skeptical. I’m sure you’ll hunt around, but wouldn’t you rather spend time with Josie?”

“Of course I would,” she snapped. “And I will. I’m giving myself today to look into things.”

They stared at each other and an unspoken conversation ensued. Kate couldn’t remember the last time they had ruffled each other’s feathers within the same conversation. She decided the heat was to blame. No one was in a good mood when they were sweating constantly.

“Have you seen a red Ford Thunderbird around town?” she asked.

Carly cocked an eyebrow, saying, “I’m really not a car person.”

“It looks like a red sports car from the early 90’s like something Ferris Bueller would drive.”

“Ferris Bueller drove Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder, one of the most expensive cars of its era.”

“And you said you aren’t a car person,” she teased.

“I’m a movie person. There’s a difference.”

“Well, have you seen anything like it?”

“I can’t say that I have,” she mentioned, taking a sip of coffee. “But I spend the majority of my day in the back of my flower shop. I’m not exactly out and about.”

“Not even for deliveries?”

“I have a few employees that do that over the summer.”

Kate had only been picking at her muffin, so she broke the remainder of its top off and began seriously eating. She washed her bites down with decaf coffee, into which she was disappointed to discover she hadn’t added enough sugar. She started on her green tea as Carly finished her bagel.

“I’ve got to get back to the shop,” her friend said, rising to her feet.

Kate collected her plate, placing her empty coffee mug on it, and together they walked to the counter to return the ceramic dishes.

“Have a good one!” Molly told them, as they passed through the door and onto the hot sidewalk.

It felt like the air wasn’t even moving. There was no breeze, nothing but stifling heat.

“I’ll let you know how it goes with Lance,” said Carly after giving her a hug.

Kate watched her trek off down the sidewalk and when she rounded the hood of her car, Kate started off toward her truck.

She had very few leads to explore. The more promising of the two would be to look into the red car, but she didn’t know where to start. Could she go to the DMV? She didn’t think car ownership was public record and the annoying fact was that the car actually belonged to Nathan Robillard, so even if she did get a copy of the title, it wouldn’t tell her much.

The other lead was far less promising. Nathan had been frequenting a shop called Vape Mods, and there was a chance the owner or an employee might know him well enough to have a sense of who Nathan’s friends were. But it would likely be a substantial list and getting their addresses would be no easy task.

As she climbed into her truck, she reasoned that stopping by the vape store made more sense than cruising around town, eyes peeled for a red Ford Thunderbird. So, she started off driving in that direction, having memorized the address.

After a few minutes of driving, the hot air was sucked out of her truck through her open windows, so she powered them up, sealing the truck, and then cranked the air conditioner as high and cold as it would go.

As it had appeared on her Google search, Vape Mods was located in a strip mall. The store itself was poorly marked and from the outside looked more like a vacant retail space than a fully-operational business.

She pulled into a parking spot, killed the engine, and pulled her key from the ignition. After locking her truck—she didn’t like the looks of the other vehicles around, but worse, there were a number of teenagers loitering around the parking lot—Kate approached the glass door of the vape store.

The sun was so bright that it reflected off the glass and she couldn’t see a thing inside, but she yanked on the door anyway.

It didn’t budge.

Shielding the glare from her eyes, she pressed her face to the glass to try and get a sense of whether someone was inside, but it looked empty except for a bare counter and stacks of packing boxes.

She stepped back and eyed the door, and a buzzer caught her eye. Pushing it, she heard the blaring ring inside, but no one came to the door.

She backed up and again studied the door and the storefront window, looking for a realtor’s sign that she might have missed, but there wasn’t one.

Suddenly, the glass door popped open and a young man of about eighteen or twenty peeked his head out. He was wearing a bright red baseball cap and white tee shirt, and he stared at her, confused.

“Hi,” she said before he could disappear inside the store. “This is Vape Mods, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“So...can I come in?”

“Why?”

“To buy some vape?”

He looked her up and down. “You smoke e-cigarettes?” he asked, highly skeptical.

“I used to chain smoke,” she lied. “E-cigs saved my life and I’m out of...liquid.”

“Juice,” he said, correcting her.

“Right, I’m out of juice.”

He widened the door for her and she stepped inside the store, asking, “Are you guys planning on moving locations?”

“No,” he said easily, which only confused her more. He led her to the counter where there wasn’t a stitch of product under the glass. “So what’s your nic level?”

Christ, she was in way over her head. It sounded like he was speaking a foreign language. Feeling bold, she guessed, “Eighty?”

He burst out laughing and it was a long moment before he sobered up. “Eighty?” he questioned. “Lady, why are you really here?”

“I told you.”

“Because you want to buy juice with 80 mgs of nicotine. That would kill you, not to mention nic levels don’t come higher than 18. So, what do you really want?”

“What do you really sell?” she countered, knowing full well if he did sell these e-cigarette products, it clearly wasn’t his main business. She prayed to God that he wouldn’t say drugs.

“E-cigarettes,” he maintained.

“Then why don’t you have any on display?”

“Spring cleaning.”

He wasn’t sounding so friendly anymore, so she asked, “Are you the owner?”

“No, I’m an employee.”

“Then I’d like to speak with the owner.”

“He’s not here.”

“I’ll settle for his name,” she pressed.

He studied her for a long moment then said, “Kiernan Kirkland.”

“And when will Kiernan be in?”

“Hard to say. The store has been doing so well that he rarely comes in.”

She found that hard to believe, but decided to shift tactics. “One of your customers, Nathan Robillard—” she began.

“What about him?”

Had he not heard Nathan had been killed?

She went on, “He lent his car out to a friend, and I’m wondering if you know who that is?”

“His car?” he asked, thrown. Then it gradually dawned on him who she was, though he was way off. “You’re the repo guy. I knew it. I knew you weren’t a vaper. Am I right?”

“Yes,” she said definitively. “And I need to know where that car is.”

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head at the tremendous loss. “That makes sense. Nathan would never have lent that car to anyone. He loves it.”

“Just tell me who has it,” she insisted, sounding tired.

“Rory Andover,” he said reluctantly. “He’s over on Rock Ridge Blvd.” He gave her the address then added, “He’s probably at work now, though.”

“Where does he work?”

“Harriet’s Hairdos.”

“What?”

The kid rolled his eyes. “He’s a shampoo boy,” he said, laughing. “That’s probably why Nathan lent him his car as opposed to me or any of our other friends. Rory’s not exactly into the same...hobbies as we are so there’s no risk he’d damage the Thunderbird.”

Clearly, he was referring to all the drag racing Nathan and his friends had been doing.

“Thanks,” she said, wasting no time to cross out of the store.

Rory Andover had to be the killer, and Kate wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to bring him down.

Chapter Six

Kate stepped into Harriet’s Hairdos located on Main Street in the center of Rock Ridge. The salon was furnished in pink and all the stylists wore extravagant hairstyles and flashy dresses. She hadn’t set foot in the salon in what felt like years, and compared to the women who worked there, Kate felt more than shabby in her jean shorts and yellow t-shirt.

The receptionist behind the counter lowered her phone, setting it in its cradle on the desk, and stood to greet her.

“Cut and color?” she asked.

“Uh, no actually,” said Kate, glancing around for any male shampoo boys. “I’m looking for Rory Andover. Is he here?”

“He just went out for supplies,” she said then leaned over the counter, “We like to send him out to pick up our shampoo from the warehouse rather than spend money to wait days for shipping. He should be back soon.”

“How soon?” asked Kate. She was tempted to ask where the warehouse was located, but the risk of bypassing the Thunderbird would be too great.

“Not long. A half hour?” she guessed. “Forty-five minutes tops. Why?”

“I just need a few minutes of his time,” she said vaguely. “Hey, can you tell me if he was working here the day before yesterday?”

The receptionist seemed reluctant, but ultimately shrugged and began flipping through a binder on her desk. After she scrolled through a few shift slots on a laminated sheet, she said, “Tuesday? No, Rory wasn’t in.”

Another indicator in favor of Rory being the killer, thought Kate.

She thanked the woman and mentioned she’d have a seat if that was all right.

“If you haven’t been here in a while,” said the receptionist. “We’re running a special promotion. Cut and color for fifty percent off. You can’t beat that deal.”

“Oh, I don’t know...”

“What if I told you we’d have it done by the time Rory got back?”

Kate was surprised to find herself very, very tempted.

“I’ve got a stylist just twiddling her thumbs over there,” the receptionist went on. “How about fifty-five percent off the cost? That’s just thirty bucks, and we have complimentary coffee, tea, watermelon—”

“Watermelon?”

“It’s very refreshing.”

Kate returned to the counter and found her wallet in her back pocket. She had enough cash including a tip, and considering she hadn’t done a thing for her looks since before she had gotten pregnant with Josephine, she figured she deserved a little pampering. Not to mention that as soon as Scott got his week off from the precinct, they would be going out a lot more often.

“You know what?” said Kate. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” She collected the cash and then brought Kate to a styling chair where one of the stylists stepped in beside her.

Kate sat and the stylist, a woman in her mid-thirties whose blond hair was up in a tall beehive, began fluffing and flicking Kate’s red hair.

“I’m Lona,” she said.

“Kate.”

“Didn’t you come in here a million years ago? You bought a gift certificate for your friend, Carly?”

Shocked at her razor-sharp memory, Kate said, “That’s right. How did you know that?”

“I never forget a face...or a transaction. I partnered with Harriet a number of years ago. It’s nice to have you back.” After examining the texture and length of Kate’s hair and playing around with some shapes, she explained, “You have a round face and your eyes are really big, but your chin’s pointy. With all this length, you’re actually hiding your features. I say we bring it up, not short, but almost in a bob, and then we feather some layers around your cheekbones and give you little fringe across the forehead.”

As she explained, Kate tried to visualize what she would look like, and it sounded good.

“I don’t want to mess with the color,” Lona went on. “It’s a wonderful, rich red, but we can do a gloss to bring out the natural color and highlights.”

“Sounds great,” she said, getting a little excited about how she would look and how Scott might react. When they had met in high school, her hair had been shorter and over the years he had often asked her to get that style again.

Lona shampooed Kate’s hair since Rory wasn’t around, and then she brought her back to the styling chair where the receptionist was waiting with herbal tea, sparkling water, and a bowl of balled watermelon. As Lona snipped and trimmed, Kate snacked on the watermelon and sipped the tea, which to her palate tasted like jasmine and lavender.

When the cut was complete, Lona brought her over to the sink again and stroked gloss on her hair then let her sit under a heater for a good fifteen minutes.

After that, the stylist blow-dried her hair, and when all was said and done, Kate was itching to go out dancing; she looked that good.

“Wow! I look amazing! I look younger!” she exclaimed, studying her reflection in the handheld mirror from all angles where it bounced off the mirrored glass at the station.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Lona.

As Kate set the hand mirror down on the station counter, she caught sight of a young man stepping in from the back with a box in his arms. It had to be Rory.

Again, she thanked Lona and handed her a generous tip from the spare cash in her back pocket, and then snuck over to the receptionist.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly. “Is that Rory?”

“Yes,” she said. She called him over, shouting, “Rory come over here. Someone needs to talk to you.”

He set down the box at the back of the salon and then made his way toward her. Similar to the employee at Vape Mods, Rory looked not a day over twenty. His skin was very tan considering summer had just barely set in, and his black jeans and purple t-shirt fit him so well that Kate was inclined to guess he was gay. As soon as he spoke, her suspicion was confirmed.

“Yes?” he asked.

Kate snuck a glance at the receptionist who was flipping through a magazine. She wondered if they might find a more private place to talk.

“I’m Kate,” she began. “I know Nathan Robillard lent you his car.”

His eyes widened and he said nothing for a long moment then burst out with, “I called off the case. I told the police. I didn’t mean to waste anyone’s time. And I apologized. Wait,” he said abruptly, looking her up and down. “You’re not a cop.”

“What case?”

“I reported the Thunderbird stolen,” he explained. “I was worried sick about it, but then later that day the car magically appeared in front of my house. The second it did, I called the cops back to tell them they didn’t need to look for it anymore. I was mortified.”

“Someone stole your car?”

“Yeah.”

“Tuesday?”

“That’s right.”

Kate was getting the impression that like the Vape Mods guy, Rory hadn’t gotten word of Nathan’s murder.

“Tell me exactly where the car was when it was stolen. I want the place, time, everything. And where you found it again.”

“Sure,” he said, “but I mean, I have the car. It’s fine.”

He had no idea how not fine this was. But he obliged, grabbing a pen and pad of paper from the receptionist’s desk and jotting the details down as best he could.

“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?” she asked after he’d handed her the sheet of paper.

“I have a lot of ideas. Three to be exact.” Rory stepped in and spoke quietly. “Nathan and some of his friends like to drag race. Nathan’s Thunderbird always wins. I mean always. And these weren’t little, friendly races. The guys were betting. Nathan kept cleaning them out. But anyone who stole his car couldn’t exactly race it without incriminating themselves.”

But they could kill Nathan, she thought. Wipe out the competition; maybe steal their money back or at least feel satisfied that the young man who had won their money was six feet under.

Maybe that’s how the killer got Nathan on that roof. Maybe he stole the Thunderbird from Rory, and then called Nathan to return it or possibly threaten that he would damage the car if they didn’t meet.

Kate asked, “Was Nathan...involved with anyone?”

The look on his face told her that he knew exactly whom she was referring to.

“Yeah, Sandra Conway, how did you know?”

“I have some bad news for you,” she said. “Nathan was killed and Sandra was arrested, but I don’t believe she did it.”

“Nathan’s dead?” he asked, shocked.

“And the killer was driving that car.”

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath, truly stunned.

“You said there were three guys?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you their names. Marcus Wheaton, Hunter Cole, and Kiernan Kirkland.”

“Kiernan Kirkland? They guy who owns Vape Mods?”

“Yeah,” he said in a queasy tone. “Hunter and Marcus also work there, and trust me, it’s not a vape store.”

Kate knew it, and asked, “What are they really selling.”

“Car parts—hard to get stuff. Parts that will soup-up an engine and get the vehicle to really peel out faster than zero to sixty in ten seconds.”

“Do you know if Sandra knew any of those guys since they were Nathan’s friends and she was involved with him?”

“She definitely knew them, but they did not get along. Sandra was always calling the police and also trying to get Nathan to stop racing. She hated them.”

Kate asked one final question. “Do you know if any of them have read Sandra’s book, Notes of a Strangler?”

He looked at her confusedly, which was enough of an answer.

“All right,” she said in conclusion. “Thanks a lot.”

She was getting somewhere, she thought, as she made her way out to her truck. But with the Thunderbird back in Rory’s possession and the murder weapon with police, she wasn’t sure how she would find evidence that connected one or all of those guys to Nathan’s murder.

The smartest thing for her to do at this point was to pay Sandra Conway a visit in jail and see if the writer might shed light on the three men and who would’ve been most likely to take her lover’s life.

After Kate climbed into her truck, she angled the rearview mirror at herself to check out her new haircut again. She was tempted to text Maxwell to see if he could watch Josephine through the evening and then call Scott about going out for dinner, but until she made further headway with this case, she couldn’t commit to anything.

She returned the rearview to its proper position, got her truck idling and then threw it into gear and rolled off along Main Street. A few short blocks later, she turned into the Municipal Building parking lot and parked her truck in a spot close to the precinct.

Sandra had been desperate when Officer Chesterfield forced her into the back of his police cruiser. And Kate had to figure the writer would only feel more so now that she’d spent the night in jail.

Wrestling down a twinge of guilt that Kate had been the reason Sandra was locked up, she climbed out of her truck and started for the precinct.

It was cool inside, thank God. Her shirt felt damp from the warm ride over, but the air was refreshing now.

Avoiding the bullpen, Kate walked down the hallway and into the stairwell, which she descended into the basement where Sandra was being held in one of the jail cells.

After a moment of banter with the security guard, she passed into the jail and started down the aisle.

Sandra was lying down on a cot in one of the cells. Her arm was draped over her eyes, but her foot kept rocking, which told Kate the writer wasn’t sleeping, but likely exhausted with anxiety.

“Sandra?” she asked, getting her attention.

She bolted upright. It took her a minute to place who was there, and when she realized it was Kate, she ran toward the bars.

“You did this!” she yelled. “You did this to me! I spoke with your husband!”

“Sandra, please calm down.”

“Why should I?”

“Because!” she interjected and as soon as Sandra had quieted she added, “Because I believe you.”

In a small voice she said, “You do?”

“Yes,” said Kate, finally convincing her.

“No one else does,” she complained. “I listed alibis for all the places I went that day for my errands, but I guess no one remembers me.”

That piqued Kate’s interest, because it seemed odd.

“I guess I have one of those faces that blends in with a crowd.”

Shaking off the momentary distraction, Kate said, “I need to ask you about Nathan’s friends. I know you didn’t get along, but I’m hoping you can give me some information.”

“I can try. You think his friends did it?”

“Could be one of them,” she allowed. “Could be all of them or none of them. I won’t know for sure until I track them down.”

Sandra folded her arms, looking apprehensive.

Kate began listing the names, “Marcus Wheaton, Hunter Cole, and Kiernan Kirkland.”

Nodding, she said, “Yeah, I know them.”

“I heard that those three had lost the most in terms of the bets they’d all placed with Nathan during their drag racing.”

“Marcus and Hunter live together down in that high-rise apartment on the south side of town.”

Kate knew the one. She had renovated the first four floors for Justina a few years back before a larger construction company built another ten floors on the building.

“I don’t know their exact apartment numbers,” she went on. “But there’s a marquee in the entryway, last names beside buzzers. They should be listed there.”

“Great,” said Kate. “What about Kiernan?”

“I don’t know where he lives, only where he works.”

Kate was in the same boat so she didn’t press that line of inquiry. Instead, she asked, “Do you happen to know if any of them read your book, Notes of a Strangler?”

Sandra took a moment to think it over. “I have no idea, but Nathan was crazy about that book. His friends might not have needed to read it. Nathan could’ve easily told them about every last detail. He was raving about it and had read it, I think, three or four times.”

“In your book, did the killer wear a black ski mask? Did he kill his victim’s on a roof?”

Kate was hoping the killer had been literal and followed Sandra’s book to the letter. If so, then skimming it might give her insight.

“No,” she said bluntly. “It was about a serial killer who was a music teacher. He always killed the evil parents of his students, a vigilante justice type story. Nothing about how Nathan was killed matches except for the murder weapon.”

Absorbing the incongruity, Kate took a moment to think, but Sandra’s big, worrisome eyes were distracting her.

“Do you have a good lawyer?” she asked.

The writer rolled her eyes and sighed. “I have a lawyer, court appointed. I don’t make enough money to retain an attorney who’s really experienced.”

“When will your bail be set? Any idea?”

“Since they think it’s premeditated, I’m not sure they’re going to offer me bail,” she said anxiously. “Kate, I can’t go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“It won’t come to that,” she assured her. “The truth always comes out sooner or later.”

“Well, it better come out sooner. I can’t stand being in here.”

Kate felt terrible, but it wasn’t productive so she shook it off, stating, “Tell me everything you can about Notes of a Strangler.”

Chapter Seven

An hour later, Kate ascended the stairs to the first floor of the precinct. As she swung the stairwell door open, stepping into the hallway, she felt her cellphone vibrating in her front pocket.

She hoped it wouldn’t be a customer in need of repairs. She didn’t have it in her to turn down work, but when she glanced at the LCD screen and saw Scott’s name flashing, she wasn’t sure she could afford that kind of distraction either.

It wasn’t until she passed through the door into the afternoon heat that she answered the call.

“Hi Scott,” she said, sidestepping into the shade of the overhead portico.

“I’ve got news,” he said in an upbeat tone.

“Oh?”

“I got a week off.”

“You did?”

It was exactly what she had wanted, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“You don’t sound happy,” he pointed out.

Cutting in, she blurted, “No, I’m happy, really. That’s great news. When is your week off?”

“Now! Where are you?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered if she should fib or come out with the truth. Of course, if she told him that she was in the precinct, it would take him less than two seconds to understand why.

“Uh, I’m driving,” she lied. “I’m right near the precinct actually.”

“Well, stop in.” he said with a booming laugh. “I’m starving and way too pumped up to work the rest of the day.”

“So your vacation doesn’t start until...?”

“Tomorrow,” he supplied. “But mentally I’m already checked out. Spring fever you could say.”

“I’ll see you in two seconds,” she told him. “I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”

As Kate returned her cell to her pocket, she quickly walked to her truck, turned on her heel and began walking slowly back. By the time she was swinging the entrance door open, Scott stepped into the lobby. The smile on his face was bigger than she’d ever seen aside from their wedding day, and when he caught sight of her new haircut he clapped his hands and laughed.

Throwing his arms around her, he said, “Katydid! Your hair!”

“Do you like it?” she asked, urging him back so she could look up at him.

“It looks great! Did you get it cut for our vacation?”

“I sure did,” she said.

He gave her a kiss and began massaging her shoulders as he dreamed up all the ways they could spend their week off. “I’m thinking we can get out onto the lake. It’s good fishing weather. Also, there are a bunch of restaurants we haven’t been to in forever. We can’t eat at Daisy’s all the time. When was the last time you saw a movie?”

“I, uh, can’t remember?”

“Me neither,” he laughed. “I made a list today. I haven’t been working so much as surfing the net for things to do. So, I’m thinking we can spend the day with Josie and get some fresh air. There’s a zoo two towns over. And then we’ll get Maxwell over each evening to watch her.”

Kate had to admit it sounded perfect, but how could she possibly enjoy herself knowing that she was responsible for Sandra’s  wrongful arrest.

Excitedly, he began flipping through a notepad that she hadn’t even realized was in his hand. “I made an itinerary—”

“You what?”

“Now, it’s just preliminary. We can go over it and move things around, but I want to take advantage of every minute. I have had a solid week off for the first time since...since moving here, I think. How crazy is that?”

“Pretty crazy,” she said, taking the notepad and skimming the activities. Scott wasn’t lying. He had packed every minute with things to do, including scheduling time for breast-feeding and showering. It was almost overwhelming.

“Where do you feel like eating?” he asked.

“For...?”

“Now…for late lunch. I told you, I’m starving.”

If Kate was about to spend the next seven days with Scott, then she needed to make every second for the rest of the day count.

“Oh, Honey, I already ate.”

His smile faded a bit, but he bucked up. “Hey, that’s okay. I only have another four hours to muscle through, three if I take a long lunch.”

“So, you’re no longer investigating the Nathan Robillard case?”

“Why would I? It’s in the bag, closed and sealed.” He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tight. “I’m so glad you pushed me for these days off.”

“Me too,” she mumbled.

Releasing her, he said, “See you at six? I even picked out some recipes to make at home. We’ll pick Josie up, head over to the supermarket and get some wine and some ingredients. Kate! I feel like it’s Christmas morning!”

She couldn’t help but laugh and told him it sounded like a plan. After giving him one more kiss, she started for the door and smiled at him over her shoulder as she stepped outside.

Once there, she sighed.

Four hours.

Could she solve this thing by then?

In all honesty, she really wasn’t sure and walked quickly to her truck because of it.

If she was going to question Marcus Wheaton and Hunter Cole then she needed an angle or an “in” with them. She couldn’t simply launch headlong into an interrogation. But what that angle would be, she didn’t have a clue.

Rory had made notes for her regarding where he had left the red Ford Thunderbird, when approximately it had been stolen, and where it was returned. Taking time to think about the best point of entry with the drag racers, she climbed in her truck and drove off toward the shampoo boy’s house.

During the drive, Kate left the windows down to suck out all the hot air, and then blasted the air conditioner with her windows up. She put in a call to Maxwell, switching her cell to speakerphone as she checked in. Josie was doing just great, he explained. He’d lathered her up in sunblock, put her in her bathing suit and a sun hat, and filled their inflatable pool with cool water. They were playing outside and having a blast. Kate reminded him that Josie couldn’t be in the sun very long, but Maxwell was already on top of it, keeping close watch on the time and also keeping Josie hydrated with fresh fruit juice and water.

Kate thanked him for taking such good care of her daughter, wrapped up the call, and set her cellphone on the passenger’s seat so that she could get back to thinking.

Before she knew it, she was rolling toward the address Rory had provided.

It was a large Colonial house with a two-car garage attached to the side and a white picket fence wrapping the perimeter, but Rory hadn’t left the Thunderbird in the driveway.

Clearly, he didn’t own this house but lived with his parents, which would explain why he had opted to park the sporty car around the block.

She pulled her truck along the curb just past his house, grabbed her cellphone from the passenger’s seat and climbed out. A half block walk would do her good, and if she were being honest with herself, lunch would’ve too. She hadn’t eaten and her stomach was rumbling, but she reasoned being a little uncomfortable was better than giving up an hour to eat lunch with Scott.

When she got to the end of the block, she turned right and saw the billowy oak tree half a block up. Rory had written that he’d parked the Thunderbird under the tree the evening prior to its disappearance.

She reached the tree and started looking around. The block was lined with houses and cars. The tree provided shade, but being experienced, she knew there was a major drawback to shade from a tree.

Glancing up, she saw a number of little birds squawking on the branches. No one in their right mind parks their car under a tree unless they want to find it covered in bird droppings.

It gave her an idea.

But first she looked both ways and then crossed the street to where Rory had said he’d found the car.

Unsure of what she was looking for, Kate grabbed her cellphone, cued up the camera app, and began taking photos of both parking spots, the houses in front of them and wide-angle shots of the block, and then she started off for her truck.

She had her “in” with the drag racers, and it would have everything to do with their love of that red Thunderbird.

As soon as she climbed into her truck and got it idling, the AC cranking, her cell began vibrating in her front pocket. Figuring it was Scott, who would think she was home by now with Josie, she swiped the screen without so much as glancing at it so she could keep her eyes on the road.

“Yeah, I’m almost home,” she fibbed, expecting to hear her husband reply.

She didn’t.

It was Carly. “Kate, oh, Kate, if you’re almost home,” she began, “could you make a quick pit stop, I mean Max is babysitting, right? You can afford a detour?”

“Not really, Carly.”

“Please! I need you at Over the Moon, I mean, Rock Ridge Roses. This place is insane. I can’t believe Lance built it practically overnight.”

“What do you need me for?”

“I’m getting cold feet! I made a power point presentation, and I have everything I’m going to say on note cards, but I need a little moral support.”

“Lance is a really nice guy, Carly. He’s not going to eat you alive; he’s probably going to thank you.”

“Yeah, maybe, but he built a gift shop right next to the entrance, and it looks like a flower store. This is spiraling out of control.”

She sounded panicked, and Kate didn’t want to leave her hanging. Sighing into the receiver, she said, “Alright, I’m on my way. Take deep breaths, I’ll be there soon.”

Carly burst out with thank yous and when she finally quieted, Kate set her cell on the passenger’s seat.

She had to admit, if she were in Carly’s position, she would feel the exact same way, and in fact had several times. When Dean Wentworth first got to town with his contractor business, she had certainly felt a sting of insecurity. If anything had kept her fix-it business going strong over the years, it was that people both liked and trusted her. In a sense, her customers were buying her as much as they were buying her services, and she had full confidence that Carly would reap the same benefit. People liked her. She delivered on time. They trusted that she would consistently provide high quality flowers at the lowest cost possible, because she did.

Kate knew her being there with Carly wasn’t necessary, but her best friend had stood by Kate more times than she could count, so returning the favor was a no-brainer.

If Carly had sounded shocked on the phone that Lance could build an entire nursery-greenhouse with a gift shop in a matter of weeks, Kate was equally stunned to see it with her own eyes.

There wasn’t a trace of Over the Moon in the structure she was staring out through the windshield of her truck.

She pulled her key from the ignition, grabbed her cellphone from the passenger’s seat, and climbed out, all the while marveling at the one-story building that seemed to be made entirely of glass.

She found Carly inside the marble lobby. Sunlight was pouring in through the glass ceiling and yet the air was cool and crisp.

“Thank God you’re here,” said Carly, rushing to her and giving her a hug, though her hands were full with a laptop and notecards.

“You’re going to do great,” she assured her.

Lance walked into the lobby from the gift shop, took one look at Kate, and declared, “Oh no. No, no, no. Get out.”

Carly exclaimed, “What? Why can’t she be here?”

“Because death follows her wherever she goes.”

Chapter Eight

Kate stared up at the high-rise apartment building on the south side of town and tried not to cringe with embarrassment at the disaster that was Carly’s meeting with Lance Langley.

Kate had known Lance for years. They’d almost become in-laws and would have if his daughter, Becky, hadn’t been a corrupt and murderous psychopath who deceived her son Jason. Kate had nothing to do with the choices Becky had made, but it was no secret that death did follow her. How many dead bodies had she stumbled upon over the years? Countless. It was practically a cosmic joke at this point, but what about Lance? He had married a killer. Had he not seen the signs? Amelia was in prison after all. If Lance should direct his anger at anyone, it should be her and not Kate.

At least he had humored Carly and allowed her to make her presentation, but it had been on the condition that Kate leave and essentially never come back. She hoped things went okay for her best friend.

She pulled the outer entrance door open and approached the apartment buzzer pad that was in the alcove. It was daunting. There had to be at least fifty names. She scanned the list for both Wheaton and Cole, and hoped they weren’t over at Vape Mods working. When she’d been inside the poorly-marked shop it looked as though only one employee worked at a time, so she figured she might get lucky.

Finally, she found Cole written beside one of the buzzers and pressed it, her thoughts locking on the idea she would use as her “in” to get the men to talk with her.

A guy’s voice came with static through the speaker. “Yeah?”

“Hi...” she began, stumbling through what she was trying to say. “You don’t know me...but I’d like to...place a bet?”

Nothing but static blared through, and Kate could almost see the young man thinking things through.

He asked, “What’s the password?”

She cursed under her breath and began racking her brain. Should she guess? Thinking fast, she said, “Drag race,” and then waited nervously.

He didn’t respond, but after the longest fifteen seconds of her life, the inner door buzzed. She grabbed the handle and flung the door open, making her way inside.

There was a bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. As she crossed through, one of the elevators opened and Holly and Gillian stepped out together.

Kate knew both of them fairly well. Though Gillian was a parolee from the local prison, she had turned her life around, and Kate had helped both women get jobs at Over the Moon, not to mention that Gillian and Maxwell had been dating for quite some time.

The women looked distraught and when Gillian noticed Kate, she said, “Can you believe this?”

Confused, she asked, “What?

“About that jerk, Lance Langley,” Holly supplied.

And Gillian went on, “He wouldn’t hire us. We worked at Over the Moon for years. How could he not take us on at Rock Ridge Roses?”

Irate, Holly added, “He hired people. It’s not like he doesn’t need the help.”

“So now we’re out of work.”

Kate didn’t know what to say. Business had been picking up around town, but she wasn’t sure any of the shop owners were looking to hire, so she went with, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Gillian. “Back to the drawing board.”

“You could try the amusement park,” Kate suggested.

“Dean’s only paying minimum wage, though,” countered Holly. “But it’s something.”

As they crossed through the lobby on their way out, Kate yelled, “I’ll let you know if I hear of anything!”

“Thanks, Kate!” said Gillian, holding the door for her friend.

Kate slipped inside the elevator before the doors could close and then pressed the button for the seventh floor. The ascent was so fast that the change in pressure clogged her ears, so as she stepped onto the seventh floor, she pinched her nose and blew, causing her inner ears to pop.

She had to hand it to Justina, the high-rise was high-tech and Kate was happy on behalf of the ex-cons that lived there.

As she neared the door for 715, her chest tightened and her heart rate quickened. If Marcus and Hunter had in fact killed Nathan Robillard, then spending time with them alone in their apartment where no one knew where she was wasn’t her smartest idea.

She knocked on the door anyway and stepped back in case they needed to spy her through the peephole. A moment later the door drew inward, revealing the kid that Kate had encountered at Vape Mods.

“You again,” he said, looking her up and down as he adjusted the red baseball cap on his head. “How do you know about our...hobby?”

“You really want to discuss this with me standing in the hallway?” she challenged.

He narrowed his eyes at her but couldn’t argue. He widened the door and Kate stepped into what looked like a poorly decorated bachelor pad. The furniture was leather and extravagant, but the walls were covered in tasteless posters of women wearing bikinis and drinking beer that Kate was sure no woman would drink. It was as if Hunter and Marcus had spent all their money on an entertainment system with a giant flat-screen TV and lived in squalor otherwise.

The kid shut and locked the door then said, “I’m Hunter.”

“Kate,” she told him, turning three hundred and sixty degrees around to really get a good look at the space.

Another young man lumbered out of the bathroom and seemed to be surprised they had company. He was tall, about 6’1” with an unkempt beard, skateboarding t-shirt, and tight-fitting jeans.

Hunter said, “This is Marcus,” before he plopped onto the leather couch and stared up at her. “So you want to place a bet?”

Marcus didn’t let her answer; instead he cut in with, “How did you hear about our races?”

Nervously, Kate said, “It’s a small town. People talk.” But neither of them seemed to buy it. To get them to warm to her and trust her, she said, “Robillard wasn’t taking care of that car of his, and leaving it with Rory was an even worse move.”

The guys exchanged a look of agreement and Hunter laughed to himself.

Guessing at what had appalled him, Kate said, “Parking under a tree like that. Did he not know that bird droppings would damage the paint?”

“Thank you!” said Marcus as though he had discussed the very issue with Nathan a million times.

“But the Thunderbird could race,” she went on. “That’s for sure. Cleaned you guys out good, didn’t it.”

They frowned, admitting it was true.

She continued. “I hear it won’t be racing any longer. Finally, the playing field is level.”

“So let’s get down to business, Red,” said Hunter. “You want to bet? On which car and how much?”

Buying some time, Kate took a slow lap around the living room and sat at the far end of the leather couch, scanning the room all the while. She noticed a black duffle bag resting on the floor near the entertainment center, and unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, she thought she saw a black, knit...something poking out. Is it a ski mask?

“I have a few questions first,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want word getting out that I’m invested.”

“Hey,” said Marcus in a salesman’s tone. “We keep things totally confidential.”

“Then how did I find out about you?” she challenged, and then drove her point home, “Nothing in Rock Ridge is confidential.”

“It is now,” said Hunter with a knowing smile.

Kate could only infer that with Nathan dead, he could no longer blab to his lovers. And Sandra was now in jail. To confirm this, she stated, “Because he’s dead.”

“That’s right,” said Hunter, his expression turning serious.

“You know,” she went on, “the cops think that whoever stole the Thunderbird from Rory is the one who really killed Nathan.”

Anxiously, Marcus asked, “What do you mean ‘the one who really killed Nathan’? Sandra Conway really killed him.”

“I know things,” said Kate. “I have ways. And I happen to know that the cops locked Sandra up to make the killer think it was all over.”

Hunter and Marcus exchanged another look and a silent conversation seemed to ensue, one that Kate couldn’t entirely pinpoint.

“Why are you telling us this?” asked Hunter.

“Because,” she said in a firm tone, “I want to get in on this. I want to bet and win, which means if the killer is my racer, I’ll do everything in my power to keep it quiet—cover it up if need be—if there are any loose ends, that is.”

Marcus seemed skeptical, but his eyes were glued to Hunter, which told Kate that Hunter was at the helm of this thing. However, what he said next contradicted her theory.

“We might take you up on that,” he said. “If the price is right and if our associate is down.”

Kate stared at Hunter, asking, “Associate?”

“That’s right.”

“Kiernan Kirkland?”

Marcus laughed. “She’s good. She does know things, I’ll give her that.”

“So what’s the bid, Red?” asked Hunter.

Given that Kate had no idea how high or low these bets could go, she was reluctant to say a number. What if she said a thousand, but most of the bets were only in the low hundreds? They’d see right through her. Yet she didn’t want to low-ball them. Being conservative would get her nowhere.

“A grand,” she said, eyeing each of them.

Hunter’s poker face held strong, but after two seconds a grin spread across Marcus’s face.

Hunter asked, “On which car?”

“On whoever was the guy who stole the Thunderbird,” she said, cleverly.

Maybe she had pushed her luck. There was no real logic to her statement other than to learn who had really killed Nathan, and it seemed the guys were catching on.

So to convince them, she said, “Let’s just say this first round of bets has more to do with my thanking whoever wiped Nathan out. He and I had...history. My future bets will be more straightforward.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes at her, and then he grabbed Marcus’s arm, leading him out of the living room. “We need a minute to discuss.”

When they disappeared down the hallway and began whispering, Kate popped off the couch and tiptoed to the black duffel bag. Quickly, she yanked the knit garment out. She was right. It was a ski mask.

She cursed her jean shorts and tight t-shirt. She wanted to take the mask with her. Maybe there were hair follicles that Scott and his forensic team could test and have hard evidence, but she had no way of fitting the thing into her pocket. If only she’d brought her tool kit.

Thinking fast, she rushed to the window, unlatched it and threw it open, tossing the hat. She’d find it later.

She had barely enough time to close the window, as they strolled back into the room. Her butt met the leather couch just as they returned, and the fact that she hadn’t locked the window made her mouth go dry.

Hunter explained, “We have to bounce this off the boss, but we’ll be in touch.”

He asked for her cell number and she recited it, and then said, “I really need to use your bathroom.”

Hunter seemed annoyed but pointed the way.

As soon as she shut the door, she ran the faucet loudly and began scanning the sink area.

To her surprise and unlike the living room, the bathroom was neatly organized with Hunter’s belongings clearly marked with his name on the left side of the sink, while Marcus’s occupied the other side.

Quickly, she grabbed a comb from Hunter’s side of the sink and noted a few stray hairs. She wrapped it in toilet paper and tucked it into her back pocket. From the right side of the sink she searched for something to steal, but it was slim pickings. She needed something, so she stole his toothbrush, knowing full well he would notice but not be able to do a thing about it. She wrapped it in toilet paper as well and slipped it beside the comb in her back pocket then tugged her t-shirt down as low as it would go over her waist.

Next she flushed the toilet in case they were listening, turned off the faucet, and exited the bathroom.

When she reached them in the living room, she was sure to square her shoulders toward them, hiding her back pocket, and said, “You have my cell. I’ll wait for your call.”

She tried not to seem too awkward about sidestepping to the door and backing out into the hallway. As soon as the door closed, she booked it to the elevator and didn’t exhale until she was outside.

Now was the tough part. Her heart was pounding as she attempted to get her bearings in terms of where the black ski mask might have fallen.

Visualizing the layout of their apartment, she figured the mask would’ve fallen around the left side of the apartment building so she walked briskly around.

It took a fair amount of wading into the shrubs that lined the building’s exterior, but she found the ski mask, and with it in hand, she jogged to her truck and jumped in.

“Phew!”

She felt exhilarated. In her possession was all the evidence she needed to link the killer to his true identity. This case was as good as solved.

As she twisted the key in the ignition, firing up her truck, her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. Terrified it might be Marcus calling about why in the hell his toothbrush was missing, Kate stepped on the gas and peeled out into the street. It wasn’t until she had driven a full block that she glanced at the LCD screen and saw Carly’s name and number flashing.

She answered, placing her cell against her ear, “Dare I ask how it went?”

“Kate!” Her friend exclaimed. “It went great. Lance agreed. I’m going to sell his flowers and he’s only going to sell gifts in his shop, gardening books and stuff, but no flowers!”

“Congratulations!” said Kate.

It looked as though everyone’s luck was turning.

Chapter Nine

When Kate reached the Municipal Building for the second time that day, pulling her truck into the parking lot and squeezing between a Volvo and a beat-up truck, she knew it would be a trick to sneak past Scott.

Part of her wanted to bring her husband into the loop and explain her reasons for believing Sandra Conway. She wanted to detail for him her encounter with Hunter and Marcus and the fact that she now had evidence, but Scott had a long history of asking, warning, and begging her not to get involved in his investigations. She felt like she was so close to catching the real killer that she couldn’t afford to be stopped. And once the forensics department matched the black ski mask with either the toothbrush or the comb, Scott would have nothing to argue against. It would still be over, just as he thought it was now, but the correct murderer would be behind bars.

The real trick was going to be convincing the forensics department to use its funding and resources to test DNA for a case they fully believed was closed, and to get their help without her husband finding out.

But Kate had been in tighter spots than this one...

She pulled the key from the ignition, grabbed the evidence from the passenger’s seat and found a spare plastic bag in the pocket behind her seat. She tucked the ski mask, and toothbrush and comb, both of which were still wrapped in toilet paper, into the shopping bag.

After glancing around the parking lot and then at the glass entrance door to check that Scott wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, she climbed out of her truck and made her way into the building.

The forensic department was on the second floor, so she had a decent shot of avoiding the cops in the precinct since the bullpen was on the ground floor, but getting all the way down the hall to the stairwell meant that anyone who lifted their eyes from their desk inside the station might catch sight of her.

So she walked fast and kept her head down, not that the particular hue of her hair wouldn’t be a dead giveaway.

When she reached the stairwell door, she threw it open and began climbing quickly up to the second floor.

Once there, she traveled the hallway, checking the signs on each door until she came to one that said, Forensics in bold lettering across the glass. She hadn’t been up here in ages, it seemed, and she couldn’t recall if she’d ever ventured into the actual forensics lab.

After slipping through the door, she was met with an assistant dressed in a white lab coat sitting behind a desk. He lifted his gaze, adjusting the thick-rimmed glasses on his face, and seemed surprised to have a visitor though he recognized her right away.

Everyone at the Rock Ridge precinct knew the police chief’s wife.

“Hi,” she said quietly, as she glanced around the anteroom. Luckily, there were no others, though she could hear analysts conversing behind closed doors. “I have a rather unusual request.”

“Okay...” he said, eyeing the plump plastic bag dangling from her fingers. “Kate, right?”

“Yes, but if I can do this anonymously, I’d really appreciate it.”

“It depends on what it is,” he told her.

His desk phone rang so he held his finger up, answering it. The call was brief and he mostly listened and then returned the phone to its cradle.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

She waited a moment, expecting him to explain that he would have to race off, but it didn’t come so she said, “I have three items here.” She indicated the bag. “I need to know if the toothbrush or the comb matches the black ski mask.”

“Matches?” he asked then quickly caught on. “You mean you want to know if it’s a DNA match.”

“Yes,” she said through a sheepish smile.

He looked momentarily dumbfounded, mumbling, “Just a sec,” as he began typing on his keyboard and scanning the monitor. “We can do it,” he finally said, “but not for free.” Without looking up, he added, “You know a hospital could also do it if you tell them it’s for paternity testing.”

Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“It might be cheaper,” he mentioned. “And in terms of this department, if the test isn’t for an active case, then we’ll have to give priority to our open cases.”

“Do you have any active cases at the moment?”

“Well, no,” he allowed. “But you never know when the next crime is going to be committed.”

He had a point, but still she preferred to get this over with here and now, rather than drive over to the hospital where she would have to fill out endless forms and probably pay just as much.

“Do I need to fill out any paperwork?” she asked, implying using his department suited her just fine.

“I’ll take your information,” he told her and began asking her for her contact information.

After telling him, she asked, “Will this be confidential?”

“I mean, we won’t alert the media,” he said casually and with a smirk.

“I’m more concerned you’ll alert my husband.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. The assistant stared at her as though she had given him an idea that wouldn’t have otherwise occurred to him.

“Oh, please keep this between us,” she said, pleadingly. “Scott is about to have his vacation, and if he were to find out about this it would only distract him, and he might decide not to take his days off.”

“I hear you,” he said. “It can stay between us, but I can’t guarantee the lab assistants won’t mention it to him.”

“Well can you put a note in the file telling them not to?”

Again, he looked lost as he scanned the monitor, and then his eyes snapped up to her. “Is Scott not Josie’s father?”

“Oh, God no!” she blurted out. “He’s the father!”

It was a hell of a question, but at least he hadn’t made the connection between the black ski mask and the now-closed Nathan Robillard case.

She thanked him and hightailed it out of there, making her way down the hallway and then the stairs.

When she reached the stairwell door, she cracked it open and peeked down the hallway. Officer Chesterfield was standing directly in front of the precinct door, pressing his cellphone to his ear in what looked like an intense personal phone call.

If he spotted her, he would surely ask what she was doing there, so she waited it out, spying him from the crack in the door until he eventually tucked his cell into his back pocket, flung the precinct door open, and disappeared.

At that point, she walked briskly toward the entrance door and didn’t breathe until she was safely on the other side, where the temperature had cooled slightly and the sun was low in the sky.

She checked her wristwatch. She needed to get home before Scott did and there wasn’t much time.

As she made her quick way to her truck, she noted Scott’s truck was parked down the way, a good sign that he was still wrapping things up at the station before his time off, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t spill out of the Municipal Building right behind her.

She jumped in her truck, twisted the key hard as soon as she’d slid it into the ignition, and whipped her truck out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Driving home, she couldn’t wait to see Josephine. She had certainly gotten less attached to her daughter in the months that Maxwell had been babysitting, but it still stung to be away from her daughter all day. She should’ve asked the forensic assistant how long it might take to run the tests. She had been too nervous at the time and too eager to get out of there. Ideally, she would like to start her vacation with Scott knowing that the case really was closed, and because of this she hoped someone from the lab would call her either tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. Of course, she knew that was wishful thinking.

Just as she was climbing out of her truck after pulling up her driveway, her cellphone vibrated once and she assumed it was Scott sending a text about dinner. He had mentioned meeting here and then heading off to the supermarket with Josie. But when she glanced at the screen, she saw a number she didn’t recognize except for the area code.

She opened the text message.

If you want to place your bet, be at Vape Mods in ten minutes.

She took a deep breath. Was it still necessary to try and get in with these people now that she was having the ski mask tested for DNA? She thought not, but what if there wasn’t enough DNA on the ski mask for the forensic department to get a clear result?

She thought about Sandra Conway sitting in a jail cell because of her and her impulsive assumptions. Yes, she would be late for meeting Scott, but checking things out at Vape Mods was the least she could do to exonerate Sandra.

Throwing her truck into reverse, she swung around, then shifted gears and started down the driveway, challenged to get across town in the span of ten minutes.

She sped through the heart of Rock Ridge and when the road opened up again, she really flew.

Coming to a screeching stop in the strip mall parking lot, she checked the clock on the dashboard.

She was right on time.

All of the other stores on the strip were dark and closed. Vape Mods seemed so as well, but she saw a dim light illuminating the space.

She climbed out of her truck, taking a deep breath—should she have at least told someone where she was going? Should she have brought cash?

She pulled on the glass door when she reached it, but like last time, it was locked. So she knocked on the glass and took a step back.

A nervous moment later, a middle-aged man approached the glass door and opened it. He had the weathered face of an automotive mechanic, but was dressed sharply in dark slacks and a navy blue button-down shirt. Even his shoes screamed affluence—shiny leather with silver tips.

“You must be Kate,” he said in a throaty voice. “I’m Kiernan Kirkland. Come in.”

He held the door for her and she stepped inside, noting that the boxes were now gone and there were actual products under the glass counter.

“I understand you’d like to place a very specific bet with us?” he said and she turned, facing him.

Her response sounded brittle as she said, “That’s right.” She cleared her throat and added, “I consider it an investment.”

“It’s a fairly unusual investment,” he pointed out. “You seem to think one of my drag racers was responsible for Nathan Robillard’s death.”

“Am I wrong to think that?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, sizing her up, but said nothing. As he folded his arms, his brow furrowed thoughtfully and it was then she noticed the holster under his left arm and the gun tucked inside of it.

As thoughtful as he looked, she didn’t sense he was going to say something, so she went on, “I understand you’re the one who makes the decisions—”

“And I understand that you stole from my employees.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t let her explain.

“Imagine how surprised Marcus was to find his toothbrush missing after you’d used his bathroom.”

Her eyes widened and the door felt very far away. She had no way of escaping. He was blocking her from it.

“And Hunter’s comb? Really?”

“I have sticky fingers?”

“What you have is a reputation,” he countered. “You don’t want to place a bet. You want to poke around. And you shouldn’t have taken that ski mask.”

He unfolded his arms, causing Kate to flinch. Her heart began pounding, and her instincts told her that he was going to draw his weapon, aim it at her, and perhaps kill her.

“My guys didn’t kill Nathan,” he asserted.

That could be true, but it didn’t mean Kiernan didn’t kill him himself. His guys could have been covering for him, hiding evidence.

“You’re going to walk away from this,” he threatened. “If you don’t...” he tapped his holster and smiled.

“You’re only confirming my suspicion.”

“I’m not confirming anything, and if you took those items to prove otherwise, you will be sorely mistaken.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why would I kill Nathan?” he challenged. “I was profiting from him.”

“But Hunter and Marcus weren’t. They were losing money.”

He snorted a laugh. “You don’t understand how it works.”

“Enlighten me.”

“We’re all on the same team. It’s racers against gamblers. It doesn’t matter who wins. We divide the loser’s money evenly and we never pay out more than we make.”

She found that hard to believe so she asked, “Then why did they have the killer’s ski mask in their possession?”

His expression hardened and after staring her down for a long moment, he held the door open for her.

“Next time I won’t give a warning. I’ll give an order and it won’t end well for you.”

She made her cautious way to the door then turned on her heel. “If anything happens to me, the police will know.”

“If you push your luck,” he said sternly. “It won’t matter what they know, because you’ll already be dead.”

It was a very long drive back to the house. Kate’s hands were shaking. What had she gotten herself into? She told herself it was only a matter of time before the DNA test results would come back. Kiernan would be arrested or Hunter or Marcus or all of them. If she was in danger, it wouldn’t be for long. But what if only one of them got arrested and the others came after her?

She pushed the thought from her mind, as she maneuvered her truck up the long and winding driveway to her house.

Dusk was pressing in, and she saw Scott’s truck parked near the front door. She pulled her truck up beside it, killed the engine, and climbed out.

Inside she found Scott bouncing Josie on his hip, while Maxwell collected his backpack.

“There she is,” said Scott with a big smile on his face. He cooed in Josie’s ear, “Mommy’s home.”

“How was she today?” she asked Maxwell, as Scott handed Josie off to her.

“Great,” he said. “She got a little sun. We played in the pool. She had several naps and ate a lot. So what’s the plan for the rest of the week?”

Kate exchanged glances with Scott and then explained, “We’d like you to come by in the evenings, but can we text you?”

He shrugged and said, “Sure,” and then let himself out after patting Josie on the head.

After the front door clicked shut, Scott gave Kate a kiss and asked, “My truck or yours?”

Chapter Ten

The next day, Kate woke with the sun. Scott’s side of the bed was cool and when she ventured out into the living room, she found him already up with Josie. They were seated on the couch, Scott holding a bottle and their daughter suckling down her breakfast.

“I’ll pump,” she said half asleep, as she wandered into the bathroom where she had left her breast pump and a few clean bottles.

After filling them, she walked through the living room and into the kitchen where she placed the bottles in the fridge and debated a cup of coffee. She hadn’t had a real, caffeinated cup of coffee in weeks because she reserved it as a rare treat. Scott had brewed a whole pot in his excitement for their week off and, quite frankly, the dark roast smelled too good to resist.

“Hey,” Scott called out from the couch. “I’m thinking about the park today, and then we could drive out to the zoo.”

“How far is it?” she asked, pouring herself a mug. Josie was fine with short car rides, but anything longer than a half hour and she got fussy.

“On the highway it shouldn’t take longer than twenty,” he told her, using his free hand to scroll through the website on his laptop computer, which was resting on the coffee table.

“Sounds good as long as we pack plenty of diapers and bottles.”

She sat on the chair adjacent to the couch and relished her coffee, drinking it slowly and giving her mind time to wake up. As soon as it did, she jolted for her cellphone, which she had left on the bedside table. She grabbed it quickly, but she had no new messages.

Damn.

When she returned to the living room, she sat beside Scott on the couch and stroked the wisps of red hair on Josie’s head.

“I just need to shower,” he told her. “But you can go first.”

After a long moment of relaxing with her coffee and watching her daughter slurp away, she went into the bathroom, enjoyed a long shower, and then dressed, selecting garments that looked nothing like the ones she worked in. Minutes later, she emerged wearing a light, yellow sundress and flip-flops. Scott passed Josie to her and she played with her daughter, swinging and bobbing her on her hip, while Scott showered and got changed into a pair of dark cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt she had never seen before.

It was more than bright. It was blinding.

“Like it?” he asked enthusiastically. “I bought it yesterday on my way home from the station.”

“It certainly screams vacation,” she laughed and they packed the baby bag for Josie and made their way out to Scott’s truck.

Once Josie was settled in her car seat and Kate was buckled in, Scott drove down the long and winding driveway and soon they arrived at the Rock Ridge Park.

A few joggers were out and there was a group of daycare kids at three of the picnic tables, so Scott proposed they set out their blanket in a shady area.

Kate kept her cellphone within reach as they settled on the blanket. Scott opened their picnic basket and pulled out a bottle of wine, which made her laugh out loud.

“Scott! It’s barely nine in the morning.”

“Oh, this is white. It’s very light. And this is my vacation!”

“Hey, no judgment here,” she said, plucking a Tupperware container full of cubed fruit out of the basket. There were muffins as well, so she grabbed one and it wasn’t until she had eaten to the point of nearly being full that she allowed Scott to pour her a very modest serving of white wine.

It didn’t take long for the temperature to rise, and between Scott excitedly drinking more and more wine and the heat, he soon lay down and dozed off.

Kate sighed. What could she do? It was his vacation after all. If he wanted to drink himself into a snooze, she couldn’t stop him.

Finally, her cell began buzzing on top of the blanket and she answered it quickly, as Josie waved and flung the Tupperware lid playfully.

“Yes?” she said, having barely brought her cell to her ear.

“Hi, Kate, it’s Milt calling from the forensic department.”

“Yes, great. Did you get a match?”

There was a brief pause and Milt said, “Well, yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“Neither the toothbrush nor the comb had DNA that matched the strands of hair we found inside the ski mask.”

“Okay...” she said, waiting for his explanation.

“But the hair did match someone we had in the database—”

“Great!” She blurted out. “Who?”

“One of our recent victims, Nathan Robillard.”

In frustration, she cursed then quickly apologized.

What the hell was going on? The killer took Nathan’s car and killed him wearing Nathan’s own ski mask. The killer also framed Sandra Conway. Why not take her car and find a ski mask in her house? The killer had obviously had access since he’d cut the piano wire from her baby grand. It didn’t make sense.

“And was that the only DNA you found on the ski mask?”

“No,” he said. “In addition to the hairs, there was also DNA inside the ski mask that was a match to unidentified DNA we found on the piano wire.”

Kate stiffened.

“Why didn’t you mention this was for the Nathan Robillard case?” Milt demanded.

She deflected by asking another question. “Have you tested Sandra Conway to see if the unknown DNA belonged to her?”

“Those results just came in today as well. She was not a match.”

Kate heaved a sigh of relief. At least she had proven Sandra couldn’t have killed Nathan. Even without the DNA match, there was an undeniable connection between Sandra and the murder weapon, but Sandra couldn’t have used the ski mask Kate found, and it did have a DNA match. Scott couldn’t argue with that.

“I’m going to have to tell Scott about this,” he added. “There’s nothing I can do to prevent it. He has to know.”

“Oh, please, can’t you say the ski mask was delivered anonymously?” she asked, but she knew he couldn’t. This was too important.

Why hadn’t either Hunter’s or Marcus’s DNA been inside of the ski mask? Or more accurately, Kate wondered, why did they have the ski mask if neither had done it?

She thanked him for his time, and Milt asked where he could send the bill. Grumbling, she told him he could email it to her and she’d take care of it as soon as she was home.

Scott murmured then startled himself awake. “How long was I out?”

“Not long, maybe fifteen minutes,” she told him, stroking his white hair. “But it looks like you might have gotten up too early this morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s no harm in taking a nap at home before we head out to the zoo. It’s on the way after all.”

He seemed to debate the idea, but the look on his face told Kate that if he took her up on the suggestion, he would only feel defeated.

Considering that Scott’s cellphone could ring any second with the forensic department on the other end, Kate had no choice but to come clean with what she had learned...and done.

“Honey?” she said, as Scott sat upright and poured more wine. It was too distracting, not to mention that she didn’t want him to pass out again, so she took the bottle. “Scott.”

“Yes?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He looked worried and asked, “You’re not pregnant again, are you?”

She had to laugh. “No, nothing like that.” She took a deep breath and went on. “I don’t think Sandra did it.”

“Kate, the case is closed.”

“But your phone is going to ring any minute, and someone is going to tell you otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I did some digging.”

“Of course you did,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What did you find?” Before she could answer, he added, “And please don’t tell me it’s going to jeopardize our days off.”

She cringed.

“Kate,” he protested, reading her expression.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “But the wrong person is in jail.” When he gave her his full attention, she began explaining all that she had discovered. It was a rocky half hour.

Once she was finished, Scott fell into deep thought, contemplating all he had learned.

“So it’s not Hunter Cole or Marcus Wheaton?”

“No, the DNA on the ski mask only matched the DNA on the piano string, not the toothbrush and not the comb.”

“But you still think they had something to do with it?”

“Well, now I’m not sure. All I know is that Sandra didn’t,” she insisted.

“But they had the ski mask,” he pointed out.

“That’s what has me so confused...unless...”

“What?”

“Well, I didn’t get Kiernan Kirkland’s DNA. He could’ve done it and had the guys hide the ski mask... Though he made a solid argument for his innocence.”

Scott looked irate. “You think he might have done it and you went to talk to him? After everything you’ve been through, you’d put yourself in harm’s way like that?”

“Don’t be angry.”

“How can I not? God, Kate, you’re constantly tempting fate!”

“I mean, not constantly. Sometimes I take a few years off.”

If she’d meant to be funny, he wasn’t laughing.

Scott got to his feet and said, “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m not going to let Sandra rot in a jail cell, for one. But really I think you need to see how things operate from the inside.”

Getting to her feet as well, she lifted Josie, and as Scott folded their picnic blanket she asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means our vacation is going to be much different than I expected.”

Kate carried Josie while Scott handled the blanket and picnic basket, and they made their way back to his truck. They drove straight to the precinct where Scott harnessed Josie to his back using the baby carrier, and as soon as they were inside, he led Kate down into the jail cells.

Sandra Conway was pacing exhaustively and Scott informed the guard to call up to the forensic office and ask them to bring down the DNA reports.

“What’s going on?” Sandra asked, perking up and rushing to the bars at the sight of the police chief in her midst.

“There’s new DNA evidence,” said Kate excitedly. “They can’t hold you any longer.”

“You’re kidding, whose?”

“At this point, we only know that it isn’t yours and that you couldn’t have killed Nathan,” she explained.

Moments later Officer Chesterfield brought the reports down to Scott and waited near him, as Scott read them over.

“Let her out,” he concluded, looking up from the reports to Sandra.

As the guard unlocked the jail cell and Sandra stepped out, Scott apologized, but warned, “You might not be safe at home. I’ll bring you up to the precinct where they’ll make arrangements to keep you guarded in a motel.”

“No,” said Sandra. “No, that’s just like jail. I don’t want to be cooped up and guarded.”

Kate tried to reason with her, saying, “It’s only temporary until Scott catches the real killer.”

Sandra clearly didn’t like the sound of it, but gradually came around.

As Scott led them all up the stairs and into the precinct, Sandra asked, “Can I go to Nathan’s funeral?”

“When in it?” asked Scott, as he held the precinct door open for her.

“Tomorrow, I really owe him that much.”

“I can permit it,” said Scott, but before she could get too excited, he added, “but with police protection.”

Kate waited patiently as Scott disappeared into his office to make arrangements. On his way, several officers and detectives complimented and also teased his flashy Hawaiian shirt, but he took it in stride.

“Sandra,” said Kate, as the writer smiled at how Josie was on her father’s back. “I need to know if for any reason Kiernan Kirkland would have access to your house?”

“God, no,” she said. “I avoid Kiernan like the plague. He’s the ring leader of that drag racing club and was a terrible influence on Nathan.”

Kate sighed and reminded herself that just because Kiernan hadn’t been let into the house, it didn’t mean he might not have had a crafty way of breaking in undetected.

Scott returned moments later with Officer Chesterfield and explained, “We’ll get you set up over at the Super-8 on the south side of town.”

“That dump?” She groaned.

“It’s the best we can do considering the short notice and the fact that Over the Moon is now a rose garden,” he explained. “As soon as there’s vacancy at a nicer place, we’ll move you.”

“Can I at least go home to get my things?”

He allowed it, instructing Chesterfield to take her.

Before she left, Sandra threw her arms around Kate, thanking her and getting a little teary eyed. When she released her she said, “I don’t hold it against you.”

“Thanks.”

“But please find the son of a bitch so I don’t have to live like a prisoner in a cheap motel. I’ve lost several writing days and I can’t afford it!”

Kate smiled and told her she’d do her best, and then Chesterfield walked her out.

She turned to Scott, asking, “So, the zoo?”

His laugh sounded more like a jab. “Hardly, now the real fun begins.”

“Oh God,” she said under her breath, as he led her by the arm into his office.

“You want to be a detective,” he stated, “Now’s your chance, except you aren’t going to do it the rogue way. You’re going to do it the right way.”

Scott eased into the chair at the business side of his desk and as soon as Kate had settled into the chair across from him, he asked, “Who would be so close to Nathan that they could take his car and his ski mask?”

“And also get into Sandra’s house,” she added.

“Maybe his car wasn’t stolen from Rory,” he proposed.

“Scott, honey, you can’t lean back in your chair.”

He startled, remembering their daughter was on his back.

Quickly, Kate got to her feet and pulled Josie out of the carrier, which Scott then took off and set on the ground.

“You think the car wasn’t stolen?” she asked, getting him back on track, as she set Josie on her lap and gave her a little bounce.

“All cars come with a spare key,” he said.

“This is circular logic, Scott. The only people that could’ve had a spare key were his friends.”

“That’s an assumption, not a fact,” he pointed out.

She thought hard for a long minute then asked, “Why did Nathan agree to meet the killer at his parents’ house and not his own place?”

“I’m wondering the same thing,” said Scott.

They gave each other a knowing glance, and knew where they need to go next.

Chapter Eleven

After a quick pit stop home—Kate had argued that having her tool kit in hand might prove useful, even though Scott complained that being sneaky didn’t qualify as doing things the right way, and they’d both agreed hiring Maxwell to babysit Josie was necessary. They drove through Rock Ridge and came to the suburban area of town.

Scott parked his truck along the curb and when they climbed out, Kate grabbed her tool kit from the truck bed.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” she grumbled. “You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt for God’s sake.”

He frowned and they made their way up the walk toward the Robillards’ house.

“No one questioned the parents?” she asked, as he knocked on the door.

“We didn’t have a reason to,” he told her quietly. “We didn’t suspect either of them.”

The faintest footsteps could be heard from inside the house and Kate guessed it was the little boy approaching the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the driveway and saw a vehicle, so at least one of his parents was home.

The door creaked open and there was the boy, gripping his teddy bear and staring up at them.

“Hey, Kiddo,” she said, crouching so that she could look him in the eye. “Remember me? I’m Kate and this is my husband, Scott.”

The child glanced at Scott then returned his eyes to her.

“Are your parents around?”

Kate heard something shatter deep within the house and then a man swearing, which caused the boy to flinch.

Scott called out, “Hello? Mr. Robillard?”

But Mr. Robillard didn’t appear. They heard the sound of stomping up the stairs, and soon the child’s mother approached through the foyer.

“Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, which she flung over her shoulder.

She was dressed in a long, matronly skirt and a modest blouse that Kate noticed was covered in flour.

Scott asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh,” she smiled, embarrassed. “I’m making cookies and dropped the bowl.”

That wasn’t what it had sounded like as far as Kate was concerned. It had sounded like the bowl had been thrown.

“You’re the police chief,” she said, pointing at Scott. She smiled down at her son and smoothed his hair in a manner that reminded Kate of how she tended to Josie.

“That’s right, and I have a couple questions,” he said, but Kate quickly interrupted him.

“I know the roofs around here haven’t been holding up.”

“Lord, no,” said Mrs. Robillard. “We’ve had leaks all spring. Nathan was supposed to get up there with his father, but...” she trailed off as grief overcame her expression.

It was an interesting detail, and Kate sensed that Scott’s curiosity had been piqued as well, so she asked, “You guys were going to fix it yourselves?”

The woman shrugged, explaining, “My husband doesn’t like strangers in the house. And he’s stubborn. He thinks he can do everything himself, but to his credit, the fact that he’d asked Nate to help out showed some semblance of growth.”

“I just repaired the roof on one of the houses up the way,” she mentioned, lifting her tool kit demonstratively. “I could have a look.”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “No thank you. My husband would never allow it.”

Mr. Robillard screamed from the second floor, “Nancy, get back inside!”

“Just a second, Dear!” she called out over her shoulder.

“Don’t make me come down there!”

Concerned, Scott asked, “Is everything okay?”

Nancy looked nervous and began rattling off excuses for her husband’s behavior. “He’s mourning. He’s been very angry. The funeral arrangements are proving to be much more expensive than we could’ve ever imagined. Even though...” she trailed off again, shaking her head. “The life insurance policy should cover most of it. Well, Bob doesn’t exactly let me see those kinds of things, policies and paperwork.” She smiled but it was brittle. “Man of the house and all.”

Kate glanced at Scott and knew right away that he was thinking the same thing she was. Bob had taken out a life insurance policy on Nathan, and now he was dead. She shuddered to imagine how a man could kill his own son for money, but it could’ve been for a bigger reason than just that. At the very least, they had something. Nathan had been on that roof for a reason. He was going to help his father repair it. But had Bob stolen the Thunderbird? Had he somehow gotten inside Sandra Conway’s house to cut the string from her piano?

“The real reason we’re here, Mrs. Robillard,” said Scott, “is because I never questioned you or your husband properly at the time of Nathan’s death.”

“Oh?”

“Would it be possible for us to come in for a few minutes?” he asked.

She cringed, sneaking a glance over her shoulder that Kate was sure was meant for her husband. The little boy looked up at his mother, and when Kate glanced down at him, she noted he too looked worried.

“Well, what would we need to talk about? Sandra Conway killed my son, probably because of their inappropriate affair. You know she’s much older than Nathan.”

Scott pressed her, saying, “Please, Mrs. Robillard.”

When she still seemed reluctant, Kate added, “New evidence has been discovered that proves Sandra didn’t do it.”

Nancy’s eyes widened with abject horror. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” she said kindly.

Nancy told her son to run along to his room, and then she widened the door, inviting them inside.

The living room was immaculate, almost to the point of seeming sterile, and Kate had a hard time picturing a little boy living here. Kids tended to be messy. They left their toys scattered around. As far as she could tell from assessing these minute details, Kate was starting to believe that Mr. Robillard was some kind of abuser. His son was clearly afraid of him and Nancy seemed to be in the same boat.

“Bob, Honey,” she called out, standing at the foot of the stairs. “The police need to talk to us about Nathan.”

Stomping ensued and soon Bob rounded the foot of the stairs. He was wearing a sweater and corduroy pants, which made very little sense considering the weather. But the house felt cool enough. Two AC units were blasting in the living room and the entire house seemed to hum with even more units.

“Mr. Robillard,” said Scott, shaking the man’s hand.

Kate greeted him next, and then they all sat on the couch and chairs.

Nancy asked, “Can I get you both something to drink?”

“You know,” said Kate. “We’ll have water, but I can get it. That way you can answer Scott’s questions without delay and we’ll be out of here sooner.”

Nancy seemed apprehensive, but Kate was already making her way toward the kitchen around the corner.

Just as her flip-flops hit the tiles, she noticed a few sets of car keys hanging from a small rack near the light switch. She set her tool kit down and eyed them. Nancy drove a Toyota and Bob had a Chrysler. Their keys were easy to identify. Beside them was a single key attached to a bright blue rabbit’s foot keychain. Kate examined it closely and saw the Ford logo right on the key fob—the spare to the Thunderbird.

That confirmed it. Bob had taken the Thunderbird from Rory, but why? To muddy the waters of who might have killed his son?

She startled at the sound of pattering feet approaching the kitchen and turned. The little boy was staring up at her, so she whispered, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he whispered back, finally having warmed to her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

He shrugged and told her, “I’m hungry.”

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

She returned the spare key to the rack then found two glasses in the cabinet above the sink. She ran the faucet, letting the water get cold, as she hunted through the other cabinets for snacks. There were granola bars and fruit roll-ups and pudding. She snapped a pudding cup off its twin and grabbed a granola bar, and after finding a spoon in one of the drawers, she got the kid settled at the kitchen table.

Once she had filled two glasses with water, she joined him, asking, “I don’t think you ever told me your name?”

“Charlie,” he said, pulling the lid off the pudding and scooping his spoon in the little cup.

Kate watched him take a few bites then asked, “Does your dad like to ski?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you know if he has a black ski mask?”

“Not anymore,” he said easily and shoveled another heaping scoop of pudding into his mouth.

“Not anymore? Did he lose it?”

“No, he left it at a store.”

She stared at him. “At Vape Mods?”

He shrugged as if he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of the place.

“Was a guy working there who wore a red baseball cap?”

Charlie thought about it for a moment then shook his head.

“Did the guy working there have a beard?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “And tight pants.”

“Charlie,” she went on, leaning in and speaking quietly, “was Nathan up on the roof because he was waiting for your dad?”

Charlie flinched when Mr. Robillard boomed from the doorway, “What are you doing?”

Kate turned, but his eyes were locked on his son.

“Get in your room!”

Scurrying, Charlie raced out of the kitchen, leaving behind his granola bar and empty pudding cup.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” said Kate, rising out of the chair. “Charlie mentioned he was hungry so I didn’t think it would be a problem to help him get a snack.”

“It’ll spoil his dinner,” he barked. “Anything else you need?”

Kate plucked the glasses of water off the counter and followed Bob back into the living room. As soon as she set the glasses down on the coffee table, she interrupted Scott, whispering, “Just got to use the bathroom.”

Scott locked eyes with her and winked in such a way that the Robillard’s didn’t notice, though Bob looked anything but pleased that Kate was once again wandering off in his house.

She found the bathroom on the first floor and shut the door, scanning the sink area. It looked as sterile as the living room. She cursed. She really needed to be in the upstairs bathroom, because clearly no one used this one. She opened the medicine cabinet anyway, hoping for a comb or toothbrush or anything they might be able to test for DNA.

There was a bottle of Aspirin, a tube of toothpaste but it was brand new, and a container of dental floss. Nothing that would prove useful.

She checked the shower stall, but it was bare except for a bar of soap.

She heard the sound of soft footsteps just outside the bathroom door, so she cracked it open. Charlie was staring at her, so she widened the door and crouched.

“Charlie,” she whispered. “Can you do me a big favor?”

He nodded, excited to have a mission.

“Does your dad keep his toothbrush upstairs?” The question seemed to confuse him so she explained, “I need it. I need something that he puts in his mouth.”

Charlie understood and thrust his teddy bear against her chest—to free his hands she presumed—and then he rushed off.

She eased the door closed and ran the faucet to make it seem like she was actually doing something in there and hoped like hell Bob wouldn’t barrel down the hallway.

Moments later, the little boy returned, but he didn’t have a toothbrush in his hands but a small plastic case instead.

She didn’t immediately identify what it was until he handed it to her and she popped the top.

A mouth guard.

“Great,” she whispered, ruffling his hair and returning his teddy bear. “Thank you.”

She tucked the plastic container into the small pocket of her yellow sundress and returned to the living room where Scott was on his feet, thanking the Robillards’ for their time.

Kate grabbed her tool kit, which she had left in the kitchen, and as they gathered in the foyer, Scott mentioned, “Sandra Conway will be at the funeral tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” said Bob, irate.

“Now, we know she wasn’t responsible.”

“The funeral is a private family affair,” yelled Bob. “By invitation only. Under no circumstances is that woman going.”

“It’s actually public,” said Scott, “the burial at the cemetery anyway. She won’t be at the church.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he demanded. “It doesn’t, and I don’t want her there.”

Scott frowned apologetically and opened the door. “Thank you for your time.”

Kate stepped out into the hot early evening with Scott following after her. As soon as the door was closed, Bob broke out screaming at Nancy on the other side.

“I think he’s good for this,” said Kate, as they walked to his truck.

“Tell me you got something.”

“Tell me my methods of sneaking around work just fine.”

He shot her a sideways glance and playfully shoved her shoulder.

“I’ll take that as confirmation,” she teased.

When they reached the truck, Kate set her tool kit in the truck bed and climbed into the passenger’s seat, as Scott settled behind the steering wheel and turned the engine.

“Look what I got,” said Kate, setting the plastic container on the dashboard. “It’s a mouth guard.”

“Bob’s?”

She nodded, adding, “And it’s chock-full of DNA.”

As they drove, night falling over Rock Ridge, he asked, “It’s not too late to buy those ingredients, is it?”

After picking up Josie from the house and thanking Maxwell, they first drove to the precinct where Scott left the mouth guard with the forensic department, asking that they put a rush on the test. Then they drove to the supermarket where Scott was once again acting like a kid in a candy store. He smiled, grabbing the ingredients he had listed on his note pad, as Kate pushed the shopping cart.

When they got home, Kate breast-fed Josie as Scott got started on cooking dinner. Once their daughter was full and sleepy, Kate put her down in her crib and joined her husband in the kitchen where they chopped vegetables and drank wine. An hour later they ate chicken fettuccine at the dining room table and celebrated the first night of their vacation.

“We make a pretty good team,” said Scott, smiling at her.

She leaned in and gave him a kiss in response.

Chapter Twelve

The cemetery was hot and sunny. The sun beat down from the cloudless sky and though there were small trees scattered throughout the headstones, none offered shade where the funeral procession had gathered.

Kate fanned herself with her hand and waited at the edge of the cemetery, while Scott locked up the truck. They had hired Maxwell to babysit Josie. Neither Kate nor Scott wanted their daughter to suffer in the heat.

Scott stepped onto the grass as Officer Chesterfield pulled up in a police cruiser. His partner, Officer Taite, was in the passenger’s seat. As they climbed out, Kate spied Sandra dressed in black and hunched in the back of the cruiser. She seemed annoyed to still be treated like a criminal, but when Chesterfield let her out, she brushed off her bad mood and locked her gaze on the mourners who had gathered.

Scott shook hands with Chesterfield then Taite, asking them how the security detail was going, as Sandra approached Kate.

“Please tell me this will all be over soon,” said Sandra. “I don’t know how much longer I can live cooped up in a motel with two armed officers outside my door.”

“Soon,” she assured her.

“But not yet,” she surmised, gazing off again at the crowd in the distance. “They aren’t going to be happy I’m here.”

“The Robillards?”

Sandra touched eyes with her long enough to nod and Kate was tempted to ask her if she had ever invited Bob Robillard into her home. After a moment, the urge was too strong to fight, so she did.

Sandra’s response was, “Ages ago—and I mean years. Way before I got involved with Nathan.”

“Why was he in your house?”

“For a period, I wasn’t sure I would have any use for my instruments. I was trying to sell them, and Bob came over to check out a few guitars. Ultimately he didn’t buy either and then I realized I didn’t want to sell anything. Having a musical outlet is a good compliment to being hunched over a computer all day.”

“Sandra,” said Kate. “Why didn’t you mention this?”

“It slipped my mind and honestly, it was years ago, maybe eight. And I had a number of people come in and out.”

“Eight years ago?” Kate thought about the long timeline. “But you’ve played that baby grand piano since then, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t play piano. I’m not sure why I bought it...well, that’s not true. It was being sold for a few hundred bucks, how could I not? I think I fiddled, hitting a few keys when I first got it in my music room, but I never thought to learn how to play it.”

Scott neared them, asking, “Shall we?”

They made their way over to the grave where dozens of people were gathered. Mr. and Mrs. Robillard were standing with Charles, who was dressed sharply in a dark suit. Kate spotted Hunter Cole, Marcus Wheaton and Kiernan Kirkland in the mix. Though the Robillards’ extended family seemed to be a large one, most of the attendees looked about Nathan’s age, so Kate figured they were his high school or maybe college friends.

The priest said a few words to Bob Robillard that Kate couldn’t make out, and then he began with a prayer.

Kate glanced at the casket, unsure of where else to look, as Scott took her hand and Sandra began whimpering.

Bob’s eyes snapped up to the writer, and Kate noticed that Mr. Robillard didn’t look irate or annoyed as he had yesterday. He seemed regretful, and the longer she stared at him, the clearer his mood became to her.

Had Bob been in love with her?

Was that what all this was about?

Had he harbored an eight-year infatuation and not been able to handle knowing that his very own son had won the heart of the woman he most wanted?

Had he gone so far as to murder his own flesh and blood just so that he wouldn’t have to watch a love affair blossom right in front of his eyes?

Kate thought about it and considered how Bob had treated Nancy and his younger son. He had acted as though he wanted nothing to do with them, as if they inconvenienced him—as if they didn’t matter to him.

Was Sandra the only one who did?

As the priest indicated to the groundskeeper that he could lower the casket into the ground, Kate tapped Sandra on the arm and pulled her aside.

She couldn’t wait for the forensic department to get back to her. She couldn’t risk the legal loopholes that Bob’s defense attorney might use if he were arrested and this thing went to trial. She wanted a confession and she had an idea of how to get one.

“Sandra, I need your help,” she said softly.

The writer furrowed her brow, confused.

“It’s looking like Bob Robillard did it.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“It is, but that doesn’t change the strong likelihood. We’re waiting on a test that could confirm it, but I think he’ll admit it to you.”

“Why on earth would he admit it to me?”

“I think he’s obsessed with you.”

“No…no way,” she whispered. “He’s not obsessed with me. He hates me. He couldn’t stand that Nathan and I were seeing each other.”

“There’s a very fine line between love and hate,” she pointed out. She glanced over her shoulder and the group was taking turns tossing roses onto the casket that was now deep in its grave. “Here, take my cell,” she said, quickly cuing up the recorder app and handing it over. “Get him talking. Imply that Nathan’s death wasn’t the end of the world and that you’ve been thinking about him. He’ll do the rest.”

“This is nuts.”

“Just do it. If it goes well, Scott can arrest him. If it doesn’t, then you’ll have one more interesting experience to write about. Look,” she said, when it seemed she was losing Sandra. “He used the string from your piano. It was partially an homage, but he also wanted you to go down for this crime. He wanted to punish you. But he’s not going to want that if he thinks he can finally have you.”

Sandra looked ill but nodded, and Kate wished her good luck as the writer made her slow way over to Bob Robillard.

Kate watched them from the sidelines as Sandra managed to pull Bob away from his family. They wandered toward a tree, talking.

Scott joined Kate and nodded at Sandra and Bob. “What the hell is that all about?”

“I’m going for a recorded confession.”

“Damn it, Kate,” he blurted out. “You need to keep me informed of these things.”

“I’m informing you now.”

“No, you don’t get it. Even if she does get him to confess—”

“Which is being recorded.”

“Even worse, Kate. The D.A. can’t use it, because he isn’t being recorded legally.”

“Oh, technicalities, technicalities,” she said. “Sandra can testify that Bob told her he did it.”

“Our best shot at this,” he shot back, “is the mouth guard and we’re just going to have to be patient until those test results come back. What is it with you and having no patience?”

“I’m not sure. When I see something that’s broken, I fix it. Why wait?”

Scott lowered his gaze, fishing in his slack’s pocket for his cellphone as it buzzed softly. “It’s the lab,” he stated, swiping the LCD screen and answering the call. “York.”

Kate watched him intently, as he listened to the results. His brow furrowed.

“There has to be a mistake,” he said.

She blurted out, “What’s a mistake?” but Scott waved her quiet and kept listening.

After a long moment, he lowered his cell and in a bewildered voice said, “It wasn’t Bob.”

“It has to be.”

“It wasn’t. The mouth guard DNA didn’t match the ski mask or the piano string.”

Kate glanced at Sandra and Bob, and then scanned the dispersing crowd until she saw Nancy Robillard.

The woman was glaring at Bob and Sandra, and Kate thought she might charge over and confront her abusive husband for flirting.

“Not possible,” she said under her breath.

“That we’re back at square one?” Scott groaned. “That’s how it goes sometimes.”

But she wasn’t listening to him. Instead she studied Nancy and got a very bad feeling.

Quickly, she crossed the grass toward Sandra and Bob, virtually out of breath when she reached them. She asked Sandra, “Has Nancy been in your house recently?”

“What?”

Bob looked annoyed at the interruption.

“Just answer the question.”

“Uh...” Sandra began stammering. “Like maybe a few weeks ago. She confronted me about Nathan.”

Bob barked, “Would you excuse us? We were speaking privately.”

“Bob,” she said abruptly, “did you ask Nathan to meet you on your roof to help fix a leak?”

“A leak? Our roof doesn’t leak, it’s fine.”

But Nancy had told Kate that they had done just that. And she had been in Sandra’s house recently. Why would Nancy kill her own son?

Before she could ask as much, Nancy whipped her black scarf around her husband’s neck from behind and began strangling him. Sandra screamed with shock, as Bob jerked and bucked, trying to free himself.

But Nancy was unrelenting, as she tightened the scarf, hissing words through her teeth, “You ruined him. You ruined our son. You turned him into you.”

Scott was rushing over, drawing his gun and yelling for the others to stay back.

“Do you know what it was like for me to see my precious son turn into a monster? You pushed him to drag race. You pushed him to be distant and treat me badly just like you do. And when he went for the same woman you had fallen in love with, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Nancy, let go of him,” Scott yelled, aiming his weapon at her, but unable to get a clear shot with Bob twisting and thrashing.

“You should’ve let me take Charlie,” she went on. “You should’ve let us go. I would’ve walked away. I could’ve forgotten about you horrible people, but you just couldn’t let me, could you?”

Finally, Bob pitched forward, taking Nancy with him. She careened over him, hitting the ground hard, as he gasped for air and stumbled off, soon dropping to the grass.

Scott swooped in and apprehended Nancy, as Sandra looked on it utter confusion, mumbling, “It was Nancy? Nancy did it?”

Off to the wayside, everyone was staring as Scott yanked Nancy off the ground and passed her off to Officer Chesterfield, who cuffed her hands behind her back and hauled her across the grass toward his police cruiser.

Kate glanced over at Charlie. He looked scared, cowering.

Not all endings are happy, she thought to herself.

Not for the Robillards at least. What would become of Charlie if left in his father’s care? Would Bob harden the sweet boy into something awful, as he had Nathan? Or would the young boy weather his upbringing with strength and turn out just fine?

There was just no telling.

That afternoon, when Scott and Kate finally returned to their house, having thrown Nancy Robillard into a jail cell and called to check on Bob and Charlie, Kate took Josephine from Maxwell’s arms and held her tight.

Maxwell stayed and helped Scott cook a big lunch, which they ate outside, sitting on a picnic table in the sun. Kate drank wine, but kept a close eye on Scott—she didn’t want him overdoing it again.

As she laughed and played with her daughter, as she kissed Scott and joshed around with Maxwell, she wondered how much longer she would be able to stand not having moments like this every second and for the rest of her life.

She was finally considering—seriously considering—hanging up her tool belt forever.

MURDER AT THE MANSION

Chapter One

A cool, autumn breeze rushed through the open French doors where Kate was sweeping the marble floor clean. The air felt crisp and smelled fresh, and when she lifted her gaze to glance at the natural landscape, she couldn’t believe how much Rock Ridge had changed in only a few months.

This mansion.

Kate had been contracted to build the four-story home with the help of Wentworth Contractors. Set on twelve acres on the east side of town, the mansion was a French design and boasted six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a ballroom, a library, and a massive kitchen fit for a chef. Also included were separate quarters for the housekeeper and an additional guesthouse out back for the grounds-keeper to live in.

It wasn’t simply that one new house—as grand as it was—had the power to change her beloved town, but rather it was the person who had bought the land, paid an architect to design the home, and hired Wentworth Contractors to build it over the course of sixty days.

Hans Geoffrey.

A Swedish billionaire, Hans had set his sights on Rock Ridge, Pennsylvania, for reasons that Kate couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around. But she feared that if a person like Hans could discover this rural town, then so would others. She wondered if by this time next year, she would be able to recognize the areas she had called home for well over forty years.

Hans was due to arrive in the early evening. Kate had never met the guy but had heard stories about his entitled personality through Justina Augustine, the top realtor of Carnegie Real Estate, since the billionaire had hired her to oversee the project in tandem with the manager of Wentworth Contractors.

Dean had finagled a deal with Hans. As the owner of Wentworth Contractors, as well as being the mayor of Rock Ridge, Dean had made arrangements with the stanch billionaire to hold his election fundraiser here at the mansion. It was because of this that an event coordinator was now leading her team into the ballroom.

“We have three hours to turn this mansion into an extravagant party,” she explained, shouting so that she wouldn’t be misunderstood. A polished woman in her early thirties, Marcy Clapton had apparently worked for Hans Geoffrey for years and wasn’t entirely thrilled to have been yanked out of Sweden and dumped in a small town she’d never heard of. Her hair was light blonde and though she had no accent, her tone was deep and booming and a perfect match to her hefty figure. “Caterers and waiters, I’ll show you to the kitchen. Bartenders, the bar is at the back of the ballroom,” she went on, directing all of them to their designated areas.

Kate closed the French doors and picked up the dustpan she’d used to collect the dregs of the leftover debris after having finished sanding the archway where the French doors now sat.

Marcy approached Kate and demanded, “Where is Justina?”

“In transit, I assume,” said Kate, hoping not to ruffle the brash coordinator’s feathers. She hadn’t exactly been getting along with Marcy since the woman had been breathing down Kate’s neck for the past two months. “She should be here soon with the furniture from Corey’s Cabinets.”

“To stage the bedrooms, et cetera,” she supplied, in a sense reminding herself. She seemed annoyed that filling the various rooms with furniture and flowers hadn’t happened yet.

“Justina will have seven guys with her,” said Kate to set Marcy’s mind at ease. She could tell what she was thinking, what she was worried about, that guests would soon arrive and the movers would still be getting things squared away. “I’m sure it won’t take them long.”

Marcy grumbled something under her breath that Kate couldn’t hear because the coordinator had buried her face in her clipboard, making notes. When she lifted her head, she said, “Make sure three rose bouquets are placed in the master bedroom. If Hans doesn’t smell flowers in his room when he arrives...” she trailed off as though the result would not be good.

“I was planning on heading out,” said Kate, and the coordinator locked eyes with her.

“Were you?” she challenged, glancing around the ballroom. “Because your work doesn’t look done to me.”

“What haven’t I done?” she countered.

Marcy stared at her for a long moment then said, “I’ll think of something.”

Kate did not like this woman. She wasn’t a schoolgirl. Marcy wasn’t her principal and didn’t have the right to hold or excuse Kate based on her whims.

“I’ll be going now,” she asserted. “Union orders. Plus, I have to get ready for the fundraiser.”

Marcy glared at her as though disgusted that the help would be allowed to attend the event, but Kate didn’t give a good goddamn. She grabbed her tool kit from the floor, shot Marcy one last assertive look, and started through the ballroom.

When she entered into the corridor, her sneakers tapping across the polished, marble floor, she heard voices billowing out from the kitchen, the library, and the many rooms throughout the mansion—everyone hustling and bustling to transform this place into a home fit for a king.

She couldn’t wait to get out of there and spend time with her daughter, Josie, whose personality had been blossoming recently. Josie was nine months old. She still liked to pick out her own clothes, if cooing and grasping for garments constituted “picking out,” that is. She had also begun “singing” and she loved listening to music and dancing around while seated on the floor. Kate and Scott had bought her a few maracas, which she couldn’t get enough of. If Josie wasn’t napping or eating, she was shaking those maracas and smiling at the sound.

As Kate made her way through the grand foyer—lofty ceilings overhead, the area bathed in natural light that was streaming through windows—she smiled at a few of the waiters rushing in.

Outside, the sun was lowering, though it wasn’t yet dusk. The light looked amber, pouring through the trees along the edge of the property. The estate really was breathtaking.

She set her tool kit into the bed of her truck and climbed in behind the steering wheel. As she reversed away from the entrance and backed out, she spied two trucks from Corey’s Cabinets making their way up the long and winding driveway.

She bypassed them, waving at Justina who was seated in the passenger’s seat of the second truck, and then drove to the wrought-iron gate, braking only to give the guard a chance to roll the gate open.

As she drove home, she began debating with the one thing that had been weighing heavily on her mind for the past two months—whether or not she wanted to continue to work as a handy woman. She loved her job. It gave her purpose and made her feel close with the residents. She wasn’t particularly social otherwise, and the idea of hanging up her tool belt made her worry that she’d lose touch with all the people she had come to know. But the fact of the matter was that now that she had Josie, she didn’t need to fix Rock Ridge in order to feel a sense of purpose. And she didn’t want to continue to miss out on all the little moments in her daughter’s life because she was away from home, fixing leaky sinks, building balconies, or constructing mansions that had no business being built in her town.

She had brought the issue up with Scott but only a few times, and she hadn’t indicated that she was very serious about retiring from handy work in order to be a full-time mommy. Scott had seemed both supportive and wary when she’d offhandedly mentioned the idea. He would prefer that Kate be home with their daughter since their babysitter, Maxwell had been the only one to catch Josie’s monumental moments: her first crawl and her first word. But Scott had never completely trusted her when it came to Kate’s interest in the unfortunate murders that had befallen Rock Ridge. Though he had never admitted it, she could tell that he was worried she would meddle even more in police business if she didn’t have a job to occupy her.

And he might be right about that.

Kate drove up the long and winding driveway, and then pulled her truck to a stop in front of her house. Scott’s truck was parked, so she figured he must have just gotten home.

They had agreed to be supportive of Dean Wentworth because of the upcoming election and attend the fundraiser, but Kate knew that Scott wasn’t looking forward to it. It was a black-tie event and getting Scott to go down to the suit store on his day off had been a big enough challenge. Kate couldn’t blame him, however. She was much more comfortable in her t-shirt and overalls and couldn’t even remember the last time she’d worn a fancy dress...their wedding? It was hard to say. Worse was the fact that neither of them wanted to spend another night away from their daughter.

She sighed, climbing out of her truck, and when she entered through the front door, she called out, “I’m home!”

Maxwell said, “How’s it going?” from where he sat with Josie on the living room floor. Josie was playing with a deck of cards, or rather smearing them across the ground and smiling at how slippery they were. “Is the mansion finished?”

“Finally,” she said, plopping onto the sofa-chair. “I can’t believe I have the day off tomorrow. It’s been ten hour days for sixty days straight.”

Maxwell grinned up at her, pointing out, “You’ve grabbed a day off here and there.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Well, your schedule is wide open now, right?”

“Not exactly,” she said, scooping Josie into her arms and returning to the sofa-chair. As she sat, she helped Josie onto her lap. “A bunch of people need minor repairs and I’ve been putting them off until I had time. Now I have time.”

Scott grumbled his way down the hallway and into the living room, as he fiddled with his cuff links. Though he was dressed in a tuxedo, his button down was undone and his black suspenders were flopping against his legs. “I can’t get these damn things to hold.”

Kate motioned to get to her feet, but Maxwell hopped up, reminding her that she wouldn’t be much help with Josie in her arms.

Scott seemed reluctant to allow their babysitter to fasten his cuff links, but Maxwell was already on it.

“I need a drink,” he complained when Maxwell returned to the floor. “Kate? You want a glass of wine?”

She couldn’t say that she did, but the thought of attending a black-tie event where she would hardly know anyone set her teeth on edge. Though the fundraiser would benefit Dean, her longtime friend, the majority of guests would actually be friends of Hans Geoffrey, and therefore, complete strangers.

“Do we still have Riesling?” When he reached the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, he noted that they did and she mentioned, “I need to hop in the shower.”

“Can’t we be fashionably late?” he asked, as he poured her a glass of wine. “I’d like to be so fashionably late that we miss the whole damn thing altogether,” he grumbled, starting back with her wine and a stout glass of scotch for himself.

She made a mental note that she should drive them over.

Maxwell collected Josie and settled onto the couch as Kate took the glass from Scott.

After a moment of deep breathing and a few sips of wine, she set the glass on the coffee table and excused herself to the bathroom, where she showered and fretted over whether or not she should do her hair.

Ever since the haircut she’d gotten at Harriet’s Hairdos, she’d kept up with a few trims. Her red hair was cropped in a sleek bob that fell to her chin, so she wouldn’t be able to tie her hair up in a classic bun, which was too bad because doing so would eliminate the needs to really give too much thought to how she would style her hair.

She showered quickly and then wrestled with a hair-drier as she combed her hair. When it was dry, she decided she’d done a good enough job and began putting on makeup.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and when she reached her closet in the bedroom, she stared vacantly at the formal dress she had bought last week.

Long and emerald green, which the salesgirl said would bring out the color of her red hair, the dress was satin and had a tight bodice and a flowing skirt. As she wriggled into the dress, Scott returned to put on his dress shoes, sitting at the edge of the bed, and he stood just in time to zip her up.

After throwing on some jewelry and stepping into a pair of black heels, she was ready and clicked her way into the living room where her wine remained on the coffee table.

She stole a few sips as she brought the glass into the kitchen and by the time she returned, Scott was ready and waiting in his tuxedo jacket.

“Let’s do this before I lose my nerve,” he said, and she smiled.

She kissed Josie goodbye and reminded Maxwell that they’d be home by midnight if not sooner.

“You want Dean to get re-elected, don’t you?” she asked as they drove through the center of town, heading east. “I mean, a new mayor would bring new rules that might affect the precinct.”

“You’re right,” he told her. “Dean’s a good mayor. He gets along with the precinct and never meddles in our investigations, which I appreciate. And no, I wouldn’t want a new mayor coming in and shaking things up. But these hoity-toity functions drive me nuts. How does Dean Wentworth even know a guy like Hans Geoffrey?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “But then again, I don’t really understand how some aspects of politics work. I’ve got to hand it to Dean, though. He’s made friends with some very wealthy and powerful people. He’ll have more than enough money to campaign against Celia Demblowski.”

That was the real problem—Dean had a contender and, unfortunately, a lot of people liked Celia. Though she had a spotty employment history, no one around town seemed to mind that Celia was radically under-qualified. She’d been a housewife while married to the late Ken Johnson, and later married Eric Demblowski, who had run the Rock Ridge Tribune before being arrested on conspiracy charges some years back.

Her campaign was centered on Dean’s failures, and she had been consistently disregarding all the good he’d done as mayor. The residents of Rock Ridge had gotten their hopes up concerning Dean’s amusement park, but the reality was that the park hadn’t brought in even a fraction of the money that Dean had promised. In retaliation, Dean had been digging up dirt on Celia, and in Kate’s opinion, things had been getting ugly because of it.

Kate pulled her truck up to the mansion gate and rolled down the window. “Scott and Kate York,” she told the guard, who found their names on the guest list, checked them off, and opened the gate, mentioning, “Pull up to the entrance and the valet will handle parking your truck.”

As Kate stepped on the accelerator, rolling through, Scott complained, “You’re going to let a kid park your truck?”

She shrugged, though she, too, wasn’t pleased. “What choice do we have?”

When she pulled up to the entrance, she threw her truck into Park and hopped out. The valet, a teenaged boy wearing a crimson vest and black slacks, took her keys and climbed in.

“Ready?” she asked Scott, taking his arm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he grumbled, and they set off into the mansion.

As they crossed through the grand foyer, they were met with clusters of guests. A waiter carrying a tray of champagne weaved through the crowd and as he passed them, Scott plucked two flutes from the tray and handed one to Kate.

They made their gradual way into the ballroom, and Kate was surprised at the turn out. The room was filled with people dressed in tuxedos and gowns. There was a podium beside the French doors and a large banner boasting, “Dean Wentworth for Mayor, Six Years Strong!”

They wove their way in deeper until they found a good spot set off to the wayside from the bar at the back of the ballroom.

“Kate! Scott!”

It was Jessica, Dean’s wife. She wove through the crowd and reached them, lifting her champagne flute and smiling.

“To Dean,” she said. She was wearing a bright purple gown and her hair was done up in a tight French bun. “This mansion is unreal,” she went on. “Kate, I can’t believe you helped build it.”

“I can’t believe we built it in two months,” she said.

“Oh! You haven’t met Hans, have you?”

“I didn’t think he’d entered the country until a few hours ago,” said Kate.

“That’s true, but he’s been to Rock Ridge a handful of times. He once stayed at Over the Moon before it was leveled.”

Before Kate could respond, Jessica whirled off, calling out Hans’ name and then returned moments later with a tall, forty-year-old man with salt and pepper hair. He looked fit and lean in his tuxedo and as soon as he saw Kate, he lowered his big, blue eyes down at her, which at first seemed polite, until his gaze then traveled the length of her.

Scott wasn’t happy.

“Hans Geoffrey,” said Jessica, “this is Kate Flaherty and her husband, Scott York.”

As Jessica stammered to correct herself—“I mean Kate York”—Hans didn’t miss a beat. His rugged mouth curled into a leering smile as he held Kate’s hand in what no longer felt like a handshake, and he said in a deep, smoldering voice, “Kate Flaherty, you lent a hand in building my home.”

“I did,” said Kate politely as she reclaimed her hand. “And it’s York.”

“Of course,” he said easily before shaking Scott’s hand. “Chief, I appreciate your service to this community.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

Hans returned his gaze to Kate and seemed to drink in the sight of her, which made her very uncomfortable. Jessica was chattering on about Hans’ generous contribution to the campaign, but the billionaire didn’t appear to be paying attention to anyone but the handywoman.

Desperate to extricate herself, Kate said, “Excuse me,” and then whispered to Scott, “Ladies’ room.”

She then trailed through the ballroom, feeling Hans’ blue eyes burning into the back of her head until she reached the marble corridor. She let out a sigh of relief. That guy had some nerve, she thought. He’d practically hit on her with her husband standing right there, and she didn’t appreciate it.

Quickly, she walked toward one of the first floor bathrooms but as she came to a side room, she heard a woman shriek from within.

“Oh God!”

Kate recognized that voice. It was Marcy Clapton, the event coordinator, and when Kate rushed into the room—vaguely aware it was where the coat-check girl had stowed everyone’s coats—she couldn’t believe the sight she saw.

Chapter Two

In the coatroom, Marcy was standing at the foot of the bed with her profile to Kate and staring down at a heap of coats. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open.

It wasn’t just a heap of coats on the bed.

Reeling with confusion, Kate managed to pick out a woman’s leg, an arm, and a mess of brown curls spilling over the jackets.

It was a woman.

And she was dead.

Marcy whipped around, perhaps sensing she was no longer alone, and blurted out, “I didn’t do it!”

Kate neared the body, getting a better sense of what the dead woman looked like. She was dressed in a slinky, black dress, though it was too short to really be appropriate for a black-tie event. Her eyelashes were long and fake, and her lips were painted bright red. But to Kate there was no clear sign of how she’d died. There was no bruising on her face, no contusions on her skull, no blood anywhere, yet she didn’t look a day over twenty.

Inching closer, she examined the woman’s arms and legs without touching her. One of her high heels was missing, and when Kate looked at the other foot she noticed that the left heel was on it—the wrong shoe.

She hadn’t been strangled or shot or stabbed.

“What do we do?” Marcy asked her in a panic. “This can’t get out. No one can know.”

“Are you crazy?”

“What? No!”

“Are you suggesting you want to dispose of the body without anyone knowing?”

Marcy shrunk, slumping her shoulders in shame, and Kate shook her head, appalled.

“My husband is the Police Chief,” she said confidently. “I’ll get him in here.”

“No!” said Marcy, rushing to her and taking hold of her hand before she could reach into her purse for her cell phone. “I need a minute to think.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” said Kate, eyeing her closely. After a long moment, she asked, “Do you know what happened?”

“No!” she blurted out, but Kate didn’t believe her. “I told you, I had nothing to do with this.”

Marcy fell silent, and again Kate sensed she knew a heck of a lot more than she was saying.

“Who is she?” Kate asked.

“I have no idea.”

“You have no idea?” she challenged, cuing up Scott’s number in her cell phone. “You’re the event coordinator. You managed the guest list.”

“It’s a long list!”

Kate pressed her cell to her ear and as soon as she heard Scott on the other end, she said, “I need you to come to the coat room. It’s down the corridor and just shy of the bathroom.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Affording Marcy a shred of respect, she said, “Just come quickly. It might be best if you don’t make a scene.”

Marcy looked relieved to hear her say that, but Kate knew better. This entire mansion was about to be turned upside down as a crime scene.

As they waited for Scott, Kate asked, “What were you doing in here?”

“Huh?”

“I said: why did you come into the coat room?”

“I had to make a personal call and wanted privacy,” she said, but the way her tone had wavered struck Kate as a boldfaced lie.

“Who did you hire as coat-check girls?”

Marcy furrowed her brow, saying, “I don’t have to tell you that. I don’t have to tell you anything!”

“But you will have to tell the police, Marcy,” she said, shifting her tone. “I found you with a dead body. The police are going to think you did this. It would be in your best interest to tell me everything you know.”

“Tell you?” she challenged, folding her arms.

Before Kate could press her further, Scott stepped into the room. His gaze snapped from Kate to Marcy and finally to the dead woman on the bed. His cell phone was in his hand in an instant and, interestingly, Marcy didn’t demand that he not call the police like she had when Kate had arrived.

He neared the body and pressed his fingertips to the dead woman’s throat. “Hey, I’m going to need a medical examiner and an ambulance at the mansion,” he explained into his cell phone.

“She’s alive?” asked Marcy, in shock.

She didn’t sound relieved so much as terrified.

Kate calmed her anyway, quietly mentioning, “To transport her to the morgue.”

“Oh,” said Marcy, letting out a sigh of relief that Kate found chilling. “Is there any way you can handle this discreetly?” she asked Scott when he lowered the phone.

“Discreetly?” He snorted. “You’ve got a dead woman in your coat room.”

“It’s not my coat room,” she objected.

“If I were you,” he went on. “I’d make sure no one leaves.” As Marcy slinked toward the door, he added, “Including yourself.”

Kate touched Scott’s arm and grimaced, and then joined Marcy in the corridor.

“How am I supposed to prevent two hundred people from leaving?” she asked. “As soon as the guests see an ambulance the entire mansion is going to be in a fright.”

“You could call the guard at the gate,” she said dryly. “That’s one way to do it.”

Kate felt eyes on her and glanced down the corridor to find Hans Geoffrey staring at her from around the corner. There was something about the look in his eye—the intensity. He didn’t look concerned or alarmed or even curious about why the Police Chief had disappeared into the coatroom. He looked mad and as he slipped around the corner for the ballroom, Kate caught sight of him lifting his cell phone out of his pocket.

Cautiously, Kate trailed after him.

When she rounded the corner, she spied him cutting through the crowd, but he was nearing Dean Wentworth.

The mayor was dressed in a black tuxedo and his hair was slicked back. Hans took hold of his arm and said something in his ear, and then guided him away from the guests into a corner. Kate kept watching them as their private conversation ensued—Hans whispering in Dean’s ear, Dean’s brow furrowing the more he heard. In the next instant, Dean abruptly lifted his head and his eyes widened with what looked like shock.

If Kate didn’t know any better, she would guess that Hans Geoffrey had just told Dean that there was a dead woman in the coatroom.

But how would Hans know that?

Unless...

Dean broke free from the billionaire and started toward the corridor. Not to be seen spying, Kate whipped around and scurried out of sight, rushing down the corridor toward Marcy who was hunched with her cell phone against her ear and pacing anxiously.

From behind her, Dean said, “Kate!”

She turned to find him nearing her.

“What on earth is going on?” he demanded, having caught sight of Scott walking out of the coatroom and closing the door.

“Try not to panic,” she warned him, but the advice only seemed to rattle his nerves.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” he insisted.

“There’s a dead woman in the coatroom.”

All of the color rushed out of his face, and to Kate it looked as though he had stopped breathing.

“Scott is handling it.”

“Handling it? How? By calling in the cavalry?”

“I don’t believe he knows how she died,” she said to reassure him. “It could’ve been natural causes.”

“How does a healthy twenty-year-old woman die of natural causes?” he challenged, his emotions running so high he hadn’t realized his error until three seconds after he’d asked the question.

Kate cocked her brow, studying his face. “How do you know that the dead woman is twenty?”

“What?” he said, stalling. “I-I don’t. Someone said... Everyone is going to find out about this!”

His anger had quickly replaced his lies and to Kate he suddenly looked like a stranger.

“This is political,” he went on, thinking out loud. “Someone’s trying to defame me. They want me out of this race and they’ll stop at nothing to ruin me.”

“Dean,” she began in a firm tone. “Do you know who the woman is?”

He locked eyes with her but said nothing, though she sensed he was about to reveal the identity of the dead woman.

His effort was interrupted when a pair of medics rushed down the corridor, pushing a gurney. As they passed, the guests began gasping and murmuring and soon word was spreading throughout the ballroom.

“Goddamn it”—Dean threw his arms up—“on the night of my fundraiser.” He then pointed his finger in her face. “This was planned. And your husband better get to the bottom of it and quick. I’ll not have my name smeared through the mud.”

He paced away, plowing his fingers through his hair as though he were coming undone. When he calmed it was only by a fraction, but it was enough to send him walking off down the corridor toward the ballroom.

Kate turned and continued down the corridor and entered into the coatroom behind the medics. They pushed the gurney alongside the bed and were extremely careful about lifting the body and laying it on the gurney.

Four uniformed officers entered the room once the medics had rolled the mysterious dead woman into the hallway.

Scott told them, “Bag everything. This room is a crime scene and the entire mansion might be as well.”

Nearing him, Kate asked, “Do you know that she was killed?”

“I know what my gut is telling me,” he said. “But I’ll need the medical examiner to confirm.”

“What’s your gut telling you?”

“That we’ll find drugs in her system, a lethal amount, and that it’s going to be a hell of a challenge proving she didn’t do this to herself.”

Chapter Three

Kate stepped out of the bright, morning sunlight, pulling the entrance door of Bean There open and pushing Josie in her stroller inside.

The coffee shop was quiet, though a few customers were scattered throughout the tables.

Carly was seated at their favorite table near the window and when she lifted her eyes, Kate waved then motioned for the counter.

She rolled Josie over and Molly Parker, the new owner of Bean There, leaned over the counter to smile at the baby. When she straightened up, Kate noticed a campaign pin clipped to her shirt, which said, It’s time for change and Celia Demblowski is it!

“Large coffee?” asked Molly, and the question snapped Kate out of her inner thoughts—Molly was voting for Celia?

“Ah, better make it a small. I’m still watching my caffeine intake.”

“You got it,” said Molly, twirling around to pour her a cup. When she set it on the counter, she asked, “You were over at the mansion last night?”

Kate knew exactly where this was going, but said, “I was.”

“I’d keep your head down, if I were you. The Rock Ridge Tribune is having a field day and those reporters are trying to interview everyone who attended Dean’s fundraiser.”

Of course they were, thought Kate. And then it suddenly occurred to her that Celia Demblowski had been running the Tribune. If Dean got dragged through the mud solely based on the fact that a woman had died at his function, whether or not he had been involved, no one would benefit more from his slander than Celia...and her paper was at the helm of covering the story?

Kate handed her cash and when Molly gave her the change, she dropped it into the tip jar. “Let me ask you,” she said. “You’re voting for Celia?”

Molly shrugged. “I think it’s time for change. Dean has done well as mayor, but if you look at the economy over the past four years, everyone has been struggling more and more.” She leaned across the counter as though they were close friends. “And that amusement park of his is a total failure. Think about all the taxpayers' money he used to get it built. It didn’t create the jobs he had promised. It isn’t bringing in tourists and helping to boost the economy. He needs to go.”

Kate couldn’t fault her argument, but still she wondered... “What makes you think that Celia will do a better job?”

The barista tucked her wavy, blond hair behind her ear, and considered the question, which told Kate that she didn’t exactly have a clear idea of her answer.

“You might not think it’s very well thought out,” said Molly, “but I think this town is ready for a woman to be in charge. Did you know that we haven’t had a single female mayor, and I mean ever. Can you believe that? In the history of Rock Ridge, not one woman has run this town.” Again, she shrugged, concluding, “It’s a good enough reason for me to get behind her.”

Kate wasn’t sure that gender was a good enough reason for anyone to be hired to do anything, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she thanked Molly for the coffee and began pushing Josie’s stroller over to Carly’s table.

“There’s my big girl,” said Carly, shining a big smile at Josie.

Carly’s affection for Josie always made Kate smile.

“You’re so pretty,” she went on in a singsong voice. “And your hair is getting so long!”

Kate scooted her chair closer after sitting down and savored the first few sips of her coffee then asked, “How are things working out with Rock Ridge Roses?”

Carly rolled her eyes, straightening up from Josie. “Lance was always so mild mannered around Amelia, but I’ll tell you, that’s not at all how he really is.”

Kate was sorry to hear that the owner of the flower garden and nursery—where Carly had been buying flowers at a wholesale rate to resell at her flower shop, Sunshine Florist—was proving to be a difficult man to work with.

“But I can’t complain,” she went on. “Business has been good, not as good as it was eight years ago, but still...things are all right.”

Kate was about to tell her that she was glad to hear it, but when Carly’s eyes fixed on the counter behind Kate, she turned to see what her friend was looking at.

Celia Demblowski had just entered the coffee shop.

“Can you believe what she’s doing now?” said Carly under her breath. “It’s not like Dean could be mayor forever. Why couldn’t she wait to run until the next election?”

Kate didn’t have a clue, but it suddenly occurred to her that Celia might run again, whether she won or lost this time around. What was becoming of Rock Ridge? What would it be like in two or three years down the road if billionaires like Hans Geoffrey moved in and a woman like Celia ran the town?

Carly said, “Don’t look now, but she’s coming this way.”

Kate stiffened, but it didn’t alert the woman to avoid their table.

Celia marched right up and confidently set a pamphlet on the table, exclaiming, “Vote for Celia Demblowski.”

“Hi, Mom,” said Carly, annoyed.

“Can I count on your vote?”

Carly’s eyes widened and Kate tried not to make too much eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” she said, towering over them. “Carly, you have to vote for your own mother, and Kate, you’ve known me since you were a young girl.”

“You were married to a man who went to prison for aiding and abetting a drug kingpin,” Carly pointed out.

“Oh that,” said Celia, waving her arm as though the truth of the matter was insignificant. “At least I don’t have any dead hookers turning up in my bed.”

“What?” asked Kate, stunned.

Carly looked shocked as well.

“You didn’t hear?” Celia challenged, staring down at Kate. “You were there last night. Your husband worked the crime scene.”

“What is she talking about?” Carly asked, but Kate didn’t have a chance to respond.

“A scandal like that,” Celia went on, “doesn’t bode well for getting re-elected.”

Finding her voice, Kate asked, “You don’t seriously think Dean had something to do with that?”

“I don’t know what to think except that it isn’t good. Whether he killed that poor woman or not—”

“He didn’t,” Kate asserted, though she was unnerved that she honestly couldn’t be certain. Dean had been acting strangely last night.

“As I was saying,” said Celia, reclaiming the floor. “Whether he killed her or not, someone that he associates with did. That girl didn’t die on her own. And if Dean is collecting money from a corrupt billionaire who likes murdering prostitutes, well... I think we all know what that will mean for his campaign.”

“And it’s your newspaper that’s covering the story,” Kate shot back.

“As well as others. This will be national news in a matter of days.” She made a point to smile at each of them before stating, “Vote for Demblowski!”

Celia started off and soon disappeared through the entrance door.

“What the hell happened at the fundraiser last night?” Carly asked when they were finally alone.

Kate sighed and took a long sip of her coffee. As she set her cup down, she said, “I didn’t know she was a prostitute.”

“So a woman was killed?”

“We don’t know that, not yet. Scott is still waiting on the medical examiner’s findings, but it’s possible.”

“Oh my Lord...poor Dean.”

Kate wasn’t sure how poor Dean was, but he certainly didn’t deserve Celia using this unforeseeable tragedy to the benefit of her own campaign.

“Scott hasn’t identified her either.”

“Well, if she really was a prostitute, it won’t be easy. It’s not like there’s a red light district in Rock Ridge. She could’ve been from out of town.”

“Could she have?” Kate wondered. “Why would a working girl be at the mayor’s fundraiser? The mansion is walled off and has a wrought-iron gate with a guard house. No one was allowed to drive up to the estate unless they were on the list.”

“Then she was on the list.”

“Not according to the event coordinator,” she countered.

Carly leveled her eyes on her longtime friend. “Everyone lies, you know that.” She went on, thinking out loud. “An event coordinator? She probably has a sense of everyone’s dirty secrets, but it’s her job to keep it all under wraps, you know, keep up appearances and make sure the event runs smoothly.”

“She was the person who found the body,” Kate said, falling into deep consideration. She should take another run at the woman, see if she might be able to pressure Marcy into disclosing what she was really doing in that room.

“Isn’t that the rule?” Carly asked, and then clarified, “Last seen with the victim or first to discover the body equals guilty.”

“It’s not a hard and fast rule,” she countered. “But it is grounds for suspicion.”

“Exactly.”

Kate drank the rest of her coffee and suddenly craved a pastry, but her vibrating cellphone interrupted the urge. “It’s Justina,” she said, swiping her thumb over the LCD screen to answer the call. “Hey,”

“Hi, Kate, sorry to bother you. I know you were dying for a day to yourself, but the police have turned the mansion upside down. Plus, Hans Geoffrey’s own furniture is arriving, and I need the rentals from Corey’s Cabinets out.”

“But—”

“I don’t need you to move the furniture, I have movers, but they’re so clumsy. I really need you to go to the mansion and check that the furniture we rented isn’t in any way damaged. I have insurance with the movers and with Corey and if anything is scuffed or scraped in transit, I need to hold the right party responsible.”

Kate sighed, debating. “You just need me to examine the furniture?”

“It shouldn’t take too long.”

Carly leaned over the table and started mouthing, “No,” as if the thought of their breakfast being interrupted pained her.

Kate winced apologetically, but told Justina she’d help out.

“Ugh,” Carly groaned, as Kate returned her cellphone into the front pocket of her overalls. “I was looking forward to catching up.”

“We’ll get together soon,” she promised, getting to her feet and maneuvering Josie’s stroller around.

After giving Carly a hug goodbye, she started off for her truck, which she had parked along the curb directly in front of the coffee shop.

She couldn’t very well work with Josie in tow, so she gave Maxwell a quick call, clamping her cell between her ear and shoulder as she settled Josie into her car seat and collapsed the stroller.

“Hey, can I get you to watch Josie for a few hours?”

“Sure...now?”

“Yeah, sorry for not giving you any notice. I need to tie up a few strings at the mansion.”

Maxwell seemed pleasant enough about helping her out, and ten minutes later she met him in front of her house. After handing Josie off to him and setting her stroller on the ground, she thanked him again and drove off to the east side of town.

Even as she neared the wrought-iron gate at the edge of the massive estate, she could see police cruisers in front of the mansion. The guard eyed her ID for a very long time before opening the gate, and as Kate drove through she made a mental note to ask him about the young woman in a black, slinky dress. If she had gotten into the event last night, then surely the guard would remember her.

She parked her truck just shy of the grand entrance door, grabbed a clipboard that she kept tucked in the pocket behind the passenger’s seat, and climbed out. She would note any scuffmarks or scratches on the furniture, not that she thought she’d find any. If anything, she thought she’d note that there was no superficial damage and that way, if Corey discovered any, they would know that the movers were responsible.

Inside, she found a few police officers milling around outside of the coatroom, which was still considered a crime scene. She smiled and nodded at them as she made her way into one of the downstairs guest rooms.

There, she began examining the four-poster bed, the dresser and settee, the chair and all of the furniture she had rented from Corey’s Cabinets, noting on her clipboard that there was no damage.

She was kneeling in front of one of the end tables with her back to the door when she heard a man say, “You look different in overalls.”

Startled, she sprang to her feet and turned to find Hans Geoffrey leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets and his eyes traveling the length of her.

“I’ll be out of your hair shortly,” she told him.

But instead of wandering off as she’d hoped, Hans took a few steps into the bedroom and closed the door all but a crack.

It made her nervous.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

He grinned at her and said, “Have you ever fantasized about leading a more”—his gaze locked on her rugged overalls, as he continued—“glamorous life?”

“Never,” she said bluntly.

“Really? Not even as a little girl?”

“I was always a tomboy,” she told him curtly, hoping he would get the hint and leave her to her work.

Again, he smiled and drew near. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m a repair woman. I’m a contractor. I built this house. You seriously find it hard to believe I was always like this?” she asked dryly.

He only chuckled.

Christ, she thought. Did he think he was flattering her?

“I’d like to see you in another ball gown,” he mused.

“I’d like to see a winning lottery ticket in my hand. It’s not going to happen, though.”

He found her comment funny, completely missing the point apparently, and had the audacity to reach up and tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She urged him back, stating, “I’m married.”

“I’m rich.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Easily, he shrugged, saying, “Just that we don’t have to let the facts of our lives stop us from what we really want.”

“Excuse me?” she blurted out, offended and heading toward the door.

How could he possibly think she was interested? She’d given him absolutely no signs or signals because, quite frankly, she didn’t find him charming or attractive.

As her hand landed on the doorknob, she turned.

If he thought he was so wealthy that the law couldn’t touch him—and since he was also very bold—he might be stupid enough to confide in her.

“What do you make of the dead woman in your bed?”

He let out a deep and breathy laugh. “When you put it like that, I sound like a killer.”

She stared at him.

“She shouldn’t have been here, simple as that.”

“You mean she should’ve died somewhere else,” she supplied, highlighting his profound lack of compassion. “Or do you mean that if she hadn’t come to your home, she wouldn’t have been killed?”

His expression turned serious and his smoldering gaze went cold, as he said, “I’ve spoken with the police.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“I didn’t know that woman. She wasn’t on the guest list.”

“If you don’t know her name, then how could you possibly know whether or not she was on the list?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know her name,” he corrected her.

He was playing games and she didn’t like it. “What’s her name?”

“I’ve told the police,” he said easily.

“Did you also tell them that you were aware she had died in that coat room?”

“What makes you think I was aware?”

“I saw you. I saw your reaction even before the medics arrived. And I know what I saw.”

“Well, Kate,” he said once again smiling. “I’m very interested in hearing all about it. Perhaps over dinner?”

She snorted a laugh and folded her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Approaching her, he said, “I never kid about dinner,” and as he widened the door and stepped out in the corridor he added, “I’ll have a dress sent to your house.”

Her house?

How the hell did he know where she lived?

She was about to race after him, and warn that he had better stay away from her and her house, when Scott stepped into the doorway.

“I thought I saw you come in,” he said with a tired smile.

“Helping Justina out with something,” she mentioned, her eyes locked on Hans as he trailed up a long staircase.

“So Max has Josie?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly looking at him. “I should’ve told you, I’m sorry. I’ll only be here an hour tops then I’m heading back.”

“Hey, no problem. I might go late here. It’s a real mess. Plus I have to get over to the morgue, but I’ve already told everyone I’m taking a full hour for dinner so maybe we can get out of the house. I’m thinking Daisy’s?”

She smiled. Of course he was thinking about having dinner at Daisy’s. It was his favorite restaurant.

“Sure,” she said before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t wait.”

She watched him lumber off toward the coatroom and when she returned to her duties, she worked faster than she ever had in her life.

Being in the mansion was making her skin crawl.

Chapter Four

Kate set her clipboard on the passenger’s seat of her truck, pleased that she hadn’t discovered any damage to the furniture that was rented from Corey’s Cabinets. After sending Justina a brief text message to relay as much, she turned the key in the ignition and drove in a wide arch, pulling around and heading down the long and winding driveway.

When she reached the booth at the gate, she rolled her window down and put her truck in Park even though the gatekeeper, a weathered looking man in his early forties, was already rolling the gate open.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked and he released the button on the console of his booth. The gate halted. “I wanted to ask you about the event the other night.”

Something behind his eyes told her that he both knew where this was going and didn’t want to get involved.

“Please,” she said. “Did you see a young, twenty-year-old woman come in last night? She had long, wavy brown hair and was wearing a black dress. The skirt was short and she had fake eyelashes.”

“I have no idea.”

“Yes you do,” she pressed. “You either remember seeing her or you didn’t. She’d be hard to forget...the only woman in a short skirt.”

He grumbled and glanced over his shoulder at the mansion.

“She wasn’t on the list, was she?” Kate asked.

He twisted his mouth to the side and after a long moment he told her, “No, she wasn’t.”

“But you let her in?”

“Look,” he said firmly. “I can’t get dragged into this.”

“You already are. If the police haven’t spoken with you yet, they will. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then maybe I should wait until then.”

“I’m the Police Chief’s wife. If you tell me, then you won’t have to repeat yourself to the cops.”

He studied her as though he were debating then sighed. “Alright, she wasn’t on the list, but she was with someone who was. I would’ve been strict about it, but... I wasn’t about to mess with him.”

“Who?” she asked eagerly. When he said nothing, she repeated, “Who did the woman come with?”

“Lady, you are about to open a whole can of worms that you won’t be able to control.”

“Let me worry about that,” she insisted.

“She arrived with Taylor Rheingold.”

He had said the man’s name as if Kate should know who he was, but she didn’t.

“You know,” he went on, “the solar energy tycoon from Norway?”

She had never heard of him, but wondered why the guard would be too intimidated to deny the man’s date entry to the event. Then again, it probably wasn’t easy saying no to any of those rich types.

“They drove in?”

“Yeah, Taylor was behind the wheel and the girl was in the passenger’s seat...she seemed off.”

“Off? How?”

“Like she didn’t understand where she was, for one. Also, she was sort of leaning forward and I couldn’t see her hands.”

Kate furrowed her brow, not quite understanding him.

He clarified, “I think her hands were tied together and pinned to the adjustment bar under the seat.”

“So she didn’t come here of her own free will,” she surmised. And judging the guard’s mention of how the woman didn’t understand where she was... She hadn’t taken drugs. She’d been drugged. “Did you get her name?”

“No,” he said. “Sorry. There was a line of cars and Mr. Rheingold looked pressed for time.”

“Are there any security cameras around your booth?” she asked.

“Haven’t been installed yet.”

So there was no way for Kate to prove this Taylor Rheingold character had driven the woman in, not beyond the guard’s word.

“Did you notice anything else unusual?”

The guard thought about it for a moment then said, “Mr. Rheingold looked really sweaty. His bow tie was undone and his shirt was unbuttoned down the front. But I didn’t make it my business to ask him why.”

“No, of course not,” she said, suddenly wondering where Taylor Rheingold might be staying while in Rock Ridge and hoping like hell he hadn’t flown back to Norway. He could be the killer. “Thanks for your time,” she said, shifting her truck into Drive.

The guard opened the gate the rest of the way and Kate drove through, all the while wondering about Dean Wentworth and his strange reaction to the dead woman who had been found in the coatroom. He’d known her age and had insisted she was too healthy to die of natural causes. Did Dean know the woman personally? Had he gotten in so deep with men like Hans Geoffrey and Taylor Rheingold that he’d met a call girl and looked the other way when she was drugged and dumped in the mansion?

It set her teeth on edge just to think about it and the emotion was so strong that she knew she wouldn’t be able to simply drive home and enjoy the rest of her day.

She drove to the mayor’s office instead.

When she reached the Municipal Building parking lot, she pulled around to the back and parked near the rear entrance. Scott was still working the crime scene at the mansion and though he had told her he was planning on going to the morgue next, she didn’t want to risk him catching her in the same building as the precinct.

As she made her way inside, she thought about the year that Jason and Jared had lived in Rock Ridge. The mayor’s office reminded her of Jared, because he had worked for Dean and had enjoyed his time there. She remembered knocking out part of the brick wall and installing a window in her son’s office. She had painted it yellow, Jared’s favorite color as a child. She smiled noting that yellow was Josie’s favorite color as well.

When she reached the second floor, she crossed the hallway quickly and opened the door to the mayor’s office.

The receptionist was out, which didn’t surprise her. Dean had sent all of his employees into town to spread the word on where he stood politically on all the issues in hope of gaining votes.

She noticed Dean’s office door was ajar and as she neared it, she overheard him speaking. It took a moment of listening before she realized he was on the phone and not speaking to someone in person.

“We have to bury this thing,” he spoke low, pushing the words through gritted teeth. “No, I know the police are crawling all over the mansion. That’s not what I mean and you know it. I can’t get tied to this.” He listened for a long moment then blurted out, “No, I didn’t make my bed! And no, I’m not going to lie in it!”

He slammed the phone into its cradle and Kate flinched. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him so angry. Maybe this was a bad time.

Whether it was or wasn’t, she knocked on the door and said, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Kate? Is that you?”

As she stepped into his office she tried not to stare. He looked shaken up. His complexion seemed pale and his tie was loose and crooked.

“Hi,” she said softly with a smile. “I thought I’d check on you. See how you’re holding up.”

He sighed, lowering into his chair, and began rubbing his eyes.

“Long night?”

“Wasn’t it?” he countered. “What a nightmare. I never thought I’d have to make a speech while police retrieved a dead woman down the hall.”

Kate nodded compassionately as she sat across from him.

“Did you at least get some big donations?”

“Uh, possibly. I was too rattled. I didn’t do the math on what the fundraiser brought in,” he admitted.

“That’s understandable,” she said, trailing off to buy time to read his expression. He looked as though he hadn’t slept. “About that,” she went on. “If there’s anything you know, then Dean, you really have to come forward. Think about how things will blow up if you don’t.”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers and his eyes widened.

“You mean Scott has something on me?” he demanded.

“No,” she assured him. “But if there’s something to find, he’ll find it. You know that. It’s important to stay ahead of this thing.”

“Ahead of it?” He groaned then began laughing and rubbing his eyes again. “I can’t even get out from under it.”

After a moment, she asked, “Who is Taylor Rheingold?”

“Rheingold? Why?”

“He brought the woman to the event,” she explained.

Dean seemed to make a performance out of screwing his face up as though he had never heard of the man. Kate wasn’t buying it.

“Dean, I have to ask you,” she went on. “Was that woman a prostitute?”

He stared at her for a stunned moment. “How should I know?”

“You knew she was twenty years old and healthy,” she pointed out. “You let that slip before you’d even reached the coat room.”

Kate could tell he was angling to get out of this conversation, but they had been friends for too long, too many years. He couldn’t lie to her and, because of it ,he gradually came around.

“Alright, look,” he said in a low tone. “I knew her. But I didn’t know she’d be there.”

He was mixing lies with the truth and she didn’t appreciate it.

“You know what I think?” she said in a sympathetic voice. “I think Taylor could be responsible. I think Hans Geoffrey could’ve played a role as well. And I think you’re so determined to meet your fundraising goals and win the election that you’re sitting on information that could help Scott catch the killer—”

“No one knows she was killed,” he blurted out defensively. “Because she wasn’t killed.”

“You don’t know that. What I’m trying to say is that there are worse things than being slandered in the newspaper. If you’re arrested because you withheld information, your political career will be just as over.”

She was getting through to him, but he still wasn’t ready to talk.

“There’s a witness who saw Taylor Rheingold drive in with the woman. She looked drugged and out of it, and her hands may have been tied.”

Dean cringed with remorse.

“You really need to tell me what you know,” she pressed, but he only began shaking his head. “Dean—”

“I don’t know anything!”

“But you knew her,” she insisted. “What was her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Tell me.”

“No, I really don’t.” After a long moment, he finally gave in. “She went by Cherry. I never knew her real name.”

“So she was a prostitute,” she surmised.

“An escort,” he corrected her. “It’s not against the law.”

Not unless Cherry tended to take things further than dinner and drinks, thought Kate.

“How did you meet her?”

“Kate,” he groaned. “I can’t go down this road with you. I’m trying to contain this mess not make it worse.”

“Your career is on the line.”

“No one knows that better than me.”

“Did Taylor introduce you?”

He pressed his mouth into a hard line, shaking his head.

“Where is Taylor staying? Is he staying at the mansion with Hans? Or at a hotel somewhere?”

“Kate, none of this is what you think, and you have to leave it alone.”

“No one is going to leave this alone, Dean,” she asserted, raising her voice. “The police are investigating. The truth will come out.”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to talk, she rose to her feet, but when she reached the door, he said, “Stop.”

She turned, slowly facing him.

“Look, I’ll tell you how I met Cherry... but...” he cringed again and went back to silently debating with himself.

“But what?” she asked.

He locked eyes with her. “You have to promise not to tell my wife.”

Chapter Five

Kate wasn’t sure she could make any promises and yet knew that if she didn’t, Dean wouldn’t open up about how he’d met Cherry, so she tried to reason with him.

“The only way to keep this quiet,” she explained, “is to tell me and Scott what you know so that he can arrest the right person and quickly. The longer he’s investigating, the more he’s going to dig up.”

Dean seemed to weigh the pros and cons. He ran his finger over his mouth and stared off into space.

“If you cover for them,” she warned, “you’re going to look guilty.”

“I know that,” he snapped.

She waited patiently for him to come around.

After a long moment of debating, he finally said, “About four months ago, I met Hans Geoffrey. He was visiting Rock Ridge for the first time and liked the area. You know how much money he has, you saw him,” he pointed out, as though it was evidence that would demonstrate how Dean never really had a chance. “Hans wanted to meet me because I’m the mayor, and I didn’t think anything of it. In hindsight, I think that because Hans is rich and powerful, he wanted to get on my good side or vice versa. You know, get the mayor in his back pocket. But at the time, I didn’t realize that was what he was doing.”

He paused and let out a sigh, rubbed his eyes, and then met Kate’s gaze.

“He complimented my politics and asked me how much longer I would be in office. Kate, I was thinking about all the money he had and how he could help boost the economy. I swear I had the welfare of Rock Ridge in mind—”

“It’s okay, Dean. Just tell me what happened.”

“Hans kept coming back to town to visit. We met each time. Then, a few months ago when he bought the land out east and hired my construction company and you to build his mansion, he wanted to take me out to celebrate. He said there weren’t enough high-end bars around town, so we drove in his limo over to New York City. He brought me to a club. That’s where I met Taylor Rheingold; he owns it. We went into a private VIP room, and Cherry was our cocktail waitress.”

“Okay.”

“But she wasn’t only a cocktail waitress, and the club wasn’t only a bar, if you know what I mean.”

“Dean,” she said, sympathetically. “This is so unlike you.”

“I know!” he exclaimed. “I was swept up in the glamour. I’ve never been to a club like that. The tables were encrusted with diamonds. The cocktail waitresses looked like models. And Hans and Taylor seemed so sure of themselves, so in control, that it didn’t compute that there was anything wrong with it.”

“So you slept with Cherry?”

“No!” He paused to reel in his emotions, and then admitted, “Not that night.”

“At a later time?”

“There were many trips to New York, many late nights. I got to know Cherry. I didn’t see her as a waitress or an escort or a...prostitute. To me she was a real person.”

Kate didn’t want to shatter his world by explaining to him that a lot of John’s felt that way and often working girls preyed on that weakness, so she asked, “What was Cherry doing at the mansion?”

“I don’t know; she shouldn’t have been there.”

“Did you know that Taylor was planning on bringing her?”

He hesitated, and then admitted that he had.

“Did you see her inside the mansion?”

“Briefly,” he said. “But as soon as I saw her come in through the door, I knew something was wrong. She didn’t seem like herself, and Taylor was clutching her by the upper arm in a way that looked off to me. I approached them, but didn’t confront Taylor. He’s a big donor, and he believes in me politically.”

If Taylor believed anything, it was that he could buy Dean, control him, and maybe push him up the ranks in the Senate or Congress or wherever Dean’s political career might take him after he retired as mayor and moved on. But Kate didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

“So what did you say? What happened?” she asked.

“I asked if she was feeling okay and offered her one of the bedrooms upstairs if she needed to straighten out. I mean, I felt like I knew her, but she could’ve been a drug user. I don’t know. But when I offered, Taylor said he would handle it, so I walked away. That was the last time I saw her before I found out she was dead.”

“Dean, I have to ask you: did you do anything to rub Taylor the wrong way?”

“Why?”

“Well, he brought the woman to the mansion, and it was against her will. I have to wonder if you were being set up or if Taylor was aiming at destroying you.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“How can you be sure?” she pressed. When he didn’t answer her, she asked, “Is that why you won’t tell me where he’s staying, because you believe he’s innocent?”

“I do believe he’s innocent, but the only reason I’m not telling you is because I know you. I know you’ll confront him, and he’ll find out that I named him, and he’ll renege his donation to my campaign.”

“I’m looking out for you, Dean.”

“So am I,” he shot back. “And telling you where Taylor is isn’t going to be good for me.” After a moment he added, “Cherry was an escort for God’s sake. The possibilities are endless in terms of who might want her dead—a jealous escort, an angered John, who knows.”

“You might be right about that, but the problem is that not anyone could gain access to the mansion. Whoever killed her was invited to your fundraiser.”

“Over two hundred people,” he pointed out.

“This isn’t going away,” she warned him as she got to her feet. “If you ask me, Cherry was a pawn. She was killed because you have an enemy that wants you out of the running for re-election.”

“Then there’s only one person you need to look at,” he said bluntly. “Celia Demblowski.”

“Celia wasn’t at the benefit,” she said out of frustration.

However, the look on Dean’s face told her that wasn’t true.

“She was there?”

“I don’t know how, but she was.”

“You saw her?”

In response, he said, “She should’ve gone to prison for conspiring with Eric to let Becky Langley hide out in their house. Kate, you know she has it in her to do something foul like this. She’s had it in her for years.”

Kate leaned over his desk, staring him down. “Then what’s the harm in letting me speak with Taylor Rheingold?”

But Dean wouldn’t give up the billionaire’s location. He only reminded her that he couldn’t jeopardize the donation that Taylor had made to his campaign.

She sighed and told him to take care of himself then started for the ground floor.

She was cautious when she trailed down the stairwell. She didn’t want to run into any police officers, so she listened for the sounds of voices and boots echoing on the stairs, but heard neither.

Outside, she climbed into her truck and as she turned the engine she thought about Celia Demblowski. Dean had seen her at the event, but Kate couldn’t say that she had. But then again, the mansion had been crowded, and she hadn’t exactly been scanning all the faces.

Had Celia shown up and targeted Cherry because the escort was clearly inebriated? Celia would’ve had to know that Dean had struck up a personal relationship with Cherry; otherwise, she wouldn’t have thought to harm her. It was possible, Kate thought as she drove off down Main Street, but it didn’t explain why Taylor had brought the escort against her will.

Unless...

Could Taylor be playing both sides against the middle? Did he have so much money that he could afford to buy both Dean and Celia and do it in such a way that his friend, Hans Geoffrey wouldn’t find out? What would his motive be, though? Did Celia have a political point of view on an issue that Dean opposed—an issue that Taylor happened to agree with also?

Kate needed to get back to the house. She had been gone a lot longer than one hour, and it wasn’t fair to keep Maxwell hanging. However, as she turned left at an intersection and the Rock Ridge Tribune offices came into view, she impulsively pulled up along the curb in front of the newspaper’s headquarters.

She pulled her cell from her overalls and found her babysitter’s contact number and debated whether to text or call. Considering that she would be very late to relieve Maxwell of his babysitting duties, she figured that the right thing to do would be to call, so that’s what she did.

“Hey, how’s Josie doing?” she asked as soon as Maxwell had answered.

“She’s been a bit more fussy than usual. Hey, where are you?”

“I’m so sorry. I got tied up. I should’ve called sooner. I can be home in a half hour, is that alright?”

He groaned quietly and said, “I have plans with Gillian, or I had plans I should say.”

Kate felt terrible and because of it she offered, “You’re welcome to invite your girlfriend to the house.”

“It’s okay,” he groused. “We rescheduled. I’ll see you in a half hour?”

She checked the clock on her dashboard, noting the time, and said, “Definitely.”

As soon as Maxwell hung up, she tucked her cellphone into the front pocket of her overalls, climbed out of her truck, and started for the entrance door of the Tribune.

Inside she was met with a chorus of reporters hustling around the station house. Some were talking loudly into their desk phones, while others hovered over the various printers and waited for their article drafts to spit out.

The receptionist was on a telephone call as well. Her eyes were down as she scrawled as fast as she could on a notepad, likely documenting the latest quotes from a bystander who thought they knew something about the mysterious young woman who had been killed at Dean’s event.

When she finally slapped the phone into its cradle and lifted her gaze, she said, “Can I help you?”

“Is Celia Demblowski available?”

The receptionist snorted a laugh that also sounded tired and said, “You want to talk to the Editor-in-Chief in the middle of a feeding frenzy?”

“Is that a no? She’s not available?”

“It depends. Do you have information on the woman who was found dead at the mansion?”

If saying that she was here for that reason was the only way to speak with Celia face-to-face, then Kate had no choice.

“Yes, that’s why I need to speak with her.”

In an instant, the receptionist launched to her feet, rounded to the front of the counter, and led Kate through the newsroom. After turning a corner they came to Celia’s office. The door was ajar, but the new editor of the Tribune was engrossed in a tense phone call.

The receptionist stuck her head in and whispered, “I have someone with information on the scandal.”

Celia’s eyes snapped up as she said into the receiver, “I’ll have to call you back.”

The receptionist widened the door, Celia smiling eagerly all the while, but when Kate stepped into the cluttered office, Celia’s expression hardened.

She perked up just enough to sound friendly as she said, “Kate, what an unexpected surprise.”

“You two know each other?” asked the receptionist.

But all Celia said was “Shut the door on your way out.”

Obeying, the receptionist slipped out and closed the door.

“This better be good,” said Celia. “I gave up an important phone call.”

“And I appreciate it,” Kate said, approaching the set of chairs across from Celia’s desk.

“You think you’re going to tell me something I don’t know?”

“That depends on what you know,” she countered, taking a seat, while Celia stared down at her.

“The victim was a prostitute, but I’d already told you that. She goes by Cherry, but her real name is Elaine Benson. Benson was killed by a drug overdose, and the medical examiner has ruled her death inconclusive. I imagine Scott and the M.E. are going head-to-head on this one since I bet the M.E. wants to rule the death accidental, and Scott wants it to be documented as a homicide.”

Celia certainly does know a lot, thought Kate. But did she know that Kate, among others, knew Celia was at the event that night?

“What?” Celia asked. “You’re surprised I know so much? I’m an excellent journalist. After all these years, I’ve finally found my calling.”

“And you’re also running for mayor against a man you had formerly assisted,” she pointed out.

“What are you getting at? I loved working in the mayor’s office.”

“Part time? Unappreciated? Underpaid?”

“So what? It was years ago, and I’m happy where I am now.”

“Are you? I ask because if I was happy working at the local newspaper, I wouldn’t be angling for a major life change, which we both know is what being mayor of Rock Ridge will amount to.”

“I’m sorry, did you come here to accuse me of something, or do you actually have information about the crime at hand? Because unless it’s the latter, I simply don’t have time.”

“I have information.”

Finally, Celia settled into her chair and clasped her hands on the desk. “Go on.”

“You were at the mansion that night.”

The older woman just stared at her. After a long moment, she swallowed hard and said, “If that were true, it would obviously be information I already knew and therefore not helpful.”

“I find it very helpful,” she challenged. “You created the perfect scandal to not only be voted in as mayor, but to completely ruin Dean in the process. And I find it interesting that you’re also at the helm of the very newspaper that’s currently in the throes of ripping him to shreds.”

“This is a reputable paper, and we only print facts,” she stated. “But to set your mind at ease, I didn’t kill that woman.”

“Then why were you at the fundraiser?”

Celia said nothing.

“How did you even get past the guard at the gate? Your name wasn’t on the list.”

“I was invited,” she said, folding her arms. “And I don’t know what list you looked at, but I can assure you I was on it.”

Kate narrowed her eyes, feeling thrown. Technically, she hadn’t seen the guest list. She’d only taken Dean’s word for it that Celia hadn’t been on it.

“You were on the guest list?” she questioned.

“I was.”

“Why?” she pressed. “You’re running against Dean—”

“All the more reason to check out how he’s handling things. I consider it research. To the public he tries to seem as likeable as possible. His responses to the issues are wishy-washy. But behind closed doors, when he’s preaching to the choir, is another story. I was there to take cellphone video of his speech. I knew he’d trip up and say something that would offend the public. I’m planning on using it in one of my ads.”

“So, you had your own reason for being there, fine,” said Kate. “Dean wouldn’t have wanted you there. Who the hell let you in? Who put your name on the guest list?”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “I never reveal my sources.”

“Was it Taylor Rheingold?” she demanded.

Celia’s plastic smile drooped as her expression hardened. “You’ve taken up enough of my time.”

“If Taylor has donated money to your campaign,” she stated, “if he’s playing both sides against the middle and if he got you into that event, then you better watch your back.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s advice,” she shot back. “Taylor was the one who brought Cherry to the mansion. Her hands were tied and an eye witness said that she looked drugged out of her mind.” She stared at Celia for a long moment. “So, if Taylor killed her for your benefit, that’s not going to look very good for you and your campaign.”

Celia looked scared. She began wringing her hands, her gaze scanning the desk as though she saw nothing in particular.

Finally, she said, “I had nothing to do with that.”

“But Taylor might have,” she pressed. “I need to know where he’s staying.”

Celia lifted her eyes and said, “At my house.”

Chapter Six

As Kate left the Rock Ridge Tribune, her thoughts reeling with the profound implication that Celia had not only been collecting secret donations from Taylor Rheingold, but had also been secretly involved with him—the billionaire was staying at her house?—she realized her cellphone was vibrating in her overalls.

At first she startled, assuming it was Maxwell. How long had she been inside the Tribune? But when she glanced at the cell, she saw Hazel Millhouse’s name and number flashing across the LCD screen.

She popped the driver-side door open, hopped in behind the steering wheel, and answered the call as she shut the door.

“Hi Hazel,” she said in a pleasant tone. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has!” said the elderly woman. “I need some help with my kitchen chairs. The legs have gotten wiggly.”

“On all the chairs?”

“Well, yes. When I noticed one chair was wiggly, I started using the next. And when that one got wiggly, I moved onto the next chair and so on and so forth until there were no chairs left.”

“I really have to get home, Hazel,” she said, thinking of Josie and, of course, Maxwell whose good graces Kate was in danger of wearing thin. “Can I come by first thing tomorrow morning?”

Hazel sighed loudly, but told her that would be fine.

“How about eight o’clock?”

“I’ll have a pot of coffee ready for you.”

Kate didn’t have the heart to tell her that she still wasn’t drinking that much coffee, so instead, she thanked Hazel for being thoughtful and wrapped up the call.

The sun was lowering in the sky as she drove home. Stark orange light cut through the windshield, and she had to pull the visor down and squint to see the road. She realized she hadn’t eaten much all day and began doing a mental inventory of the food they had in the refrigerator. Well, maybe she could order delivery and take it easy, she thought.

When she turned onto the rural road that would lead to her house, her truck began making a strange noise. It sounded like the engine was coughing—sputtering out to die.

“Don’t do this to me now,” she said under her breath, pressing down on the accelerator and checking the dashboard for lights that might indicate what the problem was.

Her truck was brand new, she thought. But it wasn’t. Time moved so swiftly, and though it seemed like only yesterday that she had bought her brand new Mrs. Fix It truck, the fact of the matter was that the vehicle was nearly four years old. Not that it should be in danger of breaking down, but still.

As she turned up the long and winding driveway for her house, her truck bucked then died. She pulled onto the shoulder. Steam was wafting through the cracks in the hood.

“Damn,” she said under her breath, as she pulled the hood release and climbed out.

When she lifted the hood and propped it with the metal stick, a huge billow of steam puffed up into the air and she had to wave her arm to clear it. A sizzling sound came next and as she examined the engine, all she could think about was how much it would cost her to fix it.

Pacing away from her truck, she dialed Maxwell and after the first ring his voice came clear as a bell through the earpiece, as he said, “Don’t tell me you’re going to be even later.”

“I’m at the end of the driveway,” she said quickly. “My truck broke down.”

“Need me to pick you up?”

“No, not at all. I’ll walk; I’m just letting you know.”

She started off walking at a brisk pace. The air was cool and dusk had settled over Rock Ridge. Since the long driveway was pitched at a slight incline, she felt her heart rate climb as she swung her arms and breathed deeply. Man, it’s a long driveway. You never notice these things when you’re in your car, she thought to herself, but soon enough, she reached the front door, having worked up a good appetite for dinner.

She opened the door and walked through the foyer and into the living room where Maxwell was cradling Josie and reading her a children’s book.

Kate momentarily sighed at the thought of getting to Hazel’s house tomorrow morning. She would have to push the time back in order to get her truck fixed. She would also have to start making arrangements with her many customers who needed repairs since she’d been putting them off for months until she’d finished the mansion.

“What’s wrong with your truck?” asked Maxwell.

“I have no idea,” she complained, walking into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. The long walk had her parched. “I’ll have to bring it into the shop tomorrow.”

As she returned to the living room, Maxwell helped Josie into her playpen, grabbed his backpack off the floor, and slung it over his shoulder.

“You need me tomorrow, right?” he asked on his way out.

“Can we say seven?” she asked, mentally calculating her schedule.

He told her that would be fine and said, “Have a good night!” on his way out.

Kate took a moment to drink down her glass of water, and then, after setting it on the coffee table, she picked Josie up and gave her a big hug.

“Let’s figure out some dinner, huh?” she said, bouncing Josie on her hip.

There were a number of food delivery menus in a drawer in the kitchen and as she rifled through the options, Josie cooing in her ear all the while, she heard someone knock on the front door.

She stilled, perking up at the sound and, after a moment, she answered the door, figuring that Maxwell had forgotten something.

But when she opened the door, she saw a black car driving off down the long and winding driveway.

She watched it, getting a strange feeling.

Josie pointed to the ground and said, “Bop.”

When Kate glanced down, she saw a large present with a big pink bow.

“That’s a bow,” she said to Josie, smiling. “Not a bop.”

The box looked about one and a half feet by two feet, and when she stooped to pick it up, it felt heavy.

She carried it into the living room after shutting and locking the front door and set it on the ground. She then sat Josie beside it and joined her daughter on the floor.

“What do we have here?” she said, as she untied the bow and opened the box.

There was a red garment inside. As she lifted it out of the box, feeling its satin material, she realized it was a tailored cocktail dress.

Hans Geoffrey came to mind.

Was he insane? Or was he just so rich and powerful that he thought the word no didn’t apply to him?

She realized there was a card inside so trading the dress for the card, she set the garment in the box and began reading the note: Lady in Red, will you dance with me?

It was then that she threw up just a little in her mouth.

“Ugh,” she groaned, flicking the card into the box. Her skin was crawling.

Quickly, she pulled her cellphone from her overalls, overcome with a strong urge to vent, and dialed her best friend, Carly.

“Kate?” She heard her friend say as soon as the call went through. “What’s up?”

“I think I have a problem, and I really don’t want to involve Scott.”

“You think you have a problem?” she asked. “What is it?”

“A billionaire is hitting on me,” she said frankly.

For a second she thought the line had gone dead, but when Carly finally responded, she realized that her friend was just as thrown as she was. “A billionaire is hitting on you?”

“He was the host of Dean Wentworth’s fundraiser the other night, and he was fairly forward with me then. He’s since asked me out—”

“Does he know you’re married?”

“It didn’t put him off,” she supplied. “And he just had a dress delivered to my house.”

“Romantic,” she said.

“I think you mean creepy.”

“I do,” said Carly quickly. “Not to mention a woman was found dead in his home.”

The statement gave Kate an idea...

“Kate?”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking.”

“You’re not thinking about putting on that dress and meeting him, are you?”

It never ceased to amaze her how well her best friend knew her.

“Kate, you can’t. What if he had something to do with that woman’s death?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be considering having dinner with him otherwise,” she admitted. “But maybe he knows something.”

“You have to tell Scott. Isn’t he coming home soon?”

“It’s hard to say. Until he catches the killer, I think it’s fair to assume he’s going to be more or less living at the precinct.”

Kate heard the distinct call waiting beep and glanced at the screen to find a number that she didn’t recognize.

“Carly? Can you hold on? I’m getting another call.”

“Sure.”

She switched over to the other line and said, “This is Kate.”

A deep and smooth voice wafted through the earpiece, saying, “What time should I pick you up?”

“Mr. Geoffrey?”

“Darling, we’re way past formalities. Call me Hans.”

She’d rather call him a jackass, but held her tongue.

“Do you like the dress?” he asked.

“I’ll remind you, I’m a married woman.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said easily. “It’s part of your allure.”

Oh, God.

“I’ll send a limo in an hour,” he told her, having skipped over the part where she would have to agree. “Wear heels, but leave your hair down.”

“Anything else?” she asked dryly.

“Feel free to forget your panties.” She began coughing in sheer horror at his forwardness, and he asked, “Are you alright?”

Just dry heaving over here, she thought before saying, “I’m fine, and I won’t need an hour, and I’ll thank you in advance to keep your hands to yourself and your comments respectful.”

“Oh, I intend you respect you quite a bit. If I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to respect you in every room of my house and not let you go until you feel thoroughly satisfied with my particular brand of respect.”

What in the good goddamn is he talking about?

“Great,” she grumbled. “My daughter can’t eat solid food.”

He fell silent on the other end and after a moment, he said cheerfully, “I’ll make arrangements that she’s cared for.”

“She isn’t leaving my side,” she stated.

He let out a deep breath and said, “Very well. I’ll send a car in twenty minutes.”

“Make it five. It won’t take me that long to throw this thing on.”

“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity of getting dolled up.”

“Five minutes,” she asserted before hanging up.

Quickly, she sprang to her feet with the dress in hand and rushed into her bedroom.

Scott had made a habit of leaving all kinds of police gadgets in a box in their closet so she pulled it from the shelf and sat on the bed. After tossing the lid aside, she saw a nest of wires and began carefully extracting a recording device. When she had freed the microphone, its wire, and battery pack, she set them on the bed and stripped out of her clothes. Once she’d thrown the dress on, she turned the device on and discovered it needed fresh batteries.

She found a pack of Duracells in the kitchen drawer and also a roll of clear tape. When she returned to the bedroom, she swapped out the batteries, clipped the battery pack to her underwear, and began taping the wire up her stomach and chest. Once the wire was securely braced against her, its microphone resting underneath her bra, she hurried into the baby room and collected Josie’s essentials—diapers, toys, and a change of clothes.

As soon as Kate was snugging Josie into her car carrier, she heard a vehicle honk in front of the house.

Quickly, she raced into the bedroom and slipped into the black heels she had worn to Dean’s fundraiser, tied her hair up in a stout ponytail even though many locks were too short to fit, and then grabbed Josie in her carrier and set off through the door.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a limo, and she’d never been in one. The driver opened the rear door for her and she first set Josie in the carrier on the seat and then slid in after.

If only her truck hadn’t broken down. It made her nervous to know that she would be at the mercy of a driver to take her home. But she had no choice. She was determined to not only find out all that Hans Geoffrey knew about Cherry’s murder but also to record it as evidence.

The drive was pleasant enough. Josie cooed from her carrier, and the limo driver didn’t attempt to make conversation, which she appreciated.

When they reached the gate, the guard opened it without hesitation and they drove through. The driver pulled the limo around to the entrance and quickly hopped out so that he could open the rear door for Kate.

Night had fallen and she glanced at the sky, wondering if she had lost her mind.

One of Hans’s housekeepers opened the door for Kate before she had even lifted her hand to knock.

“Good evening,” the man said with a little bow. “Hans is expecting you in the dining room. Right this way.”

At least she was starving, she thought, as she followed the housekeeper through the grand foyer, her heels clicking over marble. Josie was staring with wide eyes at the lofty ceiling as they went.

When they reached the dining room, Hans entered from a door at the back. He smiled and approached, spreading his arms as though they might hug, but Kate held her free hand up, warding him off.

“Please,” he said, guiding her to the long dining table. “Have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I’m still breast-feeding,” she declined. It was the truth, but she was also in the habit of enjoying a drink then pumping and dumping, but she didn’t want to have any alcohol in his presence.

He scooted her chair in as she sat and then walked to the opposite end of the table, mentioning, “I knew you’d change your mind.”

She was afraid to ask him why that was so, instead she said, “I’m curious about you...”

“Are you?” he asked in a charming tone as he waved a waiter over. After telling the waiter, “Shiraz,” and waving him off, he locked eyes with Kate, grinned, and said, “What would you like to know?”

“How Cherry wound up dead in the coat room,” she said bluntly.

He let out a breathy laugh and laced his fingers together. “I was hoping you could tell me. What has your husband found out?”

It occurred to her right then and there that Hans might not be interested in her beyond using her to find out where the police were at with their investigation.

Gambling, she stated, “Dean told me everything.”

The smiled slipped off of Hans’s face, and he cleared his throat then asked, “What constitutes everything?”

“I know all about your history with Cherry, or Elaine Benson, I should say. I know all about how Taylor snuck her into the fundraiser. I even know about Taylor and Celia—”

“Celia?” he interrupted. “Celia Demblowski? Dean’s opponent?”

“That’s right.”

“What about Taylor and Celia?”

She could tell by his tone that he had no idea the two were involved. “Well, they’re living together at the moment for one.”

His eyes widened and he fell into deep thought.

“You didn’t know that?” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Taylor’s supporting Celia’s campaign.”

Hans slammed his fist against the table and she flinched.

“The traitor,” he yelled.

“Right now,” she went on, “it would seem that Taylor set you up along with Dean. All he had to do was kill her.”

“Taylor didn’t kill her.”

“How do you know?”

Hans locked eyes with her across the table. “Because I was with him.”

“You’re going to give him an alibi?” She laughed. “She died under your roof. Who’s to say you won’t be arrested.”

“I wish I could say he did it, especially now that I’m learning he was only involved in Dean’s campaign to perhaps find out his dirty secrets in order to use them against us. But as soon as I saw Taylor and Cherry arrive, I saw Dean greet them. When he rushed off, I approached Taylor and we went upstairs to speak. We were in my bedroom, which I’d love to give you a tour of, by the way.” She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We talked for a good half hour before I came downstairs, dealt with one of my cooks, and then heard the event coordinator, Marcy Clapton, shriek from the coat room. When I peeked through the crack in the door, I saw you in fact. Taylor didn’t kill Cherry, and neither did I.”

“You could’ve killed her together,” she pointed out.

“But why would I?” he challenged. “To bring Dean down? I’ve given him half a million dollars; why would I sabotage myself like that? And even if I was crazy enough to do that, why would I kill Cherry under my own roof, where I could easily be suspected?”

She hated that he had made several good points. “Then who killed her? Celia?”

“It’s possible,” he said, his eyebrows shooting up. Soon a strange smile came over his face and he said, “I’m a lover not a fighter.”

She frowned.

Suddenly, the housekeeper shouted from the hallway, “You can’t go in there!”

Kate heard boots stomping toward the dining room door and as she turned she saw four police officers barging into the room.

In an instant, the wind was knocked out of her as Scott lumbered in after them, stating, “Hans Geoffrey, you’re under arrest for—”

Scott locked eyes with Kate and his jaw dropped. He began scanning the scene—Kate in a fancy dress, wine and candles at the table, Josie cooing from her carrier on the floor.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

Standing, Kate said, “It’s not what you think!”

Chapter Seven

Scott was furious. He said nothing to Kate as he directed his officers to arrest Hans Geoffrey. He refused to look at her when he instructed Officer Taite to drive Kate and Josie home.

She waited up for Scott after putting Josie in her crib, but once it was after midnight, she felt too exhausted to keep her eyes open, and so she drifted off without ever having turned off the bedside lamp.

In the morning, she woke with a start. Scott was at the forefront of her mind, but he wasn’t in bed with her. She glanced around the room and there was no sign that he’d come home last night unless he had slept on the couch.

As she padded into the living room, however, she realized he hadn’t and sighed. If only he would let her explain. She hadn’t gone to Hans Geoffrey’s house to ignite some kind of affair. She had meant to collect information if not a confession.

In the kitchen, she scooped coffee into a fresh filter and got the coffee maker brewing, feeling low enough to justify indulging. Before she poured herself a mug, however, she breast-fed Josie while sitting in the rocking chair in her daughter’s room, fretting all the while about her husband, as well as her truck.

Things were not looking good for Kate.

And she was no closer to understanding who had killed Elaine Benson on the night of Dean’s fundraiser.

Once she had settled Josie into her playpen in the living room, she returned to the kitchen, poured that mug of coffee and found her cellphone on the coffee table in front of the couch. She sighed, scrolling through her cell phone contacts for her mechanic’s number, but when she sent the call through no one picked up.

“Arg,” she grumbled. It was too early. Her mechanic hadn’t gotten to the garage yet.

She drank her coffee, noting the time on her cell. It was a little after six in the morning.

She set her mug on the coffee table and made her way to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she glanced out the window that faced out front, and her heart skipped a beat.

Her truck was parked directly outside.

Immediately, she rinsed her mouth, grabbed her cellphone from the coffee table, and rushed outside with her keys in hand. She hopped in behind the steering wheel and turned the engine. It started up beautifully and settled into a healthy idle.

Quickly, she called Scott to thank him. He must not be so mad at her after all if he’d troubled himself to have her truck towed. But her call went straight through to voice mail. She couldn’t leave Josie in the house all alone for more than a minute, so she pulled the key from the ignition, climbed out, and returned to living room where Josie was struggling to pull herself up to stand inside her playpen.

Kate scooped her up into her arms and carried her to the couch. After sitting Josie on her lap, she composed a text message to Scott thanking him for taking care of her truck.

She needed to shower and get ready to head out to fix Hazel Millhouse’s kitchen chairs, but she felt like having one more cup of coffee. Besides, she didn’t want to miss Scott calling or texting her back if she was in the shower.

It took less than a minute to get Josie situated with a few toys in her playpen and refresh her mug in the kitchen. As she sat on the couch, she saw her cell phone flashing—an indication that she had a new text message.

It was from Scott and it said, “I didn’t fix your truck. Glad to hear it’s running, though.”

If Scott hadn’t taken her truck over to the mechanic, then who did?

She cringed, realizing.

Ugh, Hans.

She didn’t have time to let her skin crawl, but she was glad for the long, hot shower she would need to take before starting her day.

After stepping onto the cool tiles, having scrubbed every inch of herself clean, she wrapped a towel around her, walked into the living room to check on Josie—who was crawling around inside the playpen—and then hurried into the bedroom to get dressed.

By the time she emerged from the bedroom, having thrown on a pair of work jeans and a gray sweater, she heard a knock at the door. Even though she knew it could only be Maxwell, she walked quietly to the front door and peered out the side window, slightly paranoid that one of Hans Geoffrey’s men might be stopping by unannounced.

But it was only her babysitter.

She breathed a sigh of relief, opening the door and welcoming Maxwell in.

“Man, I feel like I was just here,” he said, starting through the shallow foyer and into the living room. “In fact, I always feel like I was just here,” he mused. “I should have my own room.”

“Very funny,” said Kate as she worked her feet into her sneakers.

“How late will you be?” he asked when she joined him in the living room to gather her cellphone and keys.

“It shouldn’t be too bad, five or six?”

“I heard that rich guy got arrested,” he commented, picking Josie up out of the playpen.

Kate hadn’t dared read the newspaper and though she sensed Hans had played some kind of role in Cherry’s downfall—women didn’t turn into escorts and then prostitutes overnight—she also felt in her gut that he was innocent and that once again Scott had arrested the wrong man.

But she didn’t mention any of that. Instead, she said, “He was.”

“One less killer on the street,” he shrugged as he held Josie in his arms. “Has she eaten?”

“She has, but it was just after six, so she could get hungry again soon.”

“No problem,” he said. “Have a good one.”

She gave her daughter one last lingering glance and then started for her truck.

It took her ten minutes to drive to Hazel Millhouse’s home. She kept the windows rolled down and parked her truck in front of the shrubs that lined the edge of the elderly woman’s property.

Hazel’s little dog was running frantically around the front yard and yapping his head off. Kate gave him a few pats on the head after climbing out of her truck and grabbing her tool kit from the back. Hazel must have heard the commotion, because she came to the door and shouted to the dog, “Quiet!” As Kate approached, she added, “He’s so excitable.”

Kate smiled and stepped into the house.

Hazel led her into the kitchen and began demonstrating how rickety each of the chairs had gotten.

“You know we could use you over at the library,” she said as Kate turned the last of the four chairs on its head along the edge of the kitchen table and began tightening the legs. “A few of our communal tables have gotten wobbly, but I hear you have a long list of customers to tend to.”

Kate could barely think about it without getting overwhelmed. “Well, working on the mansion stole all of my time.”

“No one blames you, Honey,” said Hazel. “Who could turn down that kind of money? But now that you’re free of that project there are a lot of people around town who need your services.”

She thought about the elderly woman’s point as she set the last chair on the ground and wrote up an invoice for Hazel. A lot of people around town did need her services and because of it she felt guilty about even considering hanging up her tool belt. But she had to put her family first. She couldn’t continue to work as a fix-it woman just because people preferred her to using someone new.

After she handed Hazel the invoice, the older woman snapped open her purse and began plucking out bills. After some careful counting, Hazel paid her, and Kate made change, returning a five-dollar bill.

“If there’s anything else you need,” said Kate as they walked to the front door, “don’t hesitate. I can always squeeze you in, and I’ll certainly swing by the library as soon as I can.”

As she walked to her truck, she realized that she was in Celia Demblowski’s neighborhood. It was a little after ten in the morning, and it was safe to guess that Celia was at the Tribune. Will Taylor Rheingold be hanging out at her house all by himself? It’s worth a shot.

Just because Hans had been certain that Taylor couldn’t have had anything to do with Cherry’s murder, didn’t mean he was innocent.

She drove, weaving left and right along the suburban grid, until she came to Celia’s house. She climbed out of her truck and couldn’t believe that this was the home where Becky Langley had hid for months, while the whole town had thought she’d been abducted. Kate snorted with disgust that Celia had been at the helm of the search party. How could she be so two faced as to harbor a criminal and also lead all of Rock Ridge to believe that she was just as worried as they were?

Maybe Dean was right. Maybe Celia did have it in her to kill.

Kate tried not to drive herself crazy as she walked to the front door. It seemed the more people she talked to about Cherry’s mysterious death, the more confused she became in terms of who might have actually done it.

When she reached the door, she gave it a firm pound.

Inside the house, a man called out, “Who’s there?”

“Celia’s friend, Kate!” she said loudly. “Celia asked me to check on the boiler! It might need a repair!”

The door drew inward, revealing a tall blond man with bright green eyes and a light dusting of stubble along his jaw. He was dressed in navy blue slacks and a thin white sweater, but his feet were bare and his hair looked damp as though he’d just come out of the shower.

“I didn’t know anything was wrong with the boiler,” he said. “And Celia didn’t mention it.”

“She probably didn’t want to bother you. May I?” she asked, veering around him and into the foyer. Before he could make sense of the interruption, Kate said, “How do you like Rock Ridge? You’re from Norway, right?”

“Uh, yes, I am.”

“Celia mentioned as much.”

“It’s a quaint town,” he commented, following her into the living room. “I had read about its long and sordid history before I arrived and now that I’m here, I find it hard to believe so many people have been murdered here over the years.”

“It is shocking.”

“I’m sorry; do you not know where the boiler is?” he asked when she’d turned to stare at him in the living room.

“I know where it is,” she assured him and found a closet off the living room where the boiler was located. “Most boilers are in the basement, but not Celia’s.”

“I see,” he said. “Can I offer you anything? Water? Coffee?”

She was tempted to have a third cup of coffee, but decided against it, saying she was fine for now.

As she began to pretend to check out the boiler, she peeked out from the closet. Taylor was settling onto a sofa-chair with the Rock Ridge Tribune in his hands.

“What do you make of your friend Hans’ arrest?” she asked him, as she banged her hand against one of the boiler pipes.

“I’m utterly shocked. You think you know a person...”

“So you believe he did it?”

“How can I not? If you don’t trust the police, then who can you trust?”

“You aren’t worried that Hans will rat you out?”

“Rat me out? I had nothing to do with that woman’s death,” he said in a stunned tone that Kate wasn’t buying. He looked scared but also fuming—hot under the collar. He was mad that she suspected him.

“No, I didn’t think you did, but I do find it curious that you brought Cherry, I mean Elaine Benson, to the fundraiser.”

He stared at her and his expression hardened, but he said nothing.

“Even more peculiar,” she went on, “was what the guard at the mansion said.”

“What did he say?”

“That Cherry seemed drugged…that her hands were tied as she sat in the passenger’s seat of your car. And that you were unusually sweaty.”

He snorted a laugh as if to suggest she was completely ridiculous, but Kate could tell she had rattled him.

“Why did you bring her?”

He said nothing.

“You’re obviously not voting for Dean, which means that whatever friendship you struck up with Hans Geoffrey was a farce. Did you know that bringing Cherry to the event would ultimately result in destroying Dean Wentworth’s reputation and give your new girlfriend a better shot at getting enough votes to become mayor?”

“Are you accusing me of murder?”

“Should I be?”

“I never told Dean that he had my vote. And I am friends with Hans, which is why I donated to Dean’s campaign.”

“Seems like a conflict of interest to me,” she pointed out.

“That’s because you don’t understand what it means to be a billionaire,” he shot back. “So what if I gave Dean two hundred thousand? It’s a lot of money for a man like Dean, sure. But for me? It amounts to a handful of suits, a weekend in France, or a week of the stock market doing poorly. It’s nothing and quite frankly, compared to what I gave Celia, it was a drop in the bucket.”

Kate flipped the boiler off and then on again so it would make some strange noises.

“And for the record,” he went on. “I brought Cherry to the event because she wanted to see him.”

“Against her will?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “She had taken a lot of drugs earlier that evening—”

“Oh, she took the drugs? Really? The drugs that killed her?”

“No…I mean yes,” he stammered. “Look, I don’t know what happened to her at that party. All I know is what happened to her before she got there. She was worried out of her mind. She said her life was in danger, all right? She was talking crazy, or so I thought. Hindsight is twenty twenty I suppose. I told her she would be safer if she were around people, and when I mentioned I was going to Dean’s benefit, she jumped at the chance. But she got wild in the car. Those drugs took her over and for no reason she began flailing her arms. I would’ve had an accident driving. So, I pulled over and restrained her. It wasn’t malicious. It was for the safety of us both.”

“Who was she afraid of?”

“Not me,” he said quickly. “And not Dean.”

“I never suspected Dean,” she told him.

“And not Hans either. Hans is paying for her one-bedroom apartment for God’s sake. She loved him and if you’re about to say Hans could’ve killed her just to get out of paying her rent, you’re wrong. Her rent was less than a thousand, and I’ll remind you—he’s a billionaire.”

“So who was she afraid of, Taylor?” she demanded, advancing on him from the boiler room.

“Marcy, alright! She was afraid of Marcy.”

“The event coordinator? Why?”

Taylor narrowed his eyes on her and said, “Because Marcy wasn’t always a coordinator and if you ask me, she didn’t want any reminders of her past.”

Chapter Eight

According to Taylor Rheingold, Marcy Clapton was staying at a small motel on the south side of town but wouldn’t be there for long. She was due back in New York to begin planning her next event. Kate couldn’t let her leave town until she got to the bottom of this, so leaving Taylor at Celia Demblowski’s house, she drove through Rock Ridge.

The motel, ironically titled Rock Ridge Resort—it was anything but—was less than a mile from the high-rise apartment building Kate had renovated years ago.

As she rolled to a stop in the parking lot, she eyed the dingy motel and wondered if Marcy perhaps resented her billionaire boss. While Hans lived in a mansion, he had put Marcy up in a grimy motel?

It wasn’t motive enough to kill Cherry in the billionaire’s home, but it certainly revealed their dynamic.

She climbed out of her truck and made her way into the lobby. The clerk behind the desk looked like a teenager or dressed like one at least. As she neared the counter, she realized the guy had a weathered face, and so she pegged him for being around thirty years old.

“I need to speak with one of your guests,” she explained. “Can you tell me which room Marcy Clapton is staying in?”

He eyed her with suspicion, while a small TV set blared a football game behind him.

“Clapton?” he asked as though buying time as he rifled through a binder. There wasn’t a computer on the counter, and Kate had the feeling that this was a cash-only establishment. “She’s in twelve,” he said and snapped the binder shut. “On the second floor.”

She thanked him and quickly walked outside, found a set of stairs leading to the second floor landing, and when she reached the top, she checked the motel door numbers as she trailed along the balcony.

Room twelve was at the very end. She could hear a TV blaring from inside and also the faint sound of Marcy talking on her cellphone.

She sounded upset.

Kate knocked on the door and a moment later the TV went quiet. Kate heard Marcy approach the door as she wrapped up her telephone call.

When the door popped open, Marcy peered out at her, and Kate said, “We met briefly at the mansion the other night.”

“So? What do you want?”

“I’d like to talk to you about Elaine Benson.”

“I already spoke with the police,” she said curtly.

“Did you know that Hans Geoffrey was arrested?”

Marcy snorted a laugh, indicating she wasn’t surprised that the billionaire had killed the escort. “It’s all over the news. How could I not know?”

“Can I come in?” asked Kate. “I don’t want to have a conversation in the doorway.”

“Well, I don’t want to have a conversation at all,” she countered.

As Marcy attempted to shut the door, Kate caught it with her palm and asserted, “You know Elaine. You worked at the same club in New York. You two had history.”

“Who told you that?”

“Taylor Rheingold,” she said frankly, and Marcy’s eyes widened.

“I don’t have any time. I have to get to the airport in an hour and I haven’t even packed yet.”

Though she’d sounded dismissive, she opened the door, allowing Kate to come inside her cramped motel room.

Clothes were littered across the floor. The comforter was bunched at the foot of the bed. And the dresser drawers were ajar to different degrees.

After taking a quick survey of the room, Kate faced her and said, “I don’t think Hans killed her. Hans and Taylor were talking upstairs when Cherry, I mean Elaine, was killed so neither of them could’ve done it.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Why was Elaine afraid of you?”

Again Marcy snorted a laugh, but this time she began shaking her head. “Elaine was high that night.”

“I’m not talking about that night. She had been afraid of you for a while. Is that because you stopped being an escort and started working for Hans as a coordinator?”

“Why would that cause her to be afraid of me?” she challenged.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I trust Taylor was telling me the truth.”

“Taylor told you that she was afraid of me?” she asked, sounding appalled. “She wasn’t afraid of me She was afraid of the other girls.”

“What other girls?”

“The other escorts. I was trying to encourage her to get out of that life, clean herself up, and get a real job like I did. But the other escorts don’t like it when one of their own moves on. They were harassing her.”

“The other escorts who live in New York?” she questioned.

“They’re here,” she explained. “Hans flew them in for the fundraiser.”

“Why would he do that?”

Marcy rolled her eyes as though annoyed that Kate wasn’t connecting the dots. “Hans wanted a little eye candy at the event. Most of the guests were older, so he hired about twenty escorts to wander around and make it seem like an attractive crowd.”

“Twenty escorts?”

“That’s right. God, why would Taylor say that Elaine was afraid of me?” she asked under her breath.

Even though she didn’t say it out loud, Kate had an idea. Taylor was probably trying to throw suspicion off of Celia and any name would do.

“Marcy,” said Kate, leveling with the young coordinator. “Someone killed Elaine, and it wasn’t the man who’s sitting in jail. If, as you say, Elaine was afraid of those girls, can you tell me if any of them in particular had been unusually threatening? Was Elaine more afraid of one of them?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked to be deep in thought. After a long moment, her eyes snapped up to Kate and she said, “Maybe Cat.”

“The girl’s name is Cat?”

“It’s short for Catherine. They were really good friends, but I never trusted Cat.”

“Why is that?”

“She was pushing drugs on all of us,” she explained. “It was subtle, and I always stayed away from Cat. I don’t do drugs. But some of the other girls were open to experimenting. And Elaine ended up with quite a drug problem. She was always turning to Cat for more and Elaine thought they were friends, but that’s not how I saw it. Cat was preying on her.”

“Why would Cat want to get Elaine hooked on drugs? How would that benefit her?”

“It would financially,” she replied. “Elaine was pouring a good portion of her earnings into buying drugs from Cat. She even owed her money at times.”

“Was Cat at the fundraiser?”

“Yes,” said Marcy.

Kate considered the information. Elaine had certainly had drugs in her system, but Kate hadn’t spoken with Scott about the case, so she didn’t know if the medical examiner had ruled Elaine’s death as having been from an overdose.

“What kind of drug was it?” she asked the coordinator.

Marcy looked pained to have to say it, but obliged. “Heroin.”

“Was she shooting up as opposed to snorting or smoking it?”

“Of course. Cat never got her hands on the pure stuff.”

So, Cat could’ve led or followed Elaine into the coatroom and shot her up, intentionally giving her an overdose. But even if she had, it would be extremely hard to prove, especially considering Elaine’s history of drug abuse.

“Where is Cat now?” asked Kate.

“All the escorts are staying at Hans’s mansion, but honestly, now that he’s in jail, I have no idea if they’re still there or not.”

Kate studied her for a long moment. The escorts had been given the luxury of staying in a mansion, while Marcy was exiled to a crappy motel? Kate resolved to pay Cat a visit, but she would keep her eye on Marcy. The coordinator had far too much motive to have killed Elaine herself.

“I think you should change your flight,” she advised. “Push it off at least a day.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to tell the police what you told me.”

“I have a job lined up. I can’t stay here.”

“I think you’ll have to,” said Kate sternly.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to inform the police anyway. They’ll need to speak with you.”

“Gee, thanks a lot!” she said, springing from the bed and throwing her hands up.

“If Elaine was your friend—”

“She was!” she blurted out.

“Then I’m sure you’ll have a vested interest in making sure the right person is put away for it.”

Marcy sighed as though she didn’t have the energy to argue. “Fine,” she said. “Just be careful around Cat. She’s smart and highly manipulative.”

Kate assured her that she would be and gently closed the door on her way out. When she reached her truck, she climbed in and pulled her cellphone from her pocket.

Maybe Scott had cooled off and was ready to hear her explanation for why she had been at the mansion with Hans. She dialed his cellphone first, but it went straight through to voice mail. She cursed and then pulled up his office number, sending the call through.

After five rings, she almost gave up, but the line opened and Scott said, “Police Chief.”

“Scott!” she blurted out. “We really need to talk about last night.”

He sighed into the receiver and said, “Yeah, I know. I didn’t have the best reaction.”

“I hope you didn’t think I was having dinner with Hans for personal reasons.”

“I didn’t know what to think,” he admitted. “At the fundraiser, I knew he was coming onto you. I’m not blind.”

“I know you’re not blind and for the record, Hans was making me very uncomfortable.”

“I could see that, but when I found you in his dining room and wearing a dress...you never wear dresses.”

“I hated every second of it.”

“Why were you there?”

“To get him to confess that he killed Elaine Benson.”

“But that wasn’t necessary, Kate. I was on my way to arrest him. You’ve got to stop trying to fix everything all on your own. First of all, it’s extremely dangerous to do so and you know it. And second of all, I know how to do my job for Christ’s sake.”

“I know you do,” she said to reassure him. “And I know that I suspected Hans Geoffrey just as much as you did. But I have to tell you—”

“Oh, God, what now? Are you still meddling? Are you still running around town investigating even though I have the killer in police custody?”

“What evidence do you have tying Hans to Elaine’s murder?”

He sighed and admitted it was thin, but added, “I have five eye witnesses who saw Hans Geoffrey drag Elaine into the coat room.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Your witnesses are all young woman from New York.”

“How did you know?”

“Elaine was working as an escort in a New York club. Hans brought her here with a bunch of escorts, your witnesses. I just spoke with the event coordinator, Marcy Clapton, who told me that one of those women, a girl who goes by Cat or Catherine might have had it in for Elaine. She had hooked the girl on drugs, and I believe she forced Elaine to have an overdose in that coat room.”

“Well, the girls are sticking together. No one turned on this Cat character. Everyone insisted that Hans Geoffrey did it.”

“Of course they did,” she argued. “They probably despised Hans because he was paying them to essentially prostitute.”

“Why would they kill one of their own?”

“Sacrificial lamb,” she supplied. “The ends justified the means in their eyes.”

“If you’re right, then that’s some dark business.”

“I’m heading over to the mansion now to talk to the girls.”

“Kate,” he barked. “You can’t keep doing this. Christ, the fact that I’ve never arrested you myself for interfering with a police investigation—”

“I’ve always been able to get information that the police can’t,” she pointed out. “What’s the harm in talking to them?”

“I’ll meet you there,” he said.

“The guard will never let you through the gate,” she said. “At least when I show up I can convince people that I’m there to fix a toilet or make a few repairs.”

“I don’t have to go in,” he told her. “I’ll get you set up with a wire.”

“A wire?”

“Not that I’m dying to admit it, but the wire you wore to Hans’ wasn’t a bad idea. I found it before I left this morning.”

“So you did come home last night?”

“Not to sleep. Just to change.”

“I’ll meet you there—let’s say a half mile before the entrance gate so that no one sees us.”

“Fine,” he said.

After Kate placed her cellphone on the passenger’s seat, she backed her truck out of the parking spot and swung around, driving out of the motel lot and heading east toward the mansion.

When she saw the gate of the estate coming into view in the distance, she pulled her truck onto the shoulder of the road and shifted into Park, glancing at the rear view mirror for Scott’s truck.

One of the things she loved most about him was that he could be angry and feel his feelings, but still love her. Whenever they didn’t see eye-to-eye, Scott’s biggest priority was to find a way to come to common ground. And though they’d never had a fight quite like the one that had risen thanks to her impulsive visit to Hans Geoffrey’s mansion last night, Scott had found a way to overcome his hurt and make things right with Kate, and she loved him all the more because of it.

She spied her husband’s truck flying up the road and as he veered onto the shoulder, slowing down behind her truck, she hopped out into the crisp afternoon.

Scott left his truck idling as he climbed out. He had a microphone and wire in one hand and the battery pack in the other. They met at the back of her truck and she lowered the tailgate and sat on the truck bed.

“It should be easier to hide this than it was under that dress,” she commented, as he began threading the wire under her shirt.

“Where did that dress even come from?” he asked. “It didn’t look familiar.”

“Hans sent it to the house.”

“He what?”

“I was just as surprised as you are.”

Scott eyed her for a long moment then continued clasping the microphone to her bra. “I think I’ll leave him in jail whether or not we catch the real killer,” he fumed. “Giving another man’s wife a dress—despicable.”

Kate smiled and told him she wouldn’t mind if he did.

When she hopped to the ground and flipped the tailgate up, snapping it into place, he said, “The precinct should really get you on the payroll.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve basically been working as an informant anyway. Might as well make it official and that way we could offer surveillance and protection. You know I don’t like your going off on your own.”

Kate considered the possibility, but didn’t rush to any conclusions.

“I’ll be listening right here from the truck.”

“I won’t be out of range?”

“No, you’ll be fine.” Before she could climb back into her truck, he caught her arm and said, “The medical examiner found track marks in all of the places you’d expect—inner elbows, between the toes, on the hip—places that Elaine could’ve shot up herself.”

“Okay,” she said, waiting for more.

“And he also found a track mark between her shoulder blades.”

“She could’ve never maneuvered a needle there.”

“Exactly,” he said. “So whoever you talk to in there, whether it’s Cat or some of the other girls, try to use the information to get a confession. And if you can find the actual syringe that would be even better, but don’t touch it, wrap it in toilet paper and bring it back.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod.

Scott smiled at her and the look on his face implied that he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. He pulled her in for a kiss, and then opened the driver-side door of her truck, helping her to climb in.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “See you soon.”

As she drove off, she checked the rear view mirror. Scott was standing beside his truck and watching her. When she came to the long and winding driveway, she pulled up to the gate and rolled her window down.

“I’m with Wentworth Contractors. Kate Flaherty. I need to check on the plumbing.”

Though the guard was different from the one she had talked to the other day, he was familiar with Wentworth and allowed her through the gate without question.

She drove on and when she reached the mansion, she parked to the right of the entrance.

She grabbed her tool kit out of the truck bed after climbing out, and as soon as she knocked on the stately door, one of the housekeepers greeted her.

“Follow up,” she said, lifting her tool kit demonstratively. “I’m from Wentworth.”

“Please come in,” said the housekeeper, who also didn’t question her unannounced arrival.

“I can see myself up to the second floor,” she explained, veering toward the staircase.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” said the housekeeper before she trailed off through the marble foyer.

As Kate ascended the stairs, she heard female voices billowing throughout the second floor. They sounded elated, laughing and joking around and not at all concerned that their informal employer was now sitting in a jail cell across town.

Each of the second floor bedrooms had a private bathroom attached so when Kate approached a young woman in the hallway who had wavy, blond hair and wore a racy dress, she asked, “Can you direct me to Catherine’s bedroom?”

The young woman screwed her face up and gave Kate the once over. “Who wants to know?”

“The plumber,” she said dryly.

The woman called over her shoulder, shouting, “Hey, Cat, is there a problem with your toilet?”

From down the hallway, a lanky brunette peeked around the corner at them. Her eyes were dark and the particular arch to her brows made her look surprised. “Not that I know of,” she called out. “Why?”

“Some plumber lady here to look at your bathroom.”

Cat rolled her eyes and disappeared into her bedroom as though she couldn’t be bothered, but it didn’t stop Kate from walking briskly down the hallway and turning into the younger woman’s room.

The bedroom was a wreck, but that wasn’t what gave her pause. Besides Cat, there was a young lady lounging on the bed flipping through magazines and another two were on makeshift beds on the floor.

It took Kate a second to do the math, but it added up. There were only five guest bedrooms so, of course, the twenty escorts would have to sleep four to a room.

“Bathroom’s in here,” said Cat, but when she reached it, she turned on her heel. “Oh, do you mean the master bedroom? That’s where I’ve been staying.”

“You’ve been staying in Mr. Geoffrey’s room?”

A sly smirk formed on Cat’s face as she said, “He doesn’t need it.”

Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to give up being in this particular bedroom. It was a cluttered mess and if there was a syringe hiding in the bathroom or in a drawer, she didn’t want to be stuck in Hans’ bedroom. She scanned the room, but it was no use.

“It’s down this way,” said Cat, leading her out of the bedroom and up the hallway.

In order to test Cat, or perhaps provoke her, Kate said, “It looks like Hans will be released soon.”

“On bail?” she asked, snorting a laugh. “I’m not surprised. Even if the judge set it at two million, he’d be able to post it easily.”

“No,” she clarified, “because the police no longer believe he did it.”

Cat slowed her step as though she was pretending that the news hadn’t stunned her. “Who do they think did it?”

“I’m not sure, I’m only a plumber,” she said, carefully studying Cat from the corner of her eye as they entered the master bedroom.

“Well,” said Cat, shaking off whatever anxiety had formed. “I’m surprised the police think she was killed. She had a drug problem, and I read in the paper that Cherry died from an overdose.”

“She was definitely killed,” said Kate, hoping to scare her into doing or saying something revealing. “The medical examiner found a needle mark on her body that she could’ve never reached. Someone shot her up and intentionally gave her too much heroin.”

“Is that right?” she said, leaning on the bathroom doorway, as Kate set her tool kit on the tiles near the toilet. “I didn’t read about that in the paper.”

“Word travels fast in Rock Ridge,” Kate explained. “I’m sure it’ll reach the newspaper eventually...”

She lifted the lid off the toilet tank and set it on the tiles then began fiddling with the lever.

“What other rumors have you heard?” asked Cat, folding her arms.

“Well, let’s see,” she said, making a performance of splashing her hand around the tank. “The police suspect that Cherry’s dealer was behind her murder, so they’re only looking at her friends from New York.”

Cat glared at her for a long moment then asked, “Her friends? Why aren’t they looking at Taylor Rheingold or Dean Wentworth or one of the dozen men who had it in for Cherry?”

“I have no idea,” said Kate. “But from what I heard, those men all had alibis.”

Cat looked annoyed. She paced away from the bathroom and then circled back, complaining, “They could’ve bought their alibis.”

“Could they have?”

“Of course!” she blurted out, and then to cool off she did another lap. When she returned again, she stated, “It wasn’t any of her friends. None of us would do something like that.”

“Well, it might not matter if you did or didn’t. If the police suspect you, they’ll follow through and make an arrest, that’s just how it goes around here.”

“They can’t do that!”

“Can’t they? I mean, look at what they did to Hans.”

“If you ask me, Hans is guilty.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He always treated us like we were disposable,” she said.

“Has anyone else ever died while in his home?”

“Well, no,” she admitted.

Kate unfastened then refastened the lever chain. After returning the lid to the tank, she flushed the toilet to prove it was fixed.

“Who should I talk to at the police station?” asked Cat.

“You mean you haven’t spoken with them yet?”

Cat twisted her mouth to the side and said, “No, I did. But I didn’t tell them everything.”

“You can talk to the Police Chief, Scott York.”

“Ah,” she groaned, shaking her head. “No, I can’t talk to the police.”

Kate got to her feet and neared Cat. “You can tell me, and I’ll relay it to the police.”

She shook her head. “They’re just going to want to talk to me.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” said Kate. “Tell me what you know.”

Cat stared at her in such a way that chilled Kate.

“It’s not what I know,” she said quietly. “It’s what I found.”

The young escort led Kate through Hans’ bedroom and stopped in front of a dresser. She opened the top drawer.

Glancing down in the drawer, Kate found a syringe resting on top of some linen.

“Was this here?” she asked urgently. “I mean did you discover this syringe when you moved into this bedroom?”

“No,” she said, sounding remorseful. “Cherry was my friend, and I didn’t want the cops to think she was some kind of junkie so when I saw this in the coat room after the medics rolled her away, I snatched it.”

“Did you touch it directly?”

“No, I used the hem of my dress to pick it up and drop it into my purse.”

Kate turned to her and said, “So you didn’t help her shoot up that night using this syringe?”

“No! God no! And the reason I kept it is because it’s not ours, it’s not the kind we use. Look at it.”

Kate did, leaning over the drawer and studying the syringe.

Cat explained, “See those etched markings? It says the manufacturer, right? The ones we use are different. Hans gets them—”

“Hans has been providing you guys a means to get high?”

Cat smirked, saying, “Lady, you have no idea. But he uses a medical supplier in New York. It’s a different manufacturer with a different etching on the side. Whoever forced Cherry to overdose wasn’t one of us. And if you ask me, they had access to medical supplies because they work in a hospital.”

Chapter Nine

The next day, Maxwell was right on time to babysit Josie. Kate kissed her daughter goodbye and mentioned to Maxwell that she had plans to meet Carly in the park for lunch, but he was welcome to bring Josie and join them since Carly couldn’t get enough of her goddaughter.

It wasn’t until she set off driving toward the library, where Hazel Millhouse’s repair request laid waiting in store—the rickety table legs—that she began mentally reviewing the progress she and Scott had made yesterday.

Cat had allowed Kate to take the syringe and when she’d passed it off to Scott half a mile from the mansion, he told her that she had done great work. He would run the syringe for fingerprints, cross reference the fundraiser guest list with doctors who worked at hospitals in the tri-state area, and see if he couldn’t narrow down a fresh list of suspects.

A doctor could’ve killed Elaine for any number of reasons. Perhaps she had threatened to blackmail him with photos of their time together. Or maybe the doctor had been ashamed to have spent a night with a prostitute and couldn’t move on from his transgression unless the woman was dead. Either way, soon Scott would discover the man’s identity and arrest him.

She pulled her truck into the parking lot in front of the library and climbed out. The air was cold and the long-sleeve shirt she was wearing might not be enough to ward off the chill.

Grabbing her tool kit from the truck bed, she made a mental note to ask Maxwell to bring her a sweater when he met her and Carly for lunch.

For a split second as she entered the library, she stiffened at the thought of Mrs. Briar coming down on her for being too noisy, but then she remembered that the grumpy elderly woman was no longer living, having been killed some years prior. Hazel now worked with Holly Griffin, who she hired after the local inn, Over the Moon, was torn down and replaced with Rock Ridge Roses. Initially, Kate hadn’t liked Holly because the woman had acted pushy and entitled, storming through Rock Ridge and demanding a job at every business she came to. But Kate had gradually gotten to know Holly and was now glad that the woman was working at a job she liked.

Kate found Hazel scanning in returned library books behind the counter. There were a few patrons scattered across the various communal tables, but for the most part the main room was empty.

“Wonderful of you to come,” said Hazel in a whisper. “How are things going now that the mansion is done?”

“Busy as ever,” said Kate. She hadn’t exactly tackled her schedule. There was still a long list of customers waiting on her for repairs.

“Let me see here,” said Hazel, glancing at the tables. “I can have them move to one table while you work on the first two and then switch them again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, as Hazel moved out from behind the counter.

Once Hazel had consolidated all of the patrons at one table, Kate got to work, eyeing each table leg and tightening the screws. A half hour later, she was ready to repair the final table and instead of bothering Hazel, who had disappeared down an aisle to assist someone in finding the mystery novel section, she asked if the group would be so kind as to vacate their table.

They grumbled, collecting their laptop computers and books in order to once again move, but soon Kate was kneeling and fixing the legs one after the next.

Just as she was finishing up, Hazel returned and clapped her hands together, happy that the task was finally done.

“What a relief,” she said as she led Kate into the office behind the front desk. “I can’t tell you how squeaky those loose legs had become. It was driving me up a wall.”

She rounded the desk and found the library checkbook in one of the drawers and sat. Kate wrote up an invoice and handed it to her.

“Your rates have always been so reasonable,” she said as she made out the check.

“It’s been a lot easier now that I’m married to Scott, that’s for sure,” she said as Hazel handed her the check.

Changing the subject on a dime, the older woman commented, “I can’t believe that killer is out on bail.” She shook her head and added, “The wealthy seem to play by their own rules.”

“Wait,” she said. “Hans Geoffrey is out on bail?”

“If you ask me, he killed that woman, and he should be locked in a jail cell until the trial.”

“Well, Hazel there has been new information, and he might not have done it.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she said, waving the idea away with her hand. “I tell you, I don’t like any of these new characters who have been floating into Rock Ridge. They don’t belong. And I just know they’ll change this town for the worse.”

Kate couldn’t argue with her. She felt the same way, though it wasn’t lost on her that her own reaction was highly prejudicial. And the fact that there could be a new mayor voted in next week made her nervous. She already knew she would vote for Dean, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Hans Geoffrey had been influencing Dean, he’d even dragged him into the questionable world of escorts, and even if Dean was allowed another two years in office, Kate had little hope that he’d have a vested interest in preserving the way things were around here.

“Thanks,” said Kate, tucking the check into her pocket and grabbing her tool kit off the floor.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

She started through the library and after passing through the door, her cell began vibrating from her pocket.

It was Scott, so she answered quickly, swiping her thumb over the LCD screen and setting the cell against her ear. “What’s up?”

“Good news about the syringe,” he said. “We got a clear set of fingerprints and they didn’t belong to Elaine Benson.”

“Whose are they?”

“Well, we ran them through the system and couldn’t find a match, so we now know that our killer doesn’t have a criminal record. We also know that the syringe came from Rock Ridge Mercy.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you are. I’m working on cross-referencing the fundraiser guest list for any Rock Ridge doctors who might have attended.”

“Why would a doctor want to kill an escort?”

“I can think of at least a hundred reasons,” said Scott and, quite frankly, so could Kate, but it still shocked her.

“This is a solid start,” he told her. “We’re lucky Cat opened up to you, and I really think we should get you on the payroll as an informant.”

Kate had to laugh as she said, “I’ll think about it.”

Scott wrapped up the call by suggesting a place to meet for dinner and after Kate told him that she didn’t have a preference, he mentioned he would text her.

She tucked her cell into her pocket and climbed into her truck. Before setting off toward the park, she texted Maxwell that she was heading over and asked him to bring one of her sweaters.

The drive was pleasant enough until she reached the park. As she pulled her truck into the parking area, she was momentarily thrown that there were no spaces left. Instead, she parked across the street and after hopping out of her truck, she looked both ways before jogging over.

It was then that she saw Celia Demblowski holding a rally on the grassy side of the park beyond the baseball field.

It annoyed her, but didn’t surprise her. Of course Celia was striking now while the iron was hot. Dean was still suffering from the scandal and Celia was stealing his votes because of it.

Carly was seated at one of the picnic tables. Her blond hair wafted in the breeze. There was a picnic basket on the table and as Kate approached, waving, Carly smiled and began setting out their lunch.

“Where’s Josie?” she asked, opening her arms and giving Kate a hug.

“She’s on her way with Maxwell.”

“So you’ve been running around today?”

“Not enough, but yes,” she said, getting situated across from her friend.

Carly was staring at her and she had no idea why until her friend asked, “You didn’t end up throwing on that dress—”

“And going to the mansion?”

Carly gasped. “You didn’t! You did?”

“I thought I’d give it a shot,” she said then blurted out, “not to have an affair!”

“Wow, you scared me for a second.”

“Carly! You know me better than that.”

Her friend playfully cowered and then began setting out their sandwiches.

“I thought he was good for that woman’s murder, so I went to get a confession.”

“Which Scott used to arrest Hans,” she supplied.

“Oh, he arrested him alright, but not because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He found me there, and let’s just say I’ve had a rocky few days because of it.”

Carly looked stunned and said, “I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah, and the worst part is that Hans didn’t do it.”

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“I wish I was. Scott will catch the guy, though. It won’t be too much longer.”

They bit into their sandwiches and glanced over at Celia, who was shouting about the economy. The crowd in front of her podium cheered.

“She’s about to get a run for her money,” said Carly, setting her sandwich down and lifting a bottle of wine from the basket along with two glasses.

“How do you mean?”

Carly stared at her wide eyed for a long moment then said, “Kate, your name is on the ballot.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“How could I? Who put my name on the ballot? Why on earth would someone do that?”

“I thought you knew,” said Carly.

Kate began racking her brain, but nothing made sense. “I can’t be mayor,” she said. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Well, that’s debatable,” her friend pointed out. “Hey, you might be just the change this town needs.”

Kate shook off how thrown she was, concluding, “It’s not like anyone would actually vote for me. This has to be a practical joke.”

“For what it’s worth, I’d vote for you.”

“Oh please,” she said, laughing.

Soon Maxwell trekked over, carrying Josie in her car seat. Carly immediately popped up when he set the nine-month-old on the table. She lifted Josie into her arms and began smiling and having a high-pitched conversation with her goddaughter.

“How’s she been today?” Kate asked as Maxwell sat at the picnic table.

“Great as ever,” he said, glancing in the picnic basket. “What do we have here?”

Kate handed him a sandwich, and he wasted no time scarfing it down.

From out of nowhere, she heard a male voice behind her singing, “Lady in red...is dancing with me...”

“Oh, God,” she cringed, cautiously glancing over her shoulder.

It was Hans.

“Cheek to cheek...” he sang.

“Who’s the Romeo?” Maxwell asked her, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die because of it.

“Excuse me,” she said, hopping up and approaching Hans if for no other reason than to get him to stop singing.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

She frowned. “Just because you made bail doesn’t mean you should run around town with no regard.”

“You’re lucky I’m not furious,” he said in a smooth tone. “You set me up.”

“I didn’t set you up.”

“You agree to dinner and the next thing I know, I’m being arrested—and by your husband no less.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “As far as I’m concerned, you should be in jail. Supplying your escorts with drugs? Syringes? That’s deplorable.”

“Hey now, that’s on them. Those girls are going to do whatever they want, and the only reason I provided sterile syringes was to prevent them from getting diseases.”

“Oh, so you’re some kind of saint?” She laughed in his face. “Hardly.”

“You know I didn’t kill Cherry.”

She glared at him, but didn’t contradict his statement.

“That’s not why I’m here, though.”

“Of course not. You’re here to embarrass me,” she said.

“Not quite. We have a lot to go over,” he said easily, as he slipped his hands into his pockets and straightened his back.

“A lot to go over? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about where you stand on the issues. How you’ll respond during the debate in a few days. What you’ll wear. Lord knows you can’t show up in jeans and a ratty shirt.”

“It was you?” she asked, stunned. “You put me on the ballot?”

“Of course,” he said, grinning. “You think I haven’t noticed that people around here love you? You’re a shoo-in and once you’re in office, well, there’s nothing I won’t be able to do.”

“What about Dean? What about all the money you gave him?”

He shrugged. “I have plenty of money, and the bottom line is that Dean will never live down the fact that a dead hooker turned up at his fundraiser.”

Chapter Ten

Scott held Kate’s chair as she sat at their table in Gino’s, an Italian restaurant that they ordered from frequently, but rarely dined in. She had showered at home and changed into a nice pair of black jeans and a bright green sweater that fit her well. Scott hadn’t had time to change, but to Kate he always looked sharp. Once he had sat across from her, their waiter approached, recited the dinner specials, and asked if they’d like to order wine or perhaps cocktails.

“I’ll have a glass of Tempranillo,” she said and Scott ordered a beer.

When the waiter rushed off to fetch their drinks, Scott reached across the table and took her hand.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

“Well, I’m not one of those people who need to hear it, but I appreciate it.”

The waiter returned and set the glass of wine in front of Kate and the beer next to Scott. They hadn’t even looked at the menu yet, but both of them already knew what they wanted so Scott began, asking for spaghetti alfredo, and Kate said that she would have a steak with mashed potatoes and gravy.

When they were alone again, she asked, “Any luck finding doctors who went to Dean’s event?”

“That’s the problem,” he complained. “Most of the guests were doctors. It’s going to take some time to narrow it down.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hans invited everyone around who had money, so of course, a number of doctors showed up.”

“All from Rock Ridge Mercy?”

“A fair amount, but it’s only a matter of time. I managed to get a warrant to look into the computer system at the hospital so we’ll be able to identify who signed out medical supplies that weren’t used immediately at the hospital. Like I said, it’s a start.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m just glad you were able to get the night off.” They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, which to Kate felt slightly strained. She still hadn’t told him that Hans Geoffrey had added her name to the voting ballot. She wasn’t sure how he would take it. Of course, he would be furious that the billionaire wasn’t backing off from his interest in Kate. But the real issue she was having was that now that she was on the ballot, she felt kind of curious about what being mayor would be like. Not that she wanted to be Hans’s puppet. If anything, she wanted to run the guy out of town. But she felt like she shouldn’t clue Scott in until she knew what she was going to do about it.

Figuring that their entrees would arrive soon, she excused herself to the ladies’ room to wash her hands.

After crossing through to the back of the restaurant, she swung the bathroom door open to find three stalls. One of them was in use, so she neared the sinks and turned on the faucet. As she washed her hands, she caught sight of Celia emerging from one of the stalls.

The older woman hesitated to near the sink when she realized Kate was washing her hands. She took slow and deliberate steps that made Kate uncomfortable.

Kate turned off the faucet and began drying her hands.

“You’ve got some nerve,” said Celia, planting her fist on her hip.

“For the record, I didn’t put myself on that ballot. I have no interest in running for mayor.”

“Yeah, right, you expect me to believe that?”

As she tossed her paper towel into the bin, she said, “It’s the truth.”

“I heard you convinced Hans Geoffrey to get behind your campaign.”

“Then you heard wrong, Celia. Hans was the one who put me on the ballot, and I can assure you I have no interest in running.”

“Good,” she said. “No one would vote for you anyway.”

“If that’s what you think, then why are you acting so bent out of shape about it?”

Celia held her head high and announced, “I’m not,” but nothing could be further from the truth.

Kate left her to wash her hands in private and returned to the table just as the waiter was setting down their entrees.

She loved when that happened, but the fact of the matter was that Celia’s attitude had a lasting affect. She rarely cared what other people thought of her, but at the same time, she didn’t want anyone to be upset at her.

As she sat across from Scott, she told herself not to let one tense encounter with Celia ruin her dinner, but it was a challenge.

Scott gave a toast to their strong marriage and after they finished dinner, Kate couldn’t help but order dessert. After an hour of good conversation, the bill arrived and as Scott fished his wallet out of his slacks, Kate glanced out the window.

Outside, Marcy Clapton was skulking along the sidewalk and holding her cellphone very close to her ear. She looked distraught, but Kate supposed that could be because she had been forced to turn down her next big event in order to hang around Rock Ridge.

Still, the young woman didn’t look quite right, so Kate told Scott that she needed some fresh air and that he should take his time.

When she stepped outside, she saw Marcy tuck her cellphone into her purse and fold her arms.

“Nice night,” she said, approaching the young woman.

“According to whom?” she complained.

“Is something wrong?”

Marcy sighed and began shaking her head. “I should be back in New York already. This is ridiculous. And I just got an ear full from my dad. He thinks that as long as I’m in Rock Ridge, I should stay until the election, but I told him I missed the deadline to register to vote, so what’s the point?”

Kate cocked her head at that. “Why would he want you to vote here?”

“Oh, he’s been a resident for years. He’s behind Celia and worried that people will vote for Dean. I told him even if I did vote, it’s not like one vote would tip the scales.”

“Hmm,” Kate said. “He sounds involved.”

“He’s not that bad,” Marcy said, folding her arms against the wind. “Every time I start thinking he’s trying to control me, I just remind myself that Elaine had it far worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elaine’s dad...” she widened her eyes as if recalling a dark exchange from years ago. “When he found out about the club in New York and what Elaine was really doing for a living, he went crazy.”

“Did he?”

“He drove all the way over to her apartment and threatened to take her home and never let her leave the house.”

“He drove over from where?”

“From here,” she said easily. “Our parents are really good friends.”

“So Elaine’s father lives in Rock Ridge?”

“He’s devastated by her death. He hasn’t left the house since, or so my dad told me.”

“Marcy, when I asked you if Elaine had any enemies, why didn’t you mention her father?”

“Why would I? It’s not like anyone can blame him for flipping out. Any father would go berserk if he discovered his daughter was a drug-addicted prostitute.”

It was a valid point, but Kate’s gut was telling her that Elaine’s father didn’t just disapprove of his daughter’s risky lifestyle, so she asked, “What does he do for a living?”

Marcy rolled her eyes, saying, “The same thing my dad does. He’s a surgeon.”

Suddenly, Kate’s chest felt tight, and urgently she asked, “Was he at the fundraiser the other night?”

“If he was, my dad would kill him for not supporting Celia.”

He could’ve been there anyhow, thought Kate. Maybe he was supporting Dean privately or maybe, just maybe, he had wormed his way into the benefit for no other reason than to get rid of the daughter he couldn’t control.

Marcy was staring at her and finally said, “Whoa, you can’t think that Elaine’s dad killed her?”

Kate locked eyes with her and said, “That’s exactly what I think. Tell me his name.”

Chapter Eleven

Sitting in her idling truck, she watched the hospital’s entrance doors whoosh open, as a nurse hurried inside. Kate blew on her steaming cup of coffee and took a sip. The morning sun was glaring through the parking lot so she flipped the visor down and wondered whether or not she was crazy.

She hadn’t told Scott about Marcy Clapton’s unexpected admission last night mainly because it disturbed her far too much. This was the second instance of a parent murdering their own child to spare themselves from embarrassment, and she just couldn’t stand it. What was becoming of the world?

Elaine’s father would’ve had the money and resources to get his daughter real help if he was so concerned. She could’ve gone to rehab. She could’ve cleaned up her life if she had the means. Why kill her instead?

Maybe Elaine had come to like the life she was leading. Not everyone working in the sex industry had been strong-armed or coerced into the life. It’s possible that Elaine could’ve enjoyed it. Perhaps she’d been in denial about her drug addiction and thought it wasn’t that bad. But even if that had been her mentality, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have eventually hit rock bottom and want to change. Nothing was set in stone, after all.

And Kate’s own life was a prime example of that. Sure, being a handy woman wasn’t a health risk like shooting heroin was, but she now felt ready to move on from her fix-it lifestyle and perhaps try something entirely new. And Elaine could’ve very well done the same.

Kate leaned back against her seat, drinking her coffee and wondering about her own options. The fact that Scott had suggested that she work as an informant was certainly appealing. But at the same time, Kate had never been one to follow the rules. If she worked with the police, she’d definitely be expected to do just that. Would she want to sign up for that type of dynamic?

Competing with the option of working as an informant was the possibility of being voted in as mayor of Rock Ridge. She knew it was unlikely but couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. If she were mayor, would she be able to improve the economy? Could she balance the budget? Could she run this town in a way that satisfied the residents?

She really wasn’t sure. However, the notion of becoming mayor was so appealing that she had often found herself daydreaming about giving speeches and making arguments in the debate.

She wouldn’t want to do that to Dean, though. She had always considered him a close friend, and he would be crushed to find her running against him.

Did he already know that her name had been added to the ballot?

She cringed and hoped not. If he heard it from anyone, it should be her.

It would be nice, however, to knock Celia Demblowski down a notch or two, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to launch headlong into a well-planned campaign.

Kate shook off her daydreaming and focused on the hospital.

Last night, Marcy had told her that Elaine’s father was a surgeon named Gerald Benson. After a quick Google search, she had learned that Gerald had moved his family to Rock Ridge from Milwaukee when Elaine was only five years old. He vacationed in the Bahamas and went to several conferences throughout the world. Kate had researched the type of surgery he did, and according to his expertise, she had no doubt in her mind that Gerald had dragged Elaine into the coat room that night and stabbed her with a lethal dose of her favorite drug.

The problem Kate did have, however, was that she hadn’t formulated a good enough excuse to approach the doctor. She had to assume he would be busy, rushing around the hospital and saving lives. What could she possibly tell the front desk to gain access to Gerald’s specific wing of the hospital?

Though she had no idea, she climbed out of her truck anyway, set her empty coffee cup into the cup holder on the dash, and after locking up, made her way through the sliding glass door.

She approached the front desk with caution, brainstorming as she went for what to say.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter.

“I hope so,” she said, fumbling for her ID. “I heard Gerald Benson is one of the best for knee replacement surgery.”

“He is,” said the woman without affect. “Do you have an appointment?”

“You know,” said Kate. “I thought I did. I used the hospital website, but I think the confirmation email went straight into my spam.”

“I can look you up,” she offered. “What’s the name?”

“Uh...” She knew this wasn’t going to work, but she said, “Kate Flaherty,” anyway.

After typing the name into her computer system, the nurse began shaking her head. “I’m sorry, no. We don’t have you.”

“Oh, you know what? Try York, that’s my married name.”

“Kate York?” she confirmed before typing, and then again apologized.

“I’m no good at the internet,” Kate said. “Is there anyway I can see the doctor?”

“I can’t guarantee when he’ll be available,” she said. “But I’ll call up to his office and let them know you’re on your way. He’s on the third floor and the elevators are straight back.”

“Thanks,” said Kate, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

She found the elevators easily and rode one to the third floor, which appeared to be where the majority of the doctors’ offices were.

After trailing down the hallway, she came to a door with Gerald Benson’s name on it and entered quietly. There was a receptionist seated behind a desk, but Kate didn’t approach right away. Instead, she glanced up the hall to see if Gerald happened to be floating through.

A woman stepped out into the hall and turned as she said, “Thank you so much, Dr. Benson.”

As the woman walked toward the desk, nearing Kate, she saw an older man in a white coat step into the hall, his face buried in a patient chart.

Kate stepped aside as the other woman exited out of the office. She then watched Gerald set the patient chart on the desk and say, “I need some air.”

“Yes, doctor,” said the receptionist, who immediately began typing the notes from the patient chart into her computer.

Gerald passed Kate, walking out into the hallway.

She watched him over her shoulder and when he turned the corner, she quietly traipsed behind him. As she rounded the corner after him, she saw a stairwell door drift shut.

She caught it before it could make a sound in the doorjamb and slipped onto the landing.

She could hear Gerald trekking down the stairs. Being as quiet as possible, she followed him, and then paused at the sound of the basement door whooshing open.

Again, she caught the door as Gerald walked briskly through the hospital’s second parking area in the sub-basement.

She peered out and watched as the man neared a nurse, who seemed to be waiting.

“Hans is out on bail,” said the nurse.

“Try not to panic. We knew he would be.”

“I heard the police are still investigating,” she said sounding worried.

“Elaine had dozens of terrible friends. All that the police are going to think is that one of them killed her.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, grabbing his collar.

For a hot second, Kate thought the nurse was going to hit Gerald, but she buried her face in his chest instead and began crying.

When she lifted her face again, she pleaded, “You have to make this go away. I don’t care how you do it. I can’t sleep.”

“I’m telling you, Roxanne. Everything is going to work out. All you have to do is remain calm and go about your business.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” she cried.

As their voices lowered, Kate scanned the parking lot. If there was a cement pillar, she could scurry up behind it and get closer. But there wasn’t one.

Obviously, Gerald had killed his daughter, and this poor nurse was riddled with guilt because of it. What Kate needed was proof—hard evidence that she could take to Scott and put this entire investigation to bed once and for all.

Thinking fast on her feet, she pulled her cellphone from her pocket and cued up the recorder app. When she lifted her eyes, she saw Gerald and the nurse kissing.

She needed them to start talking again and they were in the throes of making out. She cursed under her breath, racking her brain for what to do next.

She would bluff.

It was her only shot.

Though she felt anything but, she confidently strode out through the parking lot, which caused them to startle, and she locked eyes with Gerald Benson as she lifted her cell phone.

“You killed her,” she stated. “I recorded your entire conversation.”

The nurse’s mouth dropped open, but Gerald didn’t seem rattled.

Kate continued, saying, “You were at that event. You followed Elaine into the coatroom or dragged her there. You killed your own daughter because she was an embarrassment.”

“I’m going to call my attorney,” he announced.

But the nurse said, “That won’t be necessary.”

From the corner of her eye, Kate saw the nurse thrust her hand up, but it wasn’t until she felt the prick of a needle sinking into the side of her neck that she understood what the woman had intended.

And it wasn’t a second later that Kate went limp and fell into Gerald’s arms.

Chapter Twelve

When Kate woke, she had no concept of whether minutes had passed or hours. A bright light was shining in her face and a moment later, she realized that she was strapped to a table.

She was in some kind of hospital room, but it was quiet, too quiet to be in the actual hospital.

As her eyes adjusted to the glare, she sensed she wasn’t alone.

“I know who you are,” said a woman, who Kate quickly identified as the nurse from the basement. “You’re the Police Chief’s wife.”

“Let me go.”

“I think we both know that’s not going to happen,” she said as she circled Kate.

“Why are you covering for him?” Kate demanded. “I could see how upset you were that he killed his daughter.”

“He didn’t,” said the nurse.

Before she could go on, Kate remembered her name and blurted out, “Roxanne, he’s lying to you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s protecting me.”

It took a long moment for the ugly truth to dawn on Kate, but when it did, she asked, “It was you? You killed Elaine? Why?”

“Because my husband didn’t have the balls,” she said frankly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your own daughter destroy herself? To watch her sell her body? Do you know what it feels like to desperately try to stop her, and nothing works because she likes her life and sees nothing wrong with it? I couldn’t take it anymore!”

Roxanne plucked a syringe off of a nearby tray and squirted liquid.

“She should’ve stayed in New York,” she went on. “She shouldn’t have come back here. You think I wanted to kill her?”

“Don’t,” said Kate, as Roxanne brought the needle to her neck.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “This isn’t a sedative. If you’re anything like Elaine, you’ll thank me.”

“Elaine didn’t thank you for killing her.”

“She thanked me for killing her with a heroin overdose,” she countered.

“I doubt that,” Kate said, spitting through her teeth at the vile woman. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re all alone,” she said, leaning over Kate. “No one will hear you scream. No one will know what happened. When they find your body in a dumpster, and the medical examiner runs tests, everyone will think you died of a heroin overdose. And there will be no investigation.”

“You’re out of your mind,” she yelled, twisting under the straps that braced her to the table.

Roxanne cooed, “Hold still, now,” and brought the needle to her neck once again.

But just as Kate felt the cool metal prick against her skin, the door banged open and Gerald burst into the room.

Roxanne straightened up in shock.

“You can’t do this,” he insisted.

“It’s as good as done.”

Before Kate knew what was happening, Gerald lunged at the nurse and wrestled the syringe out of her hand.

“We can make this go away!” Roxanne shrieked. “Let me kill her!”

“She’s not the only one who knows!” he yelled. “It’s all over, Roxanne!”

“It’s not!”

Gerald braced her on the ground, pinning her hands over her head. “It is. I called the police.”

“You what?” she exclaimed, writhing beneath him.

In an exhausted voice, he said, “I’m sorry.”

As Roxanne began screaming and writhing beneath him, Kate turned her head toward the open doorway just as Scott and a cluster of police officers were racing into the room.

The uniformed officers swarmed Roxanne and handcuffed her as Scott rushed to Kate’s side and began tearing the straps off of her. “What were you thinking?” he asked quietly and without a shred of anger.

“I only wanted to confront Gerald.”

“Well, Gerald didn’t do it. His wife did.”

“Yeah,” she said, sitting upright. “I got that.”

She tried to stand from the table, but Scott wouldn’t let her.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” he said.

“Isn’t that where we are?”

It wasn’t until the medics arrived, helped Kate into a wheelchair, and rolled her outside as Scott trailed behind that Kate realized she had been in a house.

As they neared the ambulance, Scott took her hand and said, “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’d rather you be mayor of Rock Ridge than an informant who’s constantly in harms way.”

“You heard?”

He smiled down at her and said, “Word travels fast in Rock Ridge.”

Chapter Thirteen

A week later, Kate stood beside Scott at the front of the town hall. The lights were bright and the room was filled with residents. Maxwell was seated in the front row, holding Josie on his lap. Celia Demblowski, who was sitting off to the wayside and looking sour, unfolded her arms and feigned a congratulatory smile at Kate.

Well, it was something.

Hans Geoffrey had flown back to Sweden, and Taylor Rheingold had returned to Norway, giving Kate a sense that corruption no longer threatened her town.

From the podium, Dean Wentworth expelled a heavy a sigh, glanced out at the crowd, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen of Rock Ridge, your new mayor, Kate York!” The room broke out in applause.

Kate couldn’t believe it. She had spent the week debating against both Celia and her good friend Dean. She wasn’t used to making political arguments and often she had garbled her words, but still, her views on the various issues had shined through and, ultimately, the residents had voted her into office. And she had managed her busy week by juggling a slew of fix-it jobs so that her long-standing customers wouldn’t have to go without.

This was the start of something very new and completely unexpected, she thought as she walked across the stage toward Dean.

He handed her the keys to the city, and they posed, holding still and smiling, while cameras flashed.

Dean gestured for her to step forward and take the floor. She rested her hands on the podium and smiled. She had dreamed of this moment and couldn’t quite grasp that it was finally here.

She kept her acceptance speech short and sweet, assuring the residents that she would do everything in her power to keep the economy healthy and Rock Ridge safe. As she wrapped it up, she saw Carly seated beside Larry in the crowd. Her friends were smiling proudly at her.

At least some things would never change.

As she stepped aside, Dean took the stand and reminded everyone about the election party at the amusement park later in the evening. With his retirement, Dean was going to pour his heart and soul into the park and also resume his post at Wentworth Contractors. And he had also agreed to take on Kate’s customers so that they could get their repairs done at fair prices.

Kate stepped down from the stage as the residents began filtering out the back.

Scott pulled her in for a big hug, saying, “I’m so proud of you,” before giving her a kiss.

When she turned, she found Carly and Larry approaching, but it was Celia who reached her first.

The older woman said, “I really am happy for you, Kate.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“I know you’ll do an excellent job of mayor and if you don’t,” she teased, “then I’ll write all about it in the paper.”

“I’m sure you will.”

They hugged, and then Kate scooped Josie out of Maxwell’s arms, and they set off through the town hall and outside.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Kate said to Scott as they neared his truck. She felt her eyes mist over with tears at the thought of never again fixing a broken shelf or laying down bathroom tiles or nailing shingles onto a roof.

“It’s a new beginning, Katydid,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “And you deserve it.”

“What are they going to call me now?”

“They can still call you Mrs. Fix It, only this time you’ll be keeping the whole town in good running order.”

She smiled and as she hopped into the passenger’s seat, she knew she was ready to start a brand new life.

~ END OF SERIES ~

Thank you for reading!