Timber Falls Courier

MORE MYSTERY SHROUDS TIMBER FALLS!

FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER GOES HEAD-TO-HEAD WITH HOAX BUSTER

by Charity Jenkins

Something is afoot in Timber Falls—and it isn't Bigfoot. The world thought her father was a crackpot, but famous outdoor photographer Rozalyn Sawyer has come back to town to prove them wrong.

Back for the first time since her mother's tragic death ten years ago, Rozalyn has no idea what she's up against.

This reporter has learned that Ford Lancaster, the infamous scientist and Bigfoot hoax buster, was seen at Betty's Café. What could have brought this tall, dark and intense hunk to town? Is it possible Ford Lancaster is on the trail of Bigfoot? Or is he on a collision course with Rozalyn Sawyer? Never fear, this reporter, Charity Jenkins, will get to the bottom of it.

Day of Reckoning
B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A former award-winning journalist, B.J. Daniels had thirty-six short stories published before her first romantic suspense, Odd Man Out, came out in 1995. In 2002 her books Premeditated Marriage and Rodeo Daddy were nominated for a Career Acheivement Award. B.J. lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, two springer spaniels, Zoey and Scout, and a temperamental tomcat named Jeff. She is a member of Kiss of Death, the Bozeman Writers Group and Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards in the winters and camps and boats in the summers. All year she plays her favorite sport, tennis. To contact her, write P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771 or visit her Web site at www.bjdaniels.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Rozalyn Sawyer—She thinks all she has to fear in Timber Falls are the ghosts of her past. She can’t be more wrong.

Ford Lancaster—All he cares about is money and fame—until he meets Rozalyn Sawyer.

Anna Sawyer—Her daughter Rozalyn is still haunted by her mother’s suicide from the attic widow’s walk ten years ago.

Liam Sawyer—Rozalyn’s father is missing—and so soon after his quickie marriage to a younger woman. Is he really out hunting for Bigfoot? Or has he met with foul play?

Emily Lane Sawyer—She seems to be the perfect wife. Maybe too perfect?

Drew Lane—He’s the only one of Rozalyn’s new stepsiblings who seems to like her. But is it only to irritate his mother?

Suzanne Lane—Why does she feel the need to numb her senses with alcohol?

Dr. James Morrow—He was the last person to see Rozalyn’s mother alive. And now no one has seen him for the past ten years.

Lynette Hargrove—The nurse bears a remarkable resemblance to Liam’s new wife. But how is that possible? Lynette died in a fiery car wreck years ago.

This one is for Uncle Norb and Aunt Ginny. I love being part of your family. Thanks for all the support and encouragement and my best to you both always.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

The blur of red taillights on the highway ahead suddenly disappeared in the pouring rain and blackness.

Rozalyn Sawyer hit her brakes, shocked to realize she didn’t know where she was. The road didn’t look familiar. But it was hard to tell in this part of Oregon with an impenetrable jungle of green just off the pavement.

She’d been following the vehicle ahead of her for the past twenty miles. She’d picked it up outside of Oakridge, happy to see another car on this lonely stretch of highway tonight, especially at this time of year.

In her headlights she’d seen the solitary driver silhouetted behind the wheel of the pickup and felt an odd kinship. Between the rain, the darkness and the isolation, she’d been a little uneasy. But then she’d been feeling that way ever since she’d heard her father hadn’t returned from his recent camping trip.

She vaguely remembered seeing a detour sign in the middle of the highway just before the pickup had turned. She’d followed the truck in front of her as the driver turned on to the narrower road to the left, and didn’t remember any other roads off of this one.

But now she saw that the pavement ended. With a shock she realized where she was. Lost Creek Falls. She felt shaken, confused. How had she ended up on the dead-end road to the waterfall?

She’d been following the red taillights in front of her and not paying attention, that’s how. The driver must have taken a wrong turn back at the detour sign and she’d blindly followed him. She’d been distracted, worrying about her father. As far as she could tell, no one had seen or heard from him in more than two weeks—and that included Emily, his bride of six months.

“I told you. He took his truck and camper and his camera, just like he always does,” Emily had said when Roz called her yesterday. “He said he’d be back when he came back and not to concern myself. He was very clear about that.”

Yes, for a few days. Not for two weeks. Liam Sawyer was in great shape for his age. He would be sixty on Thanksgiving Day, but Roz worried he might be trying to act even younger after marrying a woman fifteen years his junior.

Since no one had heard from him, Roz was sick with worry that something had happened. And now this “detour” would only make her arrival in Timber Falls all that much later.

The other driver had turned around in the gravel parking lot and stopped, his headlights blinding her as she pulled past and started to turn around.

The moonless rainy darkness and the dense forest closed in around her car as she began her turn. Remote areas like this had always unnerved her, especially since from the time she was a child she’d known what was really out there.

Suddenly someone ran through her headlights. All she caught was a flash of yellow raincoat. She hit her brakes and stared ahead of her as the person wearing the bright yellow hooded raincoat climbed over the safety barrier at the top of the falls and disappeared in the trees that grew out over the water.

The driver of the pickup? Why would he venture out to the falls on a night like this, she wondered, watching to see if he reappeared.

Suddenly, she spotted the yellow raincoat through the trees at the edge of the falls. The figure seemed to be teetering on the precipice above the roaring water as if—

“Oh, God, no.” Roz threw open her door and ran coatless through the icy cold rain toward the waterfall, fear crushing her chest making it nearly impossible to breathe. Not again. Dear God, not again.

“Don’t!” she cried, still a dozen yards away.

The person didn’t look her way, didn’t even acknowledge hearing her. Through the rain and darkness, Roz ran, watching in horror as the bright yellow raincoat seemed to waver before it fell forward, dropping over the edge, and being instantly swallowed up in the spray of the falls.

Roz raced to the railing but couldn’t see anything past the trees. Panicked, she ran around the barrier and pushed her way through the tree limbs, praying she’d find the person clinging to the edge.

The roar of the waterfall was deafening. She could feel the spray, warmer than the rain falling around her as she worked her way out onto the moss-slick boulders. She’d had a horrible fear of heights for the past ten years.

But her fear for the jumper was stronger than for herself as she grasped the slim branch of a pine tree leaning out over the waterfall.

Holding on fiercely, she stepped to the edge, her heart dropping as she glimpsed something bright yellow churning in the dark waters below.

She let out a cry and tried to step back. The limb in her hand broke and suddenly she was trying to find purchase on the wet, slick moss at her feet.

With the roar of the waterfall in her ears, she didn’t hear him. Nor did she realize he’d come out onto the rocks above the dizzying dark water until he grabbed her from behind.

Chapter One

November 14

It was late when Charity Jenkins heard someone come in to the Timber Falls Courier newspaper office, and realized she’d forgotten to lock the front door.

Her hand dropped to the desk drawer and the Derringer she now kept there. She’d put it in the desk after almost being killed a few weeks before. Unfortunately, as the days had gone by, she’d become lax again about security. Probably because for almost thirty years, she’d been safe in Timber Falls.

“Dammit, Charity, if you’re going to work late, you’ve got to lock the door,” Sheriff Mitch Tanner barked as he came through the dark doorway.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and gently lowered the gun back into the drawer. “Forgot.” She smiled up at him as he moved in to the pool of light at her desk. Her heart did a little dippy-do-da dance, as it always did at the sight of him.

He was tall and dark with two perfect deep-set dimples, a Tanner trait. Gorgeous and impossible and the only man for her.

She watched him glance around the small newspaper office. As owner, publisher, editor and reporter, she often worked late. Her only help was a high school student who came in some evenings. This wasn’t one of those evenings.

So it was just the two of them. Which was nice since it had been a few days since she’d seen the good sheriff.

For years she’d been trying to get him to realize he couldn’t live without her. True, there’d been moments when he’d weakened and kissed her. But he’d always taken off like a shot, holding fast to his conviction that he wasn’t good marriage material and that the two of them together would be murder.

That is, until recently. A few weeks ago, after she’d almost been killed, Mitch had asked her out. On a real date. It had been nothing short of miraculous. Same with the date. And there’d been more kissing. He’d even given her a silver bracelet she’d once admired. The entire episode had bowled her over completely. Maybe there was hope after all.

Unfortunately, she could tell that he was still fighting the inevitable as if he thought there was some doubt that they’d be getting married. Obviously, he didn’t believe, like Charity did, that love conquered all.

“You’re working late,” he said, coming around to pull up a chair next to her desk. His gaze went to the open drawer and her gun. With a groan, he reached over to close the drawer. “Tell me it isn’t loaded.”

“What would be the point of an unloaded gun?” she asked, wondering why he’d stopped by.

“Try not to shoot yourself, okay?”

She grinned at him. Just the sight of him made her day. Maybe he was here to ask her to that dance at the community center this coming weekend. Or maybe he’d just come by for a kiss. Her lips tingled expectantly at the thought.

But that hope was quickly dashed when he pushed back his sheriff’s hat and put on his official business face.

He cleared his throat and said, “You’re going to hear about this anyway so I thought the best thing to do—”

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter. He’d come to tell her something he didn’t want to tell her. This ought to be good. Almost as good as a kiss. Almost.

“You were right,” he said, the words clearly difficult for him.

She sat back. Oh yeah, this day just couldn’t get any better. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly?”

“You heard me. You were right. The shot that killed Bud Farnsworth didn’t come from Daisy Dennison’s gun. It came from Wade’s.”

Charity jerked back in her chair, the ramifications of his words nearly flooring her. “I knew it. I told you Wade Dennison was in on the kidnapping!”

Wade Dennison was the owner of Dennison Ducks, the local decoy factory outside of town and the largest employer in Timber Falls. Wade had shocked the town by bringing home a much younger wife thirty years ago.

They had a daughter right away, Desiree. Then two years later another one, Angela. Several weeks after Angela’s birth the baby disappeared from her crib never to be seen again. There’d been rumors that the baby wasn’t Wade’s.

No ransom demand was ever made. No body ever found. Daisy Dennison, who’d been the talk of the town, became a recluse after her youngest daughter’s disappearance. That is until Halloween, when she’d showed up with a gun at the Dennison Ducks factory and helped save Charity’s life when the decoy foreman had tried to kill them both.

Bud Farnsworth had abducted Charity to retrieve a letter that implicated him in Angela Dennison’s disappearance. A Dennison Ducks employee named Nina Monroe had mailed the letter to the Timber Falls Courier, Charity’s newspaper, right before she was killed. Nina had more than a few secrets, it turned out, and a flair for blackmail.

Bud destroyed the letter before anyone could read it—including Charity much to her regret—but there was no doubt now that he was somehow involved in kidnapping the baby.

The only question that had remained was: Did he act alone?

Charity was sure he didn’t. In fact, she was damned sure that Wade Dennison had hired Bud to get rid of the baby because he believed Angela wasn’t his. Just before Bud died, he’d tried to talk and he’d been looking right at Wade at the time.

Charity was convinced that Wade had shot Bud to shut him up, and now that she knew Wade had fired the fatal shot that killed Bud—and not his wife, Daisy—Charity was even more convinced of Wade’s guilt.

“Wade was behind the kidnapping,” Charity said.

“This is exactly why I wanted to tell you about this myself.”

She rolled her eyes. “You told me because you knew I was going to find out.” And here she’d been hoping he’d come by just to see her.

“Maybe I thought I could keep you from doing a story that might get you killed.”

“You romantic, you.”

“I’m serious, Charity. I’m worried about you and what you’re going to do next.”

“Mitch, I saw Bud try to say something to Wade right before he died,” Charity said, feeling a chill at the memory. “He was going to incriminate Wade. That’s why Wade shot him, so the truth would never come out.”

“We don’t know that for a fact and speculating only leads to trouble. Especially in print. I would have thought you’d have learned that by now.”

She smiled. This was an old argument between them. “I’m a newspaper woman. It’s my job to get to the truth, and sometimes I have to rattle a few cages to do that and you wouldn’t be worried unless you thought I was right about Wade Dennison being a dangerous man.”

Mitch took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?”

She cocked her head at him. “What did you have in mind?” And to think not long ago she’d thought, if she could just write a Pulitzer Prize-winning story, Mitch would finally realize he couldn’t live without her and ask her to marry him.

Instead, she’d realized that Mitch would have been happier if she wasn’t a journalist at all. For some reason, he worried about her safety. Maybe because a lot of her stories got her into trouble.

He put his hat back on—and his official face.

She could play that game, too. “Have you talked to Wade?” she asked, knowing there was no way Wade was going to speak to her on the record or off.

“He admits he could have fired the fatal shot but says all he could think about was saving his wife, Daisy. That’s the official statement.” Mitch reached in to his coat and brought out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to her.

“I figured that would be his story,” she said, unfolding the paper to see that it was an official statement from the sheriff’s office. She tossed it aside. “I’ll be careful what I print, but Mitch, what if I’m right?”

His dark eyes settled on her. “If you’re right, then Wade Dennison is a killer. You might want to keep that in mind.”

“But how do we prove it?” she cried. “We can’t let him get away with murder.”

“We aren’t going to prove it,” he said getting to his feet. “I am. I have no intention of letting him get away with murder—if he’s guilty. But Charity, as hard as this is for you, you might be wrong this time.”

She smirked at that. “You know I’m right ninety-nine percent of the time.”

He shook his head but seemed unable not to smile down at her. “You are something.”

A person could take that a number of ways.

“Try to accept the fact that we may never know what happened to Angela Dennison,” he said after a moment.

She couldn’t stand the thought. “There has to be a way.”

Mitch was shaking his head. “Charity, getting involved last time almost cost you your life.”

True. But it had also made Mitch realize that he cared for her. She wisely didn’t point this out to him though.

He stood looking down at her as if there was more he wanted to say. She waited for him to ask her to the dance. Or maybe to a late dinner. It had been almost a week since he’d kissed her.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said quietly.

She smiled up at him. “You know me.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” He turned to leave. “See you later.” She hoped so as she watched him go, her lips feeling neglected.

She got up and locked the front door as he drove away. Then she turned back to her computer. She had a story to write.

The phone rang. She picked it up, already knowing who it would be.

“I got that ballistics report you wanted,” said her source on the other end of the line. “Are you sitting down?”

She sat, even though she already knew the results.

“Wade Dennison’s gun killed Bud Farnsworth.”

“You’re the best, Tommy.” A thought had been percolating ever since Mitch left. If she was right and Wade Dennison had hired Bud Farnsworth to do his dirty work, then there would be a money trail. “Tommy, I have another little favor.”

“Little?” he cried when he heard what she wanted. “Do you realize how many years in prison I could get for hacking in to bank records?”

“More years than hacking in to the state investigation’s office for a ballistics report?” she asked innocently.

He laughed. “What’s the name on the account?”

“Two accounts. Wade Dennison and Bud Farnsworth. And I’m interested in old records—say twenty-seven years ago? Let me give you the dates.”

Tommy let out a low whistle when she’d finished. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Are you kidding?” She hung up and typed Wade Dennison Fired Fatal Bullet To Silence Kidnapper or Save Wife? Angela Dennison Kidnapping Still A Mystery and stopped, reminding herself that Wade had threatened her life not that long ago. True, he did it in front of the sheriff—and she hadn’t taken it all that seriously. But now…now she wasn’t so sure she didn’t have something to fear.

Not that it would stop her from doing the story. Or doing a little checking into both Dennison’s and Farnsworth’s bank accounts. After all, she was a journalist whether Mitch liked it or not and she came from a family of the best gossips in four counties. She hated not knowing what was really going on. There had to be a way to get to the truth.

The problem was Wade might be the only one left alive who knew the truth about Angela Dennison’s kidnapping. Maybe it was possible to make Wade angry enough to do something that would get him caught.

She began to type again, telling herself that Mitch wasn’t going to be happy about this. Nothing new about that. Too bad, though, that he hadn’t kissed her. She feared that by tomorrow morning when the paper came out, kissing her would be the furthest thing from his mind.

THE ROAR of the waterfall drowned out Roz’s scream as she tried to fight off the strong arms that grabbed her from behind.

Frantic, she struggled to regain her balance, to free herself of his hold. As she lost her footing on the wet moss-slick boulder, she felt the earth tilt and all she could see was the dizzying darkness of the water below as she slipped and started to fall toward the gorge.

The arms around her loosened as if he realized he was going to pitch over the waterfall with her if he didn’t let go with one arm and try to grab something to save himself.

She drove her elbow into his ribs and heard him let out an oath, but he held on and suddenly she was jerked backward. He took her down with him, both of them hitting hard as they fell under the wide base of a pine tree a few feet from the edge of the falls.

“Stay away from me,” she cried, scooting back from him as her hands searched for something to defend herself with. Her fingers closed around a chunk of wet wood. She held it up, brandishing the wood like a club, as she struggled to get her feet under her.

It was dark under the tree. Not even the light from her SUV’s headlamps could reach it. But she could see that he was large as he also rose to his feet. His face was in a shadow, his features a blur, but his eyes— The irises were so pale they seemed almost iridescent in the dim light.

He advanced on her, his hands out as if in surrender, but she knew he was just looking for another opening to lunge for her again.

“You come near me and I’ll hit you,” she yelled over the roar of the waterfall as she backed up as far as she could. “I’m warning you.”

“Fine,” he said and stopped. “Go ahead, jump. I don’t care. My mistake for trying to save you from yourself.”

She blinked at him through the mist and rain. “Save me from myself? I wasn’t going to jump.”

“Right. Whatever. Go ahead. Have at it. Believe me, I won’t try to stop you again.” He crossed his arms over his chest. She noticed for the first time that, like her, he wasn’t wearing a coat. His shirt and slacks were soaked. Just as hers were.

“You weren’t trying to push me off the waterfall?”

He glared at her. “Are you crazy? What am I saying? Of course you’re crazy or you wouldn’t be up here in the middle of a damned rainstorm trying to commit suicide. And this is the thanks I get for attempting to save your life.”

“Thanks? You almost killed us both,” she snapped. “And I told you, I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” She shuddered at the thought.

“Uh-huh. You just wanted to get a good look at the waterfall.” He started to turn away. “Well, have a good look. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I saw someone jump.”

He stopped and turned slowly. “What?”

“I saw someone in a yellow raincoat jump.” She glanced off to the side toward the waterfall, sick with the memory. “That’s why I rushed over here.”

“You saw someone?”

Could his tone be any more mocking?

“I think it was a woman.” Had she caught a glimpse of long blond hair just before the figure disappeared over the top of the falls? “I saw her—” her voice broke “—lean forward and drop over the edge. When I got to the top of the falls, the yellow raincoat she was wearing was in the water below.”

“Uh-huh,” he said and looked around. “And this woman who jumped, where is her car?”

“Right over—”

“That’s my truck. But you ought to know that. You’ve been following me for the past twenty miles.”

She looked past her own car, the engine still running, the interior light on since she’d left her door open in her haste. The headlights sliced a narrow swath of pale gold through the pouring rain and darkness. There were no other vehicles. Just hers. And his. Nor had she seen any other cars on the highway tonight.

“How did this mysterious jumper get out here?” he asked.

She shook her head, confused. The waterfall was too far from anything for anyone to have walked. Especially this time of year in a rainstorm.

“You and I are the only ones out here,” he said.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d seen someone in a bright yellow raincoat, seen the person jump, seen the coat in the water below the falls.

Even back here under the shelter of the large old pine, she could still feel that falling sensation, the roaring in her ears, the warm spray on her face, feel the watery grave far, far below as her feet slipped on the mossy rock.

“You had to have seen her,” Roz said trembling hard now but not from the cold.

“All I saw was you in my side mirror as I started to leave. I saw you throw on your brakes, bolt from your car and run to the edge of the waterfall.”

He’d been watching her? That’s why he hadn’t seen the person in the yellow raincoat. So he’d just been trying to save her? “If I was wrong about your intentions—”

He waved off her apology. “Forget it.”

“We have to call the sheriff.” Even as she said it, she knew no one could have survived that fall into the rocks and water below. It would just be a matter of recovering the body.

“You have a cell phone that works up here?” he asked. “I tried mine when I stopped. No service.”

She shook her head. Of course there wouldn’t be any service up here. “I’ll call the sheriff when I get closer to Timber Falls.”

“You sure you want to do that?”

She rubbed a hand over her wet face, still holding the chunk of wood in the other. She was exhausted, emotionally drained. She leveled her gaze at him. “I did see someone jump.” She didn’t know where the person had come from but she knew what she’d seen.

He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

She hated his scornful tone. Had he really been trying to save her? Or kill her? If he’d just left her alone, she would have been perfectly fine. She was pretty sure that was true. He was making her doubt everything.

“I have family in Timber Falls,” she said, and hated herself for trying to reassure him that she was the sane one here. “I’m on my way there.”

“If your family lives in Timber Falls, I’d think you would know the road.”

“I wasn’t paying attention. I was following you. And I haven’t been up here in years.” She wouldn’t be here at all if she wasn’t worried about her father. When she’d left ten years before, she’d thought nothing could ever get her back to Timber Falls. And nothing had, not even when her father had remarried, moved back and reopened her childhood home. Until now. “I came up here tonight because—”

“Thanks, but I’d prefer not to know anymore about you,” he said.

“Are you always this disagreeable?” she snapped.

“Actually, I’m trying to be on my best behavior right now.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, wringing the water from his shirttail. “You should see me when I’m not.”

“No, thanks.”

“Did I mention that I’m late for a dinner engagement?”

“Then please don’t let me keep you,” she said.

He started backing away from her. “And please don’t thank me for saving your life. Really.”

“No problem. I hadn’t wanted to jump but now that I’ve met you I might change my mind.”

His laugh held little humor as he turned his back on her and stalked through the rain toward the parking lot and his pickup.

She headed for her car, still gripping the chunk of wood just in case he was a psycho killer and planned to double back. He didn’t. He went straight to his pickup, climbed in and a moment later the engine turned over and the headlights came on. He drove away without looking back as far as she could tell.

Her driver’s-side seat was soaked and so was she. Not that she wasn’t already chilled to the bone from everything that had happened.

She locked her car door, feeling scared and not sure why as she kicked up the heat. There was no other vehicle. Maybe the person who’d jumped from the waterfall had hidden her car somewhere. But why do that?

As Roz pulled out of the parking lot, tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t imagined the person in the yellow raincoat. And history was not repeating itself.

Chapter Two

Rain pounded the windshield, the wipers making a steady whap-whap as Roz drove the narrow road back out to the main highway. She didn’t see the pickup’s taillights. He obviously didn’t want her following him anymore and had sped off to avoid any further contact. Fine with her.

Stopping at the intersection, she looked through the rain for the detour sign she vaguely remembered seeing earlier.

It was gone.

Had he picked it up? He hadn’t seen the person in the yellow raincoat. Was it possible he hadn’t seen the detour sign, either? She shook off the thought. Why had he turned down the road to the waterfall then?

She hit the gas, even more anxious to get to Timber Falls. The night seemed too dark, too rainy, too isolated. She couldn’t wait to see the lights of town, to get to the house, to see that her father had returned so that all her worry had been for nothing.

The rainforest grew in a dark, wet canopy over the top of the narrow, winding highway. Rain splattered down through the vegetation, striking the windshield like pebbles as mist rose ghostlike up from the pavement.

A few miles down the highway, the trees opened a little, and she dug out her cell phone, saw that she had service and called 9-1-1. She related briefly what she’d seen at Lost Creek Falls to the dispatcher and left her cell phone number for the sheriff to call her back.

When the lights of Timber Falls appeared out of the rain and mist, Roz felt such a surge of relief she almost wept. Home—the feeling surprised her given why she’d left here. This hadn’t been home for ten years. Nor would it ever be again. But right now, she was overjoyed to finally be here, the one place she’d once felt safe and happy.

She drove down Main Street past the city offices, the Duck Inn bar, the Timber Falls Courier and the Busy Bee. The No Vacancy sign glowed red at the Ho Hum Motel and Betty’s Café was packed, a half dozen cars parked out front. That was odd. She frowned, wondering why everything was so busy given the time of year—and the weather. Something must be going on.

As she turned down the once familiar tree-lined lane, she felt as if time had stood still here as well. Anxiously she awaited her first glimpse of the large old house where she’d been raised.

She’d never understood why her father had hung on to the house given the painful memories. He alone had come here over the years, paying to see that the empty house didn’t fall into disrepair.

But as the structure came into view in her headlights, she was overwhelmed with emotion and thankful that he hadn’t been able to part with it. The house stood fighting back the rainforest, the towering roofline etched black against the night sky. She caught her breath at the sight of it. As a child she thought it a castle. Even now it seemed larger than life.

This had been home for her first seventeen years. It had been a fun, rambling place with lots of space to play and great hiding places. Her mother always had flowers growing in large pots on the porch and brightly colored curtains at the windows.

But Roz saw that the pots of flowers were gone—just as the brightly colored curtains were, just as her mother was.

Roz looked away, fighting the same sorrow she had for the past ten years, and hoped to see her father’s truck and camper parked next to the other cars in the open carport beside the house.

There were three cars. The new Cadillac her father had bought Emily as a wedding present and two new sports cars, a bright yellow one and a shiny black one. The yellow one belonged to Emily’s twenty-four-year-old daughter, Suzanne, the black one to her twenty-six-year-old son, Drew.

Roz felt a sliver of apprehension to see that the whole family was here. Her father obviously hadn’t returned. Was that what had brought Suzanne and Drew all the way in from Portland? Had something happened since Roz had talked to Emily?

Even more worried, Roz parked in front of the house and made a run through the rain to the porch. She stood waiting for her father’s new family to answer the bell. It felt so strange not to be able to just open the door and walk in. But the people who lived here now were virtual strangers. She’d only been around the new family on a few awkward occasions. Even her father had become a stranger the last six months since his quickie marriage in Las Vegas.

“Give Emily a chance,” her dad had asked after the wedding. “I know this happened pretty fast.” She should say so! “But please try. For me.”

And she was trying. Really.

She rang the bell and managed a smile, relieved to see the door opened by her newly acquired stepbrother Drew, the least objectionable member of her father’s new family.

“Hey, you made it. I was starting to worry about you,” he said, flashing her a big smile. Drew was blond, blue-eyed and drop-dead handsome if you went for that type. Roz didn’t. She found his classically featured face devoid of character with no sign that he’d experienced life, although he was only two years her junior.

Drew’s saving grace was the fact that he was the only member of his family who seemed to care one way or another about her. His interest in her definitely wasn’t romantic. Roz suspected he paid attention to her because it annoyed his mother.

He hugged Roz, then stepped back in surprise. “You’re freezing.” He ushered her inside out of the cold and dampness. “What happened?”

She knew she must look like a drowned cocker spaniel, her strawberry-blond hair a tousle of damp curls. “I had a…flat.” She really didn’t want to get into her “detour” or what she’d seen at the waterfall.

“Has anyone heard from my father?” she asked as she stepped in.

Drew shook his head. “Sorry.”

She glanced past him, trying hard not to cry. She hadn’t realized how scared she was, how worried that something had happened to him. If only she hadn’t missed his call the other day.

What little of the house she could see had changed more than she could have imagined. When Roz’s mother, Anna, had been alive, the house had smelled of baked bread and brownies. This house smelled of cleaner, new carpet and fresh paint.

Her father had warned her a few months ago that Emily was doing a little redecorating, but it still came as a shock to see everything of her mother gone. Through the French doors, she could see the living room. All of the beautiful old things her mother had collected had been replaced with new, modern furniture.

That wasn’t the only shock. While Roz’s mother, Anna, had loved vibrant colors, it seemed Emily was partial to indistinguishable shades of off-white. The furnishings didn’t fit the house any more than Emily did, she thought uncharitably.

“Don’t worry, all of your mother’s things have been moved up to the attic,” Drew said, following her gaze. “Your father insisted everything be saved.”

The attic. How appropriate.

Emily came breezing out of the dining room looking harried. “Rozalyn,” the woman gushed, rushing over to give her a quick air kiss.

Emily Lane Sawyer was blond with blue eyes like her two grown children. She was a tall, statuesque woman, far different from Roz’s mother, who’d been petite with soft brown eyes and strawberry-blond hair that curled in the humidity just like her daughter’s. Everyone had always said Roz was the spitting image of her mother, something that Emily had remarked on more than one occasion.

In her late forties, Emily was a good fifteen years younger than her new husband. Intellectually, Roz could understand what her father had seen in the woman. She had a great body for her age and she was quite attractive.

What worried Roz was what Emily had seen in Liam Sawyer.

“You made it in time for dinner,” Emily said.

Roz heard the “just barely” in her tone. Dinner was the last thing Roz wanted but it would be rude to try to get out of dining with the family. “Drew says you haven’t heard from my father.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him dad with these people.

“No, but like I told you on the phone, Liam said he didn’t know when he’d be back and not to worry about him. I hope that isn’t the only reason you drove all the way up here.”

What other reason than to see her father? “It isn’t like him to be gone this long without any word,” Roz said, not mentioning the other reason she was so concerned. The strange message on her answering machine. He’d sounded upset, said little, asking her to call as soon as possible.

That had been two days ago. Emily said she hadn’t heard from Liam for more than two weeks.

Also he’d left his cell phone number. Not the number at the house. And when Roz had tried to reach him she’d gotten the message that the phone was either out of the calling area or turned off.

He’d said it was important but it had been his tone that scared her. Something had happened, and it had to be something big for her father, the most laid-back man alive, to sound that upset.

And yet no one in this family seemed even concerned about him. Why was that? Because they didn’t want her to know that something had happened before he’d left on his latest camping trip. And Roz was certain it had something to do with Emily.

“He’s always checked in after a few days,” Roz said now. “It’s hard to believe you haven’t heard from him.”

“Well, you know him better than I do,” Emily said distractedly. “I have to admit, I don’t understand his need to go off into the mountains like he does at his age.”

“He loves the Cascades. I’m sure that’s one reason he moved back here with you.” Actually, it was a mystery why her dad had done something that ridiculous, bringing this woman to Timber Falls. Roz figured there was a lot about Liam that a woman like Emily wouldn’t be able to understand. Could her father have picked a woman any more different from him?

“Drew, would you see what is keeping your sister?” Emily said, glancing past Roz. “Our dinner guest will be arriving soon.”

Dinner guest? Roz knew her shock must have shown. Emily wasn’t letting any concern over Liam keep her from entertaining, it seemed.

Drew buzzed his sister on the intercom near the front door. “No answer,” he said to his mother.

“Has anyone looked for my father?” Roz asked.

Emily seemed surprised by the question. “We wouldn’t even know where to look. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.” She glanced at her watch, obviously more worried about her dinner than her husband, then up at Roz again. “You said yourself he’s always done this, gone off alone, no matter the weather, taking his camera and camper back into the mountains, out searching for Bigfoot like everyone else in this town right now. I can’t see this time is any different except this time there was an actual sighting.”

“There’s been a sighting?” That explained the large number of people in town this time of year.

“Two weeks ago. I thought you would have heard,” Emily said. “Some fool bread man claimed he saw Bigfoot just outside of town and your father took off like a shot.”

Was it possible her father was on the trail of Bigfoot and that’s why he hadn’t come back? Why he’d sounded the way he had on the phone message? Except he hadn’t sounded excited. He’d sounded…upset, almost scared. And he’d been gone way too long.

“I’m afraid he’s hurt, trapped somewhere, unable to get out for help,” Roz said. “I think we should contact the sheriff.”

Emily touched her temple and winced as if she suddenly had a headache. “He’s your father. Whatever you think is best. I just feel it’s a little premature to be calling in the sheriff.”

“I don’t,” Roz said.

Emily sighed. “Drew, darling, would you get my medicine. It’s in my purse.” She looked past Roz and groaned. “Oh, where is he off to now? He’s never around when I need him.” She rubbed her temples. “I must see to dinner. By the way, a friend of your father’s is joining us. I thought you’d like that.”

Roz felt a stab of guilt for her earlier uncharitable thoughts about Emily. “That was very kind of you. Maybe he’ll have some idea where my father has gone.”

Emily checked her watch again.

“Emily, why do I feel as if there is something you aren’t telling me?”

The older woman blinked blank blue eyes at her.

“Did you and Dad have a fight before he left?”

“Of course not.” Emily brought herself up to her full height. “I really need to see to my dinner.”

Roz sighed. She could hear at least two of her staff in the kitchen doing the actual cooking. It was obvious Emily just wanted to get away. But Roz was sorry she’d brought up the subject now. “So who is this friend of my father’s who’s coming to dinner?”

“It’s a surprise. You really should get into some dry clothing before you catch your death. You can have a drink before dinner with Suzanne.”

Roz would rather catch her death than have a drink with Drew’s sister who was probably half-sloshed by now.

As Emily headed toward the kitchen, Roz heard the front door open behind her and turned to find Drew standing in the foyer. He had her suitcase in one hand, her camera bag in the other. She hadn’t heard him leave.

“It finally stopped raining but I’ve heard there’s another storm on the way. I brought your things in,” he said, studying her openly as if concerned about her conversation with his mother.

“Thank you.” She appreciated his thoughtfulness more than he could know.

“Where’s Mother?” he asked.

“She’s seeing to dinner. She said she invited a friend of my father’s to join us.” Drew seemed surprised. “I’m hoping he might know where my father went. I know your mother isn’t concerned—”

“Mother hides her feelings,” he said as he started for the stairs. “She was just telling me earlier that she wished Liam had shown up before your visit. She’s much more worried than she’s letting on.”

Sure she was.

When Roz didn’t comment, he said in an obvious attempt to change the subject, “Planning to do some shooting while you’re here?”

“I never go anywhere without my camera.”

“You must have gotten that from your dad,” Drew said. “Except he says for him it’s just a hobby and he could never be as good as you. Your photographs really are amazing. I saw your latest book. It’s your best yet.”

“Thank you.” She was surprised he even knew she had a new photography book out but if he was trying to flatter her, he was succeeding quite well.

“Mother had the maid get your old room ready,” he said over his shoulder.

She barely heard him. “Were you here when my father left?” she asked, still convinced Emily wasn’t telling her something. Something important.

“I guess I was.”

Was it just her imagination that his back stiffened at her question? Her dad had told her that Drew had moved in after getting a new job so he could work from Timber Falls via computer and help his mother with the house remodeling.

“Did my father seem…upset? Or act differently?”

“Not that I noticed.” He reached the second floor landing and continued on up to the third floor without turning to look back at her.

Roz stared after him, more convinced than ever that something had happened before her father’s departure. Something Drew and his mother were keeping from her.

As Roz passed the second floor, she heard a voice she recognized. Drew’s sister, Suzanne, had a distinct whine that was easily recognizable even from a distance. She must be on the phone. Roz wondered why Suzanne hadn’t answered the intercom when Drew had buzzed her.

As Roz hurried up the stairs after Drew, she couldn’t help but remember the happy times in this house. She and her best friend, Charity, used to pretend that each room was a separate house in town where they lived happily ever after with their husbands and children and neighbors. She smiled ruefully at the memory of this house ringing with their laughter. She and Charity had both thought that one day their own children would race along these worn wooden floors as they had done.

She pushed the thought away as she and Drew reached the third floor.

“Mother hasn’t gotten this far yet in her remodel,” Drew said.

Roz swallowed hard as she looked down the hallway. This floor looked exactly as it had ten years ago. Her room had always been on the third floor just down from her mother’s sewing room and her father’s studio and darkroom. When she was young, they would put her to bed, then her mother would sew, her father would work in his darkroom. They had wanted her close by.

Her parents’ bedroom had been on the second floor along with several guest rooms. Her mother had installed an intercom so she could always be within earshot of her daughter.

It was crazy, but for a moment, Roz thought she heard her mother’s favorite song playing on the old phonograph in the sewing room. If she listened hard, she thought she would hear her father whistling a little off key in his darkroom down the hall. But hadn’t he told her that Emily was doing away with the darkroom because she’d purchased him a digital camera?

Drew stopped in front of Roz’s former bedroom door and waited for her. “Don’t look so worried. Your room is exactly as you left it. Liam insisted.”

Her feet felt like leaded weights as she walked down the hall to slowly turn the knob.

As the door swung open, Roz caught a glimpse of the whimsical quilt her mother had spent months stitching in secret for her thirteenth birthday. It was still on the bed, just where she’d left it. Albert, the stuffed teddy bear she’d loved threadbare, sat in the corner still wearing the tuxedo her mother had made for the tea parties she and Charity always had at the brightly painted table and chairs. On the table was the little tin tray her mother served the tiny chocolate chip cookies she’d made for them.

Roz swallowed, fighting the stinging tears that burned her eyes and choked off her throat. Drew was right. Her room was exactly as she’d left it ten years ago after her mother’s death. Everywhere she looked in this room she saw her mother.

“Roz, are you all right?”

The room magnified her loss. Forcing her back to those horrible days after her mother’s death. She couldn’t face the loss any more now than she could at seventeen.

“Roz?”

“I’m fine,” she said, realizing it wasn’t near the truth. She could feel Drew’s gaze on her. She glanced over at him, ready to reassure him. What she saw in his expression stopped her.

“Hey, maybe you’d better sit down,” he said putting down her suitcase and camera bag to take her arm and lead her over to the wicker chair by the window.

Had she only imagined that he’d seemed to be enjoying her discomfort at seeing this room? He looked and sounded concerned now. She told herself she was tired. Imagining things. Like she’d imagined someone in a yellow raincoat leaping into Lost Creek Falls?

“I’m fine. Really,” she said to Drew, watching him for some sign of the expression she’d thought she’d seen only moments before. “I just need to get out of these damp clothes.”

He backed toward the door, still studying her openly. “I know how hard this must be for you. Come on down soon for a drink before dinner. You look like you could use one.”

She nodded and tried to smile.

“Mother went all out on dinner tonight.”

“Do you know who the guest is?” she asked, getting to her feet to see Drew out. She needed some time alone. Pretending she was all right was exhausting.

“It’s a surprise.” He shrugged as if to say, “You know Mother.”

Except she didn’t know Emily. She suspected though that the woman was big on surprises. She’d certainly surprised Roz by somehow getting Liam to marry her.

“Buzz me on the intercom if you need anything. Two buzzes, okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks.” Closing the door behind him, she turned to look at the room again, fighting tears of grief and worry and anger. How could her father bring his new wife back to this house? This house so filled with memories of Roz’s mother? The room seemed to echo all the unanswered questions Roz had been asking herself for the past ten years.

First her mother and now there was the chance that her father—

She brushed at her tears, refusing to let herself even think that she might lose him, too. Cold, her clothing still damp, she went to the large antique bureau. In the third drawer she found what she’d been looking for. The thick rust-colored sweater her mother had knitted for her. It was the last thing her mother had made her. The sweater still fit.

She pulled on a pair of jeans from her suitcase and hiking boots, needing to get out of the house for a few minutes. She took the back stairs, exiting through a door that opened into her mother’s garden.

The night felt cold and damp but for the moment the rain had stopped. Only the faint tingle of electricity in the air foretold of an approaching storm. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she started down the stone path to the rear of the property.

Like the house, her father had seen that the garden had been maintained. But in this part of the country, it was a constant battle to hold back the rainforest and no one had a way with plants like Anna Sawyer had. Roz could see where there had been recent digging. Emily must have hired someone to redo the garden as well as the house.

Roz walked down the winding overgrown path as far as the rock arch where a tangle of vines and tree limbs had left only a narrow opening. Quiet settled over her as she stood in the shadowed darkness. From here she could barely see the house through the trees and vines.

She no longer felt like crying, which was good. She needed to be strong now—for her father. She felt like she was the only person here who was worried about him.

“What does that tell you?” she asked the night as she looked back at the house. “I can’t understand how you could have gotten involved with someone like her.” A younger, good-looking woman? “Okay, maybe I can understand the attraction—at first. You were lonely.” The thought broke her heart. “Of course you were lonely. But something happened, didn’t it?” She knew her father. He wouldn’t just stay away like this. He’d called her the night before last and hadn’t tried to get back to her. “What happened? What was it you needed to talk to me about?”

A breeze stirred the tops of the trees in a low moan. She took another deep breath and looked up at the night sky as if it held all the answers. Clouds skimmed over the faint glitter of distant stars. No moon. She tried to fight back her growing panic. Her every instinct told her that her father needed her, and it was imperative that she find him. Was it too much to hope that this mystery dinner guest and friend of her father’s might know something?

Mist rose from the wet ground around her. She hugged herself against the dampness, not ready to go back inside. Not yet. She took another deep breath, the air scented with cedar and rainwater and damp fertile earth, and so wonderfully familiar except for—She took another sniff. A chill skittered across her bare arms. Her heart began to knock as she picked up a scent that didn’t belong on the night breeze—and, eyes adjusting to the darkness, she saw a large, still shape that didn’t belong in the garden.

Someone was hiding just inches from her on the other side of the rock arch.

Chapter Three

“Wait!” Ford reached for her, hoping to stop her before she panicked and did something crazy. Like scream bloody murder. Too late. She got out one startled cry as she stumbled back from him, then she let out a bloodcurdling shriek that he knew could be heard in three counties.

He cursed himself for not warning her he was out here. At first he hadn’t wanted to scare her. Once he recognized her voice, he wasn’t about to open his mouth. What the hell was she doing here, anyway?

He caught her arm and spun her around, figuring once she recognized him she’d at least quit screaming. But her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her mouth open, a shriek coming out.

Behind them, twenty yards away through the trees, the back porch light blinked on. Any moment the lady of the house would be calling the sheriff and—

He did the first thing that came to mind short of throttling the woman. When she took a breath, he kissed her, covering any future screams as his mouth dropped to hers. She gasped in surprise, eyes fluttering open for an instant, then shuttering closed again.

She had a great mouth, and for a few seconds, he got lost in her lush lips, in the warmth of her breath mingling with his, in the taste of her.

For those few seconds, he forgot whom he was kissing. He loosened his hold on her as the kiss deepened.

The right hook came out of nowhere. He managed to duck that one. But he hadn’t been expecting the kick. Her boot connected with his shin.

“Damn.” He should have been the one screaming.

She turned to run, mouth open, ready to let out another shriek. He grabbed her around the waist, dragged her back to his chest and clamped a hand over her mouth.

They were both breathing hard now, hidden in the dark shadows of the trees out of sight of whoever was now on the porch calling, “Rozalyn?”

“Listen,” he whispered next to her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She tried to slug him again in answer.

“I’m just trying to get to dinner, dammit,” he whispered in exasperation.

THE INSTANT his words registered, Roz stopped struggling and groaned. She could hear Emily calling her name, and saw through the tree limbs the dim glow of the porch light in the distance. This man in the dark was no crazed killer hiding in the backyard. Just the dinner guest. She kicked herself mentally and wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, obviously afraid she’d scream again. Behind her, she heard him clear his throat and step back almost as if he were afraid she’d kick him again.

She turned, an apology on the tip of her tongue. It never made it to her lips as she got her first good look at him.

“You?!” she whispered in horror. His face was bathed in the mottled pattern of light coming through the trees from the porch lamp. Her first impression earlier at the waterfall had been true. He was tall, broad-shouldered and dark except for his eyes, which were an eerie, pale blue-green.

He wasn’t even handsome. His expression was too severe, brows pinched together, full mouth a grim line between the rough stubble of his designer beard. But he was definitely the man who’d almost killed her at Lost Creek Falls. “You can’t be the dinner guest.”

“Emily invited me,” he said, obviously also trying to keep his voice down. “Anyway, why can’t I?”

“Because you were sneaking in the back way!” she hissed.

“I’m staying in the guest house. What other way should I be coming from for dinner?” he whispered back.

“You’re staying in the guest house?”

“Emily was kind enough to offer it.”

“Emily is so thoughtful.” Roz couldn’t believe her stepmother would let a perfect stranger stay in the guest house. But this man wasn’t a perfect stranger—not to her father and maybe not to Emily.

She could not believe her father would befriend such an obnoxious man. “So when was the last time you saw Liam?” she asked.

“It’s been a while. Any chance we could discuss this after dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Rozalyn!” Emily called again. “Is that you out there?” She sounded as if she were straining to see into the trees and darkness.

“Answer her,” he whispered. “I would, but then she’d think I was the one who was screaming.”

“Rozalyn?” Emily’s tone had an almost hysterical edge to it.

He gave Roz a pleading look.

She groaned. “Yes, it’s me,” she called back through the trees and the distance between her and the house.

“Well, why in heaven’s name were you screaming?” Emily yelled.

Roz sighed. “There was a big disgusting rat by the stone arch.”

“Cute,” he whispered.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Emily cried. “Rats? Oh! Please come in. Our guest will be arriving any moment now for dinner. I don’t want you scaring him out of his wits.”

“Too late for that,” he muttered under his breath and narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re having dinner, too, I take it?” He didn’t sound any happier about that than she was. “So, this must be the family you said you had here.”

“This is not my family,” she snapped.

“Whatever.” He glanced toward the house. “But don’t you think we should go in to dinner? Emily is going to wonder what’s keeping me if not you.”

Let her wonder, Roz thought. “Why didn’t you say something to let me know you were by the arch?” What had he overheard? She hated to think.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation you were having with yourself. I thought you might lose your train of thought.”

Funny.

“Rozalyn, who are you talking to out there?” Emily called.

“And the kiss?” Roz whispered, ignoring Emily. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just wanted to shut you up before you got the whole household out here.”

Flatterer. She fought the urge to kick him again.

“Are you finished interrogating me?” he asked quietly. “I’m going in even if you aren’t.” He stepped past her.

She let him lead the way to the house, not trusting him behind her anyway. While she could think of nothing she wanted to do less than to have dinner with this man, she didn’t feel like hiding in the garden all night. And now she was curious as to how Emily knew this man well enough to invite him to stay in the guest house. Especially with her husband gone. Especially since this man was closer to Emily’s age than Liam was. Especially since Emily would find him attractive, Roz would just bet on that.

If he was telling the truth and he really was a friend of her father’s, she was dying to know how they’d met and what they could possibly have in common.

As she followed him along the winding path through the thick vegetation, she realized she didn’t even know his name. Not that she really cared. She’d already found out one important thing about the man: he lied. The kiss was hardly nothing.

If he’d lie about a kiss… Who knew what else he’d lied about? And how much of a coincidence was it that the two of them had met at Lost Creek Falls earlier tonight under very strange circumstances only to have him turn up here?

FORD COULDN’T BELIEVE his bad luck. Running into the woman not once tonight but twice. Worse, it seemed Emily had invited her to dinner. He swore under his breath as he neared the house. Why hadn’t this Rozalyn gone to her own family for dinner? Whoever she was, she was obviously nuts even if she really hadn’t been trying to leap off the waterfall earlier.

She was a looker, too. That wild head of strawberry-blond curls, those big brown eyes and that obviously nicely put together body. Why were the great-looking ones the most cuckoo? And this one was unpredictable to boot.

A deadly combination.

He shook his head at his misfortune. But he could get through one dinner with this bunch. After all, he didn’t have much choice if he hoped to accomplish what he’d come here for.

“Rozalyn?” Emily called again.

“We were just coming in,” she answered behind him, adding an irritated sigh.

“We?” Emily inquired as he and Rozalyn came into view. “Oh. I see you’ve met.”

“We were just getting acquainted,” he said.

“You look like you’ve been wrestling in the weeds,” Emily said, eyeing them both.

Rozalyn plucked a leaf from his hair and smiled at him with a devilish gleam in her eyes. She was actually enjoying ticking off her host.

“Let’s go right on into the dining room. The rest are already seated,” Emily said, clearly annoyed.

“I hope I didn’t hold up dinner,” he said. Rozalyn, he noticed, hung back as he mounted the steps of the back porch to Emily.

“Oh, no, you’re right on time,” Emily said, gracing him with a smile as she took his arm and led him toward the back door. “We’re just delighted that you could join us.”

“As am I,” he said, the tension between the two women like sloughing through neck-deep mud, as Rozalyn followed them inside.

Emily still had hold of his arm as they stepped through a set of French doors into a large dining room.

He thought for a moment that Rozalyn had changed her mind about joining them for dinner, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that she’d stopped in the wide French doorway and was now watching him with obvious suspicion.

“I just realized—”

“I hope you’re hungry,” Emily said as if Rozalyn hadn’t spoken.

“—that I didn’t catch your—”

“Starved,” he said.

“—name,” Rozalyn finished.

“I’d like you to meet my daughter,” Emily said. A woman in her late twenties was seated at the round dining room table. She and a young man who resembled her had had their heads together when he and Emily had come in. Now the two looked up in surprise, cutting off an obviously intimate conversation in midsentence and appearing almost…guilty.

“This is my daughter Suzanne and my son Drew,” Emily said. “Mr. Lancaster has graciously accepted my invitation to dine with us tonight.”

“Lancaster?” Rozalyn said behind him in the doorway.

He turned to look at her and felt himself tense at the frown on her face. Clearly, she was trying to place the name.

Drew, who appeared to be a few years older than his sister, had gotten to his feet and was holding out his hand. Ford took it but noticed the young man’s attention was more on Rozalyn.

“Mr. Lancaster is staying in our guest house for a while,” Emily was saying.

“Really?” Suzanne was a younger version of her mother. Slim, blond and blue-eyed. Her eyes seemed a little glazed, and he noticed that not only was her dirty wineglass empty, but also the bottle in front of her was almost spent.

“Lancaster?” Rozalyn repeated from the doorway.

“Why don’t you sit by my daughter,” Emily said to him.

He went around the table, aware that Rozalyn still hadn’t joined them. Emily had left a chair between Suzanne and Drew for her other guest.

“Rozalyn, if you’d care to join us,” Emily said, her tone as sharp as a glass shard. “Let’s not have a scene in front of Liam’s friend and our dinner guest.”

Rozalyn didn’t seem to hear her. Nor was she looking at the older woman. Instead, her gaze was locked on Ford. “I missed your first name, Mr. Lancaster.”

He met Rozalyn’s brown-eyed gaze, almost afraid to tell her but not sure why. Emily hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when he’d told her. “Ford. Ford Lancaster.”

“Ford Lancaster?!” Roz spat and stepped toward him as if she planned to leap the table and go for his throat. She definitely looked like she wanted to. “You lying bastard. You’re no friend of my father’s. What the hell are you doing here?”

SHERIFF MITCH TANNER sat in his patrol car outside the Timber Falls Courier trying to decide what to do about Charity. A few weeks ago he’d almost lost her to a killer. Bud Farnsworth was dead, but Mitch feared that the man who killed him was even more dangerous.

Whatever Charity wrote in her newspaper would set Wade Dennison off. The owner of Dennison Ducks was a powerful man in this town and he used that power and money to get his way. Men like that often thought they were above the law.

One thing was for certain, Bud would never have come up with the idea of kidnapping the Dennison baby by himself. Mitch suspected he’d been paid. That’s why Mitch had subpoenaed Wade Dennison’s and Bud Farnsworth’s financial records. Wade’s attorney had held up the process for two weeks, arguing the case was closed. The kidnapper was dead.

But Mitch wasn’t giving up because he knew in his heart that the true kidnapper, the person who’d planned the whole thing and paid Bud Farnsworth to snatch Angela Dennison, was still out there. Still walking around thinking he’d gotten away with it.

A tap on the glass made Mitch jump. “Jesse,” he said rolling down his window. “I wish you’d quit sneaking around in the dark.”

Jesse’s smile was all Tanner dimples. He was just a little shorter than Mitch, stockier though, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a gold earring in his right ear and handsome to a fault. “Hey, little bro. Spying on your woman?”

Mitch shook his head, not wanting to talk about Charity, especially with his brother. It was no secret that Jesse wished Charity had fallen for him. Mitch was just getting used to having his brother back in town. There’d been a time when he believed his wild, older brother was headed straight for a life of crime.

But Jesse had come back to Timber Falls a few weeks ago and really seemed to be trying to make up for his past mistakes. Mitch couldn’t help but respect his brother for that. Jesse had also brought Mitch and their father closer.

“I thought you’d like to know,” Jesse said now. “I just saw Wade Dennison move lock, stock and barrel into one of the units out at Florie’s.”

Mitch stared at him. “Nina’s old unit? Aries?” Florie, a self-proclaimed psychic, had turned her motel into bungalow rentals years ago and named each of the twelve for the signs of the Zodiac. “What’s up with that?” Mitch asked.

“Looks like Daisy threw him out.”

What were the chances of that? Nil. Unless Daisy had something on Wade that she was holding over his head. Like she knew he was behind the kidnapping of their daughter, Angela. Or Daisy and her lover’s daughter.

Mitch looked at Jesse, both of them no doubt thinking the same thing. If Angela had been a love child, then the father of that baby might very well be their own father, Lee Tanner. Lee and Daisy had had an affair in the year before Angela was born.

“How’d Wade seem?” Mitch asked, even more worried about Charity now.

Jesse shook his head. “He didn’t look good. I’d say the man was about at the end of his rope. Can you imagine what will happen when this gets around town?”

And it wouldn’t take long for that to happen given that Charity’s Aunt Florie was one of the biggest gossips in town. And then there was Charity.

Mitch groaned at the thought of Charity’s newspaper hitting the streets in the morning. There would be fireworks, sure as hell. He just hoped no one got killed.

“Damn,” he swore, wondering if he should pay Wade a visit tonight. By the next day, Mitch was pretty sure he’d have the financial reports on Wade Dennison and Bud Farnsworth. And he figured he’d be paying Wade a visit once he had proof in hand anyway. No reason to court trouble tonight.

The patrol car radio squawked. Mitch took the call. A man had been found unconscious at the bottom of a cliff, not far from the recent Bigfoot sighting spot, and dropped off at the hospital. No ID.

Mitch turned to his brother. “Sounds like one of those damned Bigfoot hunters fell off a cliff and is over at the hospital.”

“You need any help? I was headed home but I could tag along.”

Mitch shook his head. In remote areas of Oregon, sheriffs worked alone—unless they needed to call in state investigators for help—or they could deputize someone locally for the short term.

“Later, then,” Jesse said and headed toward his motorcycle parked in the alley.

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