Timmons joined his family on board. “You folks have a great time on the Old Miss.” He untied the boat from the dock and watched them go on their way. Heat from the morning sun bathed his neck. Too bad the sun couldn’t warm anything beneath his skin or make his smile for real.
“Mr. Davidson.” The clack of feet on the dock accompanied the voice.
Ryan turned to see a tall woman with a caramel complexion picking her way toward him across the boards. Why did females torture themselves with high heels? If one of those silly spikes wedged in a board, she’d topple over, and he’d be fishing her out of the drink. The woman’s face looked vaguely familiar. Behind her clomped a shaggy-haired guy toting a video camera on his shoulder. Ryan looked beyond the mismatched pair, and his stomach clenched. A van with the Channel Six logo painted on the side sat on the asphalt in front of his log-cabin-style office building.
Uh-oh! How had the news media gotten wind so quickly?
The smiling woman reached him and held out a slender hand. “Hi, I’m Hallie Berglund, a friend of Samantha Reid’s.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes at his visitor. So that was how. Ms. Reid couldn’t wait to garner attention for her business by letting her reporter pal in on the action. He’d misjudged her as a woman of integrity when she was really out for number one like anybody else.
The reporter-woman’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. I know this must be a difficult time for you, dredging up bad memories. Looking at those pictures was bad enough for me, but—”
“You saw the photos?” Ryan’s spine stiffened. “Did the police show you? Not hardly! Or was it the lady dry cleaner angling for a little free publicity?”
Color bloomed in Hallie’s cheeks. “I developed those photos.” She squared her shoulders. “And Samantha’s other friend, Jenna, found the film at Sam’s place. We’re all in this happy little conspiracy together. Sam and I turned them in to the police, so maybe now you and your family will have an opportunity for a killer to be caught. All I want is to chat with you so we can air a segment that maybe, just maybe, will flush a rat out of hiding…or, at the least, entice someone to come forward with helpful information.”
Ryan’s mouth opened, but he was fresh out of things to say. How could a guy speak with a mouth full of crow anyway? A wry chuckle gusted from his chest. “Come on in.” He waved toward his office. “I guess I could share some more of my foul mood, if it’ll help your ratings and my family’s chance for justice.”
“Now you’re talking.” The smile returned to the reporter’s face.
They stepped up the dock toward the sidewalk that would take them up to the building, the cameraman backpedaling ahead of them. Ryan shook his head. The guy’d been filming the whole time. How much of himself shooting blanks from the hip would come out on the TV news? Ouch! He hadn’t been firing harmless blanks; he’d been filling his own foot with lead—again—where the attractive Samantha Reid was concerned.
“Don’t worry.” The woman next to him spoke under her breath. “Your quantum leap to Planet Wrong Conclusion will end up on the editing floor. You have a lot to learn about Sam, and I’d like you to still have that chance.”
Ryan stared down at her. Was the woman a mind reader? And what was that knowing smirk all about? Her gaze turned toward the parking lot, and his followed. A midsized car jerked to a halt on the tarmac, and a woman dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a practical pair of running shoes lunged out of the vehicle. She charged toward them, small purse slung over her shoulder, glossy ponytail swinging.
Sam? Er, Miss Reid? She looked steamed enough to blow a gasket. No way could she have heard his conversation with her friend.
“Where’s Bastian?” She halted in front of them, hands on hips. Little gold flecks in her green eyes glinted up at him.
“Ba—Oh, your cat. Last time I saw him, he was purring in your arms.”
“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t sneak into the dry cleaners last night to finish your snooping expedition. My vase is broken, my flowers are wilted, a window is open and my cat is gone!”
“Someone broke into your building?” The reporter gripped her friend’s arm. “Oh, how awful! Are you all right?”
Ryan looked from one woman to the other. Hallie’s mouth had drawn up into a tight line, and Sam deflated and that full lower lip quivered.
“I’m f-fine.” She sure didn’t look it. “I slept through the whole thing.”
The women’s stares at each other conveyed volumes of information Ryan couldn’t read.
“Honest, Miss Reid—”
“Sam.” She met his gaze.
Good. Now he had official permission. “Sam, I was nowhere near your neighborhood last night. You have my word on it.”
Her gaze searched his face. “Then who…” The words trailed away.
“Maybe the same person we’re all looking for.”
“Please don’t tell me that. As furious as I was with you, I wanted you—no, needed you to be the one. Then I wouldn’t have to imagine other possibilities.”
If only he was guilty. Maybe that would take the haunted look from her eyes. He knew the feeling all too well. What was her story, anyway?
“It seems like none of us is going to have any peace of mind until we get to the bottom of this.” Hallie’s voice drew their attention. “Maybe finishing the interview will be a step in the right direction.”
Ryan nodded in unison with Sam.
The reporter grinned. “You two make quite a pair of intergalactic travelers. You arrived at the same planet on the same morning!”
Clearing his throat, Ryan led the way toward his office building. The cameraman brought up the rear, not filming for the moment.
“What did Hallie mean by that?” Sam asked as she fell in step beside him. The girl had long legs and a runner’s stride. Another thing to like about her.
Ryan shrugged. “Oh, some remark she made earlier about a quantum leap to a conclusion.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
As they climbed onto the porch, Old Jake heaved himself to his feet and ambled over.
Sam scratched the animal’s head. “Labrador, right?”
Jake groaned his ecstasy and leaned into Sam’s leg.
Ryan laughed. “We figure he’s mostly Chocolate Lab with a little Springer Spaniel thrown in.”
“Is that why he’s got a few splotches of white in his coat and around his muzzle?”
“The gray face is his age showing.”
“You must’ve had him for a long time then.”
“This summer. He’s mostly deaf, as well as old and a little arthritic.
