But he’d thought it. Before the kidnapping and murder, Sheriff Trainer might have been a good-natured, easygoing guy. Now he was as nervous as a squirrel guarding his winter cache of pinecones.
“I’m trying to make a point,” Trainer said. “There’s got to be a reason why the kidnappers are searching here.”
Jesse knew where the sheriff’s logic was headed. They’d all been asking the same question: why here? Logic pointed toward Fiona. She must have done something to bring trouble upon herself.
He also knew that those assumptions were dead wrong. His instincts told him that Fiona was completely, entirely innocent.
The sheriff looked down at the growing ash on his cigarette and asked, “How well do you know Fiona Grant?”
“I met her for the first time today,” he said. “But I knew her husband. A good man who died too young.”
The sheriff shot a glance toward Jesse. “Do you think she’s got something to hide?”
“Hell, no.”
Not Fiona. Not that sweet, gentle woman with the appealing gray eyes. When they found the opened boxes in her pottery studio, she was genuinely surprised. Until he mentioned the ransom, the thought hadn’t occurred to her. When they discovered the body of Butch Thurgood, he’d seen her terror.
“It doesn’t make sense, Sheriff. If she knew where the ransom was stashed, why wouldn’t she grab it and run?”
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