small kitchen. “Yeah, Steffi’s five and a half, as she’ll be quick to tell you, and she’s in kindergarten at Carver Elementary.”
“Good, old Carver.” She poured water into the coffeemaker and punched the button to start the brew. “Are you...married?”
Knew that one was coming, too.
He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “Nope.”
“Divorced?”
Even though it had been business, he’d poked into her personal life and that intimacy must’ve given her the impression it was okay for her to return the favor. She probably wouldn’t feel the same way if one of her clients turned the tables and started asking her personal questions.
“I’m sorry. I’m prying. Occupational hazard. You can just ignore me, if you like.” She turned and grabbed the handle to the refrigerator. “Milk with your coffee? No cream.”
“I take it black, and I don’t mind the third degree.”
“Yes, you do.” She pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. “Your face closed down, and your mouth got tight.”
“You’d be good interviewing suspects.” He took a quick breath and then blurted out, “She’s dead.”
Her hand jerked and the milk she’d been pouring into a mug sloshed onto the counter. “Excuse me?”
“My wife—she’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” She swiped a sponge from the sink and dabbed at the pool of milk.
He pointed to the coffeemaker, the last drips of coffee falling into the pot. “Coffee’s done.”
Kendall tossed the sponge back into the sink and poured a stream into his cup. Then she added some to the mug with the milk.
Taking the handles of both cups, she said, “Let’s go sit in the living room where it’s warmer.”
He took the mug from her. “Thanks.”
They sat in chairs across from each other, and he used the box next to his chair as an end table.
“Do you like Timberline?” She watched him over the rim of her cup and he got the sense that she had the same look in her eye when she was sitting across from a patient or a client or whatever term they used.
“I like it. I’m an outdoorsy kind of guy, so I like the fishing, hiking, rafting.”
“You’ve come to the right place for that.” She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her mug. “Looks like Evergreen Software is making an impact on the area. Young and Sons Lumber had gone out of business before I left for college, and Timberline was in danger of becoming a ghost town.”
“Evergreen had already planted stakes by the time I got here, so I don’t have the before and after picture, except from the locals’ stories of the old days, and Mayor Young is always crowing about how much he’s done for development in Timberline.”
“Ah, so Jordan Young is mayor now.”
“Actually, he stepped down recently, but he’s a one-man cheerleading squad.”
“Timberline does have a storied history—from silver mining to lumber to high tech. It’s nice to see some life in the old place—maybe a little too much life.” She wrapped both hands around her mug. “What do you really think about that mannequin?”
He blew the steam from the surface of the coffee in his cup and took a sip. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was left for you, even if it was a joke. Everyone in town knows your connection to the old kidnappings.”
“I wonder if Wyatt got any surprises tonight.” She tapped her fingernail against her mug. “I’m not the only one in town connected to the Timberline Trio, although it’s just the two of us after Heather Brice’s family left the area. I don’t suppose her older brother, wherever he is, has been getting these little reminders”
“Good idea. I’ll check with Wyatt tomorrow. He’s still working on a job at the station for us.”
“I have a hard time believing it’s the kidnapper who left it. What’s the point?”
“He’s a kidnapper. Who knows? There could be a million reasons in his deranged mind—if he has a deranged mind.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s like you just said—he’s a kidnapper. Why wouldn’t he have a deranged mind? Anyone who kidnaps a child for whatever reason has to be sick.”
“These two kidnappings could be for a purpose.”
“You mean like some kind of ring?” She laced her fingers around her cup as if trying to draw warmth from the liquid inside. “I can’t bear to think about that possibility.”
“I know. Believe me, as the father of a young daughter, I can’t, either.”
“Someone like that wouldn’t hang around to plant mannequins in trucks.”
“Exactly, so we don’t know what we’re looking at yet, but I’m sure that mannequin is connected to the kidnappings, even if it is just a cruel joke on you.”
She yawned and covered her mouth. “Sorry. Not even coffee can keep me awake after the day I’ve had.”
“I’ll get going. Didn’t mean to keep you up all night.”
His mind flashed on keeping her up all night another way and as her brows lifted slightly, he had an uneasy feeling the therapist could not only read his face but his mind, too—unless it was all an act. A therapist didn’t know much more than a layman or a cop, for that matter.
“I was glad for the company. Having you here in this empty house made my jitters go away.” She rose from the chair and held out her hand for his cup.
“Good.” He handed her the mug. “Is it okay if I use your restroom before heading out?”
“First door on your right.”
After he washed his hands and stepped into the short hallway, he heard clinking glass in the kitchen. He glanced at the cabinet again.
Something had spooked her this afternoon, and then the mannequin had spooked her tonight. Was this a pattern? And didn’t he have an obligation to find out if it was?
He crept toward the cabinet and eased open the drawer, his gaze tracking through the contents.
“Shouldn’t you get a search warrant before you go snooping through my stuff?”
Her cold voice stopped him in his tracks. Then he plucked the pink ribbon from the drawer and turned, dangling it in front of him.
“Funny-looking spider.”
Heat flashed across her
