sure did, and I appreciate it. I’ve been after this SOB for a long time.” Cole snapped his fingers. “Did any of the deputies do a search on the GPS in the stolen car? I noticed it had a built-in one.”
“Damn, I don’t think we’ve done that yet—a little distracted by what we found in the trunk.”
“Yeah, poor Hazel McTavish. I wonder how she had the bad luck to run across Diamond.” Cole flipped up the collar of his jacket. Seattle days could be cold enough, but Seattle nights could chill you down to your bones. “I’m going to check the GPS and see if I can find out where Diamond and his mysterious lady friend were headed.”
He shouldered his way through the deputies and EMTs gathered around Hazel’s trunk, and slid into the front seat of the car. He sniffed the air and got a whiff of some flowery scent—probably belonged to Hazel, but he’d have the King County boys dust for prints in here, too.
He poked his head out the door and yelled back, “I’m going to start the engine to look at the GPS.”
The GPS beeped to life as he cranked on the ignition. With a gloved finger, he tapped the screen. He swiped his finger across Recent Destinations and blew out a breath—next stop Timberline, Washington.
* * *
HER HEART STUTTERED when the bell above the door of the tourist shop, Timberline Treasures, jingled. She turned from the bin she’d been filling with little stuffed frogs, and released a sigh.
She smiled at the family with two young kids. “Welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”
The parents smiled back and started to browse through the key chains and magnets.
She wiped her sweaty palms on the seat of her jeans. She’d have to stop freaking out every time someone came into the store—or find another job. There was no way anyone could trace her to Timberline from that motel room. She’d wiped down all her prints and had even taken Larry’s phone just in case he’d had any more information about her, or pictures, or any references to Timberline.
Not Larry, Johnny—Johnny Diamond. When she got to Timberline four days ago, one of her first stops had been the public library to use a computer. It hadn’t taken her long to discover the dead man at the Stardust Motel was Johnny Diamond—drug dealer, thief and all-around bad guy.
What she’d been doing with him and how he’d wound up dead, she still didn’t have a clue. The online article she read didn’t give a cause of death, but the authorities suspected homicide—no witnesses and no suspects.
She brushed a wisp of hair from her face. Diamond’s phone didn’t contain any incriminating evidence, and she’d destroyed and dumped it soon after.
Linda, her new boss, new best friend and owner of the store, came from the storage area in the back and plunked a box on the counter. “Can you help me sort through these items, Caroline?”
She’d adopted the name from the North Carolina plates of the semi that had picked her up a mile from that motel outside of Seattle. The choice of a last name had been trickier.
“Of course.” She turned to the family. “Do you need any help?”
The mom swung a key chain around her finger. “We’ll take one of these—just a little something with the town’s name on it.”
Caroline plunged her hand into a bin filled with furry frogs. Holding one up, she shook it. “How about one of these? It’s a Pacific chorus frog and this particular toy is unique to Timberline.”
The little girl’s eyes widened as she tugged on her mom’s sleeve. “Mom, can I have it?”
“Okay.” She rolled her eyes at her husband, who shrugged.
Caroline brought the stuffed frog to the counter and winked at Linda. Linda rang up the family’s purchases and when they left the store, she patted Caroline on the back. “You’re a born salesperson.”
Scooping the trinkets from the box, Caroline said, “I want to do my best to repay you for your kindness, Linda.”
“When that haunted, hunted look leaves your eyes that will be repayment enough for me. It took my sister, Louise, years to recover from the abuse dished out by her boyfriend. When you told me your story of domestic violence and I saw that bruise under your eye—” she patted Caroline’s hand “—I knew I had to help you.”
Caroline blinked back tears as a pang of guilt twisted in her belly. She’d told Linda Gunderson a little lie to explain why she had no ID and why she was using a fake name, Caroline Johnson. She didn’t want her abusive ex tracking her down.
Linda had gone above and beyond by introducing Caroline as her cousin’s daughter, who’d moved out West for a fresh start. Linda extended her kindness even further by offering her the duplex next to her own, which she and her sister owned, and giving her a job at her shop so she could start earning some money with very few questions asked by the others in this small town.
But that haunted, hunted look in her eyes? That wouldn’t go away until she knew her identity and what had happened at the Stardust Motel.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Linda.”
“I needed help in the store, anyway, with Louise off on her cruise for a month.” Linda sniffled and dabbed her nose. Then she shoved a handful of magnets at her. “Can you stock these and the pencils before you leave?”
“Of course.” Caroline gathered the items and deposited them in their proper places around the store. When she was done, she took the empty box from the counter and left it by the back door of the storage room.
She lifted her black leather jacket and her new purse from the hook and returned to the store, where Linda was helping someone select a sweatshirt. Caroline waved on her way out.
If she hurried, she could make it to the library before it closed. She’d just scratched the surface of Johnny Diamond—enough to discover his talents for all forms of criminality, but not enough to find out about his personal life or any women in it. Had she been one of those women?
Once outside, she glanced at the moody sky, threatening rain, and then hurried across the street toward the civic center at the end of the block that boasted the sheriff’s station, city hall and a cozy library.
She pushed through the glass doors and rounded the corner to the reference section. Two of the three public computers were occupied, but the third glowed in welcome and she strode toward it.
She was two steps away from pulling out the chair when a man slipped in front of her and plopped into it.
“Excuse me.” She put her hands on her hips and hovered over his very broad shoulder. “I was just about to use this computer.”
The man cranked his head over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows over a pair of greenish eyes. “I’m sorry. I was already seated here, but the log-in I got from the reference librarian didn’t work and I went back for another.”
“Oh.” Caroline shifted her gaze to the pad of paper on the table next to the computer, which had been there before he grabbed the chair from under her nose. “I guess I’ll wait.”
“I
