scared, she’d gone the only direction she could. Toward Timber Falls, Oregon, a tiny dot she’d found on a service station map. With luck, she’d bought herself a little time. Once Norman’s body washed up and hers didn’t, they were bound to get suspicious. Whoever they were.
Norman. Oh, Norman. She still felt sick and still blamed herself for his death. If she hadn’t called Blackmore…
She’d called Rupert Blackmore because he was the detective investigating Clark Iverson’s murder and she’d read in the paper that he was actively looking for the attorney’s legal assistant, Norman Drake, for questioning. She knew nothing about the cop, let alone if he had a tie in with Timber Falls. Or her.
But she understood now why Norman was so freaked out. He had seen Detective Blackmore kill Iverson and, like Maggie, he had probably seen the recent photograph of Blackmore in the paper getting some award from the mayor for bravery and years of distinguished service in the Seattle Police Department.
Who would believe that a cop who’d been on the force for thirty years and received so many commendations was a killer? No one. That’s why Norman hadn’t gone to the cops. That’s why Maggie knew she couldn’t until she knew why Blackmore had murdered the others—and tried to kill her, as well.
Now she passed through a small residential area of town, coming out next to the Duck-In bar and Harper’s Grocery. Her stomach growled and she tried to remember the last time she’d eaten and couldn’t.
Parking beside the market in the empty lot, she went in and bought herself a bag of doughnuts and a carton of milk, downing most of the milk as she gathered supplies. She purchased some fruit and lunch-meat for later and a bottle of water. She wouldn’t be back to town for hours.
As she started to check out she saw a rack of newspapers and braced herself. But before she could look for a story in one of the larger West Coast papers about a body floating up on a beach, she spotted a headline in the Cascade Courier that stopped her heart cold.
“HERE, YOU FORGOT THIS,” Sheriff Mitch Tanner said from his recliner as Jesse walked through the door. Jesse’s first stop in town was to see how his brother was doing—and talk to him about the accident last night on the highway.
Mitch had always been the good one. College right after high school, then he’d taken the job as sheriff and bought a house. Mr. Law-Abiding.
Jesse on the other hand had been the wild older brother. Always in trouble. When he’d left Timber Falls it had been in handcuffs. After that little misunderstanding was cleared up, he’d headed for Mexico and had spent years down there, half-afraid to come home and yet missing his brother and dad.
“It’s required that you have it with you at all times—and keep it turned on,” Mitch said, tossing him a cell phone.
Jesse groaned as he caught the damned thing. It was bad enough being a cop let alone having to carry a cell phone. He stuffed it into his pants pocket, telling himself it was only for a couple of months tops. “It’s one of those that vibrates, right?” he asked with a wink. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
Mitch rolled his eyes and laid back in the recliner, his left leg in a huge cast and a pair of crutches leaning against the wall next to him. He’d taken two bullets, one had broken the tibia of his left leg. The other had just passed through his side. Both had laid him low though.
Worse, Mitch hadn’t taken it well that his first bullet wound in uniform would be from someone he knew—the most famous man in Timber Falls, Wade Dennison. Wade had shot Mitch while struggling over a .38 with his estranged wife, Daisy. Mitch had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Or at least that was Wade’s story.
Jesse thought being behind bars was the perfect place for Wade. The man owned Dennison Ducks, the wooden decoy carving plant and pretty much the reason for the town’s existence and because of that Wade Dennison had thrown his weight around for years.
Well, after being patched up at the hospital he was now behind bars facing all kinds of charges, including assault with a deadly weapon, resisting arrest and domestic abuse. His wife Daisy was fighting for no bail, saying she feared for her life should Wade be released.
Needless to say, it made great headlines in the Cascade Courier, the weekly local paper run by Mitch’s fiancée Charity Jenkins. In fact, Charity seemed to be doing everything she could to keep the story page one.
And, as always, the news kept the gossips going at Betty’s Café.
Jesse knew a lot of people in town resented Wade because of his money and his overbearing attitude and were hoping when the trial rolled around that Wade got the book thrown at him. Jesse just hoped Wade never went gunning for Mitch again. He would definitely take it personally next time.
Meanwhile, since Mitch was off his feet, he’d asked Jesse to stand in as acting deputy until he was completely recovered. Jesse had helped him out before since his return to Timber Falls. Because the town was in a remote part of Oregon, the sheriff had the authority to deputize whatever help he needed.
Jesse suspected Mitch thought putting him in a uniform would help straighten him up. He smiled at the thought because the job was a mixed blessing. He had only started this morning and already hated it. Still, he figured he was doing Mitch a favor and he could use the money, but he’d never been wild about cops since his wild youth and now he was one. The only one in Timber Falls.
The good news was that Timber Falls seldom had any real crime. Although this rainy season had had more than its share. But Jesse was hoping that with Wade Dennison locked up in jail and no more bigfoot sightings, things would quiet down.
“You look like you’re doing all right,” he said to his brother as Charity came into the room with a tray of coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. She put it down on Mitch’s lap.
Jesse raised a brow. “Damn, the woman can even cook?”
“Very funny,” Charity quipped. “It’s genetic. All women are born to cook and clean. Men are born to be asses.”
Jesse faked a hurt expression.
“Except for Mitch,” she added with a smile as she touched his shoulder. Charity had been crazy about Jesse’s younger brother since she was a kid and he couldn’t be more excited that the two of them were finally getting married. Mitch, while lying in a pool of his own blood, finally got smart and proposed to her after she’d helped save his life. The man was slow, but not stupid.
“I need to talk to my little brother for a moment,” Jesse said. Mitch was two years younger, but several inches taller than Jesse. “Sheriff’s department business.”
Mitch groaned. “That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull to talk sheriff’s department business in front of Charity, ace reporter.”
“It’s nothing you’d find interesting for the newspaper,” Jesse assured Charity as he sat down next to Mitch and stole a piece of his bacon. Charity stuck around just in case. She was the owner, editor and reporter of the Cascade Courier and she was a bloodhound when it came to a good story.
“You know those forms you said I have to file every week?” Jesse said chewing the bacon. “Where again do you keep them?”
Charity picked
