she might have imagined it at first, but there were fresh footprints on the edge that didn’t match mine or hers.”
The mayor’s brow crinkled and he let out a sigh. “I’ll make sure it’s investigated fully. We can’t have this sort of thing going on.” He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his pants. “Sheila wanted me to talk to you about a job. Gonna put up some fences, but the ground needs to be cleared first. Your schedule open?”
Logan’s face warmed. “Your son could do that job fine, Carl. You don’t need to pay me to do it.”
Trigg waved a hand. “John wants to spend every waking moment in the stables. No time for fences. We’re indulging him until he puts that law degree into practice. Got distracted by Cassie Reynolds and her horses.”
“How’s he taking it? Cassie’s death.”
“Oh, well, he was sad, of course. He respected her and they shared a common passion for horses, but that was about it. We’re all saddened about that girl’s accident. Sheila’s even decided to help Isabel plan a nice memorial service, if she wants. We want to help, you know. Speaking of help, we’ve got business with you. How about that fence project?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Look. I know you and Sheila are trying to help me make a success of this business, but you’ve done enough by loaning me the start-up money. I’m going to get this thing on its feet and pay you back.”
He smiled. “Sounds like you’re on a mission. Okay, I’ll tell Sheila, but she won’t be happy.”
Logan returned the smile. “Tell her I’ll stop by next time she makes one of her berry pies.”
“I’ll do that.” Carl waved and got back in the truck.
Logan hurried toward the shop to pick up the promotional flyers he’d ordered. If he didn’t start booking some jobs soon, he would be hard-pressed to live up to his words and all the flyers in the state wouldn’t make a difference. The knowledge that the mayor and his wife were offering charity work to tide him over left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Saving the business should have been the only thing on his mind, but he couldn’t resist a quick look back at the police station.
When Isabel was finally ushered back to meet Officer Bentley, she felt only uncertainty deep in the pit of her stomach. After a deep breath, she settled herself into a chair across from the whip-thin officer and took the offensive. “Hello, Officer Bentley. We spoke on the phone when you called to notify me about my sister.”
His dark eyes showed no expression. “I remember. A bad call to have to make.”
“Yes. I know you think Cassie’s death was an accident.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe after you hear what happened to me last night, you’ll think differently.”
He listened, pencil poised, while she related the bizarre episode. After a long look, he put the pencil down. “Ms. Ling, are you sure someone pushed you? Isn’t it possible you stumbled and fell? In the dark, and on that property, it would be easy to do.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I didn’t fall. Someone shoved me and maybe that person had something to do with Cassie’s accident, too. There are footprints there. Whoever did it wore cowboy boots.”
He sighed so deeply the breath fluttered the corners of his mustache. Isabel could see threads of silver in his hair. “You can’t throw a stick around here without hitting someone wearing cowboy boots. I’ll be happy to ride up there and check it out, if that would ease your mind.”
“But you don’t believe me?”
“People experience grief differently. Sometimes it’s easier to imagine there’s someone or something to blame. Your sister was thrown from a horse. If you want to affix blame, you can pin it on Blue Boy. Some of those horses your sister rescued had been beaten, hurt bad. You never can really heal an animal like that.”
She willed her voice not to crack. “I’m just presenting facts to you, Officer Bentley. Please listen to me.”
He sat back in his chair, the lights accentuating the creases in his forehead. “All right. Let’s say you were pushed. My next question is, who do you know that would like to see you at the bottom of a ravine?”
Isabel swallowed hard. “I—I have an ex-husband named Rawley Pike who believes I wronged him, but he’s in prison in Orange County.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll check on that. Can you tell me the date he was incarcerated?”
She drew in a breath. “August fifth, ten years ago.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And the crime?”
“Dealing drugs. Cocaine and heroin. And he killed a man during a deal that went bad.”
“You turned him in?”
Her skin prickled all over. “Yes, I turned him in.”
“I’ll check on his status.”
And that means he’ll find out everything about you, too. She nodded weakly. “The footprints?”
“As I said, I’ll take a look and if there’s something there, we’ll talk about it more. Right now, I’ve got a meeting.”
He rose and led Isabel to the door.
She wandered out into the blaze of late-morning sun, her stomach still churning. He didn’t believe her and, what was worse, he was now going to look up her whole sordid past. Logan had not returned to the truck. A sign on the building next door revealed it to be the office of Dr. Lunardi, the person who had examined Cassie and pronounced her dead. He’d also helped Isabel make long-distance burial arrangements.
Isabel walked gingerly to the small building. A white-haired receptionist looked up from her keyboard. “May I help you, honey? Did you need to see the doctor?”
She felt suddenly flustered. Why had she come in? Her face flushed and she fought the desire to run out the door again. “Er, yes. I think I sprained my ankle. Could Dr. Lunardi take a look?”
The lady consulted the computer screen. “He’s got a few minutes. Come on back.”
She led Isabel to an examining room and went to fetch the doctor. A short while later Dr. Lunardi appeared, a small man with the dome of his head shining and smooth and a fringe of neatly trimmed black hair in a semicircle around his scalp.
“Hello, Dr. Lunardi. I’m Cassie Reynolds’s sister. You were so kind to help me make arrangements for her.”
He dropped his pen and bent to pick it up. “Ms. Ling. I didn’t realize you were her sister, with the different last names.”
“I took my mother’s maiden name.”
He fiddled with some papers on a clipboard. “Should have seen the resemblance. I was happy to help you with your sister. I can point you to the right people to plan a memorial service, too, if you wish.”
“I would like that very much.”
“Wanda
