Once Upon a Murder

Once upon a time, there was a dead body...

When Olivia Andrews - rising-in-the-ranks-author, breaks it off with her ex-boyfriend, she finds there's more to fear than make-up texts.

She has more drama in her own life than what she writes about. When the body of someone close to her lands in her way amidst the picturesque wilds of the northwest, Olivia has to prove she didn't do it while staying one step ahead of the killer – who has promised to write her ending next.

Laughing at the wildly inappropriate visits with her aging aunts and dodging the love interest of her best-friend's brother, Olivia struggles to stay on top of her deadline while avoiding becoming the next plot twist.

Can Olivia clear her name for the murder and discover who is out to get her in this chaotically satisfying mystery set in a small town, or will she become post-humously famous?

Don’t miss out on this fast-paced cozy mystery!

Chapter 1

I dabbed foundation on the bruise just above my cheekbone, but nothing was covering that mark. The blue and purple had only deepened in hue over the last few days since our last writers’ meeting.

Thankfully, the marks along my collarbone were gone, so I could wear something besides the hated turtlenecks or my singular scarf with the red and yellow polka dots.

Telling everyone I fell down the stairs was ludicrous, but that’s what I’d done everywhere I went. Everyone knew the truth in my writers’ group, though, but that was another reason why I’d stayed in the bathroom as long as I had. I didn’t fall down the stairs. I fell into my ex-boyfriend's fist and slipped into his stranglehold.

Not for the first time.

The library bathroom was empty of other women. Three stalls stood with all the doors open, as if mocking my situation. The light wasn't bright enough to dispel every shadow in the corners of the room, but it was enough to clearly see the carelessly applied makeup on my face. The lies my make-up told just reinforced my shame. They would know I was trying to cover the bruises up.

Sylvia would know and she would smirk, tossing her strawberry blonde hair around that I sometimes wanted to rip from her Princess Diana head. She was graceful and always fashionable with an understated class.

I could throw something at her.

Running the water until it turned warm, I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. What would I see? Nothing new. Just my flannel jacket, crazy, curly, dark hair, and curvy shape that I liked to hide in jeans and hiking boots with t-shirts, and finally, the bruises on a swollen cheekbone.

Keep walking, people. Nothing to see here. Unless of course you want to see my bum! I grinned at my joke as I bent closer to the sink to wash black, smudged eyeliner from my chin. Moving lower thrust my posterior up into the air. I was short, but I had long legs and the “specialty needs” counter was lower than normal.

The bathroom door squeaked open. I jumped and spun around, clenching my hands behind my back. My heart raced, and you would think I expected a murderer to come through the door.

My best friend, Robyn, studied my face. She waited to speak until after the door closed shut. “Olivia, are you okay?”

I exhaled on a whoosh in relief. I wasn't sure what was going on or who had my side. David, my ex, had dated Kami at one point, but she still wasn’t there yet. As far as I could see from my post in front of the bathroom sink. She hadn’t texted me that she was there in any case. She still hadn’t really said anything about the week before and what had happened with David.

Did Kami believe my side? I didn’t want to drag her into anything. As close as she and I had gotten, I hated that the ex might have finally gotten between us, even though we’d never addressed the David in the room. I didn't know if she believed me or not. Not that I had tried dragging her into it.

I turned back to the sink and faced myself while looking at Robyn in the mirror. I offered a tight smile and tried to look nonchalant. “I'll be fine. Do you think it looks like I'm trying to be a clown or something?” Motioning toward my make-up, I screwed my lips to the side.

Her multi-colored ponytail swung behind her as she moved toward me. She put her hand on my back and studied me in the mirror. “No, you're going to be fine. You don’t look like a clown. Only that loser, David, would say that.”

Robyn leaned closer to the mirror. Her pink and blue striped ponytail swung across her shoulder. She pushed her pinky finger at the arch of her eyebrow and blinked hard.

“If you want me to, I can put on a bunch of makeup and make myself look like a prostitute. Would that make you feel better? I'm sure Craig would get a good kick out of it.” Robyn rolled her eyes and turned, leaning her butt against the bathroom counter. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I haven't dressed like a prostitute in a while. It might be fun.”

I couldn't help laughing, even though the movement ached in my lower jaw, another spot David had laid one on me. “Do you think he'll be here?” I hadn’t asked all week.

Robyn wasn't only my best-friend, she was also my assistant and an aspiring author herself. I hadn't told her I was thinking about not showing up at the writers’ group, because David might be there.

I knew better than dating another author, especially when he and Kami broke up two years before. I knew better, and yet I was taken in by his smooth talking, his flattery, and his quick wit. The controlling aspects of his personality didn't show up until I thought I was in love. They didn't manifest themselves as warning signs until he’d pushed my family away and manipulated himself into my writing world.

He pushed me until it was too late for the rest of my life. I sought solace in my work. I’d brushed my family off because he’d convinced me it was the best thing.

Nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

When I missed the information that my mom had died because he’d deleted the voicemails on my phone and I didn’t make it to her funeral, I knew it’d gone too far. Robyn had smacked some sense into me.

But my dad wouldn’t speak to me. He blamed Mom’s death on me. Said she died from a broken heart.

I ignored the cracks in my heart and focused on Robyn.

Robyn leaned over and waited until I met her gaze. “If that jerk shows up? If he's here? I'll kill him. Like string him up dead. I will plunge a pencil into his eyeball, and then I will hammer it in with a —”

I held my hands. “Okay, okay.” I laughed. “I get it. One of the best murder scenes I can envision. Do not tell Tesha. She’ll take it from you.”

Our laughter faded, but didn't return us to our uncomfortable silence. Instead, I didn't feel quite so alone. I knocked into her softly with my shoulder. “Thanks.”

She didn’t reply other than to toss a long-lashed wink my way.

I knew if anyone would kill for me, it’d be her.

Robyn straightened up and ran her hand over her ponytail. “Well? Should we get in there? I think I saw Kami and Craig show up before I came in. I'm not sure about Tesha, but I'm sure the others will be here soon, too.”

I glanced one more time at my horrible makeup job and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, let's go. I want to hear how everyone's been doing this last week.”

The well-being of the group had become like an obsession for me. Even though we got new members all the time and some of them were transient, the core group was one I’d grown quite attached to. We supported each other through so much, and friends like that were hard to find.

Robyn and I walked out of the library door and into the conference room the library had reserved for us for every week. Friday nights were our nights. We had signed up for the room as the Writers of the World Date Night. Usually we made jokes on Facebook and in group text messages to each other like, “Are you ready for a WOW date?”

The group was fun. I didn't go to them for writing craft or publishing advice anymore. I went for moral support and friendship. Nobody understood how it was for me as a writer, except other writers.

I fell in behind Robyn as she entered the conference room door. Shame kept my normally exuberant self in reserve. Robyn plastered on her excited loveliness and exclaimed, “The party is here! Y'all can be excited now.”

I giggled, biting my lip as I allowed the discomfort to fade.

Kami approached me, cautiously, with her arms over her chest. Paler than normal with shadows under her eyes, she spoke as if she wasn’t sure how I would act toward her. “Hey, Olivia, how are you? I've been emailing you and texting you all week. How have you been?”

Keeping my emotions tight to my chest, I nodded curtly. “Yeah, thank you. I've just been swamped with this deadline and some marketing requests that my PR firm requested.” I put my bag on the top of the table in front of my seat, and made sure my smile was bigger than the bruise.

Kami and I were friends. I really liked her. She was just one of those girls who wasn't always sure where she stood with people. With my own insecurities over the last week, since David's manhandling got out of control, I didn't want to be the one to inadvertently add to anyone else's insecurities. She waited a moment and then reached her arms around me and hugged me.

I stiffened for a moment. She had been David's girlfriend before me and the subject was a sore one between us.

After a moment, I allowed myself to sink into her hold. She understood. Her touch told me she understood why I hurt and where my shame came from. It was nice to be understood.

Craig approached us with his weather-beaten hands tucked in his front pockets. His salt and pepper hair had been slicked down on either side with a very precise line down to the left. His glasses perched on his nose, as if an afterthought. He cleared his throat and avoided looking me directly in the face. “Did you guys see the email David put on the loop an hour ago?”

I stifled the wince David’s spoken name triggered, but Kami met my gaze and then glanced at Craig. She spoke for us, still touching my arm as if she anchored me to the ground. “What are you talking about? David was supposed to be kicked off the loop. We decided that last week.”

I had missed last week’s meeting when they had reacted to the fight between David and me. David had tried following me afterwards, but I’d gone to Robyn’s instead of home. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of me all week – because I didn’t want to be contacted.

Craig shrugged, a chunk of his hair bobbed on the side like an ill-trained cowlick. He adjusted his glasses and shrugged. “I don't know about all that, but it sounds like he got an agent and the book went up for auction. He sold it for a disgusting price. From what I understood, he sold a whole series of eight books, I think? The pitch said they’re urban fantasy or something. Did you guys even know he was writing? Urban fantasy. That’s nuts.” The older man shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. The bastard hadn't even told me he was writing anything. I swallowed, my throat tight with betrayal on more than just a physical level.

Kami wrapped her arm around my shoulders, like she knew what I was dealing with. She glanced at Craig, her carefully tweezed eyebrows arched. “Eight books? Fantasy? What is he up to?” Her fingers dug into my right shoulder, her nails sharp and piercing, but I didn't care. Somebody else was trying to hold me up, bolster me against what the bastard continued to try to do to me.

I shook my hair back and asked through clenched teeth, “Craig, is he coming tonight? Did he say anything about that?” I swore by all that was literary, I would leave if that jerk off was coming, and I’d run him over with my car. So, help me, he wouldn't get to live. Robyn wouldn't get to him first.

I would.

We sat down as Craig shook his head. “He didn't say anything directly about coming or not. He mentioned being here, but that could've been anything. I don't know. I thought you guys all saw it on the loop?”

Kami leaned over, blocking me from Craig’s view. She narrowed her eyes and studied my face. Her voice was low. “Are you okay? I remember the first time he hit me. It was one of the last.”

She winked at me and put her hand over mine. Her cinnamon scent had taken on an Old Spice connotation, and I turned my face away so as not to breathe it in. Old Spice reminded me too much of David. The jerk.

My smile could’ve cracked. The fact that everybody in that room knew what had happened didn't make me feel any better about being there. I couldn’t help wondering what they all thought of me.

As vice-president, Tesha called the meeting to order with a funny joke and a pencil as a gavel. I had to ignore the business details and suppress the wave of memories from the week before. My face heated as I clenched my teeth. We had been in the last meeting, and David started yelling at me. We had broken up a while ago, and he wouldn’t stop trying to get back together with me.

I didn’t want to and I said as much. Not going to happen. No, sir. When I told him to leave me alone, he snapped.

He hadn’t tried to cover his words or keep it down, like he relished causing a scene and embarrassing me. “You write like a whore. You act like a whore and a tease. I wouldn't take you back for anything.” He’d pushed his finger into my shoulder, and I’d slapped his hand away.

Somehow, I’d laughed at him. “And where are you? You don't even know what you want to do with your life. You just flip around trying to make mommy and daddy happy. But nothing you do makes them happy because you don't make anyone happy. I know you didn't make me happy.” I flinched just remembering my words. I hadn’t held back, either, and it wasn’t the first time we’d yelled at each other.

Which is why I’d broken things off. I didn’t want to yell at the one I was supposed to be with.

His fist had connected with my cheekbone before I’d even finished my last word. When he reached out to wrap his hands around my neck, his thumb had clenched tightly on my clavicle. I’d grunted, unable to call for help.

Tesha, Robyn, and Kami rushed to help me, screaming at him to leave me alone. The whole incident happened in front of the whole writers’ group and some other library members.

The heat in my face from being embarrassed hurt with the memories, stinging where the bruises were still healing. As I listened to Tesha discuss budgetary limits for the next year, I tried ignoring the fact that a fine sweat had broken out on my brow. What would they think of me? Could it be worse than I thought of myself?

Everyone had tried to check on me during the week from the group and make me feel better. I hated to say I had only wanted to be left alone.

Had he really gotten a huge deal? That just didn't seem fair when everyone else there, who deserved it, struggled to even get their stuff read and rejected, let alone a huge offer.

The business meeting passed quickly. “Does everyone want to skip the critiques tonight? I didn't get through all of them.” Robyn glanced at me, but leaned forward with her hands steepled on the table. “We could do a double session next week.”

Tesha nodded, yawning. She cracked her knuckles and bobbed her tightly curled ponytail as she moved. “That sounds good to me.”

I kicked my feet out in front of me and moved to stand up. The clatter of pens and other things falling out of my purse made me close my eyes. “Lovely,” I muttered under my breath. Kami and Tesha knelt down with me under the table. Robyn and Craig rushed to join us and we shoved things back in my purse.

Tesha pinched a fingernail polish bottle between two fingers and arched her eyebrow. “Green? You don’t strike me as a green nails girl.” She shoved more into the gaping maw of my bag. “Oh, my land, woman, are you packing for an overnighter?” Tesha's southern charm carried off the gentle joke smoothly.

“Either that, or she's planning something sinister.” Kami giggled as she held up my tube of Carmex Chapstick. “There's only so many ways you can Chapstick someone to death.”

Tesha grinned, her pink lipstick spotting her front teeth. “I can tell you a few of them. Maybe next week we will go for another few scenes like that.” Tesha was our resident thriller writer. She had an obsession with gore and murder. The rest of us shuddered when she turned in her chapters. The woman knew how to set up a scene.

I laughed, grateful that the mention of murder didn’t make me cringe, but instead brought a sense of comedic relief. “That sounds good.” Assured everything was returned to my bag, I stood and offered my hand to Tesha to help her up first. “Well, this was fun.” I wasn't looking forward to the long drive home.

Everyone else stood, dusting off their pants or rearranging clothing that had gone askew. We hadn’t been there more than forty minutes. I didn't want to go home and be alone with the possibility of David showing up. Out in the woods, anything was possible. He had a lot to brag about, and I didn’t want to hear it.

“Well, I heard Craig and Cindy over there talking about Cindy and some of the other writers going out to dinner at Denny's. Why don't you tag along?”

I looked at the rest of the group. It wasn't a small group, but it was smaller than most. Most of the writers came from Spokane, Washington and gathered from all over the area.

My commute brought me down from Twin Lakes, just north of Rathdrum in Idaho. Elisha, a new member, drove all the way in from Moses Lake. We also had some people as far away as Missoula, Montana. They would come and stay for the weekend.

For the first time in a long time, I actually felt like going out with them to a restaurant or something. I nodded slowly, and met Robyn's gaze. “Yeah, I think that sounds really good actually. Thanks, Kami. I'll talk to Robyn.”

Kami placed her hand on my arm. “You’ll feel better soon, I just know it.” She smiled and continued, “I'll be there a little bit later. They asked me to help put things away here. Can't turn down the library when the library might hold your book someday, right?” It was the pang of the writer's existence – anything for exposure. In Kami's case, she was trading physical labor for a chance that something of hers might be read in that small building.

Robyn liked to joke that she would have to trade her body for readers. That girl had an obsession with prostitutes.

I approached Robyn, sighing. The idea had become exhausting to go out. I didn’t want anyone to see my face, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be alone. “Want to go to dinner with the rest of the writers, or do you want me to take you home first?”

She shook her head quickly. “Nah, I'll catch a ride. I bet Grant will be heading home soon. I can probably bug him.” But she avoided my gaze. Something was up and I couldn't tell what, but she was a big girl and I didn’t want to seem clingy. She already did so much for me. “Okay, thanks. Let me know if you change your mind. I can swing back this way and take you home.”

I followed the rest of the writers in my car to Denny's. A bowl full of clam chowder and some of their rolls would definitely be comfort food that night.

A small part of me was disappointed that David hadn’t shown up. I kind of wanted to see Robyn murder him. Was I wrong to feel so vengeful toward him?

Chapter 2

I sat in the middle of the booth with Stephen and Cindy sitting to my left. I had a spot open for Robyn, just in case she showed up, to my right.

Where was she? I couldn’t shake the sensation that something was up. I dug through my purse, looking for my phone. Heck, where was that thing? I usually had it tucked in the side pocket. My notifications had been unusually quiet since I left the writers’ group.

Why hadn't I heard from anyone? There was my paranoia again, rearing its ugly head. Even surrounded by so many people in the group, I still felt all alone.

With my purse on my lap, I searched with one hand, dragging my bag closer to my stomach, and shuffling things around inside. Since my bag had fallen to the ground, everything was out of place. Inside the voluminous bag, I stored a planner, pens, pencils, erasers, my dictation headset, recorder, some notebooks, a binder, and, oh nice, a candy bar I’d lost in there last week. Everything was in a shamble, and I frowned as I searched further.

Tucking the bar into a side pocket so I would have it for later, I yanked up the sides of the bag and rammed my hand all the way through to the bottom.

“How was your last book launch?” Tiffany tapped her finger on the table in front of me. She sat across from me at the table, her blue eyes wide. “I've been watching you on Facebook and watching your rankings. You're getting better and better. Every launch is hitting the bestsellers’ lists. Do you think you'll hit USA and NYT this time?”

“I'm not sure. It was pretty exciting.” I laughed, uncomfortable with all the questions. Ever since I had gone into publishing about a year ago, I wasn't comfortable with all the different forms of attention I was getting. My erotica romance pen name – Roxxy Wild – was shooting through the roof, both in rankings and in sales, but I wasn't even sure it was what I wanted to write.

I really wanted to write inspirational romances, the feel good books, the ones where the sex isn’t what matters, where the girls prayed for their heroes instead of screaming at them. To make things even worse, David had expected me to be just like the characters in my books. I was as shy and inexperienced as they came, and he didn’t like that I never wanted to do anything with him. I refused to.

Some guys you just didn’t let too close.

Tiffany winked at me. “I would love to get some tips from you. Maybe I can come over tomorrow or sometime next week? I have a book releasing in a couple weeks and I'm pretty nervous to fall on my face.” Her laugh tinkled around the nearly empty restaurant. The Denny's in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho was usually a little less busy than the one in Spokane.

“Yeah, let me talk to Robyn and see what I have open.” The sad part of all of it was Tiffany didn't even like me before I started hitting the list, and I wasn’t so stupid as to believe she and I would be buddies.

“Hey, did anybody see Sylvia Williams tonight? Why wasn't she at the meeting?” Tesha ran over her attendance list. She was one of the best vice-presidents the group had ever had. We kept hoping the president would step down since she was never there, but she had to be present for that to happen.

But Tesha kept us all inline, which meant she probably would never be released from the board. She wasn’t totally in love with the job, but she did it anyway.

Craig cleared his throat. “Sylvia and David were supposed to be going out tonight.” He glanced uncomfortably at me. He raised his hands to chest level, palms out. “I didn't know until I got a text from him a little while ago. He said that's...”

I shook my head, neutral on the whole thing. “I don't care. But thanks, Craig, for thinking of me. Sylvia can do whatever or whoever she wants to.” I glanced around at the group and noticed a few people were missing. “Did Sandy say why she wasn’t coming?” I had to change the direction of the topic of conversation from David to anyone else.

“Well, I heard Sylvia is out of town, so I’m not sure how much I would trust David. And you know Sandy. She's been trying to get out of the group for a while. She keeps trying to make me take her treasurer position.” Tesha laughed. “But I'm good as vice. That way I can stand in when needed, but I'm not the final answer.” She shook her head and glanced up when Craig spoke.

“I’ll take treasurer. That’s what I do for work. It’d be simple enough.” He wiped at his nose and peered at the menu. He checked his watch and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him.

“I’ll ask Sandy, if we can do that. That might be a great solution to never having our treasurer present.” Tesha jotted the note down on her pad of paper.

“Did anybody see where Kami went to?” Without my phone, I had no way to contact my friends. I didn’t even know where Kami was. It shouldn't take that long to stack chairs.

“She just walked in.” Craig shifted from the bench seat to let Kami into the booth beside me.

Kami pushed at the knot of hair she’d thrown together. She seemed out of breath, but overall just rushed. “Sorry, guys.  I had to stack at the library, and then I had to help Robyn get a ride home.” She’d had time to put makeup on and she had the features of a model.

“It's okay, I couldn't find my phone to call you. I probably left it in the car or something.” I leaned over and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m glad you made it.” I smiled at her and shifted back as the waitress placed my bowl of clam chowder in front of me.

I sighed as steam rose above the bowl.

Craig leaned forward and grabbed his jacket. “Well, ladies, I need to get going. I'll see you next week.” He laughed, his abrupt departure expected, because it wasn’t the first time pulled it. Craig was a guy. With the kind of stuff he wrote, who knew what he was going to come up with.

After he had exited the front door, Shana and Cindy leaned forward. Shana's voice was in a hushed whisper as she leaned across her onion rings. “Did you guys read Craig's chapters that he submitted for critique?”

I hadn't. With all the drama with David and being under deadline, how was I supposed to have time to critique everyone’s stuff? In fact, I was extremely relieved when Robyn suggested that we not do the critique until next week. “I didn't have a chance to.”

Shana pursed her lips. “It's all about this guy who's going to rescue these girls, and they’re like underage prostitutes. What he does is he ends up using them as his own prostitutes, and then, like, it turns into some kind of love story. He’s their pimp and he's like four times their age at like fifty, right? These girls aren’t even legal age.”

Cindy nodded jerkily. “Yeah, and the guy is obviously a bigot. He called them the N-word and commented on their skin color more times than he commented on their breasts, which is saying a lot.”

I rolled my eyes, leave it to Cindy and Shana to focus on the negative. Although to be honest, Craig’s stories ran right on the line of appropriate and censor-necessary. We constantly had to rein him in on what would be acceptable for readers and what wouldn't. The fact that the girls in his stories were underage was not surprising.

His last book had been a sci-fi on some kind of moon with women who were fifteen-years-old and older, and they worked as miners. We never understood what the plot was. The entire book was filled with descriptions of the women's bodies. Something was definitely wrong with Craig, but no one said anything out loud.

Tesha shrugged. “We’ll just continue to make our suggestions to Craig, and if he likes our suggestions, great. If not, then that's gonna have to be up to him to make the changes that are needed.”

But was it okay? Were we even making helpful suggestions to everybody? Had anyone even read David's work? He’d gone to a publishing house with an agent and he had gone big. Fast.

Behind my back. I didn't care he had gone the traditional route. That was what was so nice about writing in the 21st century. You could be any kind of author you wanted to be. Traditional, hybrid, or indie. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the fact that he hid it from me. It would take more than just a month to write a potentially best-selling great book. Especially for someone who only went to writers’ groups because he wanted to control me and make sure I wasn't flirting with any of the guys there. And Craig was our only guy, which should be pretty telling on how controlling David was.

I couldn't find my phone, and I crunched my bag in frustration. It was most likely in the car. I needed a purse with zippers.

Dinner with my friends was exactly what I needed. I dipped my spoon into the clam chowder. Where was Robyn? And why the heck had Craig left early?

I ignored the fact that Sylvia might be out on a date with David. If the woman wanted to write erotica with BDSM thrown in, she could have at it. She could get all the beatings she wanted from David.

Glaring at my clam chowder, I took a deep breath to calm down. My bitterness wouldn’t salt my dinner. I wasn't going to let anything ruin my night. I took a bite of the creamy goodness and chewed on the potatoes.

Life was good.

Maybe, just to soothe my bruised cheek a little bit, I would let myself get a huge Denny's cookies and cream milkshake.

Not maybe. I was ordering that as soon as the waitress came back around.

~~~

I wiggled my fingers at Cindy and Shana as I slid into the front seat of my car. I was definitely an addict for the Honda Fit. The small lines fit me very well, and I maneuvered it easily through the rain-splattered streets.

I didn't have any problems with the dark drive home, until I started thinking about what a dark ride home it was. I had forty minutes to get me from the bright lights of town to the head-on lights of semis and other cars passing me. Oncoming traffic dwindled as I got further out into the woods.

Jaunting up Highway 41, I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen another car in almost five minutes.

I turned left to head out toward Twin Lakes, where I had inherited a lake property from my parents six months before. Dad had died soon after Mom. All the family I had left were my two aunts. David had tried to take them away from me, too. I swallowed the bitterness at him and the things he’d cost me.

Thankfully, I had left him before I lost all semblance of self-esteem, but even that had worked its way to where it was barely salvageable. Too bad I couldn't slap a review on his forehead, preventing other women from dating him. “One star. Not a good kisser. Even worse boyfriend.” Like the random reviews left by reviewers on all kinds of books, like a forewarning for future purchasers.

I pulled into my driveway, the long gravel ruts highlighted in my headlights. I turned my brights on, as if that would help anything to dispel the creepiness of a rainstorm thundering down on the hood of my car in the middle of the forest at eleven o’clock at night.

Nothing was really helping me come home by myself lately. I had felt a lot safer when I was dating David. At least then I hadn’t worried he might show up and beat me to within an inch of my life.

I shook my head and shifted into park with my garage door reflecting my headlights back at me. “Come on, Liv, you’re okay. His car isn’t here. No one’s going to get you.”

My phone still hadn’t shown up. I reached up and turned the overhead light on and dug around in the seat creases and in between the crevices by the middle console. Where had that thing got to?

I hoped I had left it at the library. If it had fallen out and maybe slid underneath the table or something, that would be awful. I didn't feel like driving down to the Post Falls library again, at least not anytime soon. But at least it would have a dry place to be.

I ignored the fact that I would be there again next Friday. I sighed. Of course, I was going to go inside. I couldn't sit there in the car, with the darkness encroaching upon me. I would go out there, I would have to walk into my house.

Was anything waiting for me in the shadows? We had a serious coyote problem in the summers. The rain would probably keep them at bay, but that didn’t help me feel any more secure. I glanced out into the darkness, as if I could see anything.

I shoved open the door and grabbed my bag, the clink of the items in it reassuringly familiar in the dark.

David hadn’t gone to the writers’ group. Was he waiting for me somewhere? Was he waiting to hit me again? Or maybe he was mad at me. Or maybe he wanted to gloat some more. I had no idea. I hated the uncertainties.

I needed to talk to Robyn. My hands shook, and I tried focusing on the scent of the fresh rain and the pine trees all around me.

Approaching the front door, I reached for the cold brass handle. Then I stopped. Of course, I forgot I had locked the doors. Which I never did. Nobody locked their doors out there. Just recently someone had said something in our neighborhood watch group about teenagers trying to break in and steal things. Not exactly the most comforting thing I could think of. So, I had resolved to lock my doors for the first time in forever.

But I couldn't remember where I had left my spare key. I didn't keep one with my car keys. My mama told me once that it just wasn't a smart idea. As I stared at the locked keyhole on my door, I couldn't remember what the reason was.

I kept my spare by the backdoor, underneath a log in the firewood pit. Yay for me! I got to go and walk around in the dark, searching for a small key amongst a stack of logs.

Why hadn’t my dad put in outdoor light switches?

I rounded the corner of the house on my wraparound deck, and slowed. The back-porch light was on. That didn't make sense. I didn't leave it on. I slowed my walking, my footsteps echoed off the vinyl siding.

Had I forgotten to turn them off? I took a deep breath. That must be it. I must've just forgotten. Nothing else made sense. Nobody would come to my house and turn the lights on. At least not a thief. I didn't think so.

Or would they? I’d never been robbed before, so I didn’t know what the proper robber etiquette was.

Did I ever give David a key in the year and a half we were together? I couldn’t remember. Oh, my gosh, so I was going to be killed. Was it going to happen right there?

Okay, Olivia breathe, your imagination is getting carried away. Nobody is even there.

I chuckled softly. There I was, stirring myself into a hissy fit, and nothing had even happened. So what if my light was on? It wouldn’t be the first time I had left it on and forgot.

A crash to my right startled me and I stumbled against the side of the house, my arms tight against the wall. My eyes widened, and I stared into the dark as much as I could see.

Stormy, my mom’s cat, slumped onto the porch in front of me, her gray matted hair at odds with her beautiful, striking blue eyes. The cat had come with the house. I clutched my hand against my chest. She might not survive the night.

“Stormy, you almost killed me. You have got to be quieter than that. What are you doing on top of the roof anyway?” My heart beat with a fierce pounding and I couldn’t get it to calm down.

She looked up at me, something red on the paws of her feet. Great, now what was she killing?

I shook my head and peeled myself from the wall. “All right, I'll feed you in just a minute. I need to get inside. No, you're not coming inside, there's nothing for you in there.”

Was I talking to myself or was I talking to her? The comfort of my voice wasn’t as comforting as I’d hoped, but the sound of my voice mixing with the lake lapping against the beach was more comforting than the silence and beating of my heart.

I stepped forward, bit by bit, uncomfortable with the fact that my lights were on and my cat had almost killed me, or I her. I couldn’t be sure.

As I rounded the corner, I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands.

Now I knew where David was.

His body sprawled across the deck, his left leg bent at an angle with the foot dangling off the porch. His head faced away from me, positioned as if he watched the pair of glossy, red high heels facing away from him. A red handled pair of scissors protruded from his chest.

I held my hand over my mouth and tried not to scream.

Had David come there for me? Had he come there to kill me? There was something oddly familiar about the way the scene was set up. As if I'd read it somewhere, but I couldn't remember where. Certainly, it wasn't my work, I wrote romances, and pretty dirty ones. Where had I seen it before? More importantly, why wasn’t I rushing to see if he was still alive?

Probably because part of me worried he wasn't.

I gulped, lifting my bag up to waist level. I thrust my hand inside and dug around, as if my phone would suddenly materialize after all that time. Hadn't found it at the restaurant, hadn’t found it in my car, what made me think it would suddenly be there?

911. I just needed to call 911. I needed to call the cops. I needed to call for help. 911. 911. That's all I needed to do. Where was a stupid phone?

The melodic tones of my ringing startled me. I dropped my bag to the ground and backed away from the scene.

The long rectangular body of my phone, stuck out from under David’s hip. Light from the screen grew as someone’s call became more insistent. How had my phone gotten there?

And like the universe was against me, I had to go pick up the phone from under his dead body.

The universe didn't want me to be free from David.

Or it did, but in a really gruesome way?

I edged closer, as close as I could for a moment, and then I had to stop and take a deep breath. The dark closed around me, even the normally reflective lake had disappeared under the clouds of the storm.

I had no way to call for help, except for touching David's body to get my phone. Did I have what it took? Could I get closer?

It was as if the clouds sensed my tension and they released the rain from their swollen shapes. The sudden thundering rain on the metal roof of the wood shed reverberated through the static under the covered porch.

I needed to get help. If not for me, then for David. Even if he wasn't dead, even if he was the biggest jerk I’d ever met, he didn't deserve that. No one deserved to just lie there like that. With a tacky pair of heels next to him.

The blood on the porch didn’t spread out very far. I dropped to my knees and stared at David’s face, then cast a hurried glance around the rain-pelted darkness. How odd to be isolated in a pool of light with a dead body and red scissors.

Don’t focus on the body.

I crawled my hands forward, finger-lengths at a time, until I was just barely inching forward, keeping the weight of my body on my knees and twisted into some weird yoga move.

The very tip of my index finger grazed the rubber edge of my phone case. I scrunched my nose as I picked at it to get a hold. I closed my eyes and lowered my head as I stretched enough to pinch the phone between my thumb and forefinger. I snapped my eyes open when I felt its weight slip from under him.

Yanking the phone back as fast as possible, I crab-walked to the safety around the corner of the house and heaved a gasping breath.

David hadn’t moved, so my guess was that he really had obtained the afterlife.

Lifting my phone, I noticed I had missed a call from Kami, Robyn, and a few text messages from David. They would have to wait. I needed to make that call.

911. 911. I rested my free hand over my eyes to block out the site of David’s work boots in my line of sight.

“911 operator. What's your emergency?” The woman picked up, bored because let’s face it, nothing happened in north Idaho unless it had to do with someone poaching on their neighbor’s property.

I glanced at David, what was my emergency? Would I be questioned for the murder? There was nothing else that this could be, if I was questioned, good. That would be more information for them to find the real killer.

Gulping, I worked up the nerve to push out syllables I hoped made sense. “My name is Olivia Andrew. I live out at Twin Lakes. I just found a body. At my house.” How much more would they ask of me?

Did they need to know how badly I wanted him dead?

Chapter 3

The rain didn’t let up and the air cooled significantly. I couldn't stay on the back porch alone, not in the dark with rain attacking everything it could around me. I usually sought out isolation. That wasn’t what that was, though.

Gathering my bag and the stack of post-its and pens that had fallen out, I glanced once more at David over my shoulder before I scrambled from the porch to the car.

Stormy cut in front of me, and I stooped to pulled her into my arms, and then thought better of it. She’d never let me hold her, not while she was spooked. She didn’t let me on the best of circumstances and had barely tolerated my mom’s touch when my mom had forced it.

In the car, I locked the doors and folded my arms over my waist. Staring into the dark that hid my house and the atrocity in the back, I couldn’t even blink. What if... what if the killer was out there? Waiting for the rain to fade so they could come and do the same thing to me?

The yellowish-green of Stormy’s eyes flashed at me from the corner of the garage where she was protected from the strength of the storm.

How would I ever be able to tell my mom in the next life that somebody had died at her house? Dad was going to flip a lid, if blood stained the deck wood.

My internal jokes didn’t matter. I couldn’t make myself feel better. My jokes sucked. My breathing sped up, and I leaned forward, bracing my forehead on the soft vinyl of my steering wheel.

Nothing was working. I couldn’t claim to be calm or under control.

When would someone show up? Usually the nearest police officer was about twenty minutes away, give or take, unless they were busy. The operator had said to expect twenty to thirty.

I glanced at the glowing green clock on my dash. I’d called two minutes before.

Two? Why did it feel like I’d called nine days ago?

Another minute passed and headlights pulled up behind me. The height of the rig put the lights square in my rearview mirror, blinding me. I turned, trying to see past the sun-like orbs obscuring anything I would be able to identify on the truck.

It could be a pizza delivery car or the killer, for all I knew.

Whipping back to face my door, I clicked the automatic locks a couple times to make sure they were engaged. My wet hair whipped me in the face as I turned.

What was I going to do? What if the killer had returned?

They had come to my house. Were they there to kill me? That's the only thing that made sense. Logically, nothing else fit. Who would want to kill David or had even known he would be there?

Other than me. I mean that much was obvious. But I had already joked about it. I didn't have the gumption to kill anyone. I wasn't even a mystery writer for that exact reason.

I was so confused. I didn't know what was going on. Quite honestly, I just wanted to go inside and take a nap. Then, I wanted to wake up and find everything else was back to the way it should be, and I was trying to get rid of David the normal ways – you know, with a restraining order.

No way would the cops have gotten out there that fast. Why hadn't I started carrying a gun in the car like my dad had told me to? I was smarter than how I was behaving. I knew better.

Dang it, I never wanted to be one of the heroines of the book that was too stupid to live. I could hear my eulogy now, spoken by Robyn in a black Batman cape. She’d probably use a gravelly impersonation of Christian Bale. Knowing her, she’d also forget she was channeling Bale and switch to Christopher Walken. The first line of her Ode to Olivia would be, “Here lies Olivia, too stupid to live. Just like a character in one of her first unpublished novels.”

I clenched my teeth at the thought. She would do a terrific Walken, though.

The rapping of knuckles on my window made me gasp. I half-sobbed, with my eyes squeezed shut. I was so pathetic. If nothing else, at least I hadn’t peed my pants.

Yet.

I looked out the window, almost hoping to see the killer, so I would be justified in my fear.

And there he was, the killer.

Of course, not the killer. That would be too easy, less complicated.

Faced with the man outside, I suddenly really, really wanted it to be the killer.

Grant. If it could’ve been anyone at the most inopportune time, of course, it would be Grant.

My window let me crack it just enough I could speak out the slit. I ignored the way the water dripped of the solid lines of his jaw. I’d touched that jaw before, traced it, watched it clench when I ran my fingers through his hair. I forced a smile.

“Hey, Grant. How are you? Whatcha doin’ out here?” I blinked several times, like I was the picture of innocence. If I widened my smile, maybe he wouldn’t ask why I was sitting out in my car... in a rain storm... so late at night.

He arched an eyebrow, water dripping off his chin and nose. He wasn’t even bothered by the water. “You just called 911. I heard it on my scanner. What's going on? They said a possible homicide?” Grant glanced around, like he wasn’t standing in the middle of the forest with chilly water clamoring to get through his clothes down to his skin.

I furrowed my brow. Rolling the window down even more, I pointed at him. “No way did you get out here that fast. There's no way. Even if you were at Robyn's house, it would take you ten minutes to get here. That was, what, three minutes? What aren’t you telling me?” How had he done that? Or... maybe he’d already been here and was biding his time after killing David...

I looked up at him, my eyes narrowed.

Grant reached up and sluiced the water from his hair, the strong muscles of his neck clenching and bunching as he moved. “Why don't you come out with me, so I don't have to stand here in the rain?”

“Where else would you stand?” Suspicion held my hand. I couldn’t let him in, and I couldn’t get out. Not until I was sure he hadn’t killed David. Although, it was Grant. He’d never hurt me. I could see him hurting David for me, but not me.

He sighed and shook his hair. The man was infuriatingly lucky and had a full head of hair that most men would kill for. “Come on, Livvie. Don’t make me stand out here. Show me what you think is a dead body, so I can call it in. Did you see a dead deer or something?”

Spluttering, I unlocked my door and snarled when I climbed out. “Dead deer? I’ve hunted, thank you very much. Come on. I’ll show you.” I glanced around for Stormy to be my fellow witness. If nothing else, my cat should’ve been able to support me or save me. Why was I all alone?

I slid from the car, clinging to my bravado. I couldn’t let my fear stop me from showing Grant that I wasn't afraid. Ignoring how broad his shoulders were and how his waist tapered down to his jeans as the rain forced his clothing to cling to his body, I reached back inside the car and grabbed my bag.

No, I had to stop focusing on my attraction to him. I was the one that broke things off with him. I couldn't lead him on. He was my best-friend’s brother. Some things just wouldn't work. Plus, we’d already tried and second chances weren’t in my cards.

I swallowed, ignoring the rain on my face and hair. Motioning towards the deck, I tried to keep my voice nonchalant. I was failing at everything else, I’m not sure if I succeeded. “David's here. But he's...”

We walked slowly to the deck and climbed the stairs. Grant knew his way around the place and he moved ahead of me before turning back to check why I had stopped. Underneath the covering was as far as I wanted to go.

Grant was there. He would see it. He was a cop. He could take over, and I wasn’t really needed. My reality would finally be someone else’s. I didn't want the scene to be real. Not because of David which made me insensitive, but there was a dead body on my back porch. Someone I'd known.

I had a hard time coming to terms with that.

Grant watched me, waiting for the great reveal with more patience than I deserved. “It’s okay, take your time. What’s going on?”

Swallowing, I shook my head and closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my eyes. “I don’t want it to be real.”

“It’s okay, start slow.” He moved to my side and waited, not huffing or asking like he was wasting time.

I nodded and the turned my head to peer into his eyes. My voice decided I was ready before I did. “David is dead.” My words broke on a sob, but not out of sadness, more out of relief that Grant was there and I could tell someone safe.

He stepped away from me, his hands going out to his sides. He pierced me with his gaze and spoke slowly. “What? I need you to be really clear about what you’re talking about.”

I faced him full on. Thrusting my finger toward the wood grains of the deck, I furiously blinked my tears away. “No, really, tell me why you got here so fast. What's going on? Is Robyn okay?” Why else would he be headed to my place? I hadn’t answered my phone because it was stuck under David.

He reached up and tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear. “Robyn’s fine. She told me what happened last week. I’ve been undercover, so when I called to check in tonight and she told me...” Pity in his eyes filled me with shame. His tone softened. “Why didn't you tell me? I had to come and make sure you're okay. I was on my way here when I heard dispatch ask for assistance.”

Robyn had told him. I wasn't sure what her game was, but we had agreed we wouldn't tell anybody, least of all Grant or my aunts. No one needed to know. I was a little hurt she had said something, but I would let her explain herself before jumping to conclusions.

Grant glanced around the deck, lit up with the headlights from our running cars. “David’s dead here? Sounds like someone beat me to it.” But his teasing tone made it clear he didn’t believe me.

“You wouldn’t do that. You’re a good cop, not... one that’s not.” I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it. My lack of retort combined with the thought that Grant would stick up for me like that did more to lift my spirits than anything else.

We couldn’t be together, that much was obvious, but... the fact that he cared enough to joke about killing someone who had hurt me was just macabre enough I had to laugh. He was trying to make me laugh.

His laugh was so inappropriate for the moment that I finally let myself giggle. Nervous giggle like the kind you try to swallow down at your grandma’s funeral. The kind that makes you wish you had a reason to hard laugh for real.

“I'm a cop. What do you mean ‘one that’s not’?” A smile dissuaded the confusion on his face, but not all of it.

“You know, look at Paul Davis.” Paul Davis. He was what we liked to call the local idiot cop, the one that believed he was Chuck Norris, but somehow ended up being more like the Mall Cop.

“Well, Paul’s a special kind of cop. They sell those in boxes at the movie theatre.” He glanced around, stepping to the edge of the deck and staring as far out into the wet black that he could. “How did David get out here? Did you see another car anywhere?” He ambled toward the back porch, taking the initiative, which I was grateful for.

I didn't want to deal with the body again, at least not first. Maybe I’d been slipped a hallucinogen in my clam chowder. I could only wish so hard and it still wouldn’t be true. I trailed my fingers along the grains of the vinyl siding, wishing we could go slower.

All too soon, we reached the edge of my home, and he slowed down, putting a hand out to have me stop. Looking back, he cocked his head. “Did you touch anything?”

I swallowed, answering with a squeaky voice while avoiding looking anywhere near where David had been. “I might have gotten my phone out from underneath his hip.” I widened my eyes. I needed my phone. Was I going to get in trouble? “Is that bad? I had to get my phone to call for help.” I pointed toward the body without actually seeing it.

Grant glanced at me, his eyes definitely agreeing that was bad. He shook his head, sighing. “Yeah, that's pretty bad. You could at least watch one or two of the Law and Order shows. You’d learn a few things, even if they’re not completely accurate. You need to educate yourself, sweetheart.” He looked away before he saw how his words tripped me up.

I thrust my jaw to the side, frustrated and becoming emotional. “What did you expect me to do? I needed my phone.” It was like one of those catch-22’s where you need the job, but you won’t get it because you don’t have a job.

Stormy still hadn’t returned to the scene. I needed to see her, even if only to make sure she was still okay. She’d never been a fan of the thunder and lightning.

Bracing his arm on the wall above me, he half turned to me, his question strong with misgiving. “How did the phone get under his hip, Olivia?”

He could’ve screamed did you do this? And it wouldn’t have been clearer what he thought.

I stumbled backwards until my rear end crashed into the porch post I’d always hated. I couldn’t be more offended which, of course, I hid. He didn’t need to know he’d hurt me. “I get why you said that, and yet, I don't. Why would I do this and then call 911? That doesn't make sense. Nor is it consistent with my character arc.”

Grant stepped close to me, grabbing my upper arms with his hands. He bent his head to peer into my eyes. His gravelly voice sent shivers down my spine. “This is not the time to joke. This isn’t some book of yours. You are in serious trouble. You found a body on your porch and there are no other cars around, except for yours. How did he get here? What is your excuse for why he's here?”

He glanced at our running vehicles and then twisted his wrist to see his watch. “We have ten minutes on the outside before Paul Davis shows up. He’s in this jurisdiction. He’s going to look just at the questions I asked you and he’s going to say all signs point to you.” Grant shook his head softly. “You know it won’t take much for him to accuse you, Livvie. Please, take this seriously.”

I hadn't considered it that way. Yes, all lines did point to me. All of Grant’s questions brought up more reasons that it was me, that I had killed David. I believed that I was the killer, when he presented it like that.

The rain didn’t let up as I struggled to get my nerves under control. “I joked about it, but I didn't mean it. I’m just... nervous. I don't want anybody to die. I wasn't the only one joking about killing him. A lot of us were joking about it. Hell’s bells, even Robyn joked about it.” I didn't mean to throw her under the bus, but I needed to take the attention off me. At least as far as he was looking. He would never suspect his sister. “Why does it feel like you’re blaming me? I didn't do this. I promise.” Whining never got sympathy with anyone and I would irritate myself, if it went that far. Being seen as a suspect in Grant’s eyes was... sickening.

He sighed, releasing his tight hold on my upper arm. “Look, I understand. It's not like I wouldn't do it, if I wasn't a cop.” Grant had his faults, but dishonesty wasn't one of them. He was one of the best cops I knew, and not just because he was Robyn's brother, or the fact that I'd had a lifelong crush on him. None of that mattered when he was just an overall good guy.

Why wasn't he seeing that about me? How could he doubt me? I hadn't killed anyone. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

My panic that I wasn’t being taken seriously must have exuded off me like a force field. He backed up, his hands aloft in the universal sign of surrender. Eyeing me a long moment, Grant stood with his arms like that.

Chest heaving, I swallowed back inevitable bile from the collective circumstances. I had to get myself under control. I could. I rubbed at my eyes, glancing toward the front of the house where my car was. I wouldn’t be accused in there. I could go and he couldn’t stop me.

As if reading my mind, he reached out and cradled my elbow in his palm as he drew me closer to the body.

I pulled back, yanking my arm from his grasp. Scowling, I challenged him with my glare.

Eyebrows raised, he squatted beside the body, his hands folded and hanging between his knees. “This is a weird way to set up a dead body. The color of the shoes and the scissors are exact. This was planned.” He glanced at me, and then dropped his gaze to my bag. “Do you have a pen or pencil in there?”

I dug inside, gripping the first writing device I felt. I handed him a ruby red pen which, ironically, matched the red of the weapons. I scrunched my lips to the side, sheepishly. “Um, sorry?” I pointed at the items after he slowly took the pen. “I was thinking the same thing. There’s something familiar, but I can't...” I shook my head. I didn't know why, but something was off.

“Give me a minute, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” I had to remember where I recognized the scene from. As soon as I did, I would have to tell him. Because as far as Grant was concerned, I might as well have been the one who plunged the scissors into David's chest.

Chapter 4

Grant checked his watch again and then jerked his head to the side, piercing my gaze with his. “Go watch and make sure no one shows up, yet. If Davis has any pride in his job, his response time will be pretty fast.” He bent and used the pen to lift the pocket of David’s flannel shirt and peek inside.

I wobbled my head in what I hoped would pass as a nod. Swallowing, I turned and then paused. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to see if I can look over the scene before David gets here. He's not your biggest fan. I can see him jumping to conclusions and missing out on information because he’ll be so desperate to peg you. He might not be able to see the scene for what it is.” Grant stood and dug into his pocket, pulling out a jackknife.

He squatted again, using the now-open blade and my pen to pinch onto David’s jean pocket and lift to search inside. He switched the knife into the other hand with the pen. Covering his fingers with the tail of David’s shirt, Grant reached into David's pocket and pulled out a phone.

Careful not to disturb anything, Grant put the shirt tail back to its position.

So much work. He was taking so many risks. Time was running out, the urgency palpable. Yet, there I lingered. I had to know. “Why are you doing this? Why don’t you just let Paul have me?” My fractured words danced with the sound of the rain.

He straightened to his full height and closed the distance. He bent his head and our gazes clashed. His whisper matched my own. “You’re not a killer. I know you want to think you’re big and bad, but you’re not.” Grant reached up and tugged on a chunk of my hair. “Do what I asked. I’ll be right there.”

His dedication to me was alarming. Why had I let things end between us? What had I done to him?

My reply died on my lips. I turned without answering. Regretting my previous decisions was not something I needed to do right then. There was plenty of time for that in the nights when I laid alone in my bed and couldn’t sleep.

I somehow stumbled to the edge of the front porch, watching down the drive for any lights. If the killer was going to get me, he would get me. But I had full confidence that Grant would protect me.

His sudden presence behind me was evident even before he spoke. Heat emanated from his body as he stood only a few inches from my arm. “I found his phone.” Grant’s strong hands gripped the phone at waist level in front of us. He glanced at the road, watching for any sign of approaching vehicles. No headlights could be seen from either direction through the trees. “There are a lot of numbers in here. Looks like he had some text messages, though.” His voice was grim. “We need to go talk to Robyn.”

“Why?” Why would we need to talk to Robyn right then? I had a dead body on my porch. I needed the cops to come and free me from this noose of suspicion that I was the bad person.

He turned his face to meet my searching gaze. “She might need our help. She texted David beforehand.” He pressed a message on the touch screen with the stylus end of the red pen I’d lent him. The message read, “David, if I get my hands on you, you're dead.”

I jerked my gaze to Grant’s. She had promised him death. Not threatened. That was a clear text of intent. The text was exactly her, and I shook my head at her audacity. “That doesn't mean she did it.” I swallowed, but did it? I would hurt anyone who was stupid enough to hurt Robyn.

Anyone.

Had she done the same for me?

“She would never do something to implicate you. You’re the only person she’s one-hundred-percent dedicated to.” He avoided my gaze.

Besides him. He’d forgotten to include that. Robyn was dedicated to her older brother, too. Her feelings were what kept Grant and I at arm’s length.

He pointed at some of the other text messages. “There's another number in here, it looks like it might be his brother. He asked him for a ride. I know Robyn didn’t do this, but she might be able to help us with the timeline. Let’s go to her house and see what she knows. Also, you can’t stay here. You need to not be here when Davis gets here or you’ll never get out.” Grant tucked the cell phone into his pocket and ignored my questioning look.

I couldn't help but wonder just how possible it was that Robyn was the killer. The shock over David's death didn't hurt quite as much as the fact that Robyn might have done something that would get her into trouble.

Murder wasn't something you could apologize for or move on from. It wasn't something you paid a fine for. It wasn't even something you could laugh and joke about. Robyn had a way of doing things that made you feel comfortable even as you sat next to her on the gallows. I couldn't hide the smugness that maybe my friend loved me just enough to kill someone.

Grant narrowed his gaze. “I'm not removing you from my list of suspects, though, either. There are some text messages from you, too, inviting him out here.”

I spluttered, flailing my arms to the side. “I promise, I couldn't find my phone. It was gone. It just showed up here. You can ask people that I was with at the restaurant. What do I have to do to get you to believe me?”

Grant grabbed my upper arm just above my elbow in his tight grasp. His fingers dug into my flesh, not painfully, but enough I knew he was serious. “They’re pushing me deeper undercover in a couple weeks. I can’t do anything official here. Especially because of my relationship to the top two suspects, they won’t let me near this.”

He dug into his pocket for his keys and nodded toward my car. “You can follow me to Robyn's. We’ve wasted enough time. The bus should be here soon. You won't be able to come back for a while, do you need to get anything?” His dark eyes looked at me and the slid away.

I really was a suspect.

“Wait, yeah. I just need my laptop.” I pressed my hand to my forehand, I wasn't sure what was going on, but I believed Grant would take care of me. If anyone had my best interest at heart, it would be him.

“Is it smart to mess with the investigation like this, Grant? I don't want anything to jeopardize your career.” I peered at him while I chewed on the inside skin of my bottom lip. A cop in prison wasn’t something I could even imagine.

“Run inside and grab your stuff. Don’t take longer than a minute. And it’s smart, if my sister is involved. I'm not going to let anything happen to her.” He still had his hand on my arm, and he jerked me close to him, my hands shoved against his chest.

Our eyes were inches apart. “And I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Even if you did do it.”

Even if I did do it? He still didn't trust me.

Did I trust myself?

Chapter 5

I ignored the body as I rounded the back of the porch. I also ignored the fluttery feelings inside my chest from when Grant had touched me and pulled me close. All of my feelings had to stay pushed aside for the moment, or I would lose it.

Watching the lines in the vinyl siding as I walked, I didn’t keep an eye on where I placed my feet. I let out a muffled squeak when I accidentally stepped on David's elbow. I swear I wasn't trying to. I couldn't remember where I put that key.

Every second that ticked by had become measured by my heart rate.

I couldn’t be there. I had to leave. Grant would be in trouble, too.

A splinter pricked my finger as I ran my hands over the logs and moved them around. I’d placed it underneath a log back there, but logs were everywhere. Stormy had disappeared somewhere. I hoped she hadn't stepped in David's blood. He hadn't liked her anyway.

If I was going to be gone for a few days, what would I do about her? Thankfully, she was a hunter and didn’t need to be inside. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t miss her.

As much as she would deny it, if you asked her, I knew she would miss me, too. I hoped.

I was shaking by the time I remembered the key was under the fake log by the back door. I tilted the replica to the side and grabbed my key. Then I ran around the side again to the front door. Letting myself in, I closed the door and leaned back against the panel.

There wasn’t any time, but the safety of being inside rushed over me, leaving me light-headed.

Something brushed my hair. I flipped the switch beside the door, spreading light through the downstairs.

A note had been taped to the inside of my front door. Typed in Times new Roman font, it read, “You’re next.” Who used Times New Roman font anymore? There were a lot of other options.

Emotionally, I couldn’t handle anymore. I shut down and stared at the note dispassionately. There wasn't anything fancy about it. It wasn't even on stationary, like someone had hastily printed off the page from my own printer.

How had the killer known how to get into my house? Had I even told David where my key was? I couldn’t remember. The stress of the night was getting to me and I still had mere seconds to grab my laptop.

Grant gave me only a minute, I guarantee I was over that. I gripped the note in my fingers, my knuckles tight. I ran into the office and grabbed my laptop bag as well as the outlines I had for the rest of the book I was working on.

Thankfully, Robyn had everything else I needed for staying over. I even left extra clothes at her place in case of emergency.

Although, to be honest, an emergency I’d had in mind when I’d been preparing for it had been more along the lines of she was sick, so I was staying over to help, or it was Valentine’s Day and we were having an overnighter in protest. Something like this... wasn’t really on my scale of understanding.

I shot a glance around my home. The sense of safety had dissolved with my discovery of the note. I wouldn’t be able to stay in there, anyway. Not alone. I didn’t have a guard dog and my security system wasn’t locked and loaded yet. I couldn’t find Dad’s rifle.

The house would have to be fine without me. I had to get out there.

I closed the door behind me, jiggling the handle to make sure I’d locked it. That time I pocketed the key. I went to my car, my hands still shaking, but the laptop bag strap swinging from my shoulder.

From his rig, Grant rolled down the window. “Are you okay?” The rain had let up to a soft drizzle, but it was only temporary. North Idaho didn’t mess around with the weather. It gave you a warm up, like we’d had, and then the clouds would prepare for the real show.

We had minutes before the true storm would descend.

And the cops.

Whichever came first, I didn’t want to be outside when it got there.

I thrust the note towards Grant through his window, standing on tiptoe to reach. “Can we just get out of here? We can talk about it at Robyn’s.”

It took Grant less than a second to take in the note and its contents, even less time to scan my face. “I'm serious, Olivia, are you okay?” His dark lashes framed his dark eyes which peered at me with such intensity my insides trembled.

Was I okay? Horrified was more the word I was looking for. The fact that I was a suspect and Robyn was a suspect filled me with absolute disdain. We were the least violent people I'd ever met. And the note... the note didn’t help my emotional stability. All the note did was promise me something I was sure I didn’t want.

“I'm fine. I need to get out of here. Are we going straight to Robyn’s?” I side-stepped toward my car and turned back to see what his answer was. I could feel the pressure of time passing too fast.

He gave a sharp nod, checking his side mirror and out into the darkness. “Yeah, come on. We need to clear her and you. You'll both be on top of the suspect list as soon as Davis finds the phone. I just heard on the scanner he's about ten minutes out. We don't have time to mess around.”

Had Grant tossed David’s phone after I’d gone into the house? He wasn’t the type to hold onto evidence – or tamper with it for that matter.

Instead of bringing that up, I focused on the fact that he’d insinuated I would be a suspect. The mention of ten minutes helped me breathe a little easier on the time. I arched my eyebrow, small droplets of water dripping down my face. “Why the phone? Why me? I thought...”

Grant turned the key in his ignition, piercing my gaze. “You were his last text message. It said that you wanted to meet him here.” He spoke in a monotone as if he didn’t want to let me know that he didn’t trust me.

He couldn’t have taken my breath away more if he’d slugged me in the gut.

I shook my head, disbelieving as I pulled out my phone and swiped the screen. “But... I was at the diner. I couldn't find my phone. That’s not possible.” There wasn’t a text to David on my phone.

Grant tapped the side of his window, pointing at her phone. “But you have your phone now, Olivia. I'm trying to help you. Get in your car and follow me to Robyn’s. We'll deal with the rest of the details later.”

I turned to my car, my laptop bag hitting me on the hip as I spun. Yeah, I did have my phone, but that’s because it was stuck under the body. “I found my phone under David’s body, Grant. Just to set the record straight.” I tossed it over my shoulder because I didn’t want him to see how upset I was getting.

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to peg this murder on you.” Grant didn’t wait for me to comment or say anything else. He put his truck into reverse and backed up in a U until he faced down my drive.

I didn’t reply. Imminent tears threatened and I gagged them back. Throwing my laptop bag into the front seat, I climbed in and pretended I was heading over to Robyn’s for a writing night. Ignore the fact that the benign scene through the rain splattered windshield was more ominous than it ever had been.

Someone had set me up. They’d gone to a lot of trouble to make all the clues point toward me. Grant even suspected me, no matter how much he refused my questions.

If I was honest, I was starting to suspect myself with all the evidence. I turned my car on and belted in. I didn’t want to leave but another, bigger, part of me didn’t want to stay.

What else was I supposed to do?

My ex-boyfriend was dead. My best-friend and I were the suspects. The last thing my career needed was bad press. I could see the headlines now. “Romance Author is the Killer in Love.”

The whole world would think I’d killed my ex-fiancé in a jealous rage. Except I hadn't.

I pulled in behind Grant’s truck, the red glow of the brake lights streaking through the moisture in the air. The tempest of the rain created a shield separating us from the world.

Why hadn’t he wanted to have me ride with him in the truck? I should take my car with me, but wouldn’t there be tire tracks showing we’d been there? Maybe the rain would wash them away. I had to stop worrying about everything.

First thing was first, get to Robyn’s.

Grant had said something about keeping the car at Robyn’s and not driving anywhere, so Paul wouldn’t know where I was. Not driving my car meant Robyn would be my chauffeur until further notice.

My phone buzzed and beeped as I got into better service, and missed emails joined the text messages and they warred with each other for the screen. I wondered why my phone was so quiet. Usually it was a very active, the evidence that the phone had been missing buzzing beside me.

Grant pulled slowly out of my driveway. I looked both ways into the dark. I wouldn’t be able to see anything out that far anyway. The text messages on my phone would have to wait. The emails... I wanted to shut everything off and leave it off. How much would I have to deal with in one day?

The glimpse of the email subject line from my editor was enough to cause hyperventilation. Robyn, Kami, and a few others I could deal with later. Just get to Robyn’s. No one needed to know that I’d been in danger.

Or that I was still in danger.

Chapter 6

I pulled in behind Grant on Robyn’s driveway. She had recently had it paved, and the black was strikingly shiny in the evening rain while the outdoor lights gleamed on the wet surface.

My windshield wipers thwacked on the glass and I didn’t want to get out.

A sudden rush of adoration overwhelmed me. I could genuinely say I loved Robyn. She was my closest friend. We'd known each other since our mothers were pregnant at the same time. I liked to tease Robyn that I knew her in-utero. She always said she was trying to get to me through her mother’s stomach. Either way, she was my lifelong friend, my soul sister.

I would do anything to protect her, emotionally, physically, spiritually, any other –lly you could think of.

With the evidence Grant brought to light, I was desperately worried she felt the same way.

The rain had slowed to another drizzle. Clouds provided a beautiful backdrop for every flash of lightning in the background. Trees spiked into the sky around her simple home.

Robyn decorated with an eye to the bright but tasteful with three wooden log posts in varying heights tied together with a bold pink and green bow. Wooden bears protected pots of honey beside the door and a deep red rose wreath graced her door. Dark brown trim on her cream-colored house stood out in the white glow of her LED outdoor lights.

Grant parked his truck in front of mine. His red taillights blazed brightly and then faded off.

I was suddenly nervous. I parked my Fit and turned off my own engine. I didn't want to go in her house. I didn’t want to accuse her of killing someone. If I didn’t go inside, it would just be a possibility for a while longer, instead of a question thrown out there waiting for an answer.

Swallowing was a struggle. My tongue seemed to have swollen. Maybe I could get out of going into Robyn’s and go to the hospital instead with anaphylaxis. Was my tongue swollen enough for that? I pulled out my phone and Googled anaphylaxis for the signs.

Grant opened the door and crossed his arms while he watched me. “Stop trying to find ways to avoid going in there.” He ducked and reached across me, his scent male and damp as his chest was right across my face.

He grabbed my laptop bag and purse and pulled back out. “Come on. She’s going to think we’re up to something. I’d hate to get in trouble without any of the reward.” He spoke bitterly, a sardonic twist to his lips as he reached for my hand the only thing taking the sting out of his words.

“I’ve never not wanted to go in her home.” A double negative didn’t even embarrass me enough to take my mind off the situation. The moment choked me up and I doubted my loyalty.

Was I anything close to what I’d always thought I was? A loyal, loving, defend-to-the-death friend?

Grant stopped, pulling me to his side. He tilted my chin up so I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Just because you think she might have done something, doesn’t make you a bad friend. There’s nothing wrong with coming here and getting answers.” He chucked me softly, more like a graze, under the chin and tilted his head toward Robyn’s house. “Quit stalling, Andrews.”

Last name. He called me by my last name like he used to do when we’d dated secretly in high school. Back when the chance at getting caught was more exciting than even the actual dating.

Lightning snapped overhead, and thunder cracked soon after. Waiting for permission, the rain took the cue and a deluge dumped down upon us.

We rushed to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when we reached the safety and protection of her overhang. Grant stayed close. Ducking nearer to each other, we peered inside Robyn’s solid glass doors. Only a light upstairs was on.

I grabbed Grant’s arm before he knocked. “Grant, I don't want it to be Robyn.” Tears stung my eyes. I desperately wanted her to be innocent.

But I understood how much we loved each other. She would protect me just like I would protect her. A little niggling inside me worried she hadn't done it. That she hadn't protected me.

Would I have the guts to do it for her? I hoped so.

He turned towards me and brushed at the wet hair sticking to my cheek and whispered, “I know how important she is to you. She's important to me, too.”

His words were heavy with meaning. I didn't want to focus on the back story behind him and me and me and Robyn. Unfortunately, it was so much a part of who I was, so much a part of my relationship with Robyn. If I didn't focus on it, it was like none of it would be real.

Or would he?

Somehow we made a silent decision that I would ring the bell. I didn’t want him to see my cowardice any more than necessary. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, the chimes melodic as it reached us through the glass.

I glanced at Grant, would he see the way I felt?

Robyn suddenly showed up in front of us, towel drying her hair. She opened the door wide and leaned out, peering at the rain and then at us. “Guys, what are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow.” She glanced out past the cars, closing the door behind us as we stepped through. “Why are you together? Something bad is going on, I just know it.” She laughed with a snort and ushered us into her small living room.

The style of Robyn's house was simplistic elegance, like herself with little splashes of excitement in the most surprising places.

Grant and I sat on a couch while Robyn claimed the one across from us. Calling the loveseats couches was more generous than their small sizes warranted. Dark leather cushions welcomed us with a soft pliable hug. I shrugged off my jacket and draped if over the armrest beside me.

No matter what I did, I couldn't shake the sense of discomfort at our forthcoming accusations.

“Robyn, did you contact David? At all? Like text messages or phone calls or anything?” Grant jumped in with his questions. He didn’t remove his soaked coat or even take the time to slide his cowboy boots off. He leaned his elbows on his knees and faced his sister. He wasn't confrontational, but something in the way he asked and looked at her, Robyn could tell it was more than just an idle question.

I glanced around the open floor plan, uncomfortable. I had come with him, we were in cahoots, working together to get her to admit something that would get her in trouble. My stomach hurt and I wanted to jump up and tell her not to say anything.

The counters in the kitchen were clear and she’d just turned on the coffee machine. What a weird thing to do so late at night. She didn’t usually drink coffee. Not alone. Her coat hung from the hook by the door. Damp spots darkened the blue shoulders and upper sleeves.

She cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her. Arching a questioning eyebrow, she side-smiled while she spoke. “Yeah, I told him I was going to kill him if ever saw him. He didn’t come to the meeting, as you know, so I had to get my digs in where I could. That guy is a jerk. You're better off without him. I can think of a thousand other guys better than him.” Robyn laughed, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. “I’ve have been thinking the last few days about how I would do it, too, how I would kill him. Nothing seems... fair enough though.” She twisted her lips to the side, as if she really was contemplating it.

Had she done it? Her bloodthirsty comments warmed me. Unfortunately, the consequences were more severe than a slap on the wrist, if it was her.

Unable to return her smile, I choked out, “David's dead. Somebody killed him already.” I glanced down, avoiding her eyes for a moment.

Robyn’s smile dripped from her face. Her make-up-less expression paled with the realization that Grant wasn’t asking because he was curios. He had a reason. My friend pushed a hand to her chest. Hurt lowered her voice and she tucked her chin. “You think it's me? You think I would do this?”

I pointed at my breastbone. “I didn’t do it. I mean, I know it looks like it was me, but I didn’t.” Glaring at Grant, I continued, my voice laced with apology. “We know it wasn’t you, even though the clues point toward you, just like a ton of them point toward me.” I knew she hadn’t killed anyone.

She couldn’t have killed David. Not Robyn. She’d make a loud spectacle about him, and kill him with rumors and words. She’d never actually harm anyone.

Peering into her eyes, I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. “We have to prove who did it so we aren’t the suspects. Plus, I need to know who would do that to me.” The soft tick-tock of the round oak clock above the door paced the silence after my comment.

Was it bad that I had to know? Who would kill my ex on my back deck and frame me for it? Without any real choice, my decision was made for me and I was roped in too far. I’d be the proverbial cat and die from curiosity – but at least I’d know.

I had to find out who killed David, before anyone else – including me – died.

“It might suck, but let’s just get the questions out, okay? We need to know the answers so we can get all the information we need.” I suddenly didn’t want to ease into anything. Blunt worked best between Robyn and me. We could handle anything, as long as we had the whole story. I ignored Grant as he turned surprised eyes my way. “Where were you? You didn’t go to the dinner after the writers’ group. I waited for you. You never showed up. You didn’t even ask me for a ride. Kami said you got home, but you look like you just walked in.” I nodded toward her jacket and its wet spots.

Grant didn’t comment, glancing between Robyn and me. Maybe he sensed that he wouldn’t get anywhere with Robyn when she was already mad at him for suspecting her. She’d listen to me and talk things out with me. We really were like sisters, which made my attraction to her brother even more off limits.

Robyn shifted, sticking her leg out in front of her and looking around the house. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” She avoided looking directly at Grant or me.

Growling, Grant slapped his thigh. “We’re going to talk about it. Now. I’m messing with an investigation by withholding your information. I hid the victim’s phone because I had to find out why you texted him the threats that you did. Help me now, before I can’t be your big brother with this and protect you any further.” Exasperation shook his hands, but his pleading held his shoulders rigid.

Robyn glanced at me, tears welling in her eyes. She shook her head the smallest amount. A twinge of fear rippled through me. Whatever she hid might get her in more trouble with her brother than murder would get her with the state.

Chapter 7

I held my hands open as if waiting for the divine truth from Robyn to set us both free. I couldn't harness my disbelief when she continued staring at Grant and me with her mouth shut and bold determination had set her jaw.

After a moment, she stuck her tongue to the side of her lip with a pained expression.

Bursting through the silence, her brother blurted out, “Why won't you tell us? Did you do it? I'm not acting as the official investigator here, I just need to know if you did or not. I'm not sure what will happen, but I need to know if you did. Your text messages and the comments you made to everybody, they make it look premeditated. I’m going to be honest with you, there's nothing I can do for you without an alibi.” Grant's face grew ruddier and ruddier, his hands clenched on his knees. “I can’t help you without facts.”

I put my hand on his arm, attacked with tingling from more than just awareness. I watched Robyn until Grant calmed down, visibly relaxing under my hand. I had to keep them all calm. When those two got going, nothing logical stopped them. “Robyn, just tell us. Whether you want us to know or not, doesn't matter right now. We need to know what happened. Where have you been?”

A knot coiled in my stomach. Nothing was going to relieve it at this point. She was hiding something, and if it wasn't the murder, it wasn't good.

She glanced at Grant and then back at me, and inhaled. “I was out with Ryan.” The confession burst from her as if someone punched her in the stomach. She kept her gaze on me, as if the straight line of contact would protect her from Grant’s inevitable rage.

Her brother turned into full on mad. Grant roared, “You what? You were out with Ryan! Why were you with him? And why would you hide it? I can't believe you would be so irresponsible. Did you even tell Olivia? What if something happened to you? With that imbecile...”

I pulled my hand away from Grant and shushed him with a hand in the air. “Enough. It doesn't matter.” Facing Robyn, I ignored the glare Grant threw my way. “Do you have proof you were with Ryan last night? That's what we need. I don't care what your alibi is. I just need to know that we can prove it. Where were you?” She hadn't told me, but I wasn’t upset about that.

Honestly, her relationship with Ryan was more on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again than a motion light set up over the entrance to a bat cave. I knew they were meant to be together, the fact that they fought and broke up didn't matter. They always came back to each other, and neither of them ever strayed.

Robyn refused to look at Grant, as if he really wasn't there. She held her voice calm and steady. “We were at the bowling alley in...”

“The one going out of business? The family one?” I wrinkled my nose. There would only be one or two other people in the whole place. Finding witnesses would be hard or it would be easy considering they wouldn’t have gotten lost in a sea of other customers.

It would be hard to prove she was telling the truth. The place had been going downhill for quite a while. Rumors pegged it as closing in the next few months, but no one knew for sure.

The fact that she chose a public place was telling. I had to ask because I was the nosiest writer sometimes. She knew it and expected it. “Are you guys back together now?” I knew Grant wouldn’t want to know. At least, not enough he would listen, but he stayed and his hands clenched and unclenched on his knees.

Percolating coffee filled the lower level of her home with a heady aroma of the finest coffee one could find in the northwest. Robyn was a coffee snob. I didn’t understand the infatuation, but I rolled with it.

I didn’t want to breathe in too deeply, but she’d put on one of my favorite flavors and I was so tired. Too much had fit into my day and I wasn’t equipped to handle any more. Smothering a yawn, I tilted my head to the side to hide it from Grant’s all-knowing eyes.

Robyn shrugged. The truth was out and now she had nothing to hide. “I don't know at this point. It was just nice to hang out with him without any of the expectations. He paid for everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Which is not like him.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the table. “We were on their security camera. I remember that because Ryan and I were arguing about which size shoes would be best and he pointed out how funny we looked fighting on screen. Then we kept running in front of the camera to make funny faces the whole rest of the night.”

Snorting, I shook my head. I understood where she was coming from. And my relief, oh, the relief that she had an alibi released the tension. I sagged into her couch.

Robyn drew her feet up under her rump on the cushions. “So, what happened? Do you know? You found the body at your house?” Even Robyn couldn’t sensationalize a murder any more than it was already. She continued ignoring Grant, as if she hadn't said anything about her on-again-off-again boyfriend and as if he hadn’t exploded. Some of their relationship I understood as normal brother and sister back and forth banter. Other times, it was like they were the most cemented of siblings, and nothing could tear them apart.

Right then was not one of those times.

Grant spoke up, forcing his sister to look at him. I hesitatingly turned my face toward him, but tried not staring at the angle of his jaw. He arched his eyebrow as he had our attention. “Olivia mentioned that the scene looked familiar. It was her house, so I'm not sure how much of the familiarity came from the actual details of scene or if the familiar feelings came from how she felt about it, since it was her home.”

Biting my lip in case I snapped at him questioning me, I just nodded. I had doubted myself, too, but that was different. It was okay for me to doubt myself and not tell anyone, it was entirely different for someone else to doubt me. Especially when that someone was Grant.

I cleared my throat. Talking about it revived my adrenaline and brought the scene into the forefront. “It was really weird, Robyn. David... had red-handled scissors poking out of his chest. There was a pair of red high heels – that glossy vinyl kind, you know? They were right next to him. One was kind of tilted to the side, like they were left there on purpose but on accident. Does that make sense? It felt completely staged.”

Chewing my lip, I furrowed my brow and tried not to be worried with how I sounded in front of Grant. “I’m not sure why, but it was just so familiar. Do you recognize anything about the way it sounds?” The scene wasn’t from one of my books. I specialized in romance and there was no plunging any scissors into anyone's chest. Even blood wasn’t mentioned in my books.

Tapping her bottom lip with her finger, Robyn hummed under her breath. “That does sound oddly familiar.” She stared off above my head, deep in concentration.

A moment strayed into two minutes and then five.

I shifted on the couch, uncomfortable next to Grant and fully aware of his proximity. It wasn’t the first time I’d been on the couch with the overly brooding and sullen man. The last time, though, we'd been a lot closer than six inches, and if I remembered correctly, a large amount of our bodies had been touching as well. My face reddened at the memory.

After another moment, Robyn shook her head. She snapped herself back to focus and scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry. I can't remember. Maybe if we think about it some more, we can figure out what's going on. You have that brunch with your aunts in the morning. We need to get some sleep. That’s the best thing for memories. I read that in a book somewhere.” She looked to the side at Grant and narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe I read it on Pinterest.” She snickered and her brother groaned.

He was hugely against the fun idea app that Robyn and I swore by. I once planned an entire book around the site. Grant didn’t have any respect “for anything that made life look easier than it was with ideas that made it a thousand times harder than it needed to be.” That would be a direct quote.

Robyn had suggested sleep and I couldn’t go to my bed. “I'll never sleep. Somebody just died at my house. Even Stormy is still there. What if they go back and kill her?” I shook my head, tears threatening again. “We shouldn’t have gone to the writers’ group. It will never be safe again. I’m telling you. Nothing good happens at those events.” Now I was more convinced of that than ever.

Glancing at Grant, Robyn finally spoke directly to him. “Can you stay on the couch? Is there anything waiting for you at home? Plus, it's rather late to be out driving, especially with a killer on the loose.” Robyn wiggled her eyebrows at her inappropriate jokes. I could always count on her for something humorous, even in the tensest of moments.

Then Grant looked at me, as if it mattered what I thought. He furrowed his brow and watched me. “You guys are making jokes about the murder?”

“Psht. You know you’re not upset with us. That’s what we do. We laugh at funerals and cry at weddings.” Robyn stood, offering me her hand as we both stood and looked down at Grant with his scowl and deep eyes.

Would he stay the night? He’d probably stay for Robyn. Of course, no matter what he chose to do, I’d read more into it then what there would be.

“No more jokes about the murder, you two. We’re in a lot of trouble as it is.” He looked at us again and then nodded, glancing once more at Robyn. “I'll take the couch. I should probably call this in. Paul Davis won’t take kindly to things being messed with.” He turned away, grabbing his phone and notepad.

The man had turned on his cop side and we wouldn’t see him for a little while.

Robyn led the way upstairs. I couldn’t stop thinking of seeing my aunts the next day, or I guess, that day. I had found my ex’s dead body and my cat was stuck at the house in the rain. What else would happen to top off my weekend?

I had to get through brunch and then Robyn and I could figure out what was going on. Brunch or any other activities with my aunts had been nonexistent in quite a while, not since David had told me to back off on contacting family. When I’d written them after David and I had broken up, it had been my feeble attempt at reconciling with the only family I had left. Robyn would make sure I went through with it.

Sometimes I hated her for always making me do what I was supposed to. Other times, I was so mad at her for being the one thing standing in the way of me having Grant, I wanted to walk away. But never seriously. She wasn’t just Grant’s sister... she was more like family to me than anyone else.

I’d go to the brunch, if only to avoid a nagging from Robyn.

Heading up the stairs to Robyn’s spare room, I brushed my teeth and got into my extra pajamas I left there for emergencies.

In bed, I stared up at the shadowed ceiling. An image of Grant’s broad shoulders as he slept on Robyn’s couch hung over me, adding to my stress of finding David and being a suspect in a murder. Nothing was going to allow me to sleep that night. Guilt that I’d added to the pressures of his job confounded me.

Even though we’d never have a chance, I didn’t want him to associate me with murder and problems. I already had the bad taste of our “secret” breakup between us.

Now I had the history of a murdered boyfriend, too.

The pattering of rain on the window cajoled me to sleep.

Chapter 8

I must've slept, because I opened my eyes to light streaming through the windows and Robyn's spare room pillow bunched under my arm on the bed next to me. She’d moved a futon into the spare room for me once she’d built that house and every time I stayed, it was assumed I’d use my room.

From the way Grant had said he’d take the couch the night before, I wondered if maybe he’d slept in my room when I wasn’t there. That thought made me a little uncomfortable as I pulled out some extra clothes to change into after my shower.

Pans clanked in the kitchen, mixing with the soft sounds of Grant and Robyn’s voices as they talked.

Grant’s slow timbre gave me a nudge. I wasn’t going downstairs without a shower. I had to wash my hair before going down and seeing him in the bright light of the day.

Grateful for the heavy water pressure, I stuck my hair under the shower head, trying to get the soap from my thick hair. I could close my eyes and enjoy the hot water and pretend that nothing had happened. I was having a normal weekend. The only thing that would be out of sorts would be my lunch with my aunts.

A sudden scream penetrated the roar of the water as it thundered on my dark brown curls. I jumped out of the stall, wrapping a towel tightly around me and ignoring the dripping water from my legs.

Running to the top of the stairs, I shouted down into the living room. “What? Are you okay? What happened?” My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t having a heart attack with sharp pains in my upper stomach area and my arms. What if the murderer had followed me there?

What if the killer was slaughtering Robyn and Grant?

Robyn moved to see me better while Grant angled his head with an eyebrow arched. “Olivia,” Robyn’s mouth fell half open. “You’re dripping water on my floor.” She stared at me.

I shifted in the small puddle of water. I glanced at Grant and then at Robyn. After an uncomfortable pause, I spun on my heel.

Dashing back into the shower, I closed my eyes and leaned my hot face under the water. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I needed more harassment from Robyn like I needed more hot water. She would completely tease me as soon as I got back downstairs.

I finished my shower and pulled on some clothing. Brushing my hair, I pulled it back into a tight braid like my mom used to plait for me. I would need to act like nothing had happened. Folding up my towel, I hung it up on the towel rack and looked around the bedroom for anything else I could do to procrastinate going back downstairs.

Finally, I gave in and found myself downstairs. I studied Robyn and Grant. “What happened? Are you okay?” I slid onto a stool and waited for them to explain the scream.

Robyn leaned on the counter and studied me. “Shoot.  I can’t believe you came out dressed like that. What’d you think, that I got shot or something?” She grinned and reached across the counter to push on my shoulder. “Grant’s here. He’s not going to let me get killed. Not right now.”

Grant grunted beside her as he flipped a pancake and turned back to the sink. His rear had been made for the jeans he wore and I wanted to glower at him, but he probably had eyes in the back of his head.

Robyn ignored my expression and continued. “That scene you described was in Tesha’s last thriller, remember? We critiqued it. Kami and Craig argued with her over the dramatic effects of either red heels or blue heels, remember? You said the red would be better, but then you gave in and agreed that blue would be effective, too. I hated both ideas.”

I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling, my favorite way to remember things. I moaned. “That's right. Was she trying to prove something with this? She wouldn’t do it to be spiteful... I mean toward me. She’d probably be doing it to protect me. I can't believe it. Tesha isn’t a violent person.” And she wasn't.

Tesha was like my grandmother and Lucille Ball wrapped into one little person. She had red-dyed hair, and she wore the kinkiest pink-orange lipstick ever. Usually a fleck or two would be on her front teeth. You couldn't say anything or even mention it, because you wouldn’t want to hurt her.

I shuddered. “She writes the scariest stuff. Did you read her last thriller? The reviewer said it was more twisted than Stephen King with more complex thinking skills. I don’t know about you, but even if I could think that way, I don’t know how she can. She knits for crying out loud.”

Grant flipped another pancake onto a plate and then flipped one onto a plate in front of me. He slid the plate closer to me and then handed me a fork, all without avoiding my eyes.

Slices of bacon, fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs with cheese on top, and pats of butter sat before me on one of Robyn’s bright red plates.

Grant handed me a glass of milk next and our fingers brushed for an instant. I shot my gaze to his and our eyes locked.

Robyn broke through our silent bubble of awareness. “I don’t want it to be her, you guys. But if it’s not her, then who is it? What would we do? What if it is her? Would we tell the cops?”

I didn’t know either, about any of it. The whole situation was so confusing. I didn’t want it to be Tesha, but I wanted the murderer to be Robyn and I even less. “We need to go talk to her about it. If we can clear her, then there’s no reason to tell the police about the book scene.”

“Wait, what? Everything is important. All the clues are. You can’t just pick and choose what you share with them.” Grant snorted, throwing his hand in the air while walking toward a stool with a plate in hand.

“You’re picking and choosing what to report.” I shot back. He didn’t need to act holier than thou and I was getting more than a little hurt that he couldn’t just look me in the eye without all kinds of tension between us.

He tightened his jaw, the side muscle ticking as he moved it. And, still he didn’t look at me. “Touché. I’ll make sure and remedy that right away.”

I opened my mouth to take it back, but how could I? What would I say? I wasn’t wrong. He could say we couldn’t pick things to share and then he did the exact thing he admonished us to avoid.

Robyn shook her head and grabbed her own plate, taking a seat on my left. “Regardless, it’d be nice to know for sure if she’d done it or not.”

Grant nodded, glancing past me to focus on Robyn. “What do you girls have to do this morning?” Thick lashes grazed his cheeks as he looked down at his plate again.

Touching him shouldn’t affect me the way it was. I should be able to make up my mind that we were impossible and it should be enough. But the more I thought about it, the more attainable I wanted him to be.

While I wanted to ask him what was going on, I didn’t need to. I knew what was going on. We had tried closing it, but I had kind of left it open. When we had last talked about the possibility of he and I, I’d said, that if I ever got the guts to ask Robyn and if she said, yes...

That apparently left it in my hands. I wanted to yell at myself for doing something so stupid.

Instead, I answered his question he’d tossed toward Robyn. “We have a brunch to go to with my aunts.”

“We could go after the resort. Did you want to go, too? I can text Tesha and let her know we’ll stop by.” If Robyn and I asked, things would be even more casual. Tesha wouldn’t be on edge, thinking we knew anything. If Tesha hadn’t killed David, then it would just be a casual visit to see how she was doing.

Either way, we needed to do something.

I looked down at my plate and puckered my list. “I’m up for a visit. If we’re going to the brunch, why are we eating?”

“Well, if there’s a problem, I’ll just take your plate. You don’t have to eat.” She reached for my plate, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

I wrapped my arms around my plate and fake hissed at her. “Never mind. I’m good.” I hunched over my deliciously piled dish and shoveled a bite in. I would get heavier and I didn’t care. I didn’t focus on what I looked like. Not when it mattered more what my books said than how I looked.

Plus, my warning shouldn’t matter. The brunch wasn’t for a couple hours. I would be starving by then. The pancakes sitting in front of me demanded that I eat them. My curves needed to be fed. Let's be honest, these size fourteen jeans were not gonna keep themselves up.

“We need to practice. We can’t expect the brunch to have everything we want.” Robyn winked at me. “If we don’t eat with Grant, he’ll get all depressed. We gotta watch his back.” She leaned across, passing Grant some syrup. “I'm always thinking of you big brother. We’ll take one for the team.”

She teased about sacrificing for Grant and me. There was only one way I wanted her to take one for the team for us. I couldn’t ask her. I could never ask her.

And Grant knew it.

~~~

Robyn and I waited to be seated on the Seventh Floor of the Coeur d’Alene Resort. The snooty hostess gave us the once over as she motioned for us to follow her. She led the way through multiple tables, set with gilded plates and linen napkins. The quiet hum of people talking and eating had a subdued heaviness to it as only those that are paying a lot of money for a meal can expect.

We took the seats she indicated and handed us small menus to consider for drinks, then she walked away. We would be waiting for my aunts to arrive.

I leaned across to Robyn and murmured, “Can you believe this place?” I hadn’t been there in forever, but the longer I sat there, the stronger the memory of why I didn’t like going. I was more of a café person where you were encouraged to eat with your fingers and slurp your drinks.

“Your aunts are here.” Robyn nodded toward the room behind me.

I half-turned and blanched at my aunts’ appearance. They weren’t people you would miss easily.

Aunt Cari usually had bright color dyed hair, which was short and spiky and shaved on the left in a side cut. She liked to think of herself as a contemporary aunt.

Aunt Kathy on the other hand was as classic as they came. She kept her hair dolled in soft curls and applied her makeup carefully every day. She wore even more makeup when she ran.

In their fifties, they were extremely in shape and even put my random exercises down in shame. They’d both finished the Ironman in town the last three years.

Robyn tapped my plate with her butter knife. “There they are. Remember, you’re family. You haven't done anything wrong. You were under David's control. And he's gone now. Just breathe. You’re fine.” Robyn took a deep breath, looking more nervous than she should. My aunts were the warmest, kindest people I’d ever met.

Robyn knew that.

But how could she understand what I’d gone through with David? No one understood but me.

I had cut everyone off without any explanation. I had ignored their emails, refused to take their calls, and even ignored their texts. If I had it to do over again, I would never pass up the chance to talk to them. Knowing the things I knew about David now, I would have broken up with him in minutes, if I’d known then.

Missing out my family had become the biggest regret of my life. I couldn’t help that my pride had taken a huge hit.

The two women walked past all the people interspersed throughout the restaurant and waved at us, their smiles large and warm. They were the most humble of people and I would do well to work on being more like them.

As they got closer, my insides warmed and even the stress of the death at my place faded a bit. I was grateful Robyn had talked me into doing a brunch with them. Aunt Cari’s nose ring sparkled with a turquoise colored rock. A collection of thin gold chains graced her neck and she made the bangle bracelets look elegant as she walked stately toward us. Only my Aunt Cari could do that.

Aunt Kathy walked behind her, with the regality of Princess Diana. If you could bottle that royal essence and spray it like a perfume, you’d never run out of money. If it was possible, I guarantee my Aunt Kathy would have the corner on the market.

I stood, my knees shaking.

When they reached me, they did nothing but wrap their arms around me. I had forgotten how much I missed them. Forgot how much I needed them.

“Mylanta. I am so excited to see you again, Olivia. You look great. I wish I had your curves. Those are from your mother. I think it's important to note your dad did not add anything in the looks department. You look just like your mother. She’s just like her mother, don’t you agree, Kathy? Oh, well, you don’t want to hear about it. Did you...” Aunt Cari’s diatribe was cut off by Aunt Kathy.

She rested her fingers on my forearm as we sat back down in our seats. “I was thinking about you all night last night. There was a murder reported out by your place. Did you hear? Did you see the cops or anything? I was so nervous. I just... you just don't hear things happening like that out there. Murder in Twin Lakes.” She shook her head and sipped her water, glancing around the room, worry in the dark flecks of her pupils.

The topic was serious, but her worry made me feel better. I nodded, unable to wipe the happy smile from my face.

We waited for our waitress to come and give us the instructions for the brunch as well as take our drink order.

Once our orders were in, we waited another moment to chat. I answered Aunt Kathy’s questions. I lent a softer tone to my answer, though. I didn’t want her to worry more than was warranted – how much that was, I wasn’t sure. “It was at my house, actually. David was the... he was the... well, he died.” I didn't know how much I could tell them, but they needed to hear the truth from me. I didn’t need to start our relationship again with omissions. If they didn't hear something so big from me, they would wonder why.

Both women gasped in unison, and their similarities became glaringly obvious as they stared at me with the same shocked expression on their faces.

Their questions and replies came in a torrent and I can’t say exactly who said what.

“Are you okay?”

“Why didn’t they say that on the news?”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“Was he alive when you found him?”

“That David. He got what was coming to him.”

“You need a real man.”

“A man that knows how to wrap you up and make you sing.” The last was from Aunt Cari. She’d never minced words and she’d pressed her lips together firmly with a tight nod after her last statement.

Robyn giggled, and tapped the table in front of me. “I've been telling her that for years. The only guy that's consistently in her life is Grant.” She eyed me and then glanced at the aunts.

Aunt Kathy leaned forward, interest sparking her eyes. “Grant? I saw him a few years back, is he still filling out those jeans like a delicious model from the strip club in Vegas?” She snapped her fingers at Aunt Cari. “Which one am I thinking of Cari? We went there last spring.” Aunt Kathy bent her elbow and placed a finger beside carefully painted lips. “So many... just gorgeous.”

Nodding conspiratorially, Aunt Cari narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Thunder from Down Under. I’m not sure if that’s the actual name, but wow. They earned their title, I’ll tell you what. Yes, Grant looks like he belongs on the billboard.” She looked at Robyn who was barely able to hold in her laughter and Aunt Cari pointed toward Robyn. “Does he model, dear? You might suggest that to him.”

My jaw dropped open. My aunts were the epitome of class until they opened their mouths. In the last year or so since I’d seen them last, they had amped up their outrageousness, not even bothering to dim their voices. “Aunt Kathy I don't think you should ask his sister that.” I held my tone softer, hoping to encourage quieter talking. But I wasn’t daft. Of course, they wouldn’t match me. If anything, Aunt Cari would probably talk louder.

Aunt Kathy set her glass back on the table and leaned back in the chair. “Of course, you’re right.” But her expression was unapologetic. “In any case, if he looks half as good as he did then, I might snap him up and eat him for breakfast. He looks even better than those orange rolls and he probably doesn’t have half the calories.” She winked.

We took a break from our conversation to fill our plates at the buffet tables. Upon returning, we dug in with relish. My favorite was the orange rolls as well.

Aunt Cari pulled an orange roll apart and ate them in pieces. She licked the stickiness off of her lips with a pierced tongue.

“You had your tongue pierced? When was that done?” A spark of jealousy shot through me. My aunts had more gumption than anyone I've ever met. There they were pursuing whatever and whoever they wanted and I still couldn’t get up the nerve to ask Robyn if I could date her brother.

I’d honestly rather get my belly button pierced.

Sticking out her tongue, Aunt Cari tried seeing the blue diamond round ball protruding from the center of her tongue. Her words came out slightly garbled but I understood them easily enough. “Isn't it cool? I just love it. It hurt like the dickens though.”

Dickens mixed with my aunt’s pierced tongue? The things I had missed were more likely too numerous to count.

A wave of melancholy washed over me. I had missed them so much and it was evident they'd missed me.

We spent the rest of the breakfast talking about piercings, tattoos, and dead bodies on decks. Who knew murder would make me laugh so hard?

Chapter 9

Robyn’s struggle was real as the valet pulled up in her red Geo Metro convertible. The clouds hovered close like they weren’t sure if they wanted to rain on us in Robyn’s car or not.

Thankfully, my curls didn’t care one way or the other – they created chaos all over the place, rain or shine.

We didn’t really have a reason to visit Tesha. I voiced my concerns to Robyn, sitting beside her in the little car with the top down. Sometimes, I think Robyn taunted the weather in a challenge. “I don’t know about going out to Tesha’s. What if she senses something? Do you think she did it? What if she did it and she suspects we’re there to find out if she did? She might try to kill us.”

Robyn laughed, her ponytail whipping around her neck and ears. “Please... I could take her.” She glanced over at me, taking in my pink capris and yellow top. “I don’t think you could, but you might surprise us all.” She winked and pulled on her wide framed sunglasses.

I spluttered in righteous anger, but I wasn’t really mad. “You’re the biggest brat. I’m tougher than you think I am. You’d be surprised what kind of a hit I can take.” I glanced out the window and watched the freeway whiz by as we entered Spokane from the east.

The sudden quiet from Robyn pulled my attention that way. She reached over and patted my knee. “I know. I should’ve seen it. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.”

Shaking my head, I called out over the rushing wind blowing around us. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” But I lied. Staying with David had been my decision. Now the man was dead and we couldn’t even move past any of it and mourn appropriately because we were suspects in his murder.

“How should we ask Tesha?” I needed to redirect the topic. Focusing so much on my relationship with David brought into too close of focus the fact that we were talking about a relationship and me and I hadn’t broached the subject of Grant and I.

Robyn half-shrugged and turned on the blinker to take the next exit. “Grant said not to tell anyone anything. If Paul shows up or finds us and gets us in a position to question us, we’re not supposed to mention even knowing about the body. Don’t deny finding it, if he asks, because you called in and reported finding it. Grant was just saying don’t offer any information.”

“Is Paul looking for us?” I grabbed the shiny seatbelt strap across my chest as Robyn rounded the curve of the exit. She did nothing halfway, including trying to scare me into a heart attack with her driving.

She snorted, the sound clear as our speed lessened and the roaring of the air around us calmed. “Oh, yeah. You more than anyone.”

Paul Davis. He plagued me like a would-be stalker. I never took him up on his offers and I’d never go out with the likes of him. He’d strutted like a rooster when he’d received his first badge. We’d all gone to school together growing up and Paul... Paul hadn’t even been a cop for a full ten years before he’d been promoted. I would’ve thought he had calmed down with his pursuit of me. But he hadn’t. He’d focused on me when David had been photographed with me for an article in the paper. David’s fame was expansive in north Idaho.

Paul hadn’t moved on and I needed him to.

“I still can’t believe he’d cried like that when you turned him down.” Robyn had no idea why I had.

I smiled uncomfortably, remembering the time I’d spent with Grant. We’d gotten caught up in a moment and I’d gone with him somewhere to make out. Like a kid. I still didn’t regret it. I didn’t regret any of my time with that man.

But we’d been kissing in my car and a knock on the window had us jerk apart. Paul had knocked on my window, anger reddening his face enough to see in the dim night lighting.

He’d spotted Grant and he’d gotten even madder. “Him? You’ll hide in the dark with him, but you won’t be seen with me?” Paul had turned away, tears in his eyes.

I felt bad, but not bad enough to go out with him.

If he was determined I was guilty, then I didn't have very much time to prove I wasn't. He’d find me. He knew my hangouts and he knew the people I hung out with. The only way I could protect myself from being convicted, was to find who really had done killed David.

“Seriously, why couldn’t you just go out with him a couple times?” Robyn shook her head. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple guys on our side in the police department.”

“Because... I was dating other guys when he wanted me.” I couldn’t tell her Grant was one of them. She’d never understand.

“Who? All three times he’s asked you, you were single. I remember.” She thrust her finger into the air between us. “You should call him up and ask him out.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t reek of desperation.” I rolled my eyes and pointed at the next street sign. “Take this right.”

I didn’t need pressure from someone who barely got dressed every day to go on a date with a man I could never date. “Dating Paul wouldn’t fix our current problems. If anything, he’d make them worse.” He’d be locked up in my information and business and probably go more controlling than anything. Plus, he’d be furious for David being there. Paul was the jealous kind.

“What if David had been killed by Paul?” The theory warranted merit and Robyn and I glanced at each other, our eyes wide. I shook my head. “One suspect at a time.”

Robyn laughed out loud. “Look at you, talking like a cop. Remember, you’re an author, you don’t know how to take fingerprints or anything else.” She grinned and pulled alongside the curb when I pointed at the house.

Orange plastic garbage bags with black Jack-o-Lantern faces sat on the lawn of the three-story colonial home. A fake black cat sat in the front window.

“I can’t believe it’s October already.” Robyn shut off the car, unbuckling her seatbelt. She waited for me to follow suit before opening her door.

I sighed, shutting my car door and staring up at the house. “Yeah, I have a book due in nine days.” I shook my head, trying not to let the panic at an impending deadline send my muscles into a spasm.

We climbed the steps to Tesha’s home before the panic could completely claim me.

Robyn leaned over as we reached the door. She glanced at me, a knowing arch to her eyebrow. “How much do you have left to do? A quarter and the edits?” She winked.

It wouldn’t take much to shock that smirk right off her face. “All of it. I don’t even have an outline yet.” I looked straight ahead but not before I caught a glimpse of her complete dismay. I wanted to nod and say yeah, now do you understand? But her shock was enough for me.

“Are you behind on a deadline, Olivia?” Tesha’s voice startled us and we spun from the door. She sat on an Adirondack swing that hung from the exposed beams in the covered porch. A red and blue afghan draped across her lap and she feverishly worked two long needles and yarn. I couldn’t say if it was knitting or crochet.

My crafting ability extended to creating graphics and cover art on my computer when I had spare time. And pizza. I was really good at making pizza.

The rain only came in a mist in Spokane, like sitting in the middle of a thick cloud. And the homes, oh, the homes in that part of town were old with personality as their owners coddled the historic traditions of maintaining the charming original designs.

“I am behind, Tesha.” I glanced at Robyn, searching my memory for anything I might have said since we got there that she might have overheard.

Unable to come up with anything, I tried to calm my paranoia. I hadn’t said anything, which meant she had nothing to suspect.

She shifted to the edge of the swing and patted the slatted seat beside her. “Please, have a seat. If you’re behind on a deadline, why are you visiting me?”

“Are you kidding? Olivia would rather procrastinate until the very last minute. You, Tesha, are her procrastination today. Thank heavens. I was the procrastination tool yesterday.” Robyn’s chuckle surprised me and I sent a slight glare toward the back of her head as I followed her to the swing. The brat was constantly throwing me under the bus, but I understood why she said what she said.

I just didn’t think we needed to mention my propensity for putting things off.

“Come on, ladies. Don’t be shy. I have extra blankets for your laps and we can stay out here. I love this fall weather. We won’t have the warmth for long.” She rapped on the glass for husband who came to the door. “Can you, please, bring us some tea, Nelson?” He glanced at us and nodded, quietly.

Tesha’s husband had a softness about him that suggested he had no idea about her crazy side. The woman could write the scariest killing scenes I’d ever read. She was worse than King and Patterson combined with a splash of Cornwell.

I turned toward Tesha. I really wanted to get down to business. The weight of suspicion dragged on me. How would I ever meet deadlines in prison? “How are you? Did you get a good critique last night? I didn’t get a chance to look at chapters. I’ll look at them later this week, if that’s okay.”

She waved her hand at me as if shooing away my apology. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about it. I know my book isn’t for everyone. That’s okay.” She pushed us on the swing with a gentle shove with her toe on the deck. We swung forward and back a couple inches, but it was enough to make me feel almost as if we were in the South. Minus the damp chill, of course.

Robyn handed me a thick knitted blanket and draped one with a similar chevron pattern across her own lap. She had her eyes wide and I could almost hear her thoughts – we’re sitting with a killer. This isn’t crazy at all.

I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do. Thankfully, I was nosy enough to find my own way. “Thank you for your support yesterday. It meant a lot to me.” Would she pick up on the double-meaning in my words? Would she understand that I thought she was trying to help me by causing David's death?

She set the needle down and leaned toward me, patting my shoulder. “It's fine, dear, don't even worry about it. You're one of us. We, women, need to stick together.”

Guilt consumed me. Women did need to stick together. Was I betraying a sister by suspecting her of murder? Had I done something to her by bringing up the details of the scene and making Grant suspect her?

Robyn wrapped her arms under the blanket and leaned in to see around me. “How are your books going, Tesha? I still think it's amazing that someone so sweet could be so gruesome. It is absolutely beyond me.” She and I cringed a bit while Tesha giggled.

I didn't take my eyes off Tesha.

Tesha’s grin only widened. “Okay, I’m going to tell you guys a secret, but you have to promise not to tell?” Was that it? Was she going to tell us that the way she got her ideas was by practicing them? She would end with telling us that she was the one who killed David? Her eyes twinkled and she whispered rather loudly, “I get all of my murder scenes from my husband. You wouldn’t think it, but he has watched so many real life mystery shows and he has so many great ideas... sometimes I think he really wants to kill someone.”

Her scenes weren’t even hers. As I took in the peaceful setting and her silver-laced blonde hair pulled back in a bun, her confession made sense. She was never willing to make changes to the specific death scenes, as if they weren’t hers to change. Anything else, she changed with abandon. She didn’t care about her own stuff. Arguing about the color of the scene props hadn’t been something that was in her control. She had to defend the scene. It was her husband’s.

If I had a husband and he made a scene, I’d defend it, too.

I could almost see Tesha and her husband working as co-authors in their office, conspiring over dinner. Nothing was out of bounds when a couple worked together. “Where did you go after the writer’s group last night? I was going to ask you about a cover coming up. You’re so good with colors.”

She smiled gratefully at me. “That’s so kind of you to say. Have you seen that new movie, the one with the actor who always takes his shirt off? We went last night. I was due a chick flick, but I do like a man with a shirt on. I felt bad for him. Even in the snow, the actor was shirtless. I could’ve killed someone, though.” There it was, she was going to confess.

Tesha rolled her eyes and her knitting pace increased.  “They were sold out of popcorn and they couldn’t make anymore because the guy said the machine was broken. Who does that?” Click. Click. Click. Her knitting needles moved at lightning speed, forming a steady braid of color. A beautiful scarf glanced at me as she twisted the project in her lap.

“That’s horrible about the popcorn. I’m a Junior Mints kind of girl.” Robyn cleared her throat. “I haven't seen the movie, though. It looks really good. You know I collect movie ticket stubs. Do you have yours from last night, by chance?”

Leave it to Robyn to come up with something off-the-wall. Who in the world collected movie tickets? Of course, she would get away with. She was Robyn after all.

Tesha’s husband arrived right then and handed us our tea, with small miniature silver spoons. A full tea service set out on a rolling cart, I was impressed.

“Thank you, Nelson, dear. Would you mind grabbing our movie stubs from last night, please?” She eyed Robyn with an arched eyebrow and a tilt to the head. “Robyn, I’m glad you’re doing something fun. It’s kind of weird though. Are you going to start writing? I’d love to see what that crazy mind would come up with.” Tesha laughed politely, but she really was curious why Robyn would want the tickets and why she didn’t write when she attended a writers’ group.

Robyn laughed, completely unperturbed by the question. She knew nothing was wrong with her. She wasn't an author. She was my assistant. No matter how much I tried telling her to write something, she didn’t want to. I’d stopped bugging her to try it. If she really wanted to, she would.

Nelson returned in less than a minute, little orange and red tickets clutched in his hand.

Tesha took them from him and handed them to Robyn and I leaned over to look while Tesha explained. “We went to Northside up north. That one is my favorite theater and it has riser seats, and it’s not quite as busy as the other places.” She rolled her eyes. “Except for last night. Of course, everyone wanted to see the guy with no shirt.”

I laughed, and sipped my tea. If she could prove she was in the clear and I had no way to prove I was, what was I going to do in prison?

Chapter 10

I leaned my head back against Robyn’s headrest and sighed. “What’s going on? What are we missing? I don't understand how this is so difficult to figure out.” I could admit in my own confused mind that I had cockily assumed we could find the answers. Maybe there was something more to the whole detective thing.

“Do you really think that Matlock found the whodunit right away? Of course not. We can figure it out, we just have to work for it. This is why we should have turned it over to the cops. Why can't Grant just let it go? We didn’t do it. The truth will set us free.” Robyn calmly drove the car as if we weren't under suspicion for killing someone. Her blasé attitude never failed to surprise me.

“So easy for you to say as you’re driving in your car, untouched by anything real. I saw the body. I can tell you... if Paul thinks I did it, there’s enough evidence against me. He won’t look at anyone else.” I sighed again. Was there any way to get Paul off me? I snorted. “Maybe I should call Paul now and see if he’s interested in dating.” I turned from the window and dropped my hand. “I'm surprised you're not more upset. You and I are both under investigation. It’s not like it’s just me here.”

“True. Maybe Paul doesn’t think it’s you. Maybe he’s worried about you.” Robyn grimaced. Even the wind seemed to laugh at her suggestion.

Looking back out the window, I hunkered deeper into the seat. I didn’t want to be out in the cold. I wanted to be home, cuddled on my couch and writing on the book I was so far behind on. My editor wouldn’t hold my spot. He never did. The man was ruthless. That’s why I loved worked with him so much. He didn’t tolerate much of anything and he spoke in a soft English accent the few times we had spoken on the phone.

If Grant didn’t consume my thoughts, I’d consider pursuing Ethan in a heartbeat.

“I need to work on my book.” I couldn't wait to get home. “Do you think Stormy is okay?” The cat wasn't mine, but that didn't mean I hadn’t grown to love her. She came for food. I could pretend that she missed me. She was the only thing that relied on me and I needed to be needed.

“Why don't you call Grant? He'll know.” How nonchalantly she tossed us together when she had no idea what she was doing to us.

I couldn't admit to her that calling Grant wasn't really an option. Maybe I could text him.

As I pulled my phone out of my pocket, it buzzed in my fingers. Maybe we were connected. His text read, “Your house is a crime scene. Don’t go there. I'll let you know when you can return. Davis thinks I’m hiding something. You might need to come in for questioning soon. Any luck?”

I didn't want to tell him we had no luck. There was zero luck to be had. Someone was hogging all the luck and I wanted some.

“He texted me to stay away from my house. I guess now is the time to tell him Tesha has an alibi.” I ignored her humming under her breath. She wasn’t even listening to me anyway. I texted Grant back. “My cat is there. Can you make sure she has food? She's probably scared with everything.” I couldn't say anything else. What would I say? I have a killer after me... I’m with your sister... I’m desperately in love with you and I can’t have you? Because I’m too worried about losing Robyn... There were so many things that could be said right there, but why say them? We would just be rehashing history.

Well, except for the killer part. As far as I was aware, I’d never been stalked by a killer before.

I sent him a second text because I needed to ease my mind and also seem like I was thinking hard about the case. “Do you think Paul could have been jealous of David? Would he have done it?”

His text back took a few minutes and was frustratingly short. “Anything’s possible when you love someone enough.”

What did that mean? I glared at the screen of my phone. Like I didn’t love Grant enough to ask Robyn? Was that what he meant? I slapped my phone into my purse and decided to ignore it for as long as I could hold out.

“Do you mind if we stop in at the post office? I need to get my mail. It’s been a couple weeks since I checked it last.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the brass PO Box key I kept in there for the random visits to town.

“Of course not.” Robyn took the exit in Post Falls.

Usually she got my mail. I paid her a lot of money to be my assistant and look pretty. We both made out really well on the success of my books. When she had time, she gathered my mail and sent out signed copies of my book covers, and anything else that needed done.

We pulled into the post office and Robyn climbed out. I was the only one with the key, because the last time she had a key, she’d lost it and cost me fifty dollars. We had agreed I would keep the key and she would stay away from it unless I was with her or she needed it. I handed it across to her and smiled. She liked flirting with the mailman who looked like an Elvis impersonator.

In moments, she returned from the mailbox with a package and a stack of envelopes in different colors. I cocked my eyebrow at her. It wasn't my birthday, so I wondered why I had a box.

She climbed in the car and stuffed the packages on my lap with the stack of envelopes. “You either have a secret admirer or someone doesn't know when your birthday is. There's no return address.” She tapped the top of the box where the return address would be.

“Did you do this? What did you order? I hate surprises.” I pressed my lips together and playfully snarled while opening the box with the mailbox key she handed back to me.

“I didn’t do it. I promise.” Robyn put us in reverse and glanced over at me and the box. “What is it?”

I opened the flaps and groaned at the large amount of tissue paper and bubble wrap filling the box.

Robyn smirked as she pulled onto the street and headed towards Highway 41. Since I was staying with her for the next few days, I could safely say we were heading home. I wasn't sure if Grant would be there or not. I didn’t dare ask, since it would put more focus on him and I than I was comfortable with.

The box was beautifully put together once I got past the large amount of bubble wrap. Tissue paper wrapped around tissue paper and what looked like a small note. “There's a little letter in here. Oh, my gosh, look at how cute this envelope is.” The envelope wasn't more than two inches by one inch. I had a thing for miniature or smaller than normal things.

A small card came out made of extremely thick paper. I slowly opened it, careful not to tear the paper.

“Well, read it.” Robyn reached over to try to take it as she screeched to a stop at a red light.

Jerking it out of reach, I pointed at the road. “Just drive, princess. Jeesh. It says For the ending that never was.”

Robyn stopped at a red light and leaned over. “There's a small red heart. How weird. What’s wrapped up?”

I slid the card back into the envelope and set it on her the center console between us.

Carefully pulling out the contents, I made sure to unwrap it with care. An ornately designed quill set made from what looked like ivory had been packaged in a clear glass box. The box was only made of glass, no metal for hinges or clasps or anything. The top came off like a shoebox, the lid whispering quietly when glass grazed glass.

Nestled inside on white satin padding, the quill set had been nested beside a small vial of dark red ink.

I exhaled in awe. “This is beautiful. I've never seen such an ornately designed piece of ivory.” I was careful not to touch the pen itself. Knowing my luck, I would break the pen and it would turn out to be an antique.

Robyn held out her hand and I placed the box on it. She inspected it through the glass, glancing at the road and the box in alternating seconds.

“I think that’s ivory. We'll have Grant look at it. That's really beautiful. Who is it from?” She handed it back carefully, returning her eyes to the road.

I shrugged, glancing through the package one more time for any hint of who it might have come from. The generic bubbles and tissue paper didn't tell me anything helpful.

Whoever had sent it, they were thoughtful nevertheless.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Robyn leaned forward and turned the radio on just a little bit. I knew she would turn the volume up as soon as we finished talking.

I didn't mind either. We had raised the roof of the car because the clouds were more ominous in Idaho than they’d been in Washington. A little bit of music to drown out my thoughts would be more than welcome. “I don't care. I’m not even hungry.”

Robyn scoffed, resting her wrist on the bottom of the steering wheel. “Well, get hungry. Grant’s coming over and he'll definitely want a big meal. That man can eat. I don’t think it’s fair that he got the height and the metabolism.”

A butterfly started flying in my stomach, and it was more than excited. Even with my trepidation and warnings warring inside my head. With as much stress as I was under, I deserved a little bit of a break. Seeing Grant was definitely my treat. I ignored the fact that the only reason we were seeing so much of each other was a murder. Before David’s death, I hadn’t seen Grant for a while before that. I had gotten pretty good at ignoring things.

What would we talk about? How Tesha had a better alibi than Robyn and I did? Well, than I did? Robyn’s was solid.

No one had really addressed my theory that Paul made a good suspect.