What he didn’t know was why. Or if it had only been to scare her—or kill her. He’d know that when he got the results from the urinalysis. If the chocolate she ingested last night was drugged…

  “You’ve certainly taken an interest in Roz’s well-being as well as her father’s.”

  Ford smiled. “Don’t beat around the bush, Sheriff. You want to know why I just happen to be there every time Rozalyn needs me?” He shrugged. “I wish I knew. Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Let’s try a question you can answer. What are you doing in Timber Falls?”

  Ford hesitated. He wished now that he’d let the sheriff find the mannequin downstream on his own and come up with his own conclusions as well. “Isn’t it possible I just came to town to investigate the Bigfoot sightings and got caught up in the Sawyers’ lives?”

  “No,” Mitch said. “You’re holding out on me, Lancaster. I’m thinking I should run you in for further questioning.”

  Ford looked toward the falls. He needed his freedom, whatever price it took. “You’ll hear about this sooner or later anyway. Liam’s best friend was my father.”

  “John Wells?” Mitch asked, in obvious surprise.

  Ford explained how his parents had divorced when he was young, how his mother had remarried, his stepfather had adopted him and he hadn’t seen much of his biological father—until two days ago when he’d been with him when he died.

  “I guess that explains the article you did on Liam,” the sheriff said.

  “I guess.”

  “Great job you have, making fools of people in print.”

  “It pays the bills,” Ford said with a shrug.

  The sheriff didn’t even try to hide his contempt. “It still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “My father just passed away. Before he did, I promised him I’d try to make amends with Liam for what I did.” Lying was becoming almost too easy.

  The sheriff studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll keep this if you don’t mind,” he said, pocketing the mannequin hand.

  As if Ford had a choice. “There’s more of the body downstream about a half mile.” He hesitated, then jumped in with both feet. “Do me a favor. Take a look at Rozalyn’s mother’s suicide.”

  The sheriff frowned. “Why?”

  Ford shook his head. “Just a feeling.”

  “You have a lot of those, don’t you?” His gaze seemed to soften. “This is about Rozalyn, isn’t it?”

  Ford looked toward the falls again but said nothing. He hated being so transparent. He wanted to give Rozalyn some peace of mind. Had Anna Sawyer gone up those stairs, climbed out on that widow’s walk and taken a dive all on her own? Worse, was it possible Rozalyn might have done the same thing last night—if he hadn’t stopped her? He wished the lab would call back. He found himself praying there were drugs in that chocolate. He didn’t want to even think about the alternative.

  “I’m just curious about the case, all right?” he said at last, kicking himself mentally for getting involved with the woman. But involved he was. And in ways he didn’t even want to think about.

  “What specifically am I looking for?” Mitch asked.

  “Inconsistencies. You remember the case?”

  Mitch nodded. “I was undersheriff then, getting ready to take over for our sheriff who was retiring. But all of that information is confidential.”

  Ford nodded, knowing the sheriff would pull out the old file and, if there was something there, would use it to help Rozalyn. Mission accomplished.

  Without another word, Ford turned and started toward his pickup wondering if the sheriff was really going to let him walk that easily. He had a piece of the mannequin’s face in his pocket that he’d saved to show Rozalyn and that he didn’t want the sheriff to know about.

  “You’re not planning to leave town for a while, are you?” the sheriff called after him.

  Ford wanted nothing more than to get in his pickup and drive away from all of this—especially the lies. But as he opened his truck door, he looked back at the sheriff and the falls. It was too easy to imagine someone hiding in that warped old pine at the top. He couldn’t leave now. He was in too deep.

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’ll be here.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mitch hadn’t thought about the Anna Sawyer case in years. Sheriff Tim “Hud” Hudson had done all the real investigating on the case but he’d talked to Mitch about it. Several things had been troubling about it.

  Anna hadn’t left a note, which wasn’t all that rare in a suicide. What had bothered Hud was a visit by the interim local doctor just minutes before Anna had committed suicide. Liam had passed a car driving going too fast on the road out, and had been forced to drive into the shallow ditch to miss it.

  Liam hadn’t been able to see the person driving because of the sun glare on the windshield but he’d recognized the car. It was Dr. Morrow’s car, Anna’s physician.

  Hud’s first thought was that the doc had come out to give Anna bad news, but that theory hadn’t panned out. According to Anna’s medical records, she’d been fine.

  Liam had tried unsuccessfully to reach Dr. Morrow later only to discover the man had left town. Left two weeks earlier than he’d planned. Hud didn’t have any luck reaching the doc, either. He was told by the doctor’s nurse that Dr. Morrow had decided to take a trip and couldn’t be reached. Then Hud had retired and Mitch had taken over and that part of the investigation had fallen through the cracks.

  Another thing that had troubled Hud was the fact that Rozalyn had been in the house the day her mother committed suicide. The then-teenager had been in her room with her stereo on. But later she recalled hearing voices in the attic and something heavy hitting the floor.

  When Hud reached the house though, he found no sign that anyone else had been there other than the doctor—nor any sign of a struggle.

  Hud had wondered if there’d been something going on between Anna Sawyer and the doc since Dr. Morrow closed up his practice and left town so suddenly. A love affair gone wrong? Hud hadn’t bought that since he’d known Anna and believed her happy in her marriage. But without talking to the doctor to see what he’d been doing there that day…

  Now ten years had passed. Even if there was something in the old file, it wouldn’t bring Anna Sawyer back. Nor would it necessarily give Roz any peace.

  But Mitch knew he was going to have to take a look anyway.

  ROZ WAS ONLY momentarily disappointed when the person coming in through the door at Betty’s Café wasn’t Ford Lancaster. She’d hoped he’d finished his errands early and had come to pick her up.

  Instead it was Charity’s aunt Florie who came in a gust of wind.

  “Brace yourself,” Charity said.

  Florie was dressed just as Roz remembered: a flowing colorful caftan, dyed bright red hair wound turban-style around her small head, and blue eyes glittering beneath a smear of turquoise eye shadow. It felt so good to see that some things never changed.

  Roz slid from the booth to hug the elderly woman.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I looked into my coffee grounds and saw that you were coming back to town,” Florie said, holding her at arm’s length studying her a moment before sliding into the booth across from Roz, next to her niece. “Are you all right? I was worried about you. I’m sorry your homecoming hasn’t been a happy one.”

  “Thank you,” Roz said, sitting back down across from them.

  Betty called to Florie across the room. “Just coffee,” Florie called back and turned to Charity. “I have some news for you.”

  Charity looked skeptical. “Tell me this news didn’t come via the stars.”

  Florie made a face at her. “One of these days you’re going to take my sight seriously. One of these days soon,” she said ominously, “you’ll be begging me for a reading.”

  “Uh-huh,” Charity said. “What news?”

  “Daisy Dennison,” Florie said as if announcing the topic.

  Clearly, she had her niece’s full attention now. “The last time I saw Daisy she was in a hospital in Eugene recovering from a gunshot wound,” Charity said.

  Florie nodded. “Well she’s home and cleaning house.” Roz could almost hear the drumroll. “Daisy threw Wade out.”

  Charity lifted a brow. “That house is his pride and joy. He’d never leave it.”

  “He’s living in one of my units,” Florie said. “Moved in late last night and let me tell you his aura looked bad.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Charity said. “For him to move out of the house—” She looked from her aunt to Roz. “Do you know what this means?”

  Roz shook her head. “Not a clue.”

  “Daisy knows he was in on the kidnapping. And he knows she knows. She’s got him over a barrel and is calling the shots now.”

  “Why doesn’t she tell Mitch?” Roz asked, noticing the clouds outside.

  “Probably for the same reason Mitch hasn’t arrested Wade,” Charity said, clearly excited about this news. “A distinct lack of evidence. The evidence seems to have died with Bud Farnsworth. We may never know what happened to Angela Dennison now.”

  “How horrible,” Roz said. As kids, they’d believed that Angela was buried in the woods behind the Dennison house. Once on Halloween, when they’d gone to the Dennison house to trick-or-treat, Charity swore she heard a baby crying and turned to see what she believed to be Angela’s ghost behind her.

  “Wade must have found out that the baby wasn’t his and got rid of it,” Charity whispered. “A man with an ego like his, he probably couldn’t live with the thought that he might be raising another man’s child.”

  “Worse, falling in love with that child,” Roz said.

  “You’re right,” Charity said. “That must be why he had Angela kidnapped so quickly after she was born. He couldn’t risk bonding with the baby only to find out it was another man’s—and a constant reminder of his wife’s infidelity.”

  “I think there are few men who could handle that kind of knowledge,” Roz said. “But what if he was wrong? What if he got rid of his own daughter?”

  Charity shook her head, obviously unable to imagine. “Unless that baby’s body turns up, we will never know who the father really was. Maybe Daisy doesn’t even know herself.”

  Florie hadn’t said anything for several minutes but Roz saw her shiver as she reached for her coffee cup and knocked it over. “Clumsy,” Florie muttered under her breath as coffee spilled across the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Roz asked, seeing Florie’s expression.

  Florie was shaking her head, staring at the spilled coffee as if it were spilled blood. “Liam. Have you heard from him since he went into the woods after the most recent Bigfoot sighting?”

  Roz and Charity exchanged a surprised look.

  “Auntie, I thought you knew,” Charity said. “Liam was found last night.”

  “Something happened to him! I knew it.” All the color drained from Florie’s face. She grabbed the edge of the table. “I saw his misery in the cards but I thought it was his marriage….” She looked up at Roz.

  “He’s in the hospital. Mitch thinks he fell from a cliff. He’s in a coma,” Roz told her.

  Tears welled in Florie’s wizened eyes.

  Charity put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder as Roz reached across the table to take one of the woman’s bejeweled hands.

  “I thought you had heard,” Charity said.

  “I was on the Internet working most of the night and morning,” Florie whispered. Roz knew that Florie had her own Web site and did psychic readings via e-mail.

  “Are you all right?” Roz asked, surprised the woman was so upset.

  “I have to go splash my face with cold water.” She rose unsteadily.

  “I’ll go with you,” Roz said.

  Florie waved her off. “I’ll be fine. I just need a moment alone.”

  “Should we let her go by herself?” Roz asked in concern as Florie traipsed off to the ladies’ room.

  “She’ll be fine. She hates being fussed over. She’s been in a tizzy ever since Liam remarried—and she wasn’t the bride,” Charity said. “Ah, unrequited love.”

  Roz blinked. “Your aunt is in love with my father?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Has been for years. I thought you knew. She says she saw it in the stars. She and your father. Every time Liam came up to check the house or make repairs, Florie just happened to stop by with some fresh-baked goods for him. Tofu or carob chips. No wonder he married someone else.”

  “Emily can’t boil water,” Roz said, still shocked by the news about Florie and Liam. Did Liam have any idea of her feelings? Men could be so dense sometimes.

  “Florie’s coming back,” Charity whispered. “Don’t mention Emily. You’ll just get her started. She thinks Emily is only after your father’s money and somehow tricked him into marrying her.”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Roz said.

  “Florie’s never even seen the woman—except in her coffee grounds,” Charity confided.

  Florie returned, full of questions about Liam. Roz did her best to answer them.

  “Uh-oh,” Charity said under her breath as she looked out the café window.

  Roz followed her gaze. Emily was coming up the street, her blond head peering out from under a dark umbrella. Roz looked over at Florie as Emily swept past the window.

  “Don’t do it, Aunt Florie,” Charity said.

  “Do what?” the older woman asked innocently as she crossed herself even though she wasn’t Catholic.

  “Just don’t.” Charity shook her head at Roz. “Don’t believe anything she tells you.”

  “All I’m going to say is that someone should warn the woman,” Florie said. “Emily is about to come to a bad end.”

  “It’s just jealousy talking,” Charity said.

  “I’m not jealous,” Florie argued. “Liam deserves better, that’s for sure, but my feelings toward his…wife have nothing to do with what I see for her future. She isn’t long for this world.”

  “Only if she meets you in a dark alley,” Charity said, obviously trying to laugh off her aunt’s prediction.

  “She doesn’t believe I have the sight,” Florie said, unperturbed to Roz.

  “She did when we were kids,” Roz said.

  Charity groaned. “We were kids. It was fun. Now, it’s…different.”

  Emily came out of the drug store next door and stopped just feet from them at the curb. As she closed her umbrella and reached for the door handle of Drew’s sports car as he pulled up for her, Florie let out a gasp.

  “I’ve seen that woman somewhere before, a long time ago,” Florie said.

  Charity rolled her eyes so only Roz could see.

  “Except her hair used to be a different color,” Florie was saying. “It’s been years but I never forget an aura and that woman’s is dark as sin.”

  “Auntie, you’re either confusing her with someone else or—”

  “I know where I saw her,” Florie said, eyes wide. “It was here in Timber Falls only…only it was years ago.”

  Charity looked even more skeptical. “She’s from Portland and I’m positive I heard she’d never been to Timber Falls before Liam brought her here after the wedding.” She looked at Roz for confirmation.

  Roz nodded. “This is the first time you’ve seen her since she married Dad and moved here?”

  “She’s kept to herself since she hit town,” Charity said. “Few people have seen her except in passing.”

  Emily didn’t fit in here and must have realized it. “She was married to some hotshot lawyer in Portland and part of the social whirl, I guess,” Roz said. “He died about a year ago and left her well off.”

  Florie let out a “humph.” “If that were true, she wouldn’t have had to snag Liam six months later.”

  Charity did another eye roll, but Roz thought Florie had a good point. Was it possible Emily had exaggerated about her rich, famous lawyer husband? Or even outright lied? Liam wouldn’t have checked up on Emily. He took everyone at his or her word. But Roz had no problem with doing some checking. And she could see that Charity was thinking the same thing.

  “It’s how she’s dressed that’s throwing me off,” Florie mumbled. “She was wearing something…different.” Her face lit up. “A uniform! A nurse’s uniform. That’s it! She worked for that young doctor who filled in for a while when Doc Purdy broke his leg. Morrow that was his name. James Morrow. A real looker he was, and married.”

  Charity was staring at her aunt. “I remember that woman. She was brunette and much chubbier.”

  Florie nodded enthusiastically. “You think that blond doesn’t come out of a bottle? Please. And she was heavier because I think she was pregnant with the young doctor’s baby.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see this on some soap opera?” Charity teased. “Auntie, you have Emily Sawyer mixed up with some other woman.”

  Florie was shaking her head. “I can almost remember her name.”

  “Don’t look at me. Hope, Faith and I went into Eugene to that woman doctor down there,” Charity said of her and her sisters.

  “I remember Doc Purdy breaking his leg,” Roz said. “But Dr. Morrow…”

  “You should remember him,” Florie said. “Didn’t your mother see him professionally during the time right before—” She broke off realizing what she was about to say. Right before Anna Sawyer killed herself.

  “Dr. Morrow,” Roz said slowly.

  “Roz, you must have seen her,” Florie said, not letting it drop.

  She shook her head. “The doctor came to the house alone or Mom went to his office.” But why had her mother been going to the doctor? She remembered her dad trying to find out, but couldn’t remember what he’d found out other than her mother hadn’t been diagnosed with cancer or anything that would make her want to commit suicide.

  Dr. Morrow hadn’t stayed long after her mother’s death, the memory coming back now. She could recall little about him except that he was nice. And he had made at least one house call, the day her mother died. She couldn’t remember any scandal involving the man’s nurse but then she didn’t remember ever seeing her.