"Why did she leave you?"

  May noted, as they spoke, that the receptionist was listening to all of this avidly, with an expression of wide-eyed surprise.

  "She just moved on," Adam said calmly.

  "We need more detail than that, I'm afraid, Mr. Gore. We need to know if there were any problems in the workplace. Any reasons for conflict. We do need a clear explanation and if we don't get one then we'll have to look deeper, and start searching your company’s records. That will take time."

  She hoped that threat would strike a chord with him, and it did. He looked horrified by the police spending an unspecified amount of time on his premises, going through records.

  "Look, can this stay confidential?”

  “Of course.”

  “And don’t tell my brother I told you this. He doesn’t like any information being shared that could reflect badly on us. You’re lucky you caught me here, and not him.”

  “We will keep the information confidential, unless it points to anyone who might be guilty,” May promised.

  Adam shifted from foot to foot, tapping his fingers on the desk.

  “Well, there was a little bit of conflict, between Faye and one of the other staff. But it was nothing serious. Faye could be oversensitive, and she was also one of those passionate people who are very strong-willed, which did mean that she sometimes ended up fighting with others. And of course, she was going through personal problems at home, which made things worse."

  "So she resigned because of the conflict?"

  "Yes, she said she was sick of being bullied. She wasn't being bullied; we run a very fair workplace, but sometimes people take things the wrong way. We tried to persuade her to stay on, because she was capable and dedicated to her job, but she chose to go and we gave her a good reference. We did an exit interview with her and noted down that she'd had personal conflict with another staff member."

  "Who was the conflict with?" May asked, hoping this might provide a motive.

  "It was with the boss of the accounts department.”

  “And who’s he?”

  “It’s a she. Mrs. Landon. She is one of our most experienced employees, although she's nearing retirement age."

  Out of the corner of her eye, May saw the receptionist rolling her eyes at the mention of Mrs. Landon. She could already visualize what the woman must be like. A dragon of note, she thought.

  "And is Mrs. Landon here today?" A woman nearing retirement age didn't sound like the killer, but May wanted to be sure about her capabilities.

  "No, she has the whole week off. She's vacationing in Miami this week."

  Alibi definitely confirmed then, May thought.

  "She and Faye really didn't like each other," the receptionist added, sounding eager to help. "They just clashed. Everyone could see it."

  "Any other reasons why Faye might have resigned?" May asked both of them.

  "No. She was paid well and we valued her as an employee. Even Mrs. Landon was sorry to see her go and gave her a farewell gift."

  That ruled out Mrs. Landon, and it made it less likely that there had been any other reasons for the resignation, but there was something else that Gore had said that was intriguing to May.

  "You mentioned other personal problems? Do you know what those were?"

  Now, to May's surprise, the receptionist spoke up.

  "She was going through a divorce at the time she resigned. That was very acrimonious. I know, because her husband used to call here sometimes and they'd end up having screaming fights on the phone that I could literally hear from down here. One time, he walked in here, and we all had to pretend she’d gone to a meeting somewhere else, because he was as mad as anything. And he had a big knife on his belt, too."

  “Her husband Grover works at the local lumber yard, we later discovered,” Adam added, sounding relieved that the focus was now off his own company’s misdoings, and on the angry ex.

  May was very interested to hear this news. A recent acrimonious divorce? That was a huge red flag.

  It was time to find this aggressive husband, and question him on his ex-wife's violent death.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  May and Owen rushed out of the World of Homes lobby. Heading for the car, May felt motivated about this new lead.

  “The lumber yard is only a few miles away from here. Maybe we can find out more about this situation as we drive,” she said. “This husband might even have a record. If he showed up at the company’s premises threatening his wife, it sounds a lot like he might have a record.”

  Owen nodded, his face serious. “I can call the local police department while we drive. She lives in Birchwood, so they would have been notified if there was trouble. I’ve got a friend working there who deals with the domestic disturbances in that precinct. She’ll know about any incidents that didn’t make it as far as charges getting laid.”

  Because, as May sadly knew, charges often weren’t laid in cases of domestic abuse. Sometimes, until it was too late.

  It could be that this terrible crime was domestic violence that had escalated to murder. If that was the case, tragic as it was, they could have the killer in custody within a short time. With a bit of luck and some cooperation, they would have this case wrapped up before the day was through.

  This time, she took the wheel, and Owen got on the phone and called the Birchwood police department.

  "Hi, Felicity," he said, obviously recognizing the voice of the officer who picked up. "How's your daughter?"

  "Broken arm," he mouthed to May, as he listened to the reply, and she waited, trying not to fidget. That was the thing with a small town. You had to take into account the people factor. Kids, husbands, vacations - they had to be asked about.

  "I'm so glad she's much better," Owen said. Then, getting down to business, he added, "We're investigating a serious incident here in the Eagle Wilderness Park. We have reason to believe that the victim was a Faye Miller, aged thirty. We've looked her up, and we see there have been a few police callouts this year, to the Miller home on Crossroad Drive. Can you give me the details?"

  He waited. Then he started jotting notes on the notebook that was balanced on his knee.

  "Thanks, Felicity," he then said, and cut the call.

  "Yes," he said. "The police were called by neighbors a few times for shouting, fighting, and disturbing the peace. There were never any official charges laid, but the husband was given a couple of warnings. May, this is significant. There were problems there. Big ones."

  May turned in the direction of the lumber yard, hoping they were now on the way to catch their killer.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside Chestnut Hill Wood & Lumber, a massive yard that bordered the town and the forest. It was a gray, gloomy day, and the yard was already busy, with trucks coming and going, forklift drivers ferrying wood to and fro within the large sheds and courtyards, and the air was filled with the sound of machinery, thuds, clangs, and rattles. At the steel entrance gate, several safety notices were displayed. It was a far cry from the peacefulness of the wilderness park.

  May and Owen got out of the car and approached the gate.

  A young man in a fluorescent jacket and hard hat was sitting on a stool. He looked bored, and as they approached he stood and picked up a clipboard.

  "Can I help you?" he asked, running a hand through his dark hair.

  "We're looking for Grover Miller," Owen said, showing his badge. "It's urgent, in connection with a serious crime."

  The guy looked at the badge and nodded.

  "He's driving the forklift in the yard there. Please, put on hard hats before you go in. All site visitors need to do that."

  May chose a hard hat from the pile in the box and put it on. Then he opened the gate and they went through.

  The truck yard was huge, and the closer they got to the main activity, the noisier it was. The smell of wood and sawdust pervaded the air. They had to weave around trolleys carrying logs, saws, planks, and other heavy looking equipment.

  As they came closer they could see the forklift in action, picking up pieces of wood and loading them onto the trucks.

  It was driven by a man who made the forklift truck and its controls look small. Grover Miller was a giant, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and a face that was weathered by the elements. His hair was dark, and his eyes were small, gleaming, and hard. His hands looked twice the size of a normal man's, and his shoulders were big and powerful.

  "What do you want?" he called as they approached, his voice challenging. "Are you looking for me?" He swung the forklift around, not stopping, and sped toward a pile of planks.

  "Please, come here, Mr. Miller," she said. "We need to speak to you about your wife."

  He glanced over his shoulder. "My ex-wife?"

  May didn’t expect that much love would be lost between them, and so she got straight to the point.

  "Unfortunately, it seems that Faye was found murdered this morning," May said firmly. "We need to question you about that. Please get off your forklift and come speak to us."

  Now, Grover stopped abruptly. He turned to them with a face like thunder.

  “You’re joking?” he boomed, in a thunderous voice.

  “We’re not joking, Mr. Miller. Her body was found in Eagle Park, and her vehicle was still there this morning. We’ve matched up her description and photos with those of the body that was discovered. We’re now investigating her death, and that’s why we’re here.”

  "Dead? She was found dead? And you are here to ask me questions?"

  He jumped off the forklift and approached them, looking even bigger and more powerful as he neared them. And she didn't like the expression in his eyes. Not one bit.

  She saw raw aggression there, and as she did, she realized that the shocking news had taken its toll, and this man had abruptly tipped into an out of control emotional state.

  "Dead? And you blame me?"

  With a roar of rage, he launched himself at May.

  "Wait! Stop!" May shouted, but it was clear that Grover, in an emotional state with the shock of their arrival, was as easy to stop as a runaway train.

  As Grover lunged for her, May ducked. But she wasn't quick enough. His fingers caught her hard hat and yanked it off, and with a wild, furious cry, he threw it into the air.

  Eyes flashing, he looked like a man possessed. Owen tried to grab him, but the man was barreling down on May, and all Owen's actions could do was slow him down, not stop him.

  "You have no idea what you're doing!" he roared. "You have no idea! You're accusing me of murdering my ex-wife! My own ex-wife! How dare you!"

  Grover was now charging for May, his arms outstretched, his face twisted in fury. He was on her now, his ham-sized hands round her upper arms, shaking her.

  "Let me go!" she said, trying to twist free, but he had a steely grip and she was trapped in it.

  "My wife! She's dead! I can't believe you're accusing me of killing her! What the hell is the world coming to!"

  May tried to turn away and protect herself, but he was too strong, and she was dragged closer to him. Her mind raced. She couldn't get her gun out fast enough. There’d be too much risk of him grabbing it right out of her hand. There were other people in this yard.

  Unless she could contain the situation, it was going to end in disaster.

  CHAPTER SIX

  This angry ex-husband was throwing them around as if they were dolls. It was like he was just venting his wrath on them, May thought, with a twist of fear.

  "Let go of her," Owen shouted, his voice taut and urgent. "Now; let go of her.”

  Owen grabbed his arm, but Grover wrenched it out of his grasp so violently that her deputy went stumbling back, losing his footing, and sprawling on the ground.

  This situation was all the way out of control. Grover had been triggered by this news, and May didn’t see a way to stop him. If one of his punches landed squarely, she was going to get seriously hurt.

  Grover's hands were around her arms like steel bands. He was gritting his teeth, and she could see the white of them against his tanned skin, no longer a healthy tan but more a blood red. He was breathing hard, and his face was pulsing.

  “My wife! How can you give me this news and then treat me like a guilty man?” he roared.

  "Miller! Stop!" May shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the sounds of machines operating, and the roar of chainsaws. Shielded by the forklift truck, nobody had noticed what was happening to them in this yard.

  He shook her hard, once, twice. And then again, even harder. She felt her teeth rattle, and her head was thrown back.

  May felt the breath being knocked out of her, and she knew she had to protect her head. She threw her right arm up, and it hit him on the chin. He grunted and flinched back.

  But it didn't stop him. He was too far gone. And he resumed shaking her again.

  "She's dead!" he cried. "She's dead! I can't believe you're accusing me of killing her! How dare you!"

  "Miller, let go of her!" Owen shouted. "Now!"

  "She's dead!" he roared, and he shook May again. "My wife is dead!"

  "You're not listening!" Owen shouted. "Let go of her!"

  How had this happened? From a calm, civilized approach to this in the space of seconds - it was a nightmare. She was being attacked by a man twice her size, who was in the grip of a violent madness, and who appeared to have gone totally deaf to their pleas.

  His hands were tight around her arms, and she could feel the powerful muscles there. All her moves were being blocked.

  There was one last thing she could try, remembering how prey sometimes saved itself in a predator’s jaws.

  May went deliberately limp, and at that moment of weakness, she felt him relax his grip, as if he thought she was no longer a threat and was now accepting defeat.

  Heart pounding, she knew this was her only chance. Now! She raised both her arms and rammed them into his stomach, just below his rib cage. With a grunt of pain, he recoiled.

  Trying to claw back the advantage she'd gained earlier, May used her foot to kick downward, and met with some success. She felt her foot connect with his knee, and she heard a satisfying "Oof!" as he released his iron grip on her arms and stumbled backward, holding his knee.

  And that gave Owen the chance to clip handcuffs around one of his wrists. Leaping forward, May grabbed the other, taking the advantage of speed, and his distraction, to handcuff both his hands together.

  The fight was still not over. Now, Grover was roaring with rage, tugging at the cuffs as if his own physical strength might be able to snap them. And who knew, May thought. Perhaps it would. He was brutally powerful.

  She'd never seen such a display of raw, animal anger. Grover was breathing hard and shaking his head, as if he wanted to clear it and twist his brain back into place.

  But Owen had the advantage of a grip on the other cuff and he tugged hard, pulling Grover's hands higher up behind him, while staying out of kicking distance of his legs.

  "Ow!" Grover cried, twisting around. "Get off me! You're hurting me!"

  "You're hurting us, too," May said grimly. "What you were doing was incredibly dangerous. You need to calm down now."

  "Who're you to tell me to calm down?" he spat.

  "We need to question you." May forced herself to remain even-tempered, to make sure her voice was steady and controlled. "I understand you're upset now. This is a terrible situation. But you can't just act out. We didn't cause it and we're here to find the killer. If you didn't do it, then we need to clear you, and to get information on who could have done it."

  Finally, he was coming down from his maddened emotional state, breathing roughly, blinking at her as if confused about why she'd been there at all.

  And while May had initially been sure that this man was the killer, after her experience with him in the past few breathless, dangerous minutes, she was now less sure. Her reasoning was that Grover was so strong, so powerful, and so easily tipped over into irrationality, that she thought a murder charge against him would most likely be as a result of one powerful, deadly blow to the head.

  Tying someone to a raft? Removing fingerprints? She wasn't so sure anymore that this was how this guy would have done things.

  "Come with us. And no more violence," she said sternly.

  With her and Owen both keeping a firm grip on those cuffs, they led him out of the yard and over to the police car.

  "Now, are you calm enough to speak to us or must we bring you in?" May asked.

  He shook his giant head. "I'm calm now! I think," he added dubiously, causing Owen to tighten his grasp on the cuffs again. "How did she die?"

  "She was murdered in the Eagle Wilderness Park," May said.

  He shook his head. "When? How?"

  "Yesterday, late afternoon or evening," Owen said. “It was a staged scene. Cause of death was a stab wound.”

  May admired the way he gave the facts in a gentler way, so as not to further distress this man.

  "Damn it! I always used to tell her - don't go running in that park alone!" he said, sounding angry all over again.

  "Calm down, Mr. Miller," May reminded him.

  “As I told you, I am calm,” he snarled.

  "Was your wife in any trouble with anyone? Any fights? Seeing anyone else?" May asked, bracing herself for what might happen with that last question.

  "She was a flirt, my wife! That wasn't why we divorced, though. It was the move that caused the problems, I think. We fought a lot when we moved here for my new job, and things never came right. She called me a slob; she said her feelings for me were over, but it was her who caused the problems in our marriage. She was a fighter; she was a troublemaker.”

  And Grover wasn’t? May felt incredulous at his lack of self-awareness.

  “She quit her job a couple of months ago and hadn't found a new one, so I was paying some of her expenses, and she was just enjoying life and shopping around for new jobs. If she’d spent more time at work, and less time running in the park and going to bars and flirting with people, maybe she’d still be alive. And now, look! This is terrible!"