“Do you remember clearing it?” he asked gently.

  She shook her head. “I don’t.” She exhaled a big breath and went for broke. It was time she came completely clean with this too-kind man. “What I do remember is putting a locket in a plastic bag and hiding it under the sink because I was terrified. My picture was inside. That’s what I found on the porch after Adam was here. I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid. Now, what? Forty-eight hours later there’s no locket but there is a knife? A bloody knife with my prints on it.”

  “You didn’t tell me,” he pointed out, his voice soft, gentle. Not accusing or angry as she would have expected—as she deserved.

  “I was in denial. I didn’t want it to be true and I thought maybe if I...” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I thought. Apparently, I don’t even know what I actually did.”

  “Have you considered that someone wants you to feel as if you’re losing your mind? To doubt yourself?”

  She searched his face, not daring to say how desperately she wanted that to be true. “But how could Adam or his follower know about my breakdown? No one knew. I was with Val and then I came here after. I’ve never discussed it with anyone until I told you.”

  “Have you been in contact with the woman—this Val?”

  “No. She said we should never have contact of any kind. To prevent anyone from using her to find me.”

  “Smart lady.” He took a breath. “We should have Gibbons request a welfare check. Maybe have a detective in the area interview her. See if she’s been visited by anyone asking questions. She’s older. She may have inadvertently mentioned you.”

  He was right. Val would be seventy-five or eighty. She could be in a nursing home by now with dementia. Grace had no idea.

  “All right.”

  “My advice at this point,” he said, “would be for you and Liam to go someplace safe until this is done. Cara and Diane can take care of things here. I’ve called Sheriff Norwood, and she’s sending me four additional deputies. One will be here at the inn at all times.”

  She had been thinking the same thing. “Cara offered her grandmother’s cabin. She said she’d take Liam there and keep him hidden until this was over.”

  “Gibbons wants you to stay here as a lure to whoever is behind all this. He hasn’t said this, but I’m beginning to see how his mind works.”

  Grace shook her head. “If I have no choice, I can stay, but not Liam. I want him away from this.”

  “You do have a choice,” Rob said. “This is my jurisdiction and I have the final say. I’m taking you and Liam to my cabin, and I’m staying with you until Gibbons and Reynolds find whoever is acting on Locke’s behalf or whatever the hell he’s doing.”

  She held his gaze. “Are you going with us because that’s likely the only way Gibbons will allow us to leave?”

  Rob held her gaze for a long moment. “I’m going because I’m not letting you or Liam out of my sight until I know it’s safe.”

  Grace wanted to feel good about his words, but it was impossible, all things considered. “We might never be safe.”

  He managed a sad smile. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a problem with however long it takes.”

  The warmth his words elicited almost chased away the cold leaching into her bones. Almost.

  The one thing that prevented her from feeling happy about his words was the idea that Adam Locke had destroyed everything she’d loved once before. Though he was dead now, apparently that wasn’t going to stop him from doing it again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday, February 21, 8:00 a.m.

  Rob walked the perimeter of the property. Things were quiet now save the half-dozen news vans parked along Mockingbird Lane. Anytime now they would gather around the gate and start watching for some sign of Grace or anyone else who might provide a sound bite. Rob had given a statement. He’d simply said there had been two murders. The perpetrator remained unknown, and folks should be on the lookout for anything at all out of the ordinary. They should lock their doors and check on shut-ins. Vigilance was required until they had this case under control.

  About two this morning the ME had taken Pierce’s body to the morgue. His next of kin, a younger brother, had been notified. The CSI folks had finished up by four and packed it in. Rob had sent Reynolds home for some sleep. Two of the deputies Norwood had sent were on scene, one stationed out front, one in back. After lunch Reynolds would be back. Rob wanted him here at the inn once he left with Grace and Liam. Reynolds would be his eyes and ears until it was safe for Rob to bring them back.

  First thing this morning he’d told Grace they would be leaving shortly after noon. The next few hours should give her plenty of time to prepare for leaving the inn with Cara and Diane in charge. One of his deputies was stopping in to check on the Wilborns this morning. Grace was worried. She hadn’t heard from the couple since early on Tuesday. She had a right to be worried with one of her guests dead and her ex trekking all the way here only to end up murdered.

  Rob hoped Grace had managed at least a couple of hours of sleep last night—this morning, actually. He couldn’t deny being concerned about the things she appeared to have forgotten, but he also recognized there was room for someone else to be behind the problems. It was too soon to make a call one way or the other, but his money was on Grace being gaslighted, particularly if someone knew about Grace’s past breakdown. Gibbons had a detective friend in the Lake Tahoe area who would be paying a visit to Valentina Hicks this morning. If she’d spoken to anyone about Grace lately, that might provide a lead. At this point, Rob would take anything.

  There had already been two bodies. He didn’t want to uncover any more.

  He’d asked Reynolds if he’d noted Cara’s arrival at the inn after the search on Sunday night, but the deputy hadn’t seen her. He had driven around the block a couple of times, so it was possible Cara had arrived during one of those occasions. With her compact car, she could easily have parked it near the garage and Reynolds hadn’t noticed.

  Rob stepped onto the terrace that ran across the back of the inn and knocked on the back door. He wanted all doors kept locked until further notice. An assistant who worked in the sheriff’s office was running a background check on the remaining guests, Russell Ames and Henry Brower, as well as Diane and Cara. Since he’d already done a preliminary check on the two women, the new look was a deeper dig. Cara Gunter had roots here. Her grandmother was a lifelong resident. Rob had interviewed both women personally, but it never hurt to ask around town. Information was power. The lack of information was the road to defeat.

  The turn of the locks and then the door opening brought him face-to-face with Diane. “I have a fresh pot of coffee brewed,” she said. “Breakfast is on the sideboard in the dining room. Detective Gibbons is already in there.”

  Gibbons had turned in around four thirty. Rob doubted the man had gotten any more sleep than he had. Sleeping when there was a killer breathing down their necks was not easy.

  “Thanks, Diane.”

  Liam sat on a stool at the island. He held up a slice of bacon. “Eat!”

  Rob grinned. “Looks yummy, buddy.”

  When Grace walked in, she tried to smile and failed. “Did you talk to the reporters?”

  He nodded. “I did. But they’ll try to talk to you or anyone else who shows her or his face outside, so keep that in mind.”

  “They’ll follow us when we leave,” she said, obviously weary.

  “They would, but I have a plan for that.”

  “Good. Okay.” She smiled at her son. “As soon as Liam is finished up, we’ll go get packed up.”

  “Woad twip!” Liam grinned and reached for a biscuit.

  Rob smiled. “That’s right, buddy. We’re taking a road trip.”

  He poured himself a fresh mug of coffee and headed for the dining room to catch up with Gibbons.

  The older detective was just finishing his breakfast when Rob joined him at the table. The two guests were finished already and moving toward the lobby.

  “My deputy,” Rob said, slowing their departure, “will see that the reporters don’t give you any trouble.”

  Both men nodded. Neither looked excited about the idea of wading through a flock of reporters.

  “You talked to the press already?” Gibbons asked as Rob picked up a plate from the buffet.

  “I did.” He gave him the details as he filled his plate. “After lunch I’ll move Grace and Liam.”

  “I had some reservations about that,” Gibbons admitted, “but after the phone call I just received, I’m more convinced than ever that whoever is behind this is here for Grace and her son.”

  Rob’s instincts alerted. “Did you hear from your friend in Lake Tahoe?”

  Gibbons gave a nod. “He’s retired, so he spends a lot of time fishing. Gets out early to beat the crowds, so he popped in at the Hicks place before sunrise this morning. He’s got the local authorities there now.”

  Oh, hell. “The old woman’s dead?”

  Gibbons nodded. “House was ransacked. Whoever killed her was looking for information. We both know it was for anything that could be found on Grace.”

  Damn, he hated to give this news to Grace. “I don’t suppose he left us any clues.”

  Gibbons shrugged. “Too soon to tell, but there is one kicker.”

  Rob’s gaze narrowed. “That is...?”

  “Hicks has been dead for at least a year. That’s based on her calendar being open to February and the expiration date on the milk container in her fridge. My friend is no medical examiner, but he’s guessing, based on the condition of the body, that the time frame is reasonably accurate.”

  “So our killer has been putting this plan together for a long time.” Damn. No wonder he’d left no evidence except what he wanted them to find.

  “Looks that way.” Gibbons pushed his plate away. “If he’s had that much time, then he has the lay of the land here. He could be living here, for all we know. Maybe knows who is who in the community. You should watch out, Vaughn. If that’s the case, he likely knows you have a personal interest in his target.”

  Rob pushed his plate away as well. He’d lost his appetite. “I’ll be watching,” Rob promised. “I won’t go down so easy.”

  Gibbons nodded. “I’m guessing he’s figured that out already too.”

  * * *

  “DO YOU KNOW how long you’ll be gone?”

  Grace considered Diane’s question. “Not long, I hope. The sooner this is over, the better.” She finger-combed her son’s hair. “Every minute that we live like this terrifies me.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine.” Diane visibly shivered.

  “Can’t imagine what?” Cara pushed through the swinging door, a load of plates in her hands.

  “Deputy Vaughn is moving Liam and me to a safe house until they find the source of the trouble.”

  For a moment Cara looked surprised.

  “It’s the only way Gibbons would agree to our leaving,” Grace explained quickly in hopes of assuaging any offense Cara might take about Grace not accepting her offer.

  Cara nodded knowingly. “I think that’s the best plan.” She winked at Diane. “Does this mean you and I are in charge?”

  Diane grinned. “We are.”

  “Will we have any security?” Cara asked, opening the dishwasher.

  “Deputy Reynolds and at least one other deputy will be here with you.”

  Cara made an agreeable sound. “Okay, I can live with that.”

  Diane moved to Grace and put an arm around her shoulders. “We will take very good care of everything until you’re back.”

  “It’s about time you took a vacation,” Cara chimed in. “You work too hard.”

  “’Cation!” Liam said triumphantly.

  Grace relaxed a little. “For a little while,” she promised her son.

  Now that she thought about it, she and Liam had never been on a vacation. When this was over, she intended to remedy that sad condition.

  She helped Cara and Diane clean up the kitchen and dining room before heading to the registration desk to take care of a few things there. Cara took Liam to their quarters to play. Liam adored Cara. He’d loved the inn’s former assistant too. Kendall’s death was such a shame.

  Grace scrolled through her calendar. So far, nothing she hadn’t expected had occurred this morning. She certainly hoped things stayed that way. The next guests arrived on Friday, three couples. She’d called Mr. Warren and asked if they could postpone the exterior work until later in the spring. He’d been surprisingly agreeable in this conversation. Grace supposed he’d heard about the murders. Who wanted to send a crew of workers to a crime scene?

  Grace made a few more calls before walking through the inn for a final look around. She didn’t dare go outside for fear of running into a reporter. Upstairs, she walked from room to room. Checked the unoccupied ones, mostly so she could look out the windows and see what sort of crowd had gathered.

  The half-dozen news vans Rob had mentioned earlier had been joined by four others. Mostly statewide channels. Nothing national yet. But they would come. The Sweetheart Killer murders hadn’t gone unnoticed by the big networks. Adam’s demise wouldn’t go uncovered either.

  As she walked back down the long, carpeted hall, she paused outside Mr. Ames’s door. She still couldn’t understand how she had made his reservation and not remembered. Like Pierce, he didn’t look familiar to her. In fact, he’d mostly ignored her since his arrival. He had given her a look this morning after all the excitement of last night. But who wouldn’t?

  Grace moved on. She descended the stairs and went to the reading parlor. This room was one of her favorite places. Mostly because of the wall of shelves loaded with books. There was also a well-stocked bar.

  She walked back into the hall, checked the powder room under the stairs. She’d have to remind Cara to see that it was cleaned. She had no idea how long it would be before the Wilborns could return to work. All the common areas would need a good cleaning before Friday.

  Grace took a long, deep breath. It felt good to think about something besides murder and mayhem.

  She strolled through the dining room, checked the pastry trays. Her bear claws had gone over well with their guests. Focusing on her baking this morning had helped take her mind off the horror of last night.

  Her father had told her many times growing up how much her mother had loved to bake. Sometimes when he would tell her stories of her mother, Grace had almost been able to smell the delicious scents his words conjured. Perhaps the smells were memories. Either way, Grace had loved listening to him talk about her mother. He would say a man could only love one woman the way he had loved her mother.

  Grace didn’t even bother wondering anymore if she would ever know a love like that. Her mind instantly summoned up the image of Rob. She didn’t doubt that he was the sort of man who could make that kind of love happen. He liked her. She knew he did. But considering all that had happened the past few days, he might not want to take that risk with her, and she wouldn’t blame him.

  She sighed. This was the worst possible time for her mind to be wandering in that direction. She went to the lobby, checked out the windows and groaned at the growing crowd of reporters and what she suspected were curious residents.

  Grace felt sad that the life she’d built here was now over. Wherever things went from here, they wouldn’t be the same.

  Depressed all over again, she checked the kitchen. Empty. Maybe Diane had joined Cara and Liam. With her work done, there was no reason not to.

  Grace made her way to their private quarters. Diane and Liam were sitting on the floor watching his favorite cartoon.

  “I’m just going to pack a few things so Liam and I are ready when it’s time to go.”

  Diane nodded. “Let me know if you need any help. Cara popped out to check on her grandmother since we may be here for a few days.”

  “That was a good idea.” Grace felt bad for keeping her away from her grandmother. She hoped Cara had a friend who could check in on the elderly woman.

  In the bedroom, Grace picked through her closet until she found the overnight bag she’d used when she fled California. She’d taken nothing but what she could fit into that small bag. This was much the same situation. She grabbed a few items, then went to Liam’s room and packed his little backpack with clothes and his favorite stuffed animal.

  After putting the two bags by the parlor door, she made her way to the lobby. The inn’s landline rang, and she hurried to the desk to answer it. “Lookout Inn.”

  “Hi, Gia.”

  Grace froze. The voice was female. No one she recognized.

  “If you walk back to the fireplace and look out the window on the right, you’ll see me.”

  Grace walked to the window and stared out. A woman with red hair and dressed in a white parka waved to her with her free hand. Her other hand held the cell phone to her ear.

  “Who is this?” Grace didn’t recognize the woman. Not from this distance, anyway.

  “This is Renae Keller from the Bay Area News. I’m sure you’ll remember me if you think about it.”

  The name and face jogged no memories for Grace. The truth was, there had been so many back then, she only remembered the most cutthroat of the bunch. Evidently, this one hadn’t risen to that level—or perhaps hadn’t sunk to that level.

  Grace’s heart thudded with frustration and no small amount of anger. “What do you want?” She almost laughed at herself. The woman was a reporter. She wanted whatever she could get.

  “Did you murder your ex-husband? Not that anyone would blame you if you did. In fact, you would be considered a hero by most.”