“Dinner’s on us tomorrow night,” Clint declared as we exited the ski lodge dining room. “That French place on the highway—is it any good? We never got around to trying it on our other trips up here.”

  I remembered that I had a voice and assured him that it was first rate, at least by our rural mountain standards. Pootsie piped up to say that the place would have to go more miles than a jackrabbit could fly to beat the French Room in Dallas.

  I smiled and told them I’d make the reservation for six-thirty. I thought Milo would need time to decompress and fortify himself for an evening with his kinfolk. But Clint wasn’t going quietly.

  “We figured we’d come by early to check out the work you’ve done on your house,” he said. “Say about five-thirty?”

  “Sure,” my husband responded. “See you then.”

  I fumed inwardly as we parted company with the other Dodges. I didn’t speak until we were in the Yukon, which he’d parked in the ski lodge loading zone. “Why,” I demanded, “were you so damned docile about them showing up tomorrow before we have time to collect ourselves after work?”

  Milo looked smug. “Because my big-mouthed brother never gave me a chance to tell him I’m not living in the Icicle Creek Development. That crime scene tape might scare him and Pootsie back to Dallas. Or if Blatt’s there with Tanya, he might threaten to shoot them.”

  “That’s terrible!” I declared. But I laughed anyway.

  Chapter 9

  Milo and I left home at the same time Tuesday morning, though we took our own vehicles. The polls opened at eight, so we headed for the Lutheran Church, the site for voters within Alpine’s central core. It was no surprise to see that Vida was ahead of us in line.

  “Wherever did you two go last night?” she asked in a tone that suggested we’d run away to join the circus. “You missed Darla Puckett setting her culottes on fire.”

  I was only mildly surprised, Darla being prone to weird accidents and bouts of extreme forgetfulness. “Was she hurt?”

  “No,” Vida replied on a note of disappointment. “Harvey Adcock tried to stop the sparks from turning into flames, but it was raining so hard by then that they sputtered out almost at once. Of course, Darla accused Harvey of getting fresh with her.”

  I was about to say that the mild-mannered hardware store owner was unlikely to make advances to any female, let alone Darla, but just then Vida’s niece Marje Blatt came out of the polling booth. Naturally, her aunt waved like a windmill to get her attention. Meanwhile, Milo stood stoically behind me, staring straight ahead in his usual morning antisocial mode.

  After marking my ballot, I waited outside for Milo. The rain had stopped during the night, blowing west toward Puget Sound. The air felt brisk, a reminder that fall was only two weeks away. Just as I saw Doc Dewey getting out of his Range Rover, Milo joined me.

  “Gerry!” the sheriff called. “How’s the shooting vic?”

  Doc nodded at me, removed his deerstalker cap, and smoothed what hair he had left. “I haven’t seen Jennings yet, but I checked in with the nurses’ station. He’s being moved out of the ICU, so he’s improving. Who is he? Somebody here just for the picnic?”

  I let Milo explain. Patting his arm and smiling at Doc, I headed for my Honda.

  Alison was already on the job, giving me a questioning look when I came in the door. “Did you stop at the hospital?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied, and relayed what Doc had said. “How long did you stay with the patient last night?”

  “Oh, I hung out there forever,” she said with a disgusted expression. “But L.J. didn’t get out of surgery until almost eleven. Then they put him in recovery and told me he’d spend the night in the ICU, so I went home. All those snippy nurses would tell me is that he’d live. I don’t know why I went with the ambulance in the first place.”

  “I’m surprised that Del and Tony let you go along.”

  Alison lowered her eyes. “I told them he was my cousin.”

  I smiled. “Was he able to talk before you got to the hospital?”

  She shook her head. “He was out of it. Well…he was in a lot of pain, so he didn’t make sense. And to be honest, I was totally blown away, really, really scared. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  “Of course not,” I assured her. “L.J.’s probably glad someone was with him. He may not know anybody in town except…” I paused, realizing that Blackwell hadn’t shown concern for the injured young man. That seemed crass even for Black Jack, but speculating about what went on in his self-serving mind was useless. “In fact,” I went on, “you should visit him when he’s feeling better. You can play detective even as you finagle your way into his heart.”

  Alison looked dubious. “Is that fair when he’s in a weakened condition?”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. “Somebody tries to kill the man he apparently works for and L.J. gets shot trying to save him? I thought you wanted to be a detective.”

  “I do, I really do,” Alison asserted, “but I don’t want to cause trouble for L.J.”

  I sighed. “He’s already been shot. Get over it, Alison,” I said, losing patience. “Are you in or not?”

  She gulped once, cleared her throat, and finally nodded. “Yes.”

  I gave her a thumbs-up gesture as Vida came through the door carrying a lavender Upper Crust pastry box. “Goodness!” she exclaimed. “Everyone is off to an early start today. Almost half the display case was already empty. They were out of raised doughnuts and bear claws. Mitch will be very disappointed.” She glanced into the newsroom. “Where is everybody?”

  I was about to suggest they might be voting, but Alison spoke first. “Mr. Walsh had a breakfast meeting with Mr. Fleetwood about co-op ads, and Mr. Laskey called to say he was going to interview voters after they left the polling places. He’ll check the sheriff’s log before he comes here. Oh, and Kip’s in the back shop.”

  Kip was usually the first to arrive, making sure that all things high-tech were in order to start the day. I followed Vida and the bakery goods into the newsroom.

  “Really,” she said, undoing the box’s purple string, “why does everyone think I know something about the poor girl who was strangled and the young man who was shot at the picnic? Neither of them is from Alpine. How could I have any idea of why strangers come here and get themselves into such a mess? Buck feels there must be a connection.”

  “I don’t know how there could be,” I said, snatching up a cinnamon-and-sugar-covered doughnut. “The shooter was aiming at Blackwell. Did Buck actually see what happened?”

  “No, unfortunately,” Vida replied. “He was helping me set out my casserole and cookies. A shame that Buck wasn’t a witness. Being retired from the military, he has very keen perception when it comes to firearms.”

  I wasn’t sure what Vida meant, but I respected the retired Air Force colonel. He’d served in Korea and Vietnam, which had given him plenty of experience with weaponry. But Buck didn’t have eyes in the back of his head. Vida was another matter. She seemed to know what was going on even when her back was turned.

  Leo arrived shortly after I’d moved on to my office cubbyhole. After setting his big advertising case down by his desk, he came to see me. “Spence and I had breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel Diner,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “I drove by the sheriff’s office on the way here. Patti Marsh was sitting outside in Jack’s Lexus. She must expect him to get sprung.”

  “Good,” I said. “Milo will be glad to see him go. How was your moving experience?”

  Leo laughed and shook his head. “Liza told me she’d stored some stuff in the apartment house basement, but I never checked it out. I think she brought everything with her from the house except the walls and windows. I’m not sure where we can put all of it. Sure, the place is two, three times the size of what I’m used to, but still…” He stared up at the low ceiling. “What’s weirder is we’re both used to living alone.”

  I shrugged. “So were Milo and I.”

  “That was different,” Leo asserted. “You two were…close. I mean, in the same town. Small town.”

  I laughed. “Spare the attempt at tact, Leo. We had a fifteen-year history, going back before you arrived in town. It just took us a long time to figure out the happy ending. We had one false start, as you may recall, and then…well, you know the rest.”

  Leo nodded once. “Tom Cavanaugh. Hell, Emma, when you hired me on his recommendation, I never guessed you’d even met him, let alone that he was Adam’s father. After his wife died and you two were going to get married, I thought that was great.” He grimaced. “Terrible thing when he got killed. I was afraid you might go over the edge.”

  “So was I.” I gave Leo a weak smile. “The next year was rough. I was a real mess. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was Milo’s down-to-earth common sense that helped me get over my maudlin grief. I’d always loved him. I just didn’t realize how much.”

  Leo chuckled. “I resented Dodge from the get-go because I was jealous.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “God, how long does it take so-called adults like us to grow up?”

  “We’re getting there. You could rent a storage unit at the old Alpine Hotel.”

  The green flecks in Leo’s eyes twinkled. “For all our bad memories?”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to replace them with good ones?”

  “You’re right.” He grinned and rapped his knuckles on the doorjamb. “Not everybody gets a second chance. You and I got lucky.”

  My phone rang. Leo headed for his desk.

  “Refresh my memory,” Milo said. “What happened with the crazy, mixed-up young woman who turned out to be Kay Burns’s daughter after she ended up with a stay at RestHaven?”

  “Ren Rawlings left for San Luis Obispo in early August,” I replied. “She had to be back there for her teaching job by the fifteenth. Why?”

  “Did Kay ever tell Ren that Blackwell was her father?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Frankly, I was surprised when Ren came to see me before she took off and said Kay had revealed she was her birth mother. I’m not sure if they intended to keep in touch. Ren was very close to her adoptive parents. Why do you ask?”

  “Why do you think, goofy?” my husband retorted. “I’m considering possible suspects who might want to waste Blackwell. In case it slipped your mind, wife number one, RestHaven’s Jennifer Hood, stabbed him a few months ago, just for old times’ sake.”

  “I never forget a happy memory,” I said—and frowned. “Do you think Jennifer is the one who took a shot at him?”

  “Not the one who pulled the trigger,” Milo replied. “But she might’ve gotten someone to do it for her. I’ll pay a call on Nurse Hood later. I’m still barricaded in my office until Patti Marsh posts Jack’s bail.” He paused as I heard a voice in the background. “Doe Jamison just delivered the good news. Blackwell’s left the building.” The sheriff hung up.

  For the next half hour, I dithered over my editorial. During the past few months I’d kept hammering away at the change in government plan. Now that the public was deciding the issue, I had to come up with a fresh topic. Ed’s outhouse idea wasn’t it. Maybe I should wait until the votes were counted. Then I’d either praise or damn the electorate, depending upon the result.

  Still staring at my monitor, I gave a start when Alison came in with the mail. “Double the usual because of the holiday,” she said. Seeing there wasn’t room on my desk, she dumped all of it on one of the visitor chairs. “Is it okay if I go to the hospital now? Kip told me I could have my calls switched over to him.”

  “Sure.” I grinned at her. “Wild horses couldn’t stop you.”

  She started to turn around, but stopped, looking beyond me to my map of Skykomish County. “I don’t think I really loved him.”

  “Huh? Who? Kip? I hope not. He’s married.”

  “No!” Alison looked shocked. “I meant Justin.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to look serious, “maybe you didn’t. It could’ve been infatuation. What made you change your mind?”

  “I saw him at the picnic,” she replied. “He was with a girl I didn’t recognize. I felt…nothing. Nada. Zip.”

  “That’s a good sign,” I assured her. “Reactions can’t be faked. Your head and your heart are in sync.”

  She nodded. “So how do you know when you’re really in love?”

  “You just do,” I declared. Except, of course, I hadn’t. But I wouldn’t admit that out loud.

  —

  Mitch arrived at ten-thirty. After grabbing the last two doughnuts, he came into my office. “I stopped at the courthouse to see the county clerk, Eleanor Jessup,” he said. “Did you know she was related to Vida?”

  I nodded. “At least half of Alpine is. Eleanor’s a Runkel. What did she have to say?”

  Mitch put one foot on a visitor chair. “Eleanor had heard that voter turnout was heavy, especially for a one-issue election. She thinks that means it’ll pass.” He paused to devour a bite of doughnut. “Unless they don’t like the idea of change.”

  “Great. How long did Eleanor think it’d take to count the votes?”

  “Probably five, six hours, with only eight polling places in the county,” Mitch said. “I never realized how many people live west of Alpine Falls by the river. They had to vote at the ranger station on Highway 2.”

  “We should still be able to have the results before Kip starts the press run. I’ll have to come back this evening, though.” I hesitated, wondering if Mitch might volunteer to fill in for me. But he said nothing. Brenda didn’t like being left alone at night. I broke the silence with a question. “How many voters did you interview?”

  “A couple dozen,” Mitch answered. “Mixed reactions, including three ‘none-of-your-damned-business’ replies. Is it a sidebar piece?”

  “Sure. I haven’t seen your photos from last night. Did you catch any drama?”

  “I got shots of Gould hauling Blackwell away, but you and Dodge are in the background.” Mitch looked apologetic. “Usable or not?”

  I grimaced. “Not, unfortunately.”

  “You’re not gloating. In fact, you both look surprised. How come?”

  “Because it was a surprise,” I said. “Blackwell’s arrest was in the log, so we’ll run it like any other domestic assault follow-up. Even if he threatened Kay, she has to prove it to make it stick in court.”

  Mitch still looked dubious. “Will she?”

  “She might give it a shot.” I changed the subject. “Before the day is done, talk to the sheriff. He may have something new on all of this. As you know, he doesn’t always remember our deadline. With a short workweek, he’s even more likely to forget.”

  “If you say so,” Mitch said, shaking his head. “Dodge realizes he’s married to the Advocate’s publisher, doesn’t he?”

  “Sometimes,” I said with a straight face. “By the way, have you met Blackwell’s recent managerial hire? It’s McKey or something like that.”

  Mitch nodded. “It’s Ken McKean, the new sales manager. I ran into him by accident at Parker’s Drugstore. He replaced Jim Tolberg, who retired in June. Seems like a nice guy—told me he came here from a town out on the coast. Didn’t Vida put something on her page about the new family in town?”

  I nodded vaguely. “She probably did. Between weddings, graduations, and all the other things that go on around here in June, the month is a bit of a blur to me.”

  “Understandable,” Mitch said before taking a bite of doughnut.

  After he’d gone to his desk, my thoughts returned to Kay Burns. I realized I hadn’t seen her at the picnic. Maybe she didn’t know what had gone on with her loathsome ex. I dialed her number at RestHaven.

  Kay laughed when I asked how she was. “You sound worried, Emma. I’m fine. I knew Jack would speak, and I didn’t want to listen to him. The sound of his voice curdles my blood. I only found out this morning that someone took a shot at him. It’d be crass to say I’m sorry it missed, though I feel for the man who was hit. Will he recover?”

  I assured her he would. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” Kay answered. “Someone—Jennifer Hood, I think—thought he worked for Jack. She was there. Maybe you saw her.”

  “I didn’t. There was quite a crowd—and then a lot of confusion.” I hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard any rumors about who might’ve fired the shot?”

  “Goodness, no!” Kay exclaimed. “If I did, I might thank him. But don’t quote me!”

  “I won’t. Have you heard of anyone he’s canned lately?”

  “No. How would I?” Kay asked in a reasonable tone. “I have no contact with his timber company. And, as you know, we live in our own little world here at RestHaven.”

  “True.” The facility operated as a virtual fiefdom. Kay was their PR person, but in RestHaven’s case the P could stand for “privacy” and maybe even “paranoia.” Dr. Woo and his staff were beyond tight-lipped. “Let me know when you have your abuse information ready. I’ll start focusing on my series later this week.”

  “I will,” Kay said. “Iain Farrell is helping me. He’s quite brilliant.”

  “Good. By the way, does the name Ronnie Davis mean anything to you?”

  “Not offhand,” Kay replied. “Should it?”

  I told her he was supposedly conducting a poll for Blackwell. The name still rang no bells for Kay. “Jack must be doing well with the mill,” she remarked. “He may have added more personnel.”

  “I’ll have Mitch check that out,” I said. “New hires make news.”

  —

  After we rang off, I bit the bullet and took on the editorial page. Highway safety was always non-controversial. Nobody ever campaigned for more vehicular accident victims. In fact, I’d write two short editorials. The opening day for the schools was Wednesday, another safe topic. Readers might be against funding levies and bond issues, but most of them weren’t anti-education.