“Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Okay.” She began to shift the photos and police reports that lay before them, starting with the crimes that had been committed before Noah’s arrival in Paradise.

  When she looked over at him, he was frowning. “This is pretty solid,” he said, pointing to the three blondes, “including the body in the park.”

  “Which is a direct link to you,” Emily said.

  “Yes. It is. Which is why I put Laura Bright on the same list. She fits all the criteria.”

  “Not college,” Emily reminded him.

  “No, but we were acquainted. And that attack happened right here in town. If you only consider my college days, you can’t include anybody since.”

  “What about Vangie?”

  Noah seemed frustrated. “I have no idea. I suppose she should go with the college crowd. So should Kirsty if you can find any connection to my past, although she may have been targeted because of Buddy.”

  “What’s your assessment of Buddy?” Emily asked. “We know he, or someone pretending to be him, lured you to the park.”

  “Personally, I think it was him. I just can’t figure out why.”

  “You don’t see him as a murderer, do you?”

  “No, do you?”

  Emily shook her head. “No. He comes from an odd family, but I don’t think he has the guts or the intelligence to get away with murder, especially not repeatedly.”

  It had occurred to her that they might be dealing with more than one killer, but she hesitated to put that idea into Noah’s head. If he happened to think of it, however, she planned to share her conclusions.

  With a deep, noisy sigh, Noah leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, elbows out. “What if...”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Naw, it’s silly.”

  “Nothing is silly if it brings us closer to solving these crimes.”

  “Okay.” Resting his elbows on the table he slowly nodded. “Suppose some of these crimes have nothing to do with either list? I mean, what if we’re including too much in this investigation?”

  “We?”

  “Okay, you then. Are there any events that could be scratched off the lists?”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the professional. You tell me.”

  This was what she’d been waiting for. “Okay, but if you disagree, I want you to speak up.”

  “I will.”

  “Suppose there’s no division. Suppose these crimes all trace back to one source.”

  Shaking his head, Noah frowned at the lists. “I’m not buying that. Some are clearly personal violence, and others were carried out from a distance.”

  “Like the shot at you in the car?”

  “All the shooting at the police cars. Are there ballistic similarities, or are we dealing with different firearms?”

  She liked the way his mind was working, so she stayed silent in the hopes he’d take his ideas further. When he continued to puzzle over it, she finally spoke. “What if we divide the lists that way?”

  “Which way? By sources of attacks or the personal angle?”

  “We can try both.” Emily gave him a slight smile. “By the way, your list is incomplete. You left out the kitchen knife stuck in my pillow.”

  “Did I? Sorry. There’s been so much going on I forgot.” Noah returned her smile and arched his eyebrows. “It’s been a little hairy around here lately.”

  “Ya think?”

  He huffed, said, “Yeah. I think,” and tore off the used sheets of paper to start again. “So, how was Charity Roskov killed? I’d assumed she was shot, but I never asked.”

  Emily’s smile faded, and her gaze fixed on the lists. “No, not shot,” she said quietly. “She was hit over the head like I was, but the thing that killed her was a sharp blade. The coroner estimates it to have been fairly short.”

  “Like the one in my door tonight?”

  “Yes,” she said with a barely perceptible shudder. “Just like that one.”

  * * *

  Noah managed to stay focused on their mutual task enough to adjust his notes accordingly. When he combined the knife attacks and eliminated anything involving firearms, it was necessary to also consider anomalies, like Laura Bright and the assailant who rammed the cleaning cart into Emily. The mere thought of that incident brought the urge to embrace her again.

  Instead, he leaned back and asked, “Where do you see Laura’s place in all this? Are we sure her husband’s innocent?”

  “She says he is,” Emily replied. “At this point, I think we should assume she’s telling the truth, because the events that followed fit better into the serial killer scenario.”

  “Who came up with that idea in the first place?”

  Emily looked a bit puzzled. “I think it was Chief Rowlings. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach since we haven’t had any killings in Paradise for years. Then all of a sudden, we’re inundated.”

  “Any word from the FBI on the clues?”

  She shook her head. “Sadly, no. I’m hoping ballistics on the rifle bullets will turn up something they can trace. If they do make a connection and it includes other states, they’ll come in whether we request them or not.”

  Feeling his back muscles tighten at the thought of being hit so hard and escaping death by inches, Noah stretched with a flex of his shoulders. There was no doubt, in his opinion, that divine intervention had saved him. After all, his head had been exposed as well as his lower torso. Any number of errant shots could have ended his life, vest or no vest.

  He pushed himself back to the task at hand. “Suppose we divide these attacks by method rather than victims? What happens then?”

  “We get about the same result,” Emily said. “Except for the incapacitating head wounds. Those were less predictable. I got hit in the park the night you found the body.”

  “That I do remember,” Noah said, laying his hand over hers where it rested atop the pile of police reports. “What happened, exactly? Did you think whoever hit you was going to come for you with a knife, too?”

  When her head snapped around, eyes widening, Noah’s heart leaped. She’d recalled something new, thanks to him, and he was so thankful he was temporarily speechless.

  “There were two of them,” Emily announced, almost shouting. It took both hands to shuffle through the police reports, so she pulled away from Noah. “I know I must have mentioned it. I was groggy and my head was splitting, but there’s no way I would have forgotten that.”

  He leaned closer to read while she scanned the original paperwork regarding her injury. It listed time, circumstances, responding officers and little else.

  Emily slapped her palm down on the report as if the piece of paper was responsible for the omission. “I don’t believe it. I know I told Cal.”

  “Maybe he figured you’d add more details later, and with everything that’s been going on, it slipped your mind.”

  “It shouldn’t have.”

  “I hate to be the one to break this to you, Emily, but nobody’s perfect.” Pausing, he smiled tenderly. “Not even the smartest, best-educated, most dedicated cop in Paradise, Missouri.”

  Muttering, “Two, there were two,” over and over, Emily pulled out her cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Rowlings,” she said flatly. “I have to tell him.”

  “I understand,” Noah said. “Just remember, you’d been knocked out and were probably concussed at the time.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  Frustrated, he studied her expression while she amended her incident report in the call to her chief. Here we go again, Noah thought, wondering how Emily got through daily life if she assumed blame for everything that went wrong. Just when he’d been hoping she’d be able to forgive herself, forgive God, for her great loss, here she was, taking on unwarranted guilt again.

  Ending the short call, she pocketed her phone. The revelation of the second man had clearly hit her hard, because her shoulders were slumped and her eyes misty.

  Noah chanced touching her hand again and was rewarded by a wan smile. “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Supporting me in spite of my mistakes.”

  “That’s what friends do,” Noah said softly. “I’m pretty sure your boss isn’t upset with you.”

  “He didn’t sound like he was.”

  “See? He knows you’re human, too.” Noah so wanted to add that anybody could err at any time, including attorneys and judges, but he kept that to himself. For the present, it was enough to feel thankful that Emily was beginning to admit fallibility in her own actions. Forgiving others would come later. At least, he hoped so.

  And in the meantime, he thought, glancing at the papers strewn across the table, they had to rethink each crime with the supposition that more than one person had participated. Doing that was going to change everything. He had already wondered if the knifings and shootings were separate. Now that they had to assume multiple participants, the field was widening.

  Emily pulled away, pushed back her chair and stood. “Excuse me. I need to go splash cold water on my face.”

  “Sure. I’ll make us a fresh pot of coffee and get out the cheesecake.”

  “Cheesecake? Now? How is that supposed to help?”

  With a sigh and benevolent smile, Noah rose. “It’ll have to do, I’m afraid. I’m all out of chocolate ice cream.”

  Emily threw her hands into the air as she faced him, let out a loud “Aargh,” and left the room.

  Laughter was inappropriate, he knew, but he did allow himself a grin.

  There was a fine line between lifting her spirits and causing a distraction, a line he was balancing on as if it were the blade of a knife. He also had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t the one making the ultimate decisions here. God was. If, as he believed, divine providence had brought him back to Paradise and back into Emily’s life, then he had to trust the future to the Savior who had lifted him out of a dysfunctional childhood and molded him into someone whose goal it was to help the downtrodden. Oh, he had to also make a living, sure, but time and trials had shown that that would come if he lived according to the principles Max had taught him and reached out to others who had yet to see the light.

  It struck Noah that it might be easier to reach someone who did not share his basic faith than it was going to be to reach Emily. As long as she continued to think that God had failed or abandoned her, she was going to remain miserable.

  The problem he and so many others had was grasping even a smidgen of truth about the God of the Universe. People tended to think in temporal terms and put the same limits on their Heavenly Father that they themselves had. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  By the time Noah had brewed the coffee and served the cheesecake onto small plates, he knew what he needed to do next. A different list was required, one that enumerated all the times when his or Emily’s lives might have been lost, yet were preserved. Facts spoke for themselves. He and Emily had both escaped death over and over in the past few days.

  Hindsight provided enough instances in his childhood alone, but Noah decided to concentrate on the files they’d been working with. He titled his special list Close and began to write, starting with the mild stroke Max had suffered that had drawn him back to Paradise.

  By the time Emily returned, Noah had worked his way down to the knife stuck in his door and the way he had chosen to pull her inside because the entry intercom had failed. That alone was totally out of character, yet he’d done it.

  Smiling, she joined him and took a sip from the mug he’d brought for her. “Oh, it’s hot.”

  “Steam is your first clue.”

  She took a playful swing at him with the back of her free hand. “Duh. What are you doing?”

  “Making another list. Just for us.”

  “Us?” This sip was taken more cautiously.

  Noah nodded. “Uh-huh. I thought it might be good to make a list of all the times when we didn’t die.”

  “Um.” Another sip. “We don’t have nearly enough paper for that.”

  “I’m beginning to agree,” Noah said, smiling amiably. “For all the times we can name, there have to be dozens we miss seeing.”

  “Thousands.” Emily set aside her mug and picked up a fork.

  “You really believe that, don’t you?” Waiting, Noah prayed for the reply he wanted.

  “Yes. It’s an exercise in futility to try to write it all down, so you may as well go back to the work we came here to do.”

  One of the important things he’d come to Paradise to do was, in his mind and heart, helping Emily to heal her personal scars. Did he dare say so, or was it too soon?

  He smiled at her, pushed the tablet away and forked up a bite of dessert. The time would come when it was undeniably right to speak more about trust and forgiveness.

  An icy shiver zinged up his spine, passing through the center of the enormous bruise and triggering needles of pain. Please, Lord, help me keep her safe.

  No holy voice from Heaven echoed the answer, but Noah knew. He would do all he could, but in the grand scheme of things, Emily’s well-being was no more in his hands than the ultimate fate of her late fiancé had been in hers.

  That concept was hard to accept because he liked feeling in control, but the same thing he’d told her applied to him. All they could do in any given situation was their very best.

  What happened as a result was not in their hands.

  It never had been.

  SEVENTEEN

  Before they’d parted for the evening, Emily had tried several times to get a good look at Noah’s list of narrow escapes. When he’d noticed her interest, however, he’d crumpled up the paper and tossed the wad into a wastebasket. The letter of the law told her that anything thrown away could be picked up. Her moral compass wasn’t quite as sure.

  Compromising meant digging in the trash while Noah was present, so she retrieved the paper and smoothed it out. Most of the instances listed were familiar to her. What was surprising was his conclusion that God had sent him back to his home town to be of special assistance to her. If that notion had crossed her mind in the past, she wasn’t aware of it. Until now. Could he be right? Was that why everything seemed to be coordinating in an effort to throw them together?

  Emily raised her glance to meet his, and she smiled. “Interesting.”

  “My opinion, that’s all.”

  She sighed. “You may be right. I hesitate to see myself as needing any help, but without your input, we might not have made the college connection yet.”

  “True. Thanks for not pinning it all on my past.”

  Arching her eyebrows, she smiled. “It may still turn out that way, you know.”

  “I do. And if it does, I’ll accept the truth.”

  Watching Noah stretch again and seeing his faraway look, she waited. When he did speak, it surprised her. “Suppose Buddy was the first guy who ran into you in the park, and his accomplice was the real killer?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I mean, why would Buddy Corrigan want to kill your client when you’re his lawyer, too?”

  “Beats me. Maybe Buddy was just the fall guy, same as me. Have you looked into who his friends are?”

  “I’m sure someone has. If there was any connection to that victim and one of Buddy’s friends, it should have come to light by now.”

  “Not necessarily,” Noah argued. “Her murder occurred most recently.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t released information on the supposedly connected crimes. Whoever was responsible wouldn’t know how to make it a copycat killing.”

  A look of sadness washed over Noah to the extent that Emily laid her hand over his. “What?”

  Lips pressed into a thin line, he shook his head slowly, pensively. “Listen to us. We’re talking about the loss of life as if it was no more important than whether or not it had rained yesterday. That’s terrible.”

  “It’s necessary in order to keep a clear head,” she countered. “Getting too emotionally involved can skew conclusions.”

  Noah looked directly into her eyes and said, “There. That. Do you see what I’ve been trying to tell you?” Pausing, he swallowed hard. “Your feelings are keeping you from clearly seeing events in your past, and you’re assuming personal blame that you don’t deserve.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  She felt his other hand covering the one she’d had resting over his. His touch was warm, comforting, and the depth of his gaze held her captive. It had never been a question of not understanding his point of view. The problem had been her own reluctance to seeing how it might apply to her. Letting go of guilt would certainly make her feel better, but was it right? Was Noah right? Had she formed a warped picture of loss that was holding her back?

  Holding tightly to denial was more comfortable than a change of heart. “I know what happened. I was there, remember?”

  “And how many others have you interviewed whose memories of traumatic moments contradicted known facts?”

  “That has nothing to do with me. I’m a trained observer.”

  “Who cared about a victim.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Then how can you say for sure whether anything you could have done would have saved or cost a life? In your mind, you know better.”

  Emily’s head was spinning as Noah’s words warred with her previous conclusions. Truth to tell, as the years had passed, certain details had become emphasized while others had faded until they no longer mattered. Professional studies had shown her that this process was the way the brain brought inner healing. If a person allowed it, she added.

  She spoke softly, sorrowfully. “It’s hard to let go.”