8

The files contained one significant piece of information Claire hadn’t known before: Joe Kenyon didn’t have a solid alibi for the hours during which Alana went missing. Claire had always been told that Peter, his brother, had confirmed that Joe was on a job site all afternoon. According to his account and Joe’s, Joe went home for lunch at noon—Claire guessed this was when Alana and Leanne visited his house and viewed the tape—but supposedly returned to work shortly after one and stayed until five.

In a second interview, however, done years later when Sheriff King briefly pursued the case, Joe’s brother admitted he’d only seen Joe return to work before driving over to Marion to give someone an estimate.

Since Marion was a twenty-minute drive, Peter would’ve been gone close to an hour, especially if the estimate was at all complicated. During that hour, Joe was supposed to be stacking a cord of wood in Patty Chicawa’s backyard, but she worked at the bank until five and couldn’t say if he’d been there the whole time or not.

Even more compelling was that Patty’s house was less than five minutes away from where Alana and Tug had been living.

Could Joe have been angry about what had happened over lunch? Could he have feared that Alana might get him into trouble with his wife and maybe the authorities? He could’ve shown up, hoping to convince himself he’d done the right thing in giving her the tape, and considering the emotions of the moment, maybe they’d fought and he’d lost his temper…?.

A plausible scenario, but it was difficult to say whether or not Joe was capable of murder. Claire assumed anyone could be, given the right incentive. Still, he was a hard man to read. Was he as honorable as Tug believed? Or had he been having an affair with Alana and, in an attempt to salvage their relationship, gone over to convince her that he hadn’t acted inappropriately with her daughter?

Whatever the answers to the questions raised by Peter’s revelation, it bothered Claire that his story had changed. According to the notes she’d read, it had bothered David, too. He’d thought Peter knew more than he was saying.

But Peter could’ve done what so many other family members do in similar situations. Maybe he’d panicked and, fearing his brother would become a suspect, provided an alibi. After several years had passed, and the threat didn’t seem so real, he might have relaxed enough to reveal the truth.

An hour wasn’t very long in which to kill someone and dispose of a body, but Joe had privacy. That meant it didn’t need to happen all at once. His wife’s mother had been ill for years. She spent a lot of time in Idaho, helping take care of her, and had been gone that entire week, along with the kids. Joe could’ve killed Alana and put her in her own suitcase to transport her to his home. That suitcase could’ve been in his garage the whole time the sheriff and his deputies were searching for her. It wasn’t as if they had probable cause to go into his house.

Or maybe everyone else was right. Maybe Alana had simply had it with Pineview and run away.

Cursing, Claire shoved the files to one side of her kitchen table and got up to stretch her legs. She’d been sitting for four hours, poring through every page in an attempt to puzzle out the mystery. But there wasn’t enough information to solve it.

She needed to get out, do something different, give herself a break.

She immediately recalled Isaac’s dinner invitation. Once she’d read through the case files and learned all they had to tell her, she’d been surreptitiously watching the clock as she went over them again. She’d even looked up his number, thinking she might call to see if he was still expecting her. But she didn’t call and she didn’t plan to go. Last night had left her wary of even his ability to bring her physical fulfillment. Another night with him wouldn’t make her life better. He’d withhold something and she’d feel even worse. Why give him that power?

Because it was an escape and, after a whole day in the house, she needed that. She couldn’t turn to her sister. She hadn’t seen Leanne since that earlier visit. Leanne was probably in a huff about what Claire had implied by asking why she’d been out of school the day their mother went missing. Either that or she didn’t want to talk about it, since she’d denied a fact Claire could prove. Considering what Tug had told her, Claire didn’t want to talk about it, either.

Anxious and unsettled, she stood at the window, brooding as she stared across the courtyard. Was Leanne staying in drinking again? She told herself she should go over and check. Maybe bringing up the past had pushed Leanne into another depression. Claire didn’t want that, but neither did she want to let her sister punish her for asking the wrong question. Leanne could be so dark.

But Claire had her own issues. And because of those issues, she had to leave the house, or she’d weaken and head over to Isaac’s cabin. He’d never offered to make her dinner before. She was curious as to how that would play out, but not curious enough to let it override her better judgment. Regardless of how the night started, by morning she’d crave more of Isaac Morgan than she could get, emotionally if not physically. That was the story of their whole relationship.

To protect against that, she called Deputy Clegg—Rusty—and asked if he’d like to go out tonight.

He was so eager, he told her he’d be right over and showed up at her house while she was still scrambling to get ready. It wasn’t easy to find a top that covered Isaac’s hickey. She finally settled on a sleeveless turtleneck sweater that was part of an ensemble she normally wore in winter.

They had dinner at Seritella’s, an Italian restaurant, where she picked at a salad while he put down most of a large pizza. From there, they went dancing at the Kicking Horse Saloon. She thought the crowd and the music might keep her from dwelling on Isaac or the disconcerting details she’d discovered in her mother’s case files. But nothing really helped—the time dragged on and on. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she was even less interested in Rusty than she’d thought when she’d turned down all his previous invitations.

At eleven o’clock he suggested going to her place to watch a movie. She’d just told him it was too late for that when Joe Kenyon showed up.

Claire had always been a little afraid of Joe. After what she’d read in the case files, she was even more so. If he’d killed her mother, and then David for resuming the investigation, he could come after her someday. He was so…laconic. So hard to know.

But considering the lurid details her stepfather had shared, she’d realized he was either far more evil than she’d ever dreamed—or downright saintly.

As soon as Rusty went to get another beer, she slid onto the empty stool next to Joe’s. “Hey.”

He nearly fell off his chair when he turned to see who’d addressed him. The last time she’d confronted him was during Sheriff Meade’s investigation. When he wouldn’t come to the door, she’d lost her temper and stood on his front stoop, yelling that he was a cold-blooded killer. It wasn’t her finest moment, and she could see how that might make him reluctant to talk to her.

His lips formed the word hi, but the way he pulled the bowl of peanuts closer and slumped over his drink communicated, Get lost.

She was bothering him and he didn’t like it, but she wasn’t willing to give up that easily. “You don’t come here very often,” she said, but for all she knew he appeared nightly. She was the one who didn’t come here often.

Right or wrong, he didn’t correct her. He popped nuts into his mouth and hunched down even farther.

“How’s the family?”

He blinked at her and broke down enough to respond. “Fine.”

“Your wife out of town again?”

“Yep. Mother’s had a setback.”

“Then you’re home alone?”

Nothing. He pretended to be preoccupied.

“I said, ‘You’re home alone?’” she persisted.

He shot her an exasperated look. “If they’re gone, I’m home alone, yeah.”

“So the kids went with her?”

“It’s summer. They like to see their grandparents.”

“How long will they be gone?”

His scowl darkened. “Do you want something?”

“I was just making small talk.”

“They’ll be gone the rest of the month, maybe longer. Like I said, it’s summer. Are we done yet?”

Claire drew a deep breath. “I bet it gets lonely when they’re away.”

Shoving the nuts aside, he got up and grabbed his drink, but she caught his arm before he could leave.

“Can’t we have a conversation, Joe? Please, sit down and…and talk to me for a minute.”

His eyes darted toward the door. “I’d rather not.”

“But I want to tell you I’m sorry about before. The way things have gone…it’s not fair to you. I realize that now I know…about Leanne.”

His beer sloshed onto the bar as he slammed down his mug. He hadn’t had a chance to drink much of it, so she thought he’d relent, but he shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s ancient history. I’ve said all I’m going to say.” Then he walked out.

Claire propped her chin on her fist. So much for making friends with Joe Kenyon. He wanted nothing to do with her. That sentiment probably extended to her whole family, except Tug, who gave him quite a bit of tree work.

Rusty weaved through the small group of patrons still there, coming toward her with his drink. She wanted to tell him she was ready to go, but when he reached her, he set his beer down and pulled her onto the dance floor. “I like this song!” he yelled over the music.

From eight to midnight, four nights a week, five home-grown boys took the stage at the Kicking Horse Saloon. They weren’t fantastic musicians, but they weren’t bad, either, considering that their music was only a sideline to the farming and ranching they did during the day. As part of their final set for the evening, they were playing a slow song, which gave Rusty the perfect excuse to hold her tight.

The beer he’d drunk smelled sour on his breath. Trying to avoid his mouth, Claire turned her head in the other direction, which he took as an invitation to skim his lips over the inch of skin above her turtleneck. She shivered, but not because she’d enjoyed it. The exact opposite was true. She didn’t want to be this close to him, didn’t want him to touch her at all.

Afraid someone would see them dancing so intimately and assume they were now an item, she tried to put more space between them, but he tightened his grip and rubbed his pelvis against her as if he thought he was turning her on.

It was all Claire could do not to embarrass him by wrenching free and stalking off the floor. She might’ve done it, except that she blamed herself as much as him for her current predicament. She didn’t really return his interest; she shouldn’t have called him. But she’d never dreamed he’d move so fast.

“I—I’m not over David,” she murmured, ducking her head to avoid his mouth when he tried to kiss her.

He tensed but didn’t release her. “Ah, come on, Claire. I’ve known you all your life, waited forever for this date. I hate what happened to David. You know I cared about him, too. But he’s been gone for over a year. How long are you going to hold on?”

His response irritated her. “It’s not like I can give you a specific day, Rusty. I’m not missing him to be difficult. That’s just the way it is for me. He was my husband.”

“And he was one of my best friends!”

Rusty had been with David at the end. He didn’t like to talk about it, which told her as much as anything what a horrible experience it had been. “Then you, of all people, should understand.”

“I guess guys are just more practical, you know? It was a tragedy, for sure, but you didn’t die when he did. He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. So why are you hiding out in that house of yours, wasting away?”

“I can’t simply forget I loved him and transfer my affections to the next person in line.” The tension of holding him so rigidly made her shoulders ache. It was stupid that she couldn’t relax, but she felt…nothing. No, worse than nothing, she was repulsed.

She might as well have gone to Isaac’s. Avoiding him hadn’t improved her situation. “I just…need you to be my friend.”

“I’ve been your friend for years. I’m ready for more. I won’t lie…I’ve always admired you, even when you were married to David. I thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.”

“I appreciate that, but—”

“Your sister’s come on to me before. You know that, right?”

Claire felt a blush rise to her cheeks. This wasn’t welcome news but she wasn’t all that surprised. “What you and Leanne do is none of my business.”

“But that’s just it. I shut her down. I want you, not her.”

If he thought that was going to make any difference, he was wrong. “I’m not ready,” she said again.

“Fine. Then we’re wasting our time here.”

“Another practical response?” she snapped.

“The truth. Let’s go.”

He headed for the door, but she didn’t follow. She couldn’t bring herself to spend another second in his company. This date had been a disaster.

“You comin’ or not?” he called, holding his keys.

She felt like telling him to grow up and quit pouting, but she knew that would only make matters worse. She shook her head.

A pained expression created deep grooves on either side of his mouth. “I drove. How will you get home?”

She met him at the edge of the dance floor so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “My dad will give me a ride.”

“You really want to call him at this hour?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He threw up his hands. “Suit yourself,” he said.

The minute he left, Claire went to the pay phone in the alcove where the restrooms were, but she had no intention of waking Tug. She dialed Isaac’s number instead. “Hello?”

She closed her eyes. Just hearing his voice made her want him as much as she ever had.

“Hello?” he said again. But she couldn’t bring herself to respond. Instead, she hung up and started the long walk home.

Jeremy drove past Claire twice. She was on the side of the road, and he was trying to get a good look at her face. Was she crying?

Hard to tell. Maybe. He liked to imagine himself comforting her, holding her in his arms and gently wiping away her tears. He was glad she was okay after what had happened last night, but he wasn’t pleased to see that she was out alone, especially so late. She wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around her. She never did. And that was dangerous. She felt safe, but anything could happen to her out here.

He considered warning her. Only he didn’t think she’d listen. She seemed too sad to care.

Maybe he should ask if she needed a ride home.

Did he dare? What would his father say?

Don Salter would say no. But he wasn’t here. And Jeremy was fairly confident she’d get in the car with him. Why wouldn’t she? He’d always been very careful around her, never said anything that made her look at him the way his father did—as if he was stupid. He never frightened her or tried to touch her. She liked him. When she cut his hair every month she treated him just as nicely as she treated everyone else.

Of course he should stop to help.

As soon as he made that decision, his pulse leaped. The idea of having Claire O’Toole in his car, so close, made him warm and jittery inside. His father wouldn’t like it; he’d been warned, plenty of times, to keep his distance. But…oh, how he’d dreamed of being close to her. And thanks to his boss at the burger stand, he had a car. Hank had given him the old Impala a year ago so he wouldn’t have to walk like Claire was walking now. A lot of people, including his father, thought he shouldn’t drive. Someone who’d been in special ed shouldn’t be allowed to operate a vehicle, they said. But he’d shown them he could do it. He was a good driver.

Easing off the gas, he proved that he was a good driver by making a U-turn only where it was legal to do so. He remembered where he could and where he couldn’t because he didn’t like getting pulled over, answering all those questions. Cops were far too nosy. Even his father agreed with him on that.

After he’d turned the car around, he saw Claire up ahead, but before he could reach her, the big white truck in front of him pulled alongside her.

No! Someone else had gotten to her first. It was Isaac Morgan. Jeremy would know Isaac’s truck anywhere.

She stood on the passenger side, talking through the window when Jeremy passed. He would’ve turned around again, just to see what happened, but he was afraid she’d notice. And if she didn’t, Isaac might. Isaac made him nervous. He didn’t want anything to do with him. Isaac could fight a bear and live to tell about it. How many times had he heard that story?

Isaac would bring her home.

Deciding to go to his favorite spot near her house instead, Jeremy gave the Impala some gas. If he beat them, he’d just get out of the car and wait. After Isaac dropped her off, maybe Claire would watch TV like she usually did, and Jeremy could pretend she’d invited him in so they could watch together.

But once he reached River Dell, he waited and waited and waited—and it was all for nothing because she didn’t come home and watch TV.

She didn’t come home at all.