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“Of course. We did our homework.”

“What was the hunter’s name? Where was he from?”

“I’m not giving you that information. He was just some guy from out of state who thought he was shooting at a bear, okay? Don’t start anything and get Claire all upset. She’s still recovering from David’s death.”

Isaac tensed as he remembered finding Claire walking along the side of the road. “If you care so much about her, why’d you leave her stranded at the Kicking Horse tonight?”

Isaac had told himself he wouldn’t mention it. It was better if he and Claire kept what they felt for each other on the down low. They’d have more privacy that way. But he was angry at Rusty for being stupid enough to let her walk alone so late at night, especially after the incident at Alana’s studio. Rusty was a sheriff’s deputy, for Christ’s sake. He, of all people, should have been more cautious.

There was another long silence. “I went back, looking for her. Spent over an hour driving up and down every street between the Kicking Horse and her place, but I couldn’t find her. What, did she call you for a ride? Is that how you know?” She
had
called him. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d known it was her, even though he’d had other women contact him from the same pay phone. Hayley Peters was one of them. She called whenever she got enough alcohol in her to lower her inhibitions. But he’d been expecting to hear from Claire all evening. So he’d taken the chance it was her and not Hayley, and he’d been right. “I happened to be driving by, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her stranded.”

Rusty cursed, sighed and cursed again. “That was a mistake. I was…upset. Was she okay when you found her?”

“She was fine, no thanks to you.”

“I’ve tried to call and apologize. She won’t pick up.”

“I’m sure she’s asleep by now.” He wished that was the case. Then he could quit obsessing about her having a shower in his bathroom.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like I did. Of course she wants to take things slow.”

“You think she’s interested in
you?
”

“Why not? I care about her.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

He bristled again. “What happened tonight is none of your business. And neither is whatever happened to David.”

Isaac wasn’t willing to accept that. He had confidence in Myles King; Myles was a damn good sheriff. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Rusty wasn’t much of a deputy, and it was Rusty who’d been with David, not Myles. “Did you check to see if the hunter had any ties to anyone here in Pineview?”

“Why would I do that? It was an accident! Besides, who in Pineview had anything against David? And how would anyone here find, let alone hire, someone to kill for them?”

It was called the internet. Or friends of friends of friends. Montana had more than its share of gun lovers. And gun lovers had contacts regular people did not. Maybe killing for hire didn’t happen often, but that didn’t mean it
couldn’t
happen. If someone didn’t want David delving into Alana’s disappearance, the chances of taking a bullet from a hired assassin were as high as getting shot by a random hunter. Rusty was letting his familiarity with this place and its people influence him too much. If whoever killed Alana—supposing she
was
killed—felt they were about to be exposed, they could easily decide to act again.

But confronting Rusty wasn’t working. Isaac decided it might be smarter to pretend he was backing off. Perhaps then Rusty would relax and lower his defenses. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be a stretch. Forget I said anything.”

He hesitated. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Except…”

“What?”
He sounded leery.

“How did you know which hunter shot David? Did he come forward on his own?”

“No. He couldn’t find a downed bear, thought he’d missed his shot and was leaving the area. We tracked him ourselves.” Rusty was as defensive as ever, but at least he was answering a few questions—probably because he felt that being able to identify the shooter proved he was as competent at his job as he wanted to appear.

“And what’d the guy say when you found him?”

“He was shocked, said he was sorry. He’d just killed one of my best friends. What do you think he’d say?”

“Did he attend the funeral?”

“No, he felt that might be too upsetting to the community. But he sent Claire some flowers along with a hefty check to pay for David’s funeral. Said it was the least he could do.”

That meant Claire knew who he was. Maybe she had his contact information. “That
is
the least he could do.” And it would make his remorse seem all the more sincere.

“Now I have a question for you,” Rusty said.

Isaac tensed.

“Why are you bringing this up now? I mean, it’s been over a year since David died. If you thought he was investigating Alana’s disappearance and that’s what got him killed, why’d you wait so long to mention it?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“You just found out.”

Isaac didn’t confirm it. The truth was obvious enough.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Claire last night at the studio?” he asked.

“You’re the sheriff’s deputy. You tell me.” Isaac was done with Rusty. He wasn’t going to learn any more from him, so he disconnected.

When he pivoted to return the phone to its base, he saw Claire standing in his doorway wearing one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body.

“What was that all about?” she asked, but judging by the stark expression on her face, she knew. He’d become so involved in the conversation he wasn’t sure exactly when the shower had gone off or how long she’d been listening, but she’d heard enough.

Isaac shoved a hand through his hair. He should’ve talked to her about this when he went to her house with those files. Or gone to greater lengths to keep his suspicions a secret. This wasn’t how he’d wanted the question to be raised. But now that she knew what he believed…there wasn’t any way to take it back. “Surely you’ve asked yourself whether or not David’s death was the accident you’ve been told it was.”

Her knuckles whitened as she clung to the towel she held closed at her bustline. “You think Les Weaver killed him
on purpose?
”

“That was the hunter’s name?” It was silly, even childish, for Rusty to refuse to answer; of course there’d be others who would know. It would’ve been in the papers, had Isaac been around to read them. He’d probably heard the name, just couldn’t remember. At that time, he’d been trying his best to ignore the whole situation, to ignore the fact that Claire was suddenly available again.

“Yes.”

“You read those files you found at the studio. Do
you
think it’s possible?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “I don’t know. I had a plausible explanation for his death, so I focused on what those files might tell me about my
mother.
I could totally see David trying to uncover the truth for me. He was that kind of guy, so nice I can’t believe anyone would want to harm him.”

Isaac was feeling worse by the minute. What if he was wrong about David? He had no proof; he was the first to acknowledge that. And now, because of him, Claire had to deal with a very painful possibility, maybe for no reason at all. “I’m guessing it had nothing to do with
want.
Maybe he was getting close to information that was threatening someone. Maybe whoever it was felt forced.”

“But Les was from out of town.”

“A hired gun?”

She sagged against the door frame. “But…Weaver sent me money for the funeral expenses.”

“He’d be stupid not to make it look good.”

“Wouldn’t the sheriff’s department have checked him out?”

“They did, a little. They just didn’t dig deep. Think about it. Until last summer, when we had our first murder, nothing that violent had ever happened here. Other than your mother’s disappearance, which was an old mystery by the time Myles became sheriff, he hadn’t dealt with any crime more serious than a speeding ticket since he took over for Sheriff Meade. On top of that, he’d lost his wife to a protracted battle with cancer, was raising his daughter on his own and adjusting to being a single father. My guess? He was taking everything at face value, expecting this place to be as safe and uncomplicated as he’d been told. Plus, David was shot so long after Alana’s disappearance Myles might not have realized there could be a connection. For one thing, he doesn’t seem to be aware that David was looking into her case.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Rusty wasn’t even aware of it.”

She frowned. “Then who gave David a copy of those files?”

“I have no idea.”

Fresh resolve seemed to stiffen her spine. “If someone killed David, it has to be the same someone who kidnapped my mother.”

“
If
is the key word here. I could be way off base. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you before. Judging by what I got from those files, David wasn’t only determined to get to the truth, he was pressing people for answers, revealing inconsistencies in various interviews that suggested Alana didn’t leave on her own. Then everything came to a very convenient stop with his death. It seems too…coincidental, given his progress. But that’s all I’ve got to go on. You understand this is merely conjecture on my part, right?”

“
Something
connects the two. I—”

His phone interrupted her, and he leaned over to check caller ID. Restricted. “It’s Rusty again.” What were the chances it’d be anyone else?

She leaned against the wall as he answered.

“She’s there with you, isn’t she,” Rusty snapped.

He’d obviously been to Claire’s place—and concluded that she wasn’t home sleeping. “She who?”

“Quit playing games. You know who I mean. Are you filling her head with that bullshit about David being killed just so you can get close enough to get inside her pants?”

“I think you need to hang up, Rusty. What you’re asking doesn’t concern you.”

“David was one of my closest friends.”

“And that gives you first dibs on his widow?”

“He’d rather it was me than you!”

“How do you know? Did he come to you in a dream?”

“You bastard!”

“I’ve never liked you much, either,” he said and hung up.

Claire watched him set down the phone. “What was that all about?”

“You have a not-so-secret admirer.”

“Rusty knows I’m here?”

“I think he’s been over to your place a number of times tonight and realized you’re not there.”

She covered her face with the hand that wasn’t clutching the towel.

“Would you like me to take you home?” he asked.

“No, definitely not.” Dropping her hand, she looked up at him. “Especially if he’s going to be hanging around my house to see if and when I return.”

“I could tell him to leave you alone.”

“But I wouldn’t want to see what you might have to do to enforce it. And he’ll have to leave me alone if I stay here. So will Leanne. I just… I need some sleep.”

“Dry your hair,” he said. “You can have the bed.”

When she came back into the room she was wearing the T-shirt he’d given her when he provided the towels. He had no idea what she had on underneath, but he spent the next two hours on the couch wondering about it.

10

C
laire woke to the smell of bacon and knew that Isaac was planning to force-feed her another meal. “Don’t make any for me,” she yelled. “I’m not hungry!”

He opened the door and stood there, freshly showered and holding a spatula. “In case you haven’t heard, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

He was being a smart-ass. She covered a yawn. “It hasn’t been that long since you fed me a steak.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “Don’t be rude to your host.”

“I have hair clients. I have to go.”

“The food will be done by the time you finish getting ready.”

“I don’t have anything to get ready with. I’m just going to pull on my clothes.”

“And then you’ll eat.”

“No, then I’ll leave.” She gave a cocky laugh as if she’d do exactly as she pleased and started to get out of bed, but she’d underestimated his determination. Hauling her over one shoulder, he carried her out of the bedroom.

“So you
are
wearing panties,” he muttered when the T-shirt floated up and he inadvertently touched her bottom.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she gasped.

“Everything.”

He was flirting with her, which was something she needed to ignore. He deposited her on a chair at the kitchen table. Then he pointed his spatula at her and ordered her to remain where she was.

“Here you go,” he said, delivering her plate.

She glared at the eggs, bacon and toast. “I should’ve gone home last night.”

“You had a choice.”

“I didn’t know giving me a place to hide came with mandatory calorie consumption.”

“I’m looking out for you. We’re friends now, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “I liked you better as a lover.”

“That’s not what you said before.” His grin grew more meaningful. “But I sort of liked that program myself. Let me know if you ever want to go back to it.”

She felt she’d probably have more of him this way. If they were merely friends he’d have no reason to throw up his defenses or block her out. If they were merely friends she wouldn’t expect more of him than he was willing to give. She’d solved their dilemma…at last. All—friends
and
lovers—was more than he could handle. None was less than she wanted. So they were meeting in the middle. Perfect. Except for the physical craving that seemed to grow sharper with each passing moment.

She lowered her eyes before he could read what she was feeling. “I’m not
that
stupid.”

“Then you can be strong for both of us,” he said, and cracked another egg into his frying pan.

“Do you always cook a big breakfast—one with so much…animal fat?”

“Only when I have someone I need to fatten up.”

She crossed her legs as she toyed with her fork. “And how often is that?”

“Actually, this a first for me.”

“And if I eat like a good little girl?” she quipped.

“I’ll give you a ride home so you don’t miss all your appointments.”

“Generous of you,” she said sarcastically.

“Do I have something else you want?”

He had a lot to offer a woman, but marriage and family wasn’t on the list, and she wanted both. After David, she’d never be satisfied with a casual relationship. “I’d like a copy of that hippo picture.” She indicated the photograph she admired.

His eyes moved to it. “I could arrange that. Since we’re friends and all.” He brought his own plate to the table. “But there is one catch.”

“What’s that?”

“I need something from you in return.”

“And that is…”

She was expecting him to tease her some more, but he sobered. “Les Weaver’s contact information.”

Nearly dropping her fork, she cleared her throat. “You’re going to call him?”

“I have some questions for him, yes.”

Could the man who’d sent her that money have shot David
on purpose?
“The only thing I remember is that he’s from Coeur d’Alene.”

“Do you have his phone number?”

“At home somewhere. I kept a copy of the check he sent just in case I ever get audited by the IRS.”

“Great.”

She managed to choke down a few bites of scrambled egg while he made quick work of his own breakfast. “Isaac?”

His mouth was full so he didn’t answer, but he raised his head to let her know he was listening.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he said after he swallowed. “Helping me.”

His eyes met hers. “Maybe I don’t want you to think I’m
all
bad.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” she said uncertainly. He didn’t care what she or anyone else thought, and he’d done his best—for years—to make sure everyone knew it.

Taking his plate, he went to rinse it in the sink. “Yeah, I’m joking.”

It was eight o’clock, early enough that Claire hoped she’d be able to slip into her house without being seen by her sister. Leanne wasn’t an early riser, particularly if she’d been drinking the night before. But she was up and around today, and must’ve been watching through the window, because she came rolling toward Claire the minute Claire got out of Isaac’s truck.

“Where’ve you been?” she demanded as he drove off.

Claire smoothed her clothes. She didn’t want her sister to jump to any conclusions—as unavoidable as that seemed after having been out all night. “I ran into a bit of trouble.”

Eyes narrowed with suspicion and curiosity, her sister stared after Isaac’s truck. Claire hoped Leanne wouldn’t recognize it, but that wasn’t likely. Everyone knew Isaac. Thanks to the success of his work and his reputation for being enigmatic, he was a local celebrity. And since he took his vehicle off-road so often in order to reach the remote places where he filmed, it had a lift kit, a row bar with floodlights and a giant locking tool chest that made it distinctive.

“Trouble?” Leanne echoed. “What kind of trouble? Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to your old flame. Especially after what you said to
me
about stirring up gossip.”

Ducking her head, Claire searched her purse for her house key. “No, he just…put me up for the night.”

Leanne followed her to the door. “You’re telling me you stayed with Isaac Morgan but didn’t have sex with him, even for old times’ sake?”

Claire wished she’d never told Leanne about Isaac, but she had. Her whole family knew he’d broken her heart and the news had traveled from there.

“I didn’t sleep with him. Really.”
For once…
Her denial would be more convincing if she reminded her sister that she was still grieving over David, that she hadn’t even been willing to
date
anyone. But she’d been intimate with Isaac just the night before and felt too slimy using her love for her dead husband to support what was essentially a lie.

“That makes no sense.”

“What are you talking about?”

Claire stepped back and Leanne maneuvered herself into the living room, where she wheeled around to confront Claire. “What else would he want with you?”

“Maybe he likes me, Leanne,” she said evenly as she closed the door behind them. “Maybe he was being a nice, compassionate member of the community.”

“Right!” Leanne added a dramatic roll of her eyes. “If I remember correctly, he was never that compassionate to you before. You haven’t said much about him since you married David, but I’ve always gotten the impression that you don’t like him…after what happened.”

“It’s not like we’re enemies.” She explained about going out with Rusty and how she’d been walking on the side of the road when Isaac picked her up.

“So why didn’t he bring you here?”

“He said I needed to eat, but nothing was open.”

“You’re telling me Isaac wanted to make you
dinner?
”

It was true; he’d been set on it. But Claire wasn’t sure she’d believe it if she were Leanne. “He says I’m too thin.”

“Why does he care?”

Claire didn’t have an answer for that. If she had to guess, she’d say he felt guilty for the way their relationship had ended. But there was no telling what Isaac thought. For one thing, it could change from day to day depending on his mood. “Who knows?”

“What about after dinner?”

Grateful for the chance to turn her back, Claire put her purse on the kitchen counter. “I dozed off on the couch while he was cleaning up, so he threw a blanket over me and let me sleep.”

“That’s so unlike anything I’ve ever heard about him,” Leanne marveled. “He thinks he’s too good for the rest of us. He doesn’t mind using locals to get off—
you
learned that the hard way—but he’d never take anyone in Pineview seriously. We’re all hicks to the
famous photographer.
”

“Thanks for the reminder, but he loves this place.” He’d just told her so.

“He likes living in a remote location. That doesn’t mean he likes the people here.”

Claire had heard others charge Isaac with the same thing. He
could
seem arrogant. But some of that was simply a product of being so appealing. His good looks, his talent and keen mind intimidated people, made them search for some flaw in order to prove he wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. And he was more than willing to expose every weakness, just to show that he didn’t need their approval. “Let’s…give him the benefit of the doubt, okay?”

“He does you one kindness after how he treated you before and now you’re sticking up for him?”

Again she regretted ever letting her sister know how she’d felt about him. “I’m not sticking up for him. I’m trying to look at the whole picture. We were together a long time ago, and people change. He’s…guarded, but don’t forget he was abandoned as a little boy, then raised by Old Man Tippy, who scarcely said a word that wasn’t about his beloved photography. You remember how Tippy was. It’s understandable that Isaac might be unwilling—or
unable
—to get close to people.”

Leanne maneuvered her chair past the couch. “Oh, come on. He gets close to people all the time. He was close to you once. And there’ve certainly been others who’ve visited his place after dark and gone home so well-ridden they can hardly walk.”

The crudeness of that statement made Claire cringe. She didn’t like the image it created, or how foolish it implied she’d been. But Leanne wasn’t feeling the contempt she pretended to feel, at least not exclusively. Claire sensed envy, too—and the last thing she needed was for Leanne to come on to Isaac.

“He’s made some mistakes, but I don’t think he’s as…bad as he once was.” After she’d stopped sleeping with him, Isaac had gone from one girl to the next. Word of his “sexcapades” had spread all over town. There’d even been rumors that he was having an affair with Claudia Hampton, a rich older woman whose husband, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, stayed in Houston most of the time she’d lived in Pineview and rarely bothered to visit.

“You’re convinced he isn’t a womanizer anymore? Just because he made you dinner without taking you to bed?”

Leanne didn’t believe a man like Isaac was likely to change, and she was probably right. But Claire refused to concede the point. “I’m saying we don’t really know, so why judge?”

“He makes his true self impossible to miss!”

“Maybe he uses his hard-ass image to hide who he really is.”

“And why would he do that?”

“It’s a defense mechanism. If everyone thinks the worst of him he has no expectations to meet and no disappointment to face.”

“Where did you learn that psychobabble bullshit?” she said with a laugh.

It was just something she’d been thinking about now that she was older and could look at the situation from a perspective less affected by her own unfulfilled desires. But even if she was right, understanding the reason for his sharp angles didn’t make them any less capable of cutting anyone who ventured too close, and she wasn’t about to forget that. “Could you lay off? What he does isn’t any of our business.”

“Whatever you say, as long as you realize that it doesn’t matter whether or not he helped you out last night. Isaac Morgan hasn’t changed as much as you want to believe. He’s done everything he can to earn his reputation.”

And Leanne was earning hers, which made it ironic that she was the one pointing a finger. But Claire wasn’t going to make an issue of it. Her sister had reasons for her behavior, too. “I’ve got to shower. My first appointment will be here in forty minutes.”

“Wait a second. I came over because…I want to explain something before you…jump to the wrong conclusion.”

Her halting words alerted Claire that Isaac was no longer the subject of their conversation. “I’m listening.”

“What you asked me yesterday about…about being out of school on the day Mom went missing.”

Claire stiffened. Thanks to what Tug had told her, she didn’t want to discuss this. She was surprised Leanne had even brought it up. “Yes?”

“I know you’ve been told.”

Their stepfather must’ve felt too guilty to keep his indiscretion to himself. Claire kneaded her forehead so she wouldn’t have to look at her sister. “Is it true?”

“I had a crush on Joe, thought I was in love with him.”

“That’s a yes.”

Silence.

Claire
had
to look at Leanne now. “He was married. And two and a half times your age. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I was
thirteen,
okay?”

“But…how did you even get hold of a video camera?”

“I borrowed Mom’s. Dad had just given it to her for Christmas, remember, and I was using it for a school project at the time. I’m embarrassed, and I have been for years, but…there’s more to what happened than my stupid mistake. That’s the part you need to hear if you want to find Mom.”

A chill ran up Claire’s spine. “Tell me.”

“Mom
was
having an affair with Joe.”

Claire curved her fingernails into her palms. “No.”

“Yes!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“That’s why she freaked out. She considered him
her
man, her guilty pleasure, and was afraid he’d been messing around with
both
of us. So the confrontation at his place involved as much accusation as anything else. That’s why he showed her the tape. So he could blame it all on me.”