But to what purpose? Why kill -?

A figure stepped from the pharmacy, bag clutched to her chest. I blinked, certain I was seeing wrong. I wasn't.

I veered onto the road and broke into a jog. Janie's gaze skittered my way. She hugged the bag tight and walked faster. Jack must have figured out who she was. He called my name in a tone that warned me to get my ass back there before I did something I'd regret.

I kept going, bearing down on my target.

"Doing a little shopping with your windfall?" I grabbed the bag from Janie.

"You crazy bitch!" she shrieked, clawing at me.

I looked inside and pulled out one of two rye bottles. "Doesn't look like medicine."

"Doug and I have an arrangement," she said, naming the drugstore clerk. "He gets them for me. There's no law against that."

"Crown Royal? Little rich for your budget. You must have got a pretty penny for your shack."

She snatched the bag back. "None of your business, cop."

"What about Sammi? What's she going to do when she comes home and finds her house gone?" I stepped closer. "Unless you know she isn't coming home."

"Wha -?"

"You sold your house a day after she disappeared. What do you know? Where's Sammi?"

Fingers clamped around my arm. "Nadia…"

I tried to pull away, but Jack held fast and leaned down to my ear. "You're drawing a crowd."

A quick glance around showed he was right. Every Saturday shopper within earshot had stopped to gawk.

I turned back to Janie. She was eyeing Jack, her lip curling.

"A cripple?" she said. "Little old for you, isn't he? Guess that's the best a psycho cop can do, huh?"

Jack tugged my arm.

I resisted, but lowered my voice. "If you know where Sammi is…"

"You'll what? Shoot me?"

Jack yanked hard enough to pull me off balance. One final glare at Janie, and I let him lead me away.

Jack drove back to the lodge. I was so furious, I wouldn't be able to see the road clearly.

As soon as we'd walked away from Janie, I'd realized the question wasn't "Why kill Sammi?" but "Why take Destiny?" It had taken every ounce of restraint not to tear back there and throttle a confession from her.

I'd seen those two bottles of premium rye whiskey. I'd seen the satisfied look on her face. And I'd remembered my Internet search last night, thinking about all the people who'd killed their babies when so many others wanted them desperately. Would do anything to have a child. Would pay any price.

Janie had sold Destiny.

She and her new boyfriend had hatched the scheme using her old contacts, or maybe his – it was a sure bet any boyfriend of Janie's had paid more than a few visits to the wrong side of the law. They'd had Sammi killed and sold the baby.

Janie couldn't flaunt her new wealth in White Rock, especially right after her daughter and granddaughter vanished. The smart move would be to sit tight until everyone forgot Sammi, then move. But Janie wasn't smart. She had money and by God, she was going to spend it. So she'd raced over to Benny Durant, eager to sell.

I could barely sit still, fidgeting with my seat belt, waiting until we were beyond the town limits.

"I think Janie killed Sammi and sold Destiny."

I waited for Jack to wince. To tell me that was ridiculous and I was overreacting.

He drove for a couple of minutes in silence, then said, "Yeah. I was thinking that."

"So you agree it's plausible."

"Plausible. As in possible. Not a sure thing. Need – "

"Evidence. I know that. I may not have any detective work in my past, but I've already learned my lesson about jumping to conclusions. So if it did happen like that, what would be your theory?"

Silence for another kilometer. "Hate to think anyone'd do that. Daughter. Granddaughter. But obviously she doesn't give a shit. Meets a new guy. He plants the idea. All she sees? Open bar. Lets him set it up. Takes her share."

"So now we need – "

"You need to do your job. Take care of your guests."

I released my death grip on the seat belt. "Right."

"Let me work on this. Plan something. Gonna need to move before she does. Monday, right?"

"If she stays that long. We can guarantee she'll be home tonight, enjoying those bottles, but she may decide, come morning, to clear out early and start enjoying the windfall."

"Yeah." He turned to watch a stray dog at the roadside, saying nothing until we'd passed it. "Gonna have to be careful. Half the town saw you yelling at her."

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "We'll work it out. Get your answer. Then? She's guilty? Do what you gotta do."

I spent the afternoon rappelling. Being busy helped keep my mind off Janie Ernst, and I was almost thankful for the Previl party's constant barrage of demands. Almost.

After the rappelling came cave exploration. Then dinner. Then a sunset canoe ride, cut short when Ben wouldn't believe me when I said canoes, unlike rowboats, could tip. Fortunately, I was in the third canoe with the Previls' associate and his wife – the "nice couple," as I'd come to think of them. Unfortunately, when Ben plunged into the icy water, he grabbed the first thing he could reach, which happened to be the side of Ken's canoe.

So we had two wet and sheepish brothers, and two wet and furious wives, one of whom demanded to know why the water wasn't warmer, as if heating it was my responsibility.

Owen helped me bundle the four into warm towels. Then we discovered a handy new use for the hot tub. I even broke out the hard liquor, though I warned them against drinking too much while in the tub.

Once they were reasonably happy, I fled into the house on the pretext of making coffee. I found Jack in the kitchen, filling a thermos with that same beverage. Mugs were tucked into a basket resting beside it.

"Ah, you heard the commotion, did you?" I said. "I was just coming in to make some for them. I'll grab the real cream or the wives will complain."

"Fuck 'em. This is for you. Missed dessert."

I had – I'd been too busy warming, then cooling, the wives' pies. Jack had once again taken his meal in his room, but Emma must have told him.

"Come on." He hefted the basket. "Get away while you can."

I took the basket, restarted the coffeemaker for Emma, and followed Jack down to the lakeside gazebo. As I laid out the dessert he'd packed, and poured the coffee, he checked out the structure, commenting on the heater, the sliding screens, and the cushioned wicker table set.

"Nice," he said.

"Thank you."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. He knew I wasn't thanking him for his kind words about the gazebo. I was thanking him because his money bought the gazebo. He'd argue it was my money, earned on the job last fall, but the point still hung there, a subject that made us both uncomfortable – me for taking his money, and him because he didn't like me knowing who'd financed the job.

He braced for more, but I let it slide. I had more important things on my mind.

"Are we going to Janie's tonight?" I asked when we were halfway through our pie slices.

"Been thinking…"

His tone made my hand tighten around my fork.

"Interrogating an old drunk?" he went on. "One-man job."

"Sure. If you'd rather stay here, get some sleep, go ahead."

"You know what I mean."

I took a mouthful of pie, chewed, and swallowed before answering. "Do you really think I'm that out of control, Jack?"

"Think this case is hitting where it hurts. You feel bad for the girl. Pissed off because no one cares. Reminds you of Amy."