Laughter. Harsh, anguished laughter.

“Did you kill them?” Rachel demanded, her voice remaining calm, but with a commanding tone.

“That’s for you to find out. You’re the smart policewoman, aren’t you? Find me, if you can. Stop me, if you can.”

“Why are you doing this? Why kill Jake’s friends?”

No response. Rachel realized the caller had hung up.

She sat there for a couple of seconds, her phone in her hand, her heart beating at breakneck speed. Hurriedly, she checked her phone for the number of the last call and hit the Recall button. The phone rang repeatedly. No one answered, which didn’t surprise Rachel.

“Trying to crush that phone with your bare hands?” Dean asked.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Rachel gasped, then whirled around and glared at him. “You scared the bejesus out of me.”

“Sorry. I seem to make a habit of unnerving you. What’s wrong? Unpleasant phone call?”

Rachel flipped the phone closed and laid it on her desk. “I was talking to Jake’s killer. Or at least he or she claimed to have killed Jake.”

Dean sat on the edge of Rachel’s desk. “No wonder you look pale. Did you recognize the voice?”

“Just like with the other calls we’ve all gotten recently, they used something to disguise their voice.”

Dean nodded. “Could you tell if the caller was male or female?”

“Not really. I tend to think it was a woman, but that’s merely a guess.”

“Working under the premise that it was a woman, exactly what did she say?”

“Not much, just that she had killed Jake and was going to kill someone else.”

“I don’t suppose she told you who.”

“No. And there won’t be any way to trace the call or even pinpoint where it came from. My guess is she was using a prepaid cell phone again. My caller ID showed Portland.”

“Probably, but we’ll run a check and see, just to make sure.” He glanced down at her cell phone. “You tried the number, right?”

“Right. And no one answered.”

Dean placed a lid-covered paper cup on her desk. “White chocolate latte. It’s your favorite, right?”

She eyed the cup as if it were a snake. For the past week, he’d been doing thoughtful little things for her. Peace offerings? Or just business as usual for a notorious flirt?

“Thanks.” She opened the lid, lifted the cup, and took a sip.

“If the person who called you is on the level and did kill Jake, then we have a problem on our hands, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do. The question is, who has she chosen to be the next victim?” Rachel stated the obvious.

“The first thing we do is contact everyone on the reunion committee and warn them to be even more careful than usual.”

“I can do that. There’s no need for you to-”

“Look, honey, let’s get something straight, I’m involved in this, too. Maybe not officially, but I’ve bought into your theory-yours and Kristen’s and Lindsay’s-that whoever killed Jake might have killed Aurora and Haylie and is targeting other girls Jake knew.”

Rachel patted the stack of files on her desk. “I’ve been through these time and time again. I’ve talked to numerous people who were there at the dance that night and I’ve gone over everything I personally remember.” She heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. “I have to admit that I’m as stumped as my dad was. There is just no evidence pointing to any one person. Jake was loved and hated in equal measure, yet nobody had a strong motive to want to see him dead.”

“Other than Haylie, maybe. But she was one of the first suspects cleared twenty years ago, and she was the first new victim.”

“Someone else hated Jake enough to kill him and do it in a spectacular way.”

“Yeah, and it was someone who wanted to look Jake in the eye when they offed him.” Dean glanced at the file folders on Rachel’s desk. “The coroner stated that the shot was at fairly close range and that in order to pin Jake to the tree that way, Jake had to have been right up against the tree.”

“He was probably leaning against the tree while he smoked.”

“I’ve wondered more than once if Jake realized what was about to happen and simply froze, or if he didn’t understand what was about to happen until it was too late.”

“Jake had been drinking that evening. And when he drank, he became more cocky and arrogant than usual. I can see him staring at his killer and laughing in his face. He probably thought it was a joke.” A fine mist of tears clouded Rachel’s vision.

Dean cursed under his breath. “Damn it, don’t waste any more tears on that asshole.” He shot up off her desk.

She noted that he had balled his hands into tight fists and held them on either side of his thighs. What was his problem anyway?

“Give me a little credit, will you? I’m not crying. I’m just a little misty-eyed, and it’s not about Jake.”

Dean glared at her. “If you’re not all weepy and sentimental about Jake, then what?”

“About everything. The past, the reunion, Haylie and Aurora…and if you want to know the truth, I’m uneasy about the threat this person made and concerned about the safety of my old friends and even myself.”

The tension in Dean eased. He loosened his clenched fists and relaxed his stiff shoulders. “I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

She nodded.

“Look, I dropped by with the latte hoping we could talk, and for more than two minutes,” Dean said. “I’ve been looking into something and I wanted to run it by you, get your take on it.”

She eyed him inquisitively. “Sure. What is it?”

“Call it my cop instincts or just a gut reaction, but ever since I talked to Patrick Dewey’s widow, I’ve had this niggling feeling that something was off with her.”

“Did she say something that-”

“No, it wasn’t what she said. It was more what she didn’t say and the way she answered the few questions I asked her.”

“Maybe it was nothing. After all, her husband wasn’t involved in Jake’s case, except in a roundabout way. His bow was used in the murder, but he had reported it stolen a week earlier.”

“That’s what’s been bothering me ever since I talked to Marilyn Dewey. I asked her to confirm what your dad’s old report stated, that the bow that was used to kill Jake was the only item stolen from their home.”

“It was,” Rachel said. “I distinctly remember reading that report. Nothing else was missing from their home or garage, only Mr. Dewey’s bow.”

“Why that specific bow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why just that one crossbow? Dewey owned several bows, one newer and more expensive. Why steal none of the other bows or his rifle or shotgun or none of his wife’s jewelry?”

The wheels in Rachel’s mind spun at lightning speed. “You don’t think the bow was stolen, do you?”

Dean shrugged. “It might have been, but let’s say it wasn’t stolen.”

“Then why report it stolen?”

“Why indeed.”

“If it wasn’t stolen, then Dewey had to have a reason to report it. Insurance money? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. The bow was used to kill Jake, and whoever used it left it at the scene of the crime, as if they wanted it to be found.”

“Let’s say that, for whatever reason, a bow hunter wanted to kill someone and intended to use his bow to do it. What better way to cover his butt than report the bow stolen?”

“A logical scenario,” Rachel said. “Except for two things: Patrick Dewey didn’t know Jake and therefore had no motive to kill him, and he had an alibi for the night Jake was killed.”

“Do you recall who gave him his alibi?”

“Uh…yes, I remember now. His wife said he was at home with her.” Rachel gasped. “His wife could have lied for him. But why?”

“Before we take this supposition any further, we should talk to Mrs. Dewey. After all these years and with her husband now dead, if she knows something, we might be able to persuade her to tell us.”

“Did the Deweys have a son? If so, maybe he knew Jake, maybe they-”