“The Deweys’ two sons were five and seven at the time of Jake’s murder.”

Rachel frowned. “So much for that thought.”

“I say we drive down to Salem tomorrow and talk to Mrs. Dewey, face-to-face.”

She hesitated momentarily, not sure that she wanted to spend an entire day with Dean, especially not trapped in a car with him for several hours making the trip to and from Salem. “Can you take tomorrow off?”

“I think I can arrange it.” He grinned. “I have an in with the chief.”

“So you do. Okay then, I’ll meet you here at-”

“I’ll pick you up at the chief’s house around eight-thirty, if that’s not too early.”

“It’s not too early. I’ve never been one to sleep until noon.”

“Eight-thirty it is.”

“You realize that this could turn out to be nothing, that your gut instincts could be wrong,” she told him. “I mean, what are the odds that the owner of the bow that shot the fatal arrow was actually involved in the crime?”

“I’m not saying he was involved, just that I got odd vibes from his widow.”

“Well, it’s better than anything I’ve come up with. And if there’s even a one in a hundred chance that Mrs. Dewey knows-Oh my God! What if she knew Jake? What if he was fooling around with an older, married woman and her husband found out?”

Dean grinned. “Honey, I like the way you think.”

After Rachel’s call telling her about the threatening message she had received from someone who claimed to have killed Jake, Mandy thought twice before taking Emily out for her afternoon stroll. But she couldn’t stay cooped up in the house, scared to go anywhere without Jeff. Doing that would be handing over control of her life to some lunatic. Besides, what could happen to her in broad daylight, in their neighborhood and in a park filled with other women and children?

As with so many days here in Portland, the sky was overcast and gray, a hint of rain in the air. But being late June, the breeze was warm and balmy.

Enjoy this daily ritual with your daughter, she told herself. Don’t allow fear to control your actions. She had heard other mothers say that their children picked up on their moods and always acted up whenever they sensed something was wrong with Mom. Emily had been cranky all afternoon. Mandy had taken her temperature, which had been normal, and had asked her if she felt bad or hurt anywhere.

Emily had frowned at her and shook her head, then proceeded to knock down a house constructed of colorful building blocks, a project they had worked on for over an hour after lunch. And then Emily had refused to go down for her nap, screaming her head off when Mandy placed her in her crib and left the room.

But now, outside in her stroller, rolling along the sidewalk, Little Miss Spoiled Rotten was smiling and waving at everyone they passed. For Emily’s sake if not for her own, Mandy couldn’t allow the fact that someone might be stalking her to bring her life to a standstill. But try as she might, she couldn’t quite get Rachel’s warning phone call off her mind. Was the person who had spoken to Rachel really Jake Marcott’s killer? Had this person killed Haylie and Aurora? Would they kill again? Or had the call been some terrible hoax?

“Afternoon, Mandy,” elderly Mrs. Johnson said as they met her at her mailbox. The white-haired woman glanced up at the sky. “Looks a bit like rain. You brought along an umbrella, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I always do.” Mandy patted the pouch attached to the back of her daughter’s portable stroller. “We’re just going over to the park, so if it starts raining, we can be back home in no time.”

Clasping her mail in one hand, Mrs. Johnson stared down at Emily. “She’s growing like a weed and getting cuter every day.”

“Thank you. We certainly think she’s a little beauty.” Mandy waved at her neighbor but kept pushing Emily along. As much as she loved Mrs. Johnson, once in a conversation with her, you might be trapped for a good twenty or thirty minutes.

Moving at a steady pace, Mandy reached the neighborhood park in five minutes. As she strolled along the brick sidewalk shaded by towering trees and lined with colorful summer flowers, she remembered how often she had jogged through here in the past and spotted mothers with their young children. Oh, how she had envied those women. But now, with the blessing of Emily, she was one of them. A mother.

When they reached the kiddie swings, Mandy removed Emily from the stroller and set her in one of the swings, double-checking the safety harness. Only one other parent and toddler were using the swings. Mandy recognized the divorced dad who had gotten custody of his two-year-old.

“Hi, Tim.” Mandy waved at her neighbor, who lived in a two-story Colonial only three houses down from her.

“Afternoon,” he replied. “You two might not get to stay long. I think we’re going to get some rain. Joey and I are heading out in a few minutes.”

Before Tim and Joey left for home, Mandy and Tim chatted about their children, about this year’s Rose Festival, and about the Neighborhood Watch. When the wind picked up and the sky grew darker, Mandy considered leaving despite the fact that they had just arrived. But Emily was enjoying herself so much, Mandy decided to give them a few more minutes. After all, windy and gloomy didn’t necessarily mean rain. Not in Portland.

Ten minutes later, Mandy realized the park was all but deserted. Time to go. As she released the swing’s safety harness, she felt the first drop of rain.

“Drat.” She removed Emily from the swing-despite her pouting protest-slipped her into the stroller, and then pulled the umbrella from the pouch. When she tried to open the umbrella, the strong wind blew it inside out. As she struggled with the unruly umbrella, she felt someone approach her from behind. A long-fingered hand reached out and grabbed for the umbrella handle. Mandy cried out, horrible thoughts flashing through her mind. She released the umbrella, whirled around, and grasped the handlebars of the collapsible stroller, intending to run.

“Mandy, it’s all right,” a familiar voice said. “It’s me.”

She glanced over her shoulder. With her heartbeat roaring in her ears and her pulse racing like mad, she gasped for air when she recognized the person standing behind her, working diligently to turn Mandy’s umbrella right side out.

What is she doing on this side of town, in this park, at this time of day?

“You really shouldn’t be out here with a storm brewing.” She handed the umbrella to Mandy as small, soft raindrops peppered down from the sky.

“Emily loves our afternoons in the park so much that I hate for her to miss them.”

Why is she staring at me that way? Mandy wondered. There’s something odd about her being here and something strange about the way she’s acting.

“Well, you’d better head for home now. As it is, you’re going to get drenched.”

A streak of cloud-to-ground lightning zigzagged through the sky behind them. Mandy gasped. When the deafening boom of thunder followed, Emily let out a yelp and then started crying.

Clutching the umbrella in one hand and the stroller handle in the other, Mandy glanced back and said, “You’re right. We’d better head for home. See you later.” Every instinct Mandy had screamed, “Get away. Run. Run for your life.”

Don’t be ridiculous. You two have known each other since high school. You’re on the reunion committee together. She’s not the type of person who could kill another.

Or is she? It’s not as if you two have stayed close all these years.

Just as she gave the stroller a quick push, intending to flee, Mandy suddenly realized it was already too late. Something came down and around her from behind, circled her throat and jerked her backward. She clawed at the silk scarf tightening around her neck, but the harder she fought, the more powerful her attacker’s hold became, strong and fierce enough to subdue her.