“What is it you want?”

“I have something to show you. It might tell you what happened to your mother.”

Or he was lying, the information he claimed to possess simply an incentive to lure her inside.

“What did you do to her?” she yelled. “Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do anything! Would you quit freaking out? I’m trying to help you!”

“Then why did you follow me to her studio?”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Did you trash my house?”

“No!”

“How’d you hear about it?”

“You’re kidding, right? There are no secrets in Pineview.”

Except the one she’d been chasing for fifteen years.

“Just get out and come inside with us, and I’ll tell you what I know. That way, maybe we can put a stop to what’s going on.”

She didn’t trust him. She started her car, determined to crash into both vehicles if necessary in order to create enough space to get her Camaro out from between them, but she didn’t have the chance.

Peter picked up a rock and bashed in the passenger’s-side window just as her car jumped forward and struck his bumper. The impact threw her back against the seat, but she reached for the gearshift, planning to reverse and punch the gas again when Peter climbed in through the passenger side and held her hand in place so she couldn’t.

A second later, Joe dragged her from the car.

Demo version limitation

Demo version limitation

Demo version limitation

25

“At least they took out our stitches while we were at the hospital,” Isaac said.

Claire slid her hand up his naked torso and pressed her lips to the steady beat at his throat. They were in bed at a motel in Kalispell, where they’d been for more than twenty-four hours. Isaac had insisted they not return to Pineview, said he wanted to get some sleep where he knew they’d be safe. He’d even parked his truck in the back, so it couldn’t be seen from the street.

“That’s not much consolation,” she said. “Your house is destroyed. All your furniture, all your clothes. We don’t even know how much of the forest went up.”

“Last I heard they were getting it under control.” He concealed a yawn, but it didn’t come off as indifferent or uncaring. They were both groggy after a week of such intense emotion and so much loss. If Isaac was like her, he was just glad to feel safe for the moment. “It didn’t reach your mother’s studio,” he added, “so it could’ve been worse.”

“It took your house. That’s bad enough.”

“I’m not thrilled about losing everything. I’m even less thrilled about being displaced.” He adjusted the bedding so he could pull her against him. “But we’re alive, right?”

She laughed as he rubbed his cheek with its new beard growth against her neck. “Right.”

He raised his head. “And everything was insured. My camera, my lenses…”

“What about the things money can’t buy?” she asked, threading her fingers through his hair. “All your footage, the DVDs and negatives, your notes—”

“The really important stuff’s in a safe. Provided that safe is as fireproof as I was told when I bought it, I’ll be fine. And I managed to save my computer, which has my latest projects on the hard drive—”

“You saved it at the risk of your life.” She scowled to show her disapproval. “And it still makes me mad. You have no idea how long those few seconds were when you didn’t come out.”

He grinned as he tweaked her chin. “I still don’t know what you thought you were doing trying to get back inside.”

“I wasn’t trying to get inside. It just looked that way.”

One palm cupped her breast as he leaned up on his elbow. “Tell the truth. You were coming back for me.”

She gave him a saucy look. “No, I wanted to save that hippo print you said I could have.”

He pecked her lips. “We’ll get a new one printed.”

“You’re lucky your wallet was in the pocket of the jeans you pulled on,” she mused. “Or you’d be depending on me for everything.” She sort of liked that idea, at least as a temporary arrangement, but she knew he wouldn’t.

“See?” he responded. “There’s a lot to be grateful for.”

She smiled at the way his hair stood up. They’d been sleeping for hours, had made love and then slept some more. She wasn’t even aware of the time, didn’t care how late it was. She was sure everybody in Pineview had heard about the fire, doubted anyone would expect her to be at the salon, including those who had an appointment. But she’d called Leanne and asked her to post a sign, just in case. “You’re really okay with letting the rest go?”

“Like I said, it can all be replaced—except the picture of my mother. With some effort and money, I might be able to get a duplicate, but I doubt I’ll try.”

She smoothed the hair out of his eyes. “You had a picture of her?” Claire wished she’d seen it. Because he had no family, no roots, he was used to flying solo, which made it hard to become an integral part of his life. “That’s not an easy thing to lose.”

He ran his finger down her cheek. “It was a mug shot, so probably nothing I’d frame, anyway.”

A mug shot. Claire had always known there was something wrong with his mother. “Tell me about her.”

That muscle jumped in his cheek, letting her know he was as sensitive about the subject as ever, but at least he answered. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Who was she?”

He shifted onto his back. “Her name was Bailey Rawlings.”

“And she was—” she snuggled close, resting her head on his shoulder “—a counterfeiter?”

“Nothing quite so glamorous.” She could hear the dry note in his response to her teasing.

“A bank robber?”

“Far too creative. She was a hooker. And a drug addict.”

Claire leaned up to look into his face. “Well, there you have it.”

His lips pursed. “Have what?”

“Only something as powerful as drug addiction could make her do what she did.”

“That’s how you see it?”

“That’s how I see it.”

“You don’t think that’s too forgiving?”

The dry note was back. The anger he’d felt growing up had slipped deeper and deeper below the surface, but it was still there. “Forgiving her is the only way you’ll be able to move on.”

He studied her for several seconds, touched the end of her nose. “Does that go for you, too? If your stepfather killed your mother, will you be able to forgive him?”

She’d been thinking about Tug a lot—as they spoke to the police, as they drove to the hospital, as they waited for the doctor, as they checked into the motel and drifted in and out of sleep—and she kept coming to the same conclusion. “He didn’t kill her.”

Isaac adjusted his pillow. “Claire, I think you need to be prepared for the fact that he might’ve done just that. All the signs point to him. She was cheating. She’d inherited a lot of money, and he’d get to keep it. He loved her daughters and couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.”

“But whoever killed my mother also killed David. Tug wouldn’t do that. He—he couldn’t have lived that big a lie. I would’ve known it. Intuitively, if in no other way.”

“Come on,” Isaac said gently. “People surprise their loved ones all the time. He could do anything if he was afraid he might be exposed. My mother’s drug addiction was powerful enough to make her abandon her five-year-old. Fear of life in prison could certainly motivate Tug to resort to murder. Whoever’s behind David’s death must’ve had a chunk of change, and your father fits the bill there, too. Contract killing isn’t cheap. It’s not as if Les is some hood who’d do it for fifty bucks.”