“That’s it? That’s all there is to it?”

“That’s it.”

Myles swiveled back and forth as he mulled over Isaac’s response. “But I’m not convinced there’s any connection between David’s death and Alana’s disappearance,” he finally said.

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Do you have any evidence to support your opinion?”

Clasping his hands loosely between his legs, Isaac leaned forward. “No evidence. Yet. But I’ve come across some interesting coincidences.”

Myles opened a notebook. “I’m all ears.”

“First of all, David was researching Alana’s death and was raising enough questions to negate the argument that she ran off. What he was doing would eventually lead to police involvement, which made someone very nervous.”

“I’m supposed to take what you say David was doing on faith?”

“You don’t have to. It’s all in the files.”

“What files?”

“The case files.”

Now Myles was really skeptical. No longer the open-minded listener, he leaned forward. “And how would you know anything about the case files?”

“Somehow, David got a copy of them before he died. They had to have come from your office so I initially thought Rusty must’ve provided them. But when I spoke to him, he denied it and seemed completely unaware that David was even pursuing the mystery.”

Someone knocked on the door, a deputy, but Myles hollered that he’d be out in a few minutes. Then his eyes shifted back to Isaac. “You haven’t mentioned how you know he had any files.”

“Claire found them at the studio the night she was pushed down by that unknown assailant. They had his writing all over them.”

The sheriff dropped his pen. He was beginning to catch on. “Why weren’t they there when I searched?”

“Because I’d already taken them. She was afraid she’d lose them otherwise. They contained information she hadn’t been privy to before. Some progress David had made, like I said. And some conflicting testimony and facts that didn’t quite jive with what she’d been told. Things law enforcement kept from her and the press.”

“Like…”

Was this a test? “Leanne’s absence from school on the day in question.”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. If it had been a test, he’d just passed. “Then you’re right. That had to come from my office. But I have no idea how.”

Isaac couldn’t help him there. “All I know is what I saw.”

The chair creaked as he rocked back. “David having copies of what’s in our files doesn’t mean he was killed because of it.”

“That’s not all I’ve got to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I went to see the man who shot him.”

At this Myles straightened. “In Idaho?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re damn serious about all of this.”

“I am.”

“And what did you learn?”

Isaac pictured the polished, wealthy lawyer. “He’s a far cry from any hunter I’ve ever met. And he’s not exactly a stand-up guy.”

“You gathered that from one meeting? How long were you there?”

“Not long. He brushed me off as soon as he could, but not before he gave me some song and dance about how devastated he was by what he’d done.”

“Which you didn’t believe.”

Isaac stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “I did at first. He told me he was so traumatized he couldn’t hunt anymore, that he’d got rid of every gun he owned because he can’t bear the sight of them.”

Myles steepled his fingers. “Any man would feel that way.”

“But it was a lie. He still has a whole cabinet full of guns. I could see them from his backyard.”

“They could belong to a friend or family member.”

“They were inside his house. And there was something else that struck me as odd.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s a bankruptcy attorney.”

“That makes him a bloodsucker, not a murderer,” Myles joked.

“But how many bankruptcy attorneys do you know who’ve witnessed a client shoot himself to death?”

Myles got to his feet. “This happened to him?”

“He said it did—right in his office.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

“He thought it’s what motivated my visit.”

“Shit.” Turning, he stared through the slats of the blind.

Isaac stood, too. “So now you have someone who’s accidentally shot a man while hunting and who’s also been involved in another unusual death.”

“Suicide isn’t murder,” he argued, but he didn’t sound nearly as unfriendly or unconvinced as he had when Isaac first arrived.

“Maybe it wasn’t suicide,” Isaac suggested.

Myles blew out a sigh. “I admit these coincidences are odd, but…the suicide must’ve checked out.”

“If the police did their homework, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get a look at their findings. The details might shed some more light on Les Weaver.”

No response.

“Come on, all I’m asking is that you poke around a bit. Learn how and why someone died in his office and figure out whether or not he had any connection to Pineview. He claims he came here alone, for the first time, without knowing a soul. A check of his phone records for the months leading up to David’s death would tell us if he was having regular conversations with anyone in this area. And if he was…”

“We could have a killer on the loose,” Myles finished.

17

Claire wasted her opportunity to nap by going to a clothing shop in town. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep, anyway. Not after her sister had planted the terrible thought that maybe she and Isaac had been together.

Had he used them both?

She didn’t want to face it if he had. She was tired of her own pressing concerns. She was also tired of feeling dowdy. If she was going on a date, she wanted to look and feel as attractive as possible. So she distracted herself from her troubles by buying some tight jeans, a silky gold sheath top that brought out the highlights in her hair and a pair of high-heeled sandals. She even splurged on dangly earrings that swung when she moved her head and lotion that made her skin feel satiny soft.




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