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“Something like that, but nobody noticed the disappearance of mother and daughter since Beth’s mother had moved away after the pregnancy and had just returned to Timberline. Young had kept them hidden away in his cabin until he killed Angie, Beth’s mother.”
“Makes you wonder.” He shoved one hand in his pocket and stared out the wall of windows at the forest lurking in the darkness beyond.
“Wonder what?”
“If there was an active black market for children, maybe that’s what happened to the Timberline Trio.”
“Not you, too.” She shut off the light in the studio. “Ever since Wyatt Carson kidnapped those three children to recreate the Timberline Trio so he could play the hero, everyone and his brother have been snooping around looking into the Timberline Trio case.”
“You think that’s a bad idea?” He’d turned from the window and his eyes glimmered in the dark room.
“It’s over.” She’d never admit to him that she had her own reasons for finding out what had happened twenty-five years ago. She’d never admit that to anyone, since curiosity about the case seemed to put a target on your back.
He said, “I suppose it’s never over for the families. Look what it did to Wyatt Carson. Losing his younger brother like that must’ve jarred something loose in his psyche for him to go on and kidnap those children years later.”
“You’re right.” She stepped back into the light from the hallway. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but...”
“You’re Quileute.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She jutted out her chin.
“Just that I know your people had some fears and superstitions around the whole Timberline Trio case.” He held up his hands. “Hey, they weren’t the only ones.”
As far as she could recall, Jim never had a problem with the Quileute, but his father was another story—loudmouthed bigot. Members of her tribe had been in a few barroom brawls with Slick Kennedy.
He’d gotten the nickname Slick because of his movie-star handsomeness and pumped-up physique. Her gaze tracked over Jim as he stood in the middle of the room, and she swallowed. The apple hadn’t fallen too far from that tree.
But Jim had never been in any trouble with her people, although all the guys her age had been wary of him because of his father, his brother and his father’s buddies—beer-drinking, bigoted bikers.
She lifted and dropped her shoulders quickly. “Yeah, there were some crazy stories going around at the time.”
He crossed the room and joined her at the door. “Anyway, you might want to look into securing this place better—at least until the deputies can figure out why that man dropped dead in the woods outside your cabin.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.” She closed the door to the studio. Halfway down the hallway, she turned suddenly and Jim bumped into her. She placed a palm against his chest where his heart thundered beneath her touch. “Sorry.”
His body tensed as he stepped away from her, and she dropped her hand.
“What are you doing back here, Jim?”
His lids lowered over his eyes and he studied her from beneath his thick, dark lashes. “Trying to get away from it all, just like you.”
She blinked and turned, calling over her shoulder. “How long have you been out of the army?”
“Over a year.”
“Is that...is that what happened to your leg?”
“Long story.”
It didn’t sound like he had any intention of sharing it with her. Maybe he’d loosen up after a few beers or a shot of whiskey.
When they reached the living room, he made a beeline for the front door. “See you around.”
Scarlett blinked. “I was going to offer you something for your trouble tonight and for staying with me. Beer? Coffee?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Now it seemed as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Must’ve thought she was prying into his business. She followed him to the front door, which he’d already opened.
He stepped out onto the dark porch.
“Oops, I turned off my porch light. Be careful. I have some plants...”
As he turned, Jim tripped over one of the pots and stumbled down the two steps, falling to the ground.
