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“Good.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you kept it?” The pistol felt cold and heavy in her hands.
His jaw slid to the side as he shoved his rig into reverse, then wheeled out of the parking lot. “I was thinking if something unforeseen happens and we get split up…or…something happens to me…you’ll have the weapon.”
“What do you mean ‘something happens to me.’”
He pulled out of the lot and drove south along the river. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. There’s no telling what Eunice might do now that she’s cornered. She begged me to come alone and speak with her privately, but I don’t trust her.”
“Why not call the police?”
“I will. When we get there. I don’t want them bursting in ahead of time. Just in case she really does have something to say to me alone…or with you.”
“Fair enough.” Her heart pounding, her fingers clenched around the cold weapon, Adria barely noticed the forested cliffs on one side of the road, nor the steely gray waters on the other. Expensive homes peeked through the thick branches and lush shrubbery.
Zach’s knuckles showed white as he guided his Jeep through the commercial area of the town, then turned along a narrow, twisting road that rimmed the lake. Splashes of green water were visible through the tall trees and homes perched along the shoreline.
Adria steeled herself and tucked the pistol into her jacket pocket. He glowered through the windshield, his jaw set, his lips a razor-thin line. “What’s the plan?”
“I knock on her door and demand answers.”
“With me.”
“You stay in the Jeep. I’ll park a few houses away.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “No one’s followed us, so you’ll be safe. As long as you keep the pistol.”
“I said I’m coming with you. Eunice is probably expecting that you’ll do just what you said.”
“Listen, Adria, I don’t like this—”
“Neither do I, but I’d rather be with you than off waiting somewhere, not knowing what’s going on.”
“Fine.” A muscle worked in his jaw.
“Besides, I think I’m safer with you.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” he growled under his breath as he pulled into the short drive of a two-storied cottage with white siding, dormers and black shutters. Though it was early afternoon, the day was gray and damp and warm interior lights blazed through paned windows. “Cozy, isn’t it?” Zach mocked as he reached for his phone, dialed a number and quickly explained the situation to Len Barry of the Portland police, then hung up. “Okay, that should give us just enough time,” he said and climbed out of the car.
Adria’s palms were sweating, her heart jack-hammering as she and Zach walked up the stone path to a small covered porch. Flowers bloomed brilliantly in boxes and the shrubbery flanking the house was clipped and neat, a perfect little home in a prestigious community.
The home of a killer.
Zach didn’t wait, but knocked loudly, his fist pounding on the door. Adria felt the gun, heavy in her pocket, as her heart pounded in dread.
Would she face the woman who had tried to kill her?
Ginny Slade’s murderer?
The door opened and Eunice Danvers Smythe, dressed in a black velour jogging suit, stood in the empty hallway. Sweat beaded her forehead and flushed cheeks as if she’d been working out. “Zach!” she said before her gaze traveled to Adria. “Oh…I wondered if you’d drag her along.” She forced a smile as frigid as the bottom of the Columbia River. “Come in. Both of you.”
“What’s this all about, Eunice?” he asked, not moving.
“I think it’s time to explain a few things.”
“Such as.”
“I was going to start with Kat.”
Adria’s muscles tightened at the mention of her mother and Zach’s harsh expression turned even more severe. “Why not Ginny?” he asked.
