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Which meant the woman she’d seen that night hadn’t been fleeing a madman. At least not a madman who’d already faced justice. Honestly, that only made things worse.
“I need to talk to Tate,” she muttered.
Without warning, Bailey reached out to grasp her arm. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“He not only snapped at me. The jerk.” Her jaw tightened at the memory. “He’s been on a rampage with everyone, including the deputies. Last I heard, he was screaming about ‘crime scenes’ and ‘preservation of clues.’ I’m guessing he’s been watching reruns ofLaw & Order. Or, more likely,The Andy Griffith Show. He certainly has a Barney Fife vibe.”
Lia bit her lower lip. She hated confrontations. It didn’t mean she didn’t have a spine. She could be ruthless when necessary. But she preferred to avoid messy arguments. Maybe she should wait until . . .
No. Lia squared her shoulders. The last time she’d decided to avoid revealing what she’d seen, a woman obviously had ended up dead. She wasn’t going to risk letting anything bad happen again. Not if revealing the truth could prevent it.
“He’ll just have to scream,” she said in grim tones. “I need to talk to him.”
“Fine.” Bailey nodded, easily sensing Lia’s determination. Still, she kept a tight grip on her arm. “Don’t forget we’re having a Friends of Pike meeting Tuesday night. We need to discuss the Fourth of July festival. Jolene already sent me an email.” Bailey rolled her eyes. Jolene was married to Tate Erickson. Her position as the mayor’s wife meant she considered herself an authority on everything Pike. Or what she envisioned Pike should be. And while Tate possessed a brash, outgoing sort of charm that had allowed him to keep getting reelected for the past twenty years, Jolene was just the opposite. She was a soft-spoken woman with deep dimples and a cloud of blond hair. But in her own way she was just as ruthless. She used her supposedly fragile health to avoid unpleasant confrontations or to manipulate others into giving in to her every demand.
“Now what does she want?” Lia asked.
“She suggested that we replace the greased pig run with an afternoon tea and cakewalk. She’s afraid we might get in trouble with the PETA people.” Bailey did more eye-rolling. “As if anyone would know what’s happening in Pike. We can barely interest the locals in noticing the events, let alone attract the attention of anyone else.”
“I doubt PETA would be showing up to complain,” Lia agreed. “But then again, I’m not opposed to getting rid of the greased pig. It’s kind of disgusting.”
“Agreed, but it’s been a part of the Fourth of July celebrations for a hundred years. The rest of the committee is going to have a cow.” Bailey heaved a sigh. “Greased pigs and cows. That’s my life.”
Lia managed a small smile of encouragement. “I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Lia.” Bailey gave Lia’s arm a squeeze before dropping her hand and stepping back. “I can always depend on you.”
Lia swallowed a sigh as she turned away. That was her. Dependable Lia.
* * *
Tate was frantically pulling aside the dead branches and chunks of frozen snow that were piled near the skeleton. He ignored the destruction of his expensive leather gloves. Jolene was going to bitch when he went home and she saw them, but what the hell? If it wasn’t his gloves, she’d find something else to bitch about. She was nothing if not consistent. And right now, he didn’t have time to worry about anything except making sure there was nothing around he didn’t want found.
When he’d first gotten the call that a bunch of boys had found a skeleton by the railroad tracks, he’d been more annoyed than concerned. This sheriff thing was a short-term gig. Just until Zac Evans returned to Pike. He assumed it would be an easy way to add an accomplishment to his résumé as mayor. It was never too early to start thinking about his reelection. And claiming he’d stepped in as sheriff to keep his citizens safe was going to make a great headline. He hadn’t anticipated having to climb through the ice and snow to look at a bunch of stupid bones. And certainly not on his day off.
Reluctantly, he’d wrangled into layers of thick clothing and pulled on a pair of heavy boots. Then, driving to the location, he’d slipped and cursed his way down the steep incline to where a group of gawkers were gathered around the bones.
He’d been on the point of ordering one of his deputies to take charge of removing the skeleton when he’d caught a glimpse of gold on the faded leather jacket.
It was a badge. One he recognized.
His chest tightened and his mouth went dry, and just for a horrifying second, he feared he was having a heart attack. This couldn’t be happening. Not after all these years.
Forcing himself to step forward, Tate ordered everyone to leave, including his own deputies. Unfortunately, the police photographer continued taking pictures of the scene, while the EMTs fussed and argued over the best means of removing the bones without disturbing evidence. Tate was ready to scream in frustration before he was finally alone.
Now he searched for a purse or briefcase or a computer memory stick that might have survived. Anything that might reveal why the woman had been in Pike.
Rolling aside a large rock, Tate was abruptly interrupted by the sound of boots crunching through the thin layer of ice. Muttering a curse, he spun around to confront the young woman who was closer than he expected. Dammit. Had she seen him scrambling through the brush?
“No one is allowed down here,” he barked out. “How many damned times do I have to say it?”
Lia Porter acted as if she hadn’t heard him, continuing forward until she was standing just a few inches from where the body was found.
“I have some information.”
Tate frowned. Lia was thirty. Give or take a year. He had a vague memory of handing her a diploma when she’d graduated. Too young to have any actual information. At least none that could affect him.
