Page 33 of Dead Girl Running

“Shouldn’t we examine it?” Frances asked.

“It’s evidence in a murder investigation. I suspect we shouldn’t have messed with the first shoe.” Kellen saw the look on Frances’s face. “I know. I half want to look, too.”

“How did it happen?” Sheri Jean was working it out in her mind. “Priscilla came in, all smiles, volunteered to take the tour. I sent her off with the group. One lady said she got sick out there, that she was white and sweating. She dumped the group, went to her cottage and…”

“Someone was there and abducted her!” Ellen said.

“And packed up her bags and drove her car?” Sheri Jean scoffed.

“So she packed and got ready to leave, and he jumped her?” Ellen was on the trail now. “Forced her in the car, forced her to drive, took her somewhere and killed her?”

“Or she stopped in town on the way out and he grabbed her there,” Destiny whispered.

“Maybe it was your boyfriend, the one you left the door open for,” Frances taunted.

“It wasn’t!” Destiny straightened out of her hunch. “In September, he was in Seattle at community college. He didn’t come home until Christmas.”

“Flunked out,” Frances told Kellen.

Xander placed the tray with the extra glasses on the table within easy reach and sank back into his meditative pose.

“Where was the body found?” Mara asked.

“On the grounds above the beach.” Kellen would never forget the scattered bones, the shattered remains of a life. That image would never fade from her mind, and yet, how could she have survived a whole year—and forgotten?

“Maybe she washed in from somewhere else,” Destiny said hopefully.

“Or out of a cave,” Mara suggested.

“We cannot solve this crime.” Kellen stood, legs apart, arms folded over her chest, and spoke the way she had in the past when facing an impossible battle. “We’re not going to waste our time trying. Speculation will get us nowhere. None of us are experts. The body is in an advanced state of decomposition. In all likelihood, this will remain an unsolved murder.”

Mara and Sheri Jean agreed with her.

The others were uncertain, groping for a way to make this come out right.

“What horrible person would kill Priscilla?” Destiny’s voice wobbled. “Priscilla wasn’t happy. She was always trying to make up stuff about herself, trying to make herself interesting.”

“Then she’d forget and contradict herself.” Sheri Jean laughed shortly.

“She didn’t have anyone who loved her. No family. No friends. Then to be murdered…” Destiny jumped off the chair. “I hope the killer’s face is devoured by flesh-eating bacteria!”

“I hope the killer discovers his lover in bed with his best friend,” Ellen said.

Nervous laughter rippled around the room.

“And they both have the clap and he’s slept with both of them,” Daisy said.

Laughter died. They all stared at Daisy with wide eyes.

“You kids.” She shook her head. “I’m old. But not older than sex.”

Kellen broke the icy crust of shock that held them in place. “Everyone, we’ve got work to do, and that includes reassuring the guests, who will undoubtedly hear this news in the most lurid way.”

“I wish Mr. Gilfilen was here,” Ellen said.

“I do, too—” the understatement of the year “—but he left a solid security system in place.” What a lie.

Mara stepped in to support her. “You know Vincent Gilfilen. He’s totally without empathy, but he would never leave us unprotected. Now—my staff has the six Alaskan women coming in for a group spa experience, so, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get to work.”

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