Page 30 of Run for Her Life
“Isn’t he the sheriff’s husband?” he heard a man sitting a few seats away from him ask his friend. Jim stiffened.
“I think so,” the friend replied. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Are you Sheriff Gray’s husband?”
“Yep.” He clenched his jaw.
“Did they find out who killed that woman?”
Jim’s grip on the glass tightened. “I don’t know. I stay away from all that.”
He looked disappointed. “I know her husband. He’s a mess. Single dad of two now.”
“What a tragedy.” The other man clicked his tongue. “The only big things that happen to this town. Did your wife tell you anything? She must be working late nights.”
Jim had come across something in her files in the morning. He wasn’t planning on it. He’d entered the kitchen and there it was.
Pineview Falls Big Fire. That’s what was in her files.
“She’s working hard,” he said in a clipped tone.
They must have sensed his reluctance to elaborate and began chatting among themselves.
Why was Lisa looking into the fire of 1995? Why did everything revolve around one night in this town?
Jim finished the beer and slid a bill across the table. Curious eyes locked on to him—eyes that only saw him as the sheriff’s husband, eyes that reminded him just how much he’d diminished.
His father was right. Even when Jim was just a boy, his father had picked up on something that haunted him.
“You don’t have the stomach.”He took the rifle from a sobbing Jim.“Always a little boy, never the man. Nothing in your life will work until you learn how to go for the kill.”
“You’re in a mood,” Aiden commented dryly next to her as Zoe’s foot almost got caught in gnarled roots jutting up like grasping fingers. She kicked the stones loose underfoot to keep her balance.
Zoe smirked. Watching Aiden navigate the ruthless terrain of Washington woods was entertaining enough for a moment. “Being in the field is different from sitting in a fancy office on a comfortable chair, isn’t it?”
“Life is all about new experiences.” His smile was tight as they weaved their way through the crowded trees. The drizzle wasn’t heavy, but it came at them sideways, sharp and relentless, stinging her skin and blurring her vision whenever she lifted her head. “We should be close.”
“This guy is a recluse.”
The house was still out of sight. The path had narrowed, winding through dense woods, the branches overhead knitted too tightly together to let in much light. Everything felt damp: the air, the leaves, the ground beneath her boots.
She hated it. She cursed under her breath and pressed on, muscles aching from the climb, her breath visible in the chilled air.
“Are we looking at a revenge plot?” Zoe asked. “Someone knew that David was on shift that night and maybe blames him? Now targeting his employees like Annabelle and Jackie?”
Aiden was unsure. “That’s a roundabout way to hurt him.”
“Well, they must be even more pissed at Dawn. David was still a teenager. The motive could be to destroy the Harrington legacy and name. Look at all the bad publicity they’ve been getting. That’s got to have an effect on their stock price.”
“Thank Adam Deader for that. The man is on a mission to ensure that everybody sees the names Annabelle and Jackie with Harrington Group in the same sentence.”
The drizzle turned colder, harder, needle-like against her cheeks. “He could fit the profile,” she said. “He’s resourceful enough to pull this off. He’s certainly creative enough to come up with the riddles for you.”
“If you can’t find a story to boost your career, then you can create one.” Aiden remarked.
Then, finally, through a gap in the trees, the house came into view. It sat perched at the edge of the hill, dark and weathered against the slate-gray sky. Zoe could taste brine on her tongue. In the distance, she heard the waves crash against the rocky shore.
They knocked on the door and waited. It creaked open, revealing a muscled, weathered man in his sixties with gray at his temples and lines etched deep around his eyes.
Zoe showed her badge. “Ed Morgan?”
