Riverbend Road. RaeAnne Thayne

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      “I’m sorry your introduction to the Haven Point backcountry didn’t end well. When your ankle feels better, you’ll have to try the trail again. It’s a little bit of a climb but Mount Solace is stunning this time of year. If you keep going up this trail, you’ll eventually come to a beautiful waterfall. It’s not huge but it’s definitely worth the effort.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered.

      “Another good trail is Crimson Ridge,” she went on, mostly to distract the woman from the pain of hobbling along on her sprained ankle. “The trailhead for that one is just past Redemption Bay. It’s one of my favorites, especially in late summer when it’s wild-blackberry season. In the fall, the sugar maples up there turn amazing colors, which is where the trail gets its name.”

      “Are you...from here?” Andrea Montgomery asked. Though pale, she didn’t falter once. Another point in her favor.

      “Yep. Born and raised. It’s a really nice community, full of good people.”

      “If everyone here is good, why do they need a police department?”

      She laughed. “Okay, most of the people are good. We’ve got a few bad eggs but they’re the minority.”

      Andrea’s new house was in sight now, which seemed to give the woman a little extra strength.

      “You picked a great time to move here,” Wynona continued. “In a couple of weeks, we’ll have our annual Lake Haven Days and wooden-boat show. Your kids will love it, trust me. There’s a pancake breakfast, a big parade, a craft fair and all kinds of activities for children. They can even make their own wooden boats and have races in the marina.”

      “Sounds...nice.”

      “Oh, it is. And at Christmastime, you can’t miss the Lights on the Lake Festival. People come from miles around to see local boat owners decorate their watercraft and parade from here to Shelter Springs and back. It’s quite a spectacle.”

      “We’ll plan on it.”

      “So where are you from and what brings you and your family to Haven Point?”

      She meant the question to be casual and conversational, a subtle little probe, but Andrea Montgomery instantly tensed.

      “The Pacific Northwest,” she said, the words as sharp as pine needles.

      That was certainly deliberately nonspecific. The polite thing would be to let the subject rest but that wasn’t in her nature, police officer or not.

      “What part?” she asked.

      For a long moment, the other woman didn’t answer. She glanced at the children then back down in front of her.

      “Near Portland,” she finally said.

      “Oh, that’s a beautiful area,” Wyn said, hoping to put her at ease again. “I drove through there when I was in college on the way to the coast with friends. I loved it. I especially remember how green it was and all the beautiful gardens. I was struck by the gorgeous masses of flowers in baskets hanging from the streetlamps.”

      As she hoped, Andrea seemed to relax. “It’s an easy place to grow flowers, as long as they like a lot of moisture. I love the wildflowers here.”

      They talked about flowers and gardening a little—not Wyn’s area of expertise, as evidenced by the scraggly flower gardens outside her house. She waited until they reached the driveway of the Craftsman before she slid the next question into the conversation.

      “And what brings you to our beautiful neck of the woods? Do you have family close by?”

      The woman gripped the walking stick with white knuckles—from pain or tension, Wyn couldn’t tell. “We needed a change,” she said tersely.

      She obviously wasn’t going to add anything more and Wyn knew she had pushed her hard enough.

      “Haven Point is a nice place for a new start,” she said, offering up a calm smile, “especially with the new Caine Tech facility opening up. We’ve had many new people move in already and expect even more. We’re happy to have you all.”

      “Thanks,” Andrea said as they walked up the driveway. Wyn helped her struggle up the few steps. “And thank you...for your help.”

      “You’re very welcome. That’s what neighbors do. Are you sure you’re okay from here?”

      “Yes. Fine.”

      Wynona gestured to the other woman’s swollen ankle. “You probably know this already but you should elevate that and ice it. RICE, right? Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation.”

      “Got it.”

      “And if it’s still swollen and giving you trouble in the morning, you may want to see a doc. My friend Devin Shaw is an excellent family doctor and is wonderful with children and grown-ups alike. Hold on, and I can write down her name and number for you.”

      She reached into the front pocket of her backpack for the little notebook and pen she always kept there, just in case. Her best moments of inspiration for solving cases often came while she was hiking and she hated to lose her train of thought. She jotted down a few things then ripped out the paper and handed it to Andrea.

      “Here you go,” she said. “That’s the number and address for Devin’s clinic. I also put down my cell number. If you need someone to drive you to the doctor or the grocery store while you’re laid up, I’m more than happy to help.”

      The other woman looked both shocked and wary at the offer. “Thank you.”

      “You’re more than welcome. The third number is the other essential thing you need to know—the secret delivery number for Serrano’s. That’s the best restaurant in town and they have pizza, sandwiches, whatever kind of comfort food you need and if you tell them I referred you, they’ll deliver it right to your door. They don’t do that for everyone but will help out in an emergency.”

      “That’s very kind of you.”

      Andrea looked overwhelmed but grateful too.

      “Seriously, I’m just up the street if you need anything.” She grabbed Pete’s leash from Will, who apparently was now completely over his fear of big dogs—at least her particular big dog. “I’ll see you guys later. Take care of your mom, okay?”

      “’Bye, Officer Bailey,” Chloe said.

      “’Bye,” Will said with an adorably enthusiastic wave that would have scared away any mosquito within a square mile. “’Bye, Pete.”

      Wyn walked back down the driveway then waited until the woman and her children were safely inside the house. The blinds moved as if someone had made sure they were closed tightly.

      Something wasn’t right with this family. The impression settled on her shoulders and refused to lift. The woman wasn’t simply unfriendly. She was a bundle of nerves and had the hollow-eyed, furtive look of someone with something to hide.

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