Sudden Second Chance. Carol Ericson

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      It would’ve been something she’d have shared with him two years ago, but now they had too many secrets between them. She’d noticed he hadn’t offered up any explanations of why a hotshot FBI agent was wasting his time on a cold case, although she already knew the reason.

      Beth hugged the bag to her chest. “Thanks...?”

      “Linda. Linda Gundersen.”

      “You seemed knowledgeable about the stuffed frog. Were you living here when the three children were kidnapped?”

      “No. My sister and I took over this shop when we both retired from teaching in Seattle. She’d dated a man from this area for a while, liked it, and suggested it as a place for us to retire.” Crossing her arms, she hunched on the counter. “That was fourteen years ago when property was cheap. Turns out it was a good move because things started booming when Evergreen set up shop here.”

      Beth dug a card out of her purse and slid it across the glass toward Linda. “If you know anyone who’d like to talk to me about the case, have them give me a call.”

      “I will. My sister, Louise, would love to be on the show.”

      “Does she know anything about the case?”

      “No, but she hired Wyatt Carson to do some plumbing on our house.” Linda’s voice had risen on a note of hope.

      “I’ll see if my investigation on the story takes me in that direction. Thanks again.”

      “Enjoy your frog.”

      Beth turned at the door and waved, stepping into the crisp night air. Darkness had descended while she’d been in the tourist shop, and her rumbling stomach reminded her that she’d skipped lunch.

      Her hotel didn’t have a restaurant on the premises and the yellow light spilling out of Sutter’s across the street beckoned.

      She had no problem eating alone—her job necessitated it half the time she was on the road, and her nonexistent social life dictated it when she was at home.

      The plastic bag in her hands crinkled and she decided to make a detour to her car. If she had a bigger purse she’d stuff her frog in there, but her cross-strap bag had no room for her new furry friend and she didn’t want to haul the frog into the restaurant. That part of this story she wanted to keep under wraps until she had more proof.

      How many adults looking for answers had made the pilgrimage to Timberline, believing they were Stevie, Kayla or Heather? But she had a strong feeling she’d been here before.

      She withdrew the frog from the bag and kissed him before stuffing him back in the bag and dropping it on the passenger seat. She’d kissed plenty of frogs in her day, but this one really was going to make all her dreams come true.

      She locked up the car and strode back to the restaurant. It had just opened for dinner and a sea of empty tables greeted her—no excuse for the hostess to stick the single diner by the kitchen or the restrooms. She nabbed a prime spot next to the window, ordered a glass of wine and started checking the email on her phone.

      Every time Beth looked up from her phone, more and more people filled the room, and she began to notice a few furtive glances coming her way. Linda had been right. News in a small town traveled fast.

      If the locals showed an interest in the story, it would make for some good TV. She and her crew never went into these situations with the goal of actually solving the mystery, although a few times they’d gotten lucky. She’d gotten lucky when Duke had shown up during her story two years ago—lucky in more ways than one.

      That Cold Case Chronicles’ investigation had led to the arrest of a child killer who’d been living his life in plain sight of the grieving families. It had been one of her finest hours...and had cost her a budding relationship with Duke.

      When the waitress brought her a steaming bowl of soup, Beth looked up just in time to see Duke walk into the restaurant.

      She ducked her head behind the waitress and peered around her arm.

      The waitress raised her eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

      “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

      “In Timberline, that’s not hard to do even if you are from Hollywood.”

      “LA.”

      “You are that host from Cold Case Chronicles, aren’t you?” The waitress had wedged a hand on her hip as if challenging Beth to disagree with her.

      “I am, but I don’t live in...” She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m from Hollywood.”

      “I wasn’t here during the first set of kidnappings but—” the waitress looked both ways and cupped a hand around her mouth “—I could tell you a thing or two about Wyatt Carson. I used to date him.”

      “Really?” Everyone seemed to want to talk about Wyatt, but that case was one for the books. “Did he ever talk much about his brother and what might’ve happened to him?”

      The waitress’s eyes gleamed. “A little. I could tell you about it...on camera. I’m Chloe Rayman, by the way.”

      “We’ll talk before we commit anything to video, Chloe.” Beth held out her card between two fingers. “If it’s something we can use, I’ll have my cameraman film you when he gets here.”

      “Oh, I think it’s something you can use.” Chloe plucked the card from Beth’s fingers and tucked it into the pocket of her apron.

      Even if Chloe didn’t have anything of importance to add to the story, the waitress would want her fifteen minutes of fame anyway. Beth’s challenge on these stories had always been to separate the wannabes from the people with hard facts. Sometimes the two types meshed.

      Beth lifted a spoonful of the seafood bisque and blew on the hot liquid.

      “Digging in already, huh?”

      She’d taken a sip of the soup and choked on it as she looked into the chocolate-brown eyes of Duke Harper. She dabbed a napkin against her mouth. “Dive right in. It’s the only way to do it.”

      “It’s the only way you know.”

      “I’d invite you to sit down—” she waved at the place across from her “—but I’m sure you have important FBI business.”

      The wooden chair scraped the floor as he pulled it out. “The only important business I have right now is dinner.”

      She gulped the next spoonful of soup and it burned her throat. What possible reason could Duke have for joining her for dinner? Maybe he wanted to grill her for information this time.

      “The seafood bisque is good.” She drew a circle around her bowl of soup with her spoon.

      Chloe returned to the table, practically bursting at the seams. “Are you Beth’s cameraman?”

      “Would it get me a beer faster if I were?” Duke lifted one eyebrow at Chloe, who turned three СКАЧАТЬ