8 Sandpiper Way

“Not very far.”



A sense of foreboding filled her. Her heart started to race and despite the cold, sweat broke out across her forehead. They crept forward and suddenly Shaw came to a halt.



Then she saw it. For an instant she assumed it was a dead animal. Mere seconds later, she realized she was standing next to a human skeleton—probably that of a man. He sat propped up against the side of the cave, a baseball cap on his head. It had slipped to a jaunty angle, which looked grotesque—there was no other word—and she could see clumps of hair that clung to the skull. His clothes were in shreds and he wore a pair of tennis shoes.



She gasped and turned to Shaw.



“You okay?” he murmured.



“We have to tell the sheriff,” she said, trying to quell the hysteria that wanted to rise.



“He’s been here a long time.”



“It doesn’t matter how long he’s been here—he was a human being, Shaw. He died in here alone and…afraid.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that but she did. “We’ve got to call the sheriff.”



“Yeah.” He nodded. “You’re right. But I almost don’t want to disturb him, you know?”



Frankly she didn’t. This man had not died peacefully, and he deserved some kind of justice, a decent burial, some acknowledgment. “Come on,” she said urgently. “Let’s go. My cell’s in the car.”



An hour and a half later the road by the forest was lined with law enforcement vehicles, their red lights flashing. Tanni counted four different cars. The deputies had hauled out several large lights and carried them to the cave once Shaw had shown them the way.



Shaw and Tanni sat in Sheriff Davis’s vehicle, holding hands. After a few minutes, the sheriff opened the door. He’d spoken to Shaw while a deputy questioned Tanni; apparently their stories aligned because he’d allowed them to stay together.



“How long have you known about the body?” Sheriff Davis directed his question to Shaw.



“Three days,” Shaw said. It was the same answer he’d given earlier.



“Let me ask you again—you didn’t move the remains? You didn’t touch anything?”



Shaw said he hadn’t.



Sheriff Davis wrote that down on his pad.



“Who is it?” Shaw asked as two uniformed deputies carried out a body bag and brought it to the waiting ambulance.



The sheriff shook his head. “I can’t say.”



Tanni exchanged a look with Shaw. “Does that mean you’ve identified the body and can’t tell us?” she asked. “Or that you don’t know, period?”



The sheriff frowned. “Don’t know, period.”



“What about your missing persons file?” Tanni suggested. Surely there was some explanation.



The sheriff closed his pad and placed it inside his shirt pocket. “We’ll find out what we need to know soon enough,” he informed them. “There hasn’t been an unsolved murder in this town since I became sheriff, and this one’s not going to be the first.”



Thirty-Four



Christie knew something was wrong the instant she heard her sister’s voice mail. She stood in the store lunchroom, her cell phone pressed against her ear to block out the other employees’ chatter.



By the time she’d taken her break, Teri had left her three messages, each one more cheerful-sounding than the last. Something was definitely up. Christie wasn’t that easily fooled.



“Can you stop by after work this evening?” Teri asked when Christie finally returned her call.



Christie exhaled slowly. “The article’s out, isn’t it?”



“I’ll explain everything when you get here.” Christie suspected all these frantic calls had to do with James and that reporter, but maybe not.



“The pregnancy?” she asked next, almost afraid to finish the thought.



“The babies are fine,” Teri assured her. “All three. In fact, they’re currently in the middle of a soccer match.”



Despite her concerns, Christie smiled. “Whatever it is, you can’t tell me now?”



“No. Just get here as soon as you’re off work, all right?”



“Okay, I’ll be there.”



This was making her nervous. She was already a little depressed that she wouldn’t be seeing James until Christmas. He’d phoned and left a message on her cell Tuesday afternoon, explaining that he’d be out of town for at least a week. That was just as well, since the article would hit the stands any day. Christie had tried to find out when, but the reporter either hadn’t known or wouldn’t tell her.



James hadn’t given her much information or even told her where he was going, only that he’d get in touch. But Christie had listened to his message several times, closing her eyes and savoring the sound of his voice.



Their Saturday night had been magical. After a perfect dinner, they’d sat in front of the fireplace, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. It’d been so…so beautiful. So intimate. She’d never experienced this kind of closeness with a man. She had a list of ex-lovers, a fairly long one, but none of them had made her feel like this.



Everything was different with James.



He could have made love to her ten times over and she would’ve let him. He wanted her. She felt it with every cell of her body, and she wanted him, too. And they would make love soon; she was sure of it. But their relationship was more than that. It was deeper. Truer. It wasn’t just about her body or what she could do for him. He loved her. They loved each other.



In every previous relationship, Christie had felt insecure. Every time she was away from her lover of the moment, she’d wonder if he was with some other woman. Would he come back? And when—if—he did, she’d wonder if he still wanted her. Or was he thinking of someone else when they made love?



It wasn’t like that with James. Although he’d left town, she wasn’t worried that he’d stray or that he’d abandon her. He’d be back soon and they’d spend the holidays together. Maybe he’d help her deliver gift baskets on Christmas Eve. She’d already checked with the Salvation Army in downtown Seattle and arranged to serve meals to the homeless on Christmas Day. James would join her and afterward they’d have their own Christmas dinner at her place. She looked forward to cooking it herself. All week she’d occupied pleasant hours studying cookbooks and considering her menu. Christie was more domestic than anyone realized—even Teri.



As she drove through Cedar Cove to her sister’s, Christie examined the decorations and the multicolored lights with new eyes. She usually felt sad over the holidays, but not this year. She hadn’t been so excited about Christmas since early childhood. Of course back then it had always ended in tears.



Christie hoped that whatever was troubling Teri didn’t have anything to do with the pregnancy. Despite Teri’s reassurances, she couldn’t help worrying. Triplets! Teri always seemed to do things in a big way.



By the time Christie drove through the gate and into the yard, her sister was standing at the front door, waiting for her. Christie parked and hurried to the house.



Teri’s somber face frightened her. She reached for Christie’s hand and pulled her inside.



“What’s going on?” Christie asked.



“The article’s out. You were right about that,” she murmured, drawing her into the family room.



“Where’s Bobby?” Christie asked.



“In the library. He’s dealing with the phone calls. It seems as if every reporter in the world wants to talk to James. And since they can’t reach him, they’ll settle for Bobby.” Her lips thinned in obvious disapproval. Clearly she felt that James should be fielding his own questions instead of leaving it all to Bobby.



Christie understood Teri’s reaction, her desire to protect Bobby, but she didn’t think it was entirely fair. James couldn’t stay here now that a reporter had tracked him down, now that everyone knew who he was. Then it hit her. “Something’s happened to him, hasn’t it?” No wonder her sister hadn’t been willing to tell her over the phone. “He’s been in an accident?” Her heart slammed against her ribs.



“Christie…”



She grabbed her sister’s arm. “How badly is he hurt? Tell me!”



“James wasn’t in an accident,” Teri said calmly.



Relief flooded through her and she sank into the nearest chair. “Thank God.” On the heels of her relief came another realization. If he wasn’t hurt, then something else was wrong.



“I made coffee,” Teri said.



Standing, Christie followed her into the kitchen. “Just tell me.”



Teri exhaled noisily. “He resigned.”



“What do you mean, he resigned? Resigned from what?”



Teri met her gaze. “His job, Christie. James is no longer employed by Bobby.”



It took her a moment to grasp Teri’s words. As she stared at her sister, Teri poured a mug of coffee and handed it to her.



Christie accepted it automatically. “So he doesn’t want to drive Bobby around anymore. That’s not the end of the world, is it?” Okay, fine, the word was out that James had once been a chess prodigy, the same as Bobby. Big deal. It would be news for a couple of days, and then interest would fade and life would go back to normal. And if James decided he was finished with working for Bobby, it shouldn’t be held against him.



Teri continued to watch her. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”



“No…” Christie hadn’t worried about it, though—until now.



“What did he say the last time you spoke?”



Christie reviewed his brief voice mail. “Basically he told me he was going away for a little while.” He hadn’t said exactly when he planned to return. The assumption that he’d be back by Christmas was hers, and hers alone. She took the first sip of coffee and realized her sister had made it extra-strong. The bitter taste jolted her.



“Bobby’s devastated,” Teri told her. “What James did is a stab in the back.”



“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Christie’s hackles went up.



“No, it’s not,” Teri said in a sharp voice. “Bobby’s been his friend all these years and then James turns tail and runs, and Bobby’s stuck dealing with all the reporters. He doesn’t deserve this.”



Christie hadn’t thought of it that way.



“To quit like that, too,” Teri muttered angrily.



“Like what?”



“He didn’t even speak to Bobby. He wrote a letter, in which he said his resignation was effective immediately. Then he walked away without a word to either of us. We don’t even know where he is. Bobby’s been worried sick. He’s afraid James might’ve had another breakdown, but I doubt it. His actions are too calculated, too planned.”



Christie straightened. Her inclination was to defend James—but her sister had a point. It occurred to her that James had purposely phoned when he knew she’d be at work. He hadn’t wanted to talk to her—and now…