He couldn’t see the last of these folks any too soon. Boone Carter shook hands and thanked the family as they piled into their Mercedes SUV. The parents had been more interested in squabbling with their teenage daughters than with hauling in the salmon along the Ontonagon River. He’d taken them out for the day, and by the time they’d been out for half an hour, he realized it was an exercise in futility.
His cabins squatted in woods along the shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He’d bought the land from his uncle, then built every one of the ten cabins himself. Carter’s Cabins had become known as one of the best places to stay for the adventure seeker, a reputation he’d fought hard to gain.
He gave a final wave to his departing guests, then went toward the large red barn housing his outfitter business. His cousin’s small red convertible had pulled into the gravel parking lot a few minutes ago. She got out of her car and hurried to join him as he neared the front door.
Allyson was a beautiful young woman. She and his sister, Renee, had worked at a small newspaper in Washington. Allyson had been a bulldog about finding out who had killed Renee. She’d arrived a couple days ago to talk to him about what they’d turned up so far. All their efforts had come to a big fat zero. He’d talked to the lead detective just two weeks ago, and the police were stymied too.
A familiar wave of grief swamped him, and he tamped it down and smiled at her. “Coffee? I need some after dealing with that family.”
She put her hand on his arm. “There’s been another murder, Boone. It’s eerily like Renee’s.”
Some other family was going through the trauma they’d endured. He shoved open the door and wished he could push away the memories that easily.
He led her past the rough wooden counter where one of his employees explained the various backpacking options to two men. In his office Boone closed the door behind them and went to the coffeepot. The stuff had been sitting there for hours, and he grimaced at the bitter taste.
He handed her a cup of the atrocious brew. “You should be finding a good man instead of pursuing an impossible quest like this. It’s been three years since Renee’s death. If the police can’t pin down a lead, what hope do we have?”
Allyson dreamed of being a bonafide investigative reporter, but she was grasping at the wind with this case. His smack down didn’t dim the light in her hazel eyes as she pushed away the coffee, then waved a blue folder his way.
“Faith Rogerson, an elementary school teacher in Portland, Oregon. Twenty-six, light-brown hair and blue eyes. She was supposed to get married the next day, just like Renee. Her engagement ring is missing too, just like Renee’s.” Allyson’s mouth flattened to a grim line. “This is his second murder, and I’m going to nail him. I thought of a name for him in the exposé. The Groom Reaper.”
The media would eat up that title. “What makes you think this murder is connected to Renee’s?”
Allyson perched on a ledge at the window. “Both deaths were the night before the wedding. Not a week, not three days, the night before. And the murder method in both cases was drowning. You have to admit that’s not the usual way a bride might die on the eve of her nuptials.”
She had a point. “Who was she engaged to?”
“Justin Leyland. He sells pharmaceuticals. He got back in town just in time for the bachelor party that night and had tried calling her several times. When she didn’t answer, he went over around midnight and used his key to get into the house. He found her in the kitchen. The sink was still full of water.”
“How’d you find all that out?”
“I went to school with the lead reporter at the paper and weaseled it out of him.”
Renee had been drowned in a stock tank outside. While not the same location as this one, it did hold similarities. And both fiancés had been at a bachelor party. “Did you call Leyland?”
“I tried but his voice mail was full. The local media is probably all over it. I’m sure no one has connected the two cases yet.”
“If they’re connected.”
Allyson flipped open the folder. “Look at Faith’s picture.”
The woman in the picture held a vague resemblance to his sister. His interest stirred. “Anything else?”
“Yep.” She flipped a couple of pages in the folder. “They planned to honeymoon in Jamaica just like Renee.”
“That’s a popular honeymoon destination. Any pictures of this Leyland fellow?” It was the one thing that rankled—he’d never met Renee’s fiancé. He’d planned to be at the wedding until an accident landed him in the hospital the day before he was supposed to fly to Washington.
After the police had cleared Tyler, Boone had tried to call his cell number and found the account had been closed. It didn’t necessarily mean anything since Dixon could have moved and started a new job. But the killer might also have eliminated him. And left clues this time.
“No pictures that I could find. There wasn’t an engagement picture, and there were no photos on her cell phone of the two of them, which seemed odd. Another similarity.”
He stared at Allyson, then reached for his phone. “I think I’d better mention this to Detective Morgan. I have a call in to him.”
His cell phone dinged, and he looked at the time. “I need to run an errand. I’ll let you know what Morgan says.”
Though her eyes burned with fatigue from the three-day drive, passing the Rock Harbor welcome sign filled Dana with new vigor. The familiar streets and storefronts enveloped her with a sense of homecoming. Her family had lived in the country, but she’d gone to Rock Harbor at least once a week for shopping.
Driving down Houghton Street was like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting. She spotted Bree’s familiar green Jeep Cherokee parked by the Suomi Café on Kitchigami Street, just off Houghton, and Dana’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, and it was already past five and getting dark.
She made her way back to Kitchigami, then pulled her Prius behind the Jeep and got out with Phantom. She left her vehicle unlocked in a sudden burst of defiance. This was Rock Harbor where no one locked their houses or cars. She was safe here.
The bell on the café’s door jingled as she opened it, and Dana stood for a moment inhaling the familiar scents: pannukakku, beef pasties, and pulla. Snippets of conversation floated to her, familiar topics like the upcoming winter festival and the fish that got away.
A smile stretched her lips when she saw Bree sitting at a booth with Samson at her feet. Her friend’s short red curls were tousled, and a smile lit her heart-shaped face as she talked with animation to another woman, whose back was to the door. Bree looked twenty-five instead of thirty-nine.
Dana threaded her way through the café to the booth. “Care if I join you?” Samson leaped up to touch noses with Phantom.
“Dana!” Bree jumped to her feet and enveloped her in a hug. Her hair was scented with the raspberry pannukakku on her plate. “I thought you’d be here several days ago. I tried to call your cell phone, but I got a recording saying the number wasn’t in service.”
Dana returned the hug. “I should have called to let you know I’d be late. I disconnected the phone until I got here to buy a new one. I–I had a delay.”
She and Bree had become friends when Bree moved to town with her first husband, Rob Nicholls. Dana had babysat for her tiny son, Davy, quite often. Rob had died, and Bree remarried a park ranger. They had four-year-old twins now, Hannah and Hunter.
Dana glanced at the booth’s other occupant who had stood as well. “Ally Cat! I didn’t know you were living back here.” She hugged Allyson Hegney in a tight squeeze. “I haven’t seen you, gosh, it’s been at least five years. The last class reunion, I think.”
“I haven’t heard that old nickname in forever.” The leggy woman returned the hug, her light-brown hair cascading down her back in a straight, shiny curtain. “I took a leave of absence for a month. Have a seat. I want to get caught up.” She sat and scooted over on the booth seat.
Dana slid her purse from her shoulder and ordered Phantom to lie down by Samson. “You won’t believe what’s been happening.”
Reliving the past year of being on the mountaintop in love, only to come crashing to reality the first time Garret hurt her made her voice go rough. “The first couple of times I just thought it was my fault—that I’d been a nag or something. Then I realized he had a violent, possessive streak. When I told him we were through, that’s when the trouble really started. He began following me and having friends call to tell me I was wrong. That he had PTSD from the military and I needed to be more understanding. I even took back him a few times, but h-he got rough again. I knew if I stayed, he’d eventually really hurt me.”
“Or kill you,” Bree said softly.
Dana nodded. “Or kill me.” She launched into the attack that had delayed her arrival. “It took two days to get Dolly repaired, then another three days to get here.”
“Dolly’s your car?” Bree smiled and signaled for Molly, the café’s longtime waitress. She brought over coffee and a plate holding a pasty. “I knew you’d want your favorite, Dana. Welcome home.” She still wore her graying hair in a low ponytail, and her smile enveloped Dana.
“Thanks, Molly. You know me too well.” The beef gravy in the pasty hit her tongue, and the explosion of flavor made her just plain giddy. How good it was to be home.
Allyson lifted her coffee cup and stared at Dana with troubled hazel eyes. “That guy sounds just too creepy. I hope he doesn’t figure out where you’ve gone and come here.”
“I’m sure he’ll assume I came home, but I have lots of friends here. And for now I’m going to live with Chris for a while.” Her brother had bought a house on Quincy Hill nearly a year and a half ago when he decided to get out of the Marines and settle in their hometown. “He’s already restored the downstairs for himself, and he says I can have the other floors until I want to get my own place.”
Bree frowned and tucked a red curl behind her ear. “But he’s gone a lot with his job. I don’t think he’ll be much protection.”
“True, but his house is right here in town, within hailing distance of the sheriff’s office. And I’ll have Phantom.” She reached down to rub her dog’s ears. She’d given him the name the moment she picked him out from the litter, the only black Lab in a sea of yellow. “I’m done letting Garret terrorize me. And quite honestly, if he comes here, he’ll know I have plenty of support. I think it’s over.”
Bree’s green eyes still held skepticism. “I hope you’re right. Is he in jail for attacking you?”
She looked away. “Well, no. I didn’t press charges because I didn’t want to have to go back for a trial or anything. I just want to get away from him.”
“So he could be on his way even now.”
Dana bit her lip and stared across the table at Bree. “I suppose so.”
“I don’t want to scare you, but you need to be on guard. Always lock your car. Keep bear spray at the ready anytime you’re by yourself. Get a security system installed at the house.”
Dana sank against the booth back. “I have bear spray, but this is Rock Harbor. No one locks up.”
Bree’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to start. A stalker isn’t like any other danger. He’s not rational and is only focused on revenge. Your ex proved that by attacking you in the parking garage. He had to know the police were just steps away. That’s brazen.”
Bree was right. Dana had seen it a hundred times in her job. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it could apply to her.
She blew out a shaky breath. “Let’s talk about something else for a while. I want to forget all about Garret.” She turned a smile toward Allyson. “So you’re here on leave seeing your family?”
Allyson ran her finger around the cup’s rim. “Well, it’s more than that. My cousin was murdered three years ago. I don’t think you ever met Renee. I came to town to go over the latest details with her brother. He lives here.”
Dana’s chest squeezed. “I’m so sorry. Did they find her killer?”
Allyson shook her head. “I took some investigative psychology classes in school before I changed my major from criminal justice. I felt the killing was the work of a budding serial killer. His MO was too odd. And there’s been another similar murder this week.”
“How did he murder them?”
“Drowning. My cousin was drowned in a water tank for her goats, and the second woman was drowned in the kitchen sink.”
Dana clenched her hands together in her lap, and her skin prickled. She glanced out the café’s windows. This sounded way too familiar.