Jaci moved through the morning in a fog of shock.

What kind of sick person could kill poor Anne Dixon and then dump her like trash in the road? It just didn’t seem real.

More like a horrible dream that wouldn’t end.

At Rylan’s urging Elmer had packed a bag and climbed into his vehicle, to spend some time with Rylan’s aunt in a small town fifty miles away. Then, after collecting a few of his own belongings, he’d led Jaci to her Jeep so she could make her deliveries despite the fact she was several hours late.

He’d even insisted they stop for lunch before returning to her house.

Now she busied herself in the kitchen. Usually a few hours of cooking could soothe her raw nerves. Today, however, she barely noticed as she dusted a board with flour and pulled out the culture she used for her sourdough bread. It was a mixture of flour and water that had been started by her grandmother fifty years before. It was a perfect combination of wild yeast and bacteria that gave her bread its distinctive taste.

Efficiently kneading the dough, she covered it with a damp cloth to rise as Rylan strolled into the kitchen, Riff and Raff on his heels.

She watched as he slid his cell phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Your partner?” she asked as she used her apron to wipe the flour from her hands.

He shook his head. “I already spoke to Griff. That was a contact in the governor’s office. I’m having them light a fire under the medical examiner to make sure Anne’s autopsy is a priority, as well as the Jane Doe who was found in the floodwaters.”

Jaci willed herself not to flinch. Rylan might logically understand her need to know whatever evidence he discovered, but his natural urge to protect her was a powerful force. Any hint she was recoiling from the truth and he would eagerly use it as an excuse to lock her out of the information loop.

“Do you think the woman was from this area?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not really, but I’m hoping we can make a connection between her and Angel Harper. Something that will tie them to the killer.”

Two women dead. No, wait. Three women.

“Anne was murdered, wasn’t she?” Her stomach clenched at the memory of the woman lying in the muddy road. “Just like those other two women.”

“I think it’s possible.”

Jaci shuddered. She hadn’t known Anne well, but she was certain her mother wouldn’t have hired a woman who liked to go to wild parties, or hang out in bars.

“Why her?”

“That I can’t explain.” Rylan moved to lean his hip against the counter. In the soft glow of the kitchen light his pale hair shimmered like silk, emphasizing the fascinating hints of gold in his eyes. “On the surface she doesn’t seem to have anything in common with the other women. At least not with Angel. She was twice her age. She had a steady job. She seemed to come from a loving family.”

Jaci absently tugged off her apron and tossed it on the table. “I know. It doesn’t make any sense.”

He considered for a long time. “Was Anne any relation to Teresa Graham?”

“I don’t think so.” Jaci had known Teresa Graham well enough to recognize her when her grandmother took her to church, but she couldn’t remember ever having an actual conversation with the woman. “If I remember right, Teresa wasn’t from this area. She moved here with her husband when he retired from the military. I think he died only a couple years later and she had to start babysitting to make ends meet.”

He nodded. “Did she ever babysit you?”

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “My grandmother didn’t like her.”

Rylan looked surprised. Amy Patterson had been a woman with a warm and generous heart. It was rare for her not to try and see the best in people.

“Did she say why?”

“She never said anything to me, but I overheard her telling Grandpa that Ms. Graham was too fond of the bottle.” Jaci’s lips twisted. “She also said that she was a danger to the children who were placed in her care. I think she wanted to do something, but she wasn’t sure who she should talk to about her fears.”

He nodded. “I heard the same rumors. Do you know any of the kids she did babysit?”

She gave a lift of her hands. In the small area there had been no day-care centers. Which meant parents had to use family, teenagers, or Teresa Graham.

“Most of my friends.” She tried to think of her classmates who’d actually complained about the older woman. “Sid was a regular. And I know Andrew went a few times before he refused to go back. He never told me why. And I remember Nelson getting in trouble for posting her picture online and claiming she was one of the FBI’s Most Wanted.” Her lips twitched. “Of course, he did that to our principal and the preacher who told him that he was going to hell if he didn’t sit still in church.”

“What about Payton or Christopher?”

Jaci lifted her brows. Was he kidding? Her pampered siblings would never, ever have been left with anyone who didn’t warrant the Hamilton stamp of approval.

“They would have stayed with Anne most of the time.” She rolled her eyes. “Except during the summer when Mother took them to Europe to give them polish.”

His lips twitched. Could he sense her opinion of her siblings’ “polish”? Then his grim expression returned.

“What do you know about the housekeeper?”

“Not much.” She didn’t have to tell Rylan that her mother had invited her manicurist to her home more often than she’d invited her oldest daughter. “I think she lived in Quincy until she started to work for my mother.” Jaci racked her memory for the few times that she’d seen Anne around town. “I don’t think I ever saw her with Teresa Graham.”

Rylan lifted a hand to shove his fingers through his hair. “There’s nothing that links them together except . . .”

She studied him in confusion as his words trailed away. “Except what?” Realization hit her like a sledgehammer. There was one thing that linked them. “Oh my God.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “The lockets.”

He paused, then gave a slow nod. “Yes.”

Jaci stepped back, flopping on the edge of a nearby chair. The lockets had always been the same. Small, cheap, fake gold, and holding a lock of hair with a bloody ribbon.

Blood and hair that came from the victims.

She rubbed her fingers against her jeans, horror surging through her.

Being afraid that the lockets were linked to something terrible was considerably different from personally knowing the woman who’d been murdered. Now her vision narrowed and her heart slammed painfully against her ribs.

“The one I found must have had Anne’s blood on it,” she choked out. “God.” The room tilted on its axis. “I’m going to be sick.”

There was a blur of movement, then she felt the heat of Rylan’s hand on her nape. With a gentle insistence he pushed her head down, not stopping until her nose was touching her knee.

“Breathe.” He squatted down in front of her, pressing his cheek against hers. “I’ve got you, Jaci.”

She struggled to suck in a deep breath, clinging to the feel of his fingers at her nape and the rough brush of whiskers against her jaw. He was solid. Real. The only thing tangible as the world spun around her.

She released a small sob. “This is so hideous.”

“We’re going to find who is doing this and put an end to it,” he growled into her ear. “I swear.”

She lifted her head, studying the smoldering determination that burned in his eyes.

“What if we don’t? What if he kills again?”

“Jaci.”

Whatever he was going to say was cut short as Riff and Raff suddenly bolted from the mudroom to charge through the kitchen and into the living room.

Jaci stiffened, her fingers digging into Rylan’s shoulders. “Someone’s here.”

He slowly straightened, nodding toward her cell phone on the table. “Check your security camera.”

Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone and touched the app that was connected to her new system. Instantly she had a view of the front yard. She frowned, not recognizing the old black truck that had pulled behind her Jeep.

It wasn’t until an older man with silver hair and a lined face headed toward the door that she realized who it was.

“It’s Jarrod Walker.”

Rylan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Do you know why he’d be here?”

She watched as Jarrod climbed onto the porch. He was wearing a pair of taupe coveralls and rubber boots. Reaching the door, he hesitated, almost as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there.

“I suppose he must be wanting to talk about mowing my yard this summer.”

“Come with me.” Rylan reached for her hand, tugging her out of her chair and into the living room. Then arranging her next to the end of the sofa, he went to the coat closet and pulled out the shotgun. He returned to her side, placing the loaded gun in her hand. “Don’t hesitate to shoot if you feel threatened,” he commanded.

“Don’t worry.” She was spooked enough not to argue. Not that there was a chance in hell that she could hit the broad side of a barn. Not when her hands were shaking.

But it should make someone think twice about attacking her.

Moving toward the door, Rylan cracked it an inch. “Hello, Jarrod. Can I help you?”

Jaci could hear the older man’s rasping sigh of relief. “Thank God, you’re here.”

Rylan pulled the door open another inch, his back rigid with tension.

“You’re looking for me?”

“Yeah.” There was an awkward pause before Jarrod was clearing his throat. “I’ve listened to your dad talking about you since you moved to California, and he said that you were some sort of supercop.”

Jaci swallowed a nervous laugh as Rylan heaved a loud sigh.

“My father.” Rylan shook his head. “He has a lot to answer for.”

“I need your help,” Jarrod said.

“We can speak on the porch.”

Rylan started forward. At the same time Jaci carefully set the shotgun in a corner before she moved across the room and tugged the door wide enough that she could smile at her visitor.

“Come in, Jarrod.” She ignored Rylan’s fierce glare, pushing open the screen door and motioning her visitor inside.

She’d known Jarrod Walker her entire life, and while she understood they had to be careful, the older man had been in and out of this house on dozens of occasions since her return to Heron. He could have hurt her any time with no one being wiser. Besides, he could hardly overpower the both of them.

She led him to the sofa and urged him to take a seat. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

He shook his head, his gaze turning to Rylan, who’d moved to stand protectively at her side.

“Thanks, but what I need is some advice.”

“What sort of advice?” Rylan asked.

The man paused, glancing toward the door as if debating whether or not he wanted to bolt. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned his gaze back to Rylan.

“Anne Dixon.”

Rylan stiffened, his hands clenching at his sides. “Do you know something about her death?”

The older man flinched at Rylan’s sharp tone, shrinking into the cushions.

“No.” He gave a violent shake of his head. “Not that.”

Reaching out, Jaci grabbed Rylan’s forearm, giving it a warning squeeze. Jarrod was afraid. She didn’t know why, but she did sense that it wasn’t going to take much to make him decide he didn’t want to talk to them.

Moving slowly enough she wouldn’t startle her guest, she settled on the sofa beside him.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Jarrod nodded, then he swiveled so he could face her, ignoring Rylan, who was nearly vibrating with impatience.

“I think you know that I lost my wife about five years ago.”

“Yes.” She offered a genuine smile of sympathy. Jarrod’s wife had been the art teacher at the local school and one of Jaci’s greatest inspirations. It was because of the older woman that Jaci had first discovered her love for crafts. “Clara was a wonderful woman. We’ve all mourned her loss.”

“My life was empty without her.” His dark eyes filled with tears. Jaci remained silent as she waited for him to regain command of his composure. At last he gave a small sniff. “Then I started working for your mom.”

“You have my sympathies,” she said in dry tones. It was no secret that their relationship was more or less nonexistent.

A faint smile curved his lips. “She can be challenging.”

“A nice way to say ‘a pain in the neck.’”

“Sometimes.” His tension didn’t disappear, but she sensed it was easing. “But I like working outside, so I’ve been happy there.”

“I’m glad.” She paused. How could she turn the conversation in the direction she wanted without alarming him? “Is that how you met Anne?”

His hands twisted together, but he gave a small nod. “Yes. She had a habit of walking in the gardens in the morning. Eventually we started chatting for a few minutes. Nothing more than the usual talk about the weather and what flowers happened to be in bloom. Still, I looked forward to seeing her every day.”

“It’s perfectly understandable.” She smiled. “You must have been lonely.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh. “That’s it exactly. We were both single and too old to want to be out in the dating world.”

She leaned forward, covering his calloused hand with her own. “It’s nice you found someone you could feel comfortable with.”

“Yes, well, I liked Anne. Very much. She might not have had a lot of education, but she read a lot, and before she took the job with your mother she’d traveled overseas with her sister. She was more than just a housekeeper.” His chin tilted, as if daring her to speak badly of the woman. “And I wanted us to see each other away from work.”

“She didn’t agree?” Rylan asked.

Jarrod’s gaze never wavered from Jaci. She suspected the older man was intimidated by the younger man. Understandable. Rylan was like a force of nature that threatened to flatten anything in his path.

“Anne was afraid of what your mother might think,” he told her. “She’d been saving money so she could retire in two years. She didn’t want to risk getting fired.”

Jaci frowned. “I know my mother can be selfish, but surely she doesn’t forbid her staff from having a personal life?”

He flushed. He was trained in the old school that warned an employee never spoke poorly of their boss.

“Begging your pardon, but Mrs. Hamilton could be unpredictable. What was okay one day might get you sacked the next.”

“True.” Her jaw clenched. Loreen was the Queen of Volatility. One second she could be cooing over her children’s charming playfulness and the next she was condemning them as undisciplined brats.

Rylan made a sound of impatience. He clearly wasn’t happy at her meandering way of gaining information.

“So Anne refused to go out with you?” he demanded.

Jaci sent Rylan a warning frown before returning her attention to Jarrod. She offered the older man an encouraging smile.

“What did Anne say?”

Jarrod hunched his shoulder. “She wanted to keep our relationship a secret. At least until she managed to retire.”

Jaci gave a slow nod. His story seemed believable. No older woman would want to risk being fired when she was just a couple years away from retirement. Still, Jaci couldn’t help but wonder if Jarrod was telling her the full story.

Clearly Rylan was just as skeptical. “Bullshit,” he growled.