Single Father Sheriff. Carol Ericson

“The rain stopped—for now.”

      He touched her back. “Are you going to be okay?”

      Turning, she curled her arm and flexed her biceps. “I’m tough. And, listen, I would’ve told you about the ribbon...eventually. Especially after finding the mannequin.”

      “I’m glad to hear that.” He grabbed the handle and then turned his head to the side, so that she could see his face in profile only. “You don’t have to be so tough, Kendall. I can share some of your burden. Let me.”

      Then he slipped outside, and she watched him until the darkness swallowed him.

      If she transferred some of her pain onto his shoulders, it was only fair that he transfer some of his onto hers.

      Because Sheriff Cooper Sloane had pain to spare.

      * * *

      “STOP KNOCKING YOURSELF OUT.” Rebecca Geist, her Realtor, held out a card between two perfectly manicured nails. “I’ve used this cleaning crew before, and they’re professional and reasonably priced.”

      “Thanks. I should’ve called them sooner.” Kendall shoved the card beneath the phone on the kitchen counter. “But I did manage to get Aunt Cass’s collections boxed up. I’m going to try to sell some of them at the estate sale, and I’m going to take the rest to one of those places that will list them online for a fee. I’ve already found a business in Port Angeles that will do that.”

      “Sounds like a good idea.” Rebecca held up the camera hanging around her neck. “If we want to get this place listed, I need to take photos now. I can always replace them with newer photos once you clear out of here.”

      “This room, the kitchen, the master and the bathroom. Hold off on the other two rooms if you can until I get that cleaning crew out here.”

      “I think that’ll be fine.” She winked. “You know those buyers from California. They’ll snap up anything in the low threes.”

      “Three hundred thousand dollars? This dump?” Kendall waved her arms around the small living room.

      Rebecca put a finger to her glossed mouth and swiveled her head from side to side as if she suspected a potential buyer was lurking in the corner. “This,” she said, spreading her arms, “is a charming cottage in the woods. Don’t forget, you’ve got an acre of land here, and ever since Evergreen planted its corporate headquarters in Timberline the housing market—if not the weather—has been heating up.”

      “Okay, scratch that. It’s a bucolic hideaway, a nature buff’s paradise, a forest love nest.” She could even half imagine that last one with the carpet stripped away, refinished hardwood floors, a Native American rug before a crackling fire in the grate—and Coop Sloane, half-naked, lounging in front of it.

      One corner of Kendall’s mouth curled up.

      “That’s the spirit.” Rebecca nudged her side. “Of course, we will have to reveal the history of the house.”

      Kendall snapped out of her daydream. “History? Like when it was built and any additions? I can assure you, there have been no additions to this house.”

      “No, dear.” Rebecca had the camera to her face and was aiming it around the room. “The kidnapping.”

      The daydream completely evaporated.

      “Really? We have to reveal something that happened twenty-five years ago? It’s not like the house is haunted.” Her gaze darted around the room, bouncing over the cabinet with the pink ribbon stashed inside.

      “Well, it was a crime scene, but I don’t think the negative will be too great.” Rebecca lowered the camera and chewed on her bottom lip. “Unless...”

      “Unless what?”

      “Unless the FBI can’t solve these two current kidnappings, or God forbid, there’s another. Then it might not just be your house, but the whole area that’s going to suffer.” Rebecca’s cheeks flushed beneath her heavy makeup. “And the families. Of course, the housing market is nothing next to the pain of the families.”