Was he working on a local case? Her gaze sharpened and she opened the folder all the way. It only took an instant to pick up one clear name.
Elizabeth Sinclair Hamilton.
Her sister-in-law.
WHAT WAS HE doing with the case files for what was still an open investigation? She dropped the cleaning wipe on the table and leafed through the folders, growing more sick to her stomach with every passing second.
File after file, all marked with the same case number as the cover page. These were all part of the investigation into that terrible time that had changed everything for her family.
Her breathing came fast and hard, and she tasted bitter bile in her throat. The usually pleasing lemony scent of the cleaning supplies suddenly seemed to choke her.
Her instincts were to pick up everything, even his laptop, and throw it all into the lake.
The thought only had a few seconds to register when she suddenly heard the click of a key in the lock. Before she could make her frozen limbs cooperate to drop the files, the door swung open and Elliot stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice as sharp as a new chain saw.
She had been working at the Inn on Haven Point for years, since her grandmother took her in after her mother died. She knew this was an egregious invasion of a guest’s privacy. If she had found one of her housekeeping staff snooping through a guest’s files, that person would have been fired on the spot.
She knew she was horribly in the wrong but she couldn’t focus on that right now. All she could think about was the scope of his betrayal.
Elliot stepped into the room. “Put that down. I had things in a particular order. I hope you haven’t rearranged anything.”
She stared at him. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
He didn’t look at her. “It might seem like a jumble of files to you, but I have a system.”
“You son of a bitch.”
It was the least offensive of the names she wanted to call him but everything else seemed to clog in her throat. She couldn’t seem to think straight, her thoughts a wild snarl of anger.
“I don’t believe my mother would appreciate you calling her names,” he said stiffly.
Now she wanted to throw him in the lake, along with all his files.
“How dare you?” Her hands were shaking and the sick feeling in her stomach seemed to be spreading through the rest of her.
He gave her a cool stare. “I’ll remind you that I’m not the one who broke into your place and started digging through your belongings.”
In another moment, smoke would be coming out of her ears, she was sure of it. “I was cleaning the cottage! Making your bed, changing your toilet paper, dumping your trash. Twice-weekly housekeeping service is provided to the cottages. It was listed in your rental agreement.”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t like my things bothered.”
“Again, are you freaking kidding me? This isn’t about me reordering a few pieces of paper. This is about you dragging my family through hell again! You’re writing a book about Elizabeth’s case, aren’t you?”
He met her gaze with an impassive look of his own. The man never gave anything away. Did they teach FBI agents how to go all stone-faced at Quantico? He must have aced that class, as he’d been practicing since elementary school.
“No,” he finally answered.
She narrowed her gaze. His hair was wet and it took her a moment to realize it was drenched with sweat. He had been running again. He wore long shorts and a Denver Rockies T-shirt that clung to the muscles of his chest. His right arm was still in a sling and she couldn’t imagine all that bouncing around could be particularly healing.
He had no right to look so good, damn him. Not when he was a sneaky, underhanded snake.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he answered firmly. “The book I’m writing concerns a serial killer in Montana who preyed on hitchhikers in the seventies and early eighties.”
She frowned. “Then why do you have all of Elizabeth’s files? What does a serial killer in Montana have to do with a missing mother in Idaho? Do you think they’re connected?”
A little bubble of hope rose in her chest. How terrible, that she could actually want to cling to any possibility that someone else might have been involved in Elizabeth’s disappearance, even a serial killer.
She didn’t want Elizabeth to be dead. She just wanted to prove Luke had nothing to do with her disappearance.
Elliot quickly squashed that half-formed possibility.
“No,” he said bluntly. “James LeRoy Barker was killed in a shoot-out with local police three years before Elizabeth disappeared. He was dead and buried in an unmarked grave outside Great Falls before she ever vanished.”
Megan despised herself for the little niggle of disappointment. She truly didn’t wish harm on Elizabeth. She, like everyone else in town, only wanted answers.
“If this isn’t part of the book you’re writing, why do you have these files?” she asked again.
For a long moment, she wasn’t certain he was going to answer her. He shifted position almost imperceptibly then finally spoke. “The Lake Haven County Sheriff’s Department took over the investigation after my father was shot. The case has been cold for some time, though the investigation is still active. I asked Marsh if I could take a look at the files while I’m in town.”
“Can he do that? Just loan out police files willy-nilly?”
“There was nothing willy-nilly about it. I’m a sworn officer of the law, Megan.”
His words chilled her. “What are you saying? Is this an official FBI investigation now?”
Again he paused, obviously weighing his words carefully before he would respond. “No. I’m looking out of my own curiosity. This was the one case that haunted my father—and still haunts Marsh and Cade. A young mother of two small children, someone we all knew, disappears without a trace in the dead of night. The investigation is at a standstill. Everyone is frustrated by the lack of progress. Marshall and I decided a pair of fresh eyes looking at the files could only help the investigation.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “That’s where you’re wrong. It would hurt very much.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Of course you don’t! You have no idea what things are like here for Luke.”
His lips pursed. “He’s not in prison, so things can’t be that bad.”
“He might as well be! Imagine how you would like being tried and convicted without ever being charged with a single crime. As far as some people around Lake Haven believe, Luke killed his wife and got away with it. He and the children can’t go to the grocery store in Shelter Springs without whispers and rumors trailing after them like cats after dead trout. That’s Luke Hamilton, the man who killed his wife. I heard he killed her, chopped her into pieces and threw what was left into the middle of the lake.”
That was the least offensive of the things she knew Luke and the children had overheard at various times.
“Gossip