In the Arms of the Enemy Page 3

  Her fingers dug into the fabric on the arms of the chair. Unless the cops knew something about Diamond’s destination. Her search of his background hadn’t turned up anything on Timberline, so what connection could he have to this town except through her?

  What connection did she have to this town? Why had she scrawled its name on a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket?

  Her nose stung with tears as she pushed away from the table. She’d been a fool to come here. Nobody had recognized her yet or provided her with an identity, and she might’ve walked right into a trap set by Johnny Diamond and his cronies. The man using the computer could be one of those cronies. There must be plenty of clean-cut, attractive drug dealers out there. She’d have to leave this town.

  Then what? She had no place else to go. Maybe she should just turn herself in. Could she really be charged with murder if she had no memory of the act? If she had no memory of her life?

  She hadn’t discovered much more about herself other than she knew Spanish. She’d come across a Spanish-language TV show and could understand every word they were saying. With her pale skin and light brown hair she didn’t look Latina, but she could be half or have spent time in a foreign country. The possibilities were endless.

  Blowing out a breath, she did a hard shutdown of the computer, just in case it didn’t log her out, either. She didn’t need anyone snooping into her browsing history, and Mr. Clean-cut would probably be none too happy if he found out someone had been snooping into his.

  Maybe he was just interested in the murder. He didn’t seem to recognize or have any interest in her.

  She looped her purse across her body and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to run. She had some digging to do first.

  Ten minutes later she was seated at the bar of Sutter’s, a local restaurant, flipping open a menu. She’d used the money from Diamond’s bag—the drug money—to buy a few clothes, a purse, and pay first month’s rent to Linda for the duplex. Once she got her life back, she’d return all the money she’d used to the police...anonymously.

  The bartender tossed a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her. “Are you ordering dinner?”

  “I’ll have the Sutter’s burger and a root beer.”

  He took the menu from her and tapped it on the edge of the bar. “Caroline, right?”

  “Good memory.” Unlike some people.

  “Part of my job. I’m Bud.”

  “I’ll take that menu, Bud.”

  Caroline jerked her head to the side and almost slid off the bar stool.

  The man from the library straddled his stool and took the menu from the bartender. He nodded at Caroline. “Were you able to get your work done on that computer? I think the library needs to upgrade.”

  “I—I was just—” she zeroed in on the menu “—looking up restaurants.”

  His green eyes flickered. “And you found this one.”

  He must’ve heard Bud say her name. She twisted the napkin in her lap. “Oh, I’ve been here before. I was checking out a few other places.”

  “Are you new to Timberline?”

  “Sort of. My mother’s cousin lives here and invited me out.” She said a silent prayer for Linda Gunderson.

  “Working at Evergreen Software like everyone else?”

  Bud delivered her root beer with a wink, and she plunged her straw into the foam while he took the man’s order, giving her time to think.

  If she refused to answer his questions, it might seem suspicious, but she didn’t want to tell him her life story—especially since she didn’t have one, outside of waking up with a dead Johnny Diamond on a hotel room floor.

  And she didn’t want anyone to know that story.

  He handed the menu to Bud and turned his rather sharp green eyes back to her. “Evergreen?”

  “No. I’m working at my cousin’s shop right now.” She toyed with her straw. Two could play at this game. “I guess you’re not a local, either, since you mentioned the internet connection in your hotel going down.”

  “That’s right.” He thanked Bud for his beer and took a sip through the foamy head. “I’m here doing some research for a book.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding in one slow exhale from parted lips. “What kind of book?”

  “Sort of a travel book that also touches on the history of the area and local legends and customs.” He held out his hand. “I’m Cole Pierson, by the way.”

  “Caroline Johnson.” She wiped her fingers on her cocktail napkin and squeezed and released his hand quickly.

  If Johnny Diamond was from this area, the book might explain why Cole was snooping around his social media. Maybe she could even get some info out of Cole about Diamond without arousing his suspicion.

  The bartender delivered her food, and she hesitated.

  Cole said, “Go ahead. You don’t need to wait for me.”

  As she sawed her burger in half, Cole watched her with his head to one side. “Who’s your cousin?”

  Biting her lip, she placed her knife across the edge of her plate. Did his research make him naturally nosy, or did he sense her secrets?

  “Linda Gunderson. She owns—”

  “Timberline Treasures.” His cell phone buzzed in his front shirt pocket, but he ignored it. “I heard about the store that Linda and her sister own. Maybe you can put in a good word for me so I can interview them.”

  “Louise is out of town, but I’m sure Linda would be happy to talk to you about Timberline’s history, and you won’t need an introduction from me.”

  “Is that a no?”

  Bud placed a plate overflowing with mashed potatoes and several slices of meat loaf in front of Cole, and Cole whistled. “Looks good.”

  Caroline took a big bite of her burger. Did he expect her to respond? He really didn’t need an introduction to Linda, since she loved talking about Timberline. Was he trying to extend their contact with each other?

  Not that she minded, since he was a sweet piece of eye candy, but she had other priorities here.

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So how about it? You’ll tell your cousin she can trust me?”

  Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. Trust him? How had they jumped from exchanging a few words over dinner to trust?

  “Trust you?” She gave a nervous giggle. “I barely know you. Like I said, you don’t need an introduction from me. Linda will talk to you about Timberline.”

  He took another sip of beer and then picked up his knife and fork, holding them poised above his plate. “Do you know anything about Timberline? Did you visit your aunt much?”

  “Cousin, and no. This is my first time out here.”

  He raised his brows as he cut into his meat loaf. “What brings you out here now?”

  “Fresh start.” She shrugged.

  His glance shifted to her right cheek and the bruise she’d been masking with makeup. Or had she imagined that glance?

  The man made her nervous. He asked too many questions. Everyone else had accepted her story without blinking an eye.

  Time to deflect and go on the offensive.

  “Is that what you were doing in the library? Research?”

  “Looking into some local stories, local personalities.”

  She pushed away her half-eaten burger. Was Johnny Diamond a Timberline local? Maybe they’d been headed here together? If so, nobody seemed to recognize her yet.

  “Why this town? What’s so special about Timberline?” She needed an answer to that question herself. Why was the name of this town scribbled on a piece of paper and stuffed in her jacket pocket?

  Cole cocked his head. “The Timberline Trio case for starters, and all the recent fall-out from that old case.”

  She nodded. She’d heard
the Timberline Trio case mentioned a few times since she’d arrived, but didn’t know much about it—something about some kidnappings that happened twenty-five years ago.

  “You really haven’t been around much, have you?”

  “Well, I guess I won’t be a good person for you to interview, then.” She grabbed her check from the bar and plucked a ten and a five from her wallet. “Good luck with your research.”

  She slapped the check and the cash on the bar and spun around on the stool and hopped off. She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

  “Nice meeting you, Caroline Johnson.” His voice trailed behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

  Just because a stranger asked questions didn’t mean you had to answer them—no matter how attractive the stranger was.

  When she hit the sidewalk, she blew out a breath, which turned frosty in the night air.

  Linda’s duplex sat at the end of the main street in town, so Caroline was able to walk everywhere—at least to work and back. She had enough money from Johnny Diamond’s loot to pay cash for a used car, but she didn’t have a driver’s license or any other ID. Walking would have to do for now.

  She reached into her jacket pocket for her hat and tripped to a stop on the sidewalk. It must’ve fallen out. She scanned the ground around her, and then kicked at the curb with the toe of her boot.

  She’d left it, along with her umbrella, on the bar, and the last thing she wanted to do was go back in there and have another exchange with the nosy, if hunky, writer.

  She could leave them at Sutter’s and pick them up tomorrow. Nobody would steal a hat or umbrella. Bud had probably already put her things behind the bar.

  Hugging her jacket around her body, she took a step, and a drop of rain pelted her cheek. She looked up at the dark sky and shivered. A ten-minute walk in the cold rain without a hat or umbrella would turn to misery after about one minute.

  She had every right to march back into Sutter’s and grab her hat and umbrella. She peeked through the window at Cole chatting with Bud. He was probably giving him the third degree, too.

  She could always swing through the back entrance and maybe get one of the waitresses to get them for her. She took off at a swift pace and slipped into the alley between two businesses a few doors down from Sutter’s.

  Trailing her hand along one wall, she strode to the back of the buildings and turned right.

  A low light illuminated the red awning above Sutter’s back door. She tugged at the handle and stepped into the warmth. Moving toward the buzz of the restaurant, she had a clear view of the bar, and it looked like Cole had left.

  The door to the men’s room swung open, almost hitting her, and she jumped back.

  “Nothing yet.”

  The low timbre of Cole’s voice stunned her, and she flattened herself against the wall and ducked behind a cigarette machine.

  The bathroom door slammed shut, but Cole stayed put in the hallway and continued his conversation, his back toward her.

  “I met a woman tonight who sort of fit the profile—slim, new to town, had a dark cap, too.”

  He paused, while Caroline’s heart thumped in her chest so loudly she couldn’t believe he didn’t hear it.

  “Naw, she’s related to someone here in town and isn’t Diamond’s type—too pretty, too normal.”

  Caroline closed her eyes and ground her teeth as her stomach lurched. If she got sick here and now, it would be all over, and Cole would know she wasn’t normal—not at all.

  “I’ll keep looking around—and not a word to the boss, Craig.”

  He ended the call and went back to the bar.

  Caroline crept to the back door and stumbled outside.

  She might not be who she claimed to be...but neither was Cole Pierson.

  Chapter Four

  Cole pocketed his phone and perched on the edge of the bar stool. “How much do I owe you, Bud?”

  “Do you want another beer?”

  “I’m good. Just the check.” Cole fingered the soft, black stocking cap on the bar beside him. Caroline had left in such a hurry she’d forgotten her hat and umbrella.

  Her attitude had set off alarm bells in his head. She’d been skittish, nervous. Hadn’t liked his questions. Didn’t seem to know much about the town where she had relatives. Why would a young, attractive woman come to a small town like Timberline to relocate when she’d never been here before?

  She didn’t seem too concerned about his possible interview with Linda Gunderson. He’d make sure to follow through on that.

  When Bud dropped the check, he pointed to the cap. “Caroline leave her hat?”

  “Her umbrella, too.” Cole ducked beneath the bar and hooked a finger around the umbrella’s wrist strap.

  “I can put it back here for her.”

  “You know what?” Cole balled the hat in his fist and shoved it into the pocket of his down jacket. “I’m stopping by her cousin’s shop tomorrow, anyway. I’ll return them to her.”

  “It’s on you, then.” Bud swept up the check and cash. “Change?”

  “Keep it.” Cole shoved his money clip into his front pocket. “What do you know about Caroline?”

  Bud winked. “Pretty gal, huh?”

  Bud had just given Cole the angle to play. “Does she have a husband or boyfriend lurking around?”

  “She’s single. Came here to stay with Linda Gunderson, her cousin, but then you know that, since you’re going to Timberline Treasures to return Caroline’s stuff.”

  “You’ve never seen her out here before?”

  “Nope, but I don’t know Linda that well. She rarely comes in to Sutter’s and never sits at the bar, although she’s no stranger to a little vino now and then.” Bud hunched forward. “I heard Caroline was running from some trouble.”

  “Oh yeah?” Cole’s pulse ticked up along with his interest. “What kind of trouble.”

  “Man trouble.” Bud tapped his temple. “Came to town sporting a shiner. The word is she’s running from a bad relationship, so you might want to think twice before heading down that road with her. Jealous boyfriends and husbands just might get you killed.”

  “You got that right.” Cole rapped on the bar. “Thanks for the tip.”

  When he stepped outside, Cole zipped up his jacket against the cold. Was Caroline’s jealous boyfriend Johnny Diamond? And had she taken care of the problem herself?

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast at his hotel, Cole drove his rental into town. The internet connection had been back up, and he’d done a search of Caroline Johnson—perfect name to reveal nothing and everything. He’d run her name through the DEA database, too, but nothing clicked.

  He pulled his car into one of the two public lots on Main Street. The small town of Timberline had done a good job preparing for the increased population and traffic from Evergreen Software, the company that had revitalized this former mining and lumber town.

  He tucked Caroline’s hat and umbrella under one arm as he made his way to Timberline Treasures. Taking a deep breath, he flung open the door and a little bell jingled his arrival.

  He didn’t know if Caroline would be working today or not. If not, he could always grill Linda Gunderson about her cousin. But he hoped Caroline would be here...because he wanted to see her again.

  An older woman looked up from behind the counter. “Good morning. Let me know if you need any help.”

  “I do need some help, but I don’t need a Timberline frog.”

  “Oh? What do you need?”

  Caroline stepped out from the back of the shop. “Information.”

  “I’m glad I found you here.” Cole held up the cap and umbrella. “You left these at Sutter’s last night.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened. “
And—and you took them?”

  “I knew I’d be dropping by Timberline Treasures today to talk to Ms. Gunderson, so I told Bud I’d bring them to you.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t make a move toward the counter, so he weaved his way through the bins and shelves on the store’s floor and placed them on top of the glass counter. Then he thrust out his hand toward Linda. “Ms. Gunderson? I’m Cole Pierson. I’m writing a book about Timberline.”

  Linda’s pale skin flushed as she shook his hand. “Oh dear, not a book on the Timberline Trio case, I hope.”

  “Not at all. This is a travel book that includes some of the town’s lore. The Timberline Trio will probably make a brief appearance, but the crime is not the focus.”

  “Good, because we had some problems when a TV show came here to film. Nothing but trouble.” She pursed her lips.

  “I met your cousin Caroline last night at Sutter’s and she said you might be willing to talk to me about the old Timberline.”

  “I think I can do that.” She fluffed her permed gray hair. “Is this going to be on camera?”

  He held up his cell. “Just recorded on my phone, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. I’d be happy to talk with you. Are you also interviewing some of the real old-timers and the Quileute out on the reservation?”

  Cole smiled over gritted teeth and nodded. This pretense could turn into a full-time job. “On my list.”

  The door tinkled behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at an elderly couple struggling to push a stroller through the door. Cole maneuvered through the shop’s displays to grab the door for them and hold it open.

  The woman said, “Thank you so much. Our daughter has us bring so many items for the baby it’s like pushing a truck instead of a stroller.”

  Cole hunched forward and chucked the baby beneath his chubby chin. “Is this your grandson?”

  “Our first.” Grandpa beamed.

  The baby grabbed Cole’s finger and gurgled. “You’re a strong little guy, aren’t you? Little bruiser.”