“Any idea how long? Were you married at the time?” he prompted, trying to help her associate the memory with something else.

“Which marriage?” she snorted gleefully.

Only Ina could have four marriages and never suffer from malicious town gossip. Gossip stopped and started with her.

“Good point.”

She carefully laid the image on the table, her face thoughtful. “Let me stew over it a bit. My memory needs a kickstart every now and then.”

Truman cleared his throat. “I understand the latest news on Bree is positive.”

“Did you hear she woke up and spoke today?”

“No!” Truman’s mind raced, and he forced himself to stay in his seat instead of rushing to interview her at the hospital. “Did she say who beat her?”

Ina’s face fell. “No. She mentioned Lucas, but the rest made no sense. Sandy told me she asked to be buried.” Ina shook her head. “That poor girl. She must have thought she was dead. After saying that, she fell unconscious again. Sandy said it didn’t last more than fifteen seconds.”

“It’s a good sign.”

“Agreed. I ordered Sandy to ask the name of the son of a bitch who hurt her so we can catch him.” Her eyes were ferocious. “I want two minutes with a sharp knife and his fingers . . . Make that a dull knife.”

Truman had to smile. This was the Ina he’d always known. “I’ll see what I can do. What can you tell me about Bree when your son, Hollis, met her?”

“Hmmm.” Her gaze went distant. “She was always a pretty little thing. Hollis was instantly crazy for her.”

“Do you know how they met?”

“No . . . Maybe they met at the college in Bend. She was attending full-time, and he’d take a class here and there. He didn’t live with me then.” She chortled. “I always told Hollis she was too good for him. She got her teaching certificate in record time. That girl was driven. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life.”

“She was damned good at it,” agreed Truman. “Ollie loved their tutoring sessions.”

“I was so pleased when the state recognized her last year for her teaching talent.” Ina took a long sip of coffee. “When Hollis died, I thought she’d get married again one day. She was such a gem that I figured another man would snap her up right away. But she told me she only had room in her heart for Hollis . . . and Lucas, of course. He’s the spitting image of his daddy.”

“Was she originally from around here?” Truman asked.

Ina’s gaze sharpened. “Is that the point of this trip down memory lane? Bree’s history?”

“We’re trying to catch who attacked her. It helps to know her past. It’s been difficult to find any data before she married Hollis.”

“She wasn’t from around here . . . Northern California.” Her face brightened. “She’d lived in a town called Paradise. Can you believe that? She always joked that she moved from one paradise to another. Have to respect a girl who embraced the beauty of our area.”

“She ever go back to visit?”

“No. She said her parents had passed a few years before she moved, and she didn’t have any other relatives she cared to keep in touch with. I always felt bad for her . . . When she talked about her parents you could tell it hurt. Hollis told me not to pester her with too many questions.” Ina twisted her lips. “I did my best.”

Truman tried to imagine Ina holding her tongue.

“Well now . . .” Ina twisted her hands on the arch of her cane and frowned as she turned to look out the window. “I had it a second ago . . . Dammit.”

“What was that?”

“Shush. Let me think.”

Truman took another cookie and let her think.

Ina picked up the Fat Nathan picture and glared laser beams through it. “This was Hollis’s friend . . . Well, more like an acquaintance . . . High school?” She muttered under her breath for a moment. “Maybe. Or from the real estate office? Nah, that’s not old enough.” More scowls.

A friend of Hollis’s? Hollis had been dead for at least fifteen years.

“Your memory sounds darn good to me, Ina.”

“Stop with the sweet talk.” She waved a hand at him. “I keep associating the picture with high school . . . but my gut tells me that’s not right, and I can’t come up with anything else.” Exasperation crossed her face.

“Any chance you still have Hollis’s high school yearbooks?” Truman asked, crossing his fingers.

“Of course.” She braced her hands on the table to stand, and Truman immediately jumped out of his chair to help. “Sit down. I’m not dead yet.” She slowly left the kitchen.

Nathan May can’t be a high school friend of Hollis. Mercy told me Nathan went to school somewhere in Portland.

Truman wouldn’t pass on the yearbooks. Someone who looked similar must have attended Eagle’s Nest High School. That would explain why a few people had zeroed in on the same picture.

But I didn’t live here back then. Why is it familiar to me?

Ina reappeared with two books. They were startlingly thin compared to Truman’s high school yearbooks. His books were heavy beasts, but he’d attended a school with nearly two thousand kids. Eagle’s Nest High School wasn’t a tenth that size.

“Here you go. I grabbed his junior and senior year.” She placed the books in front of him. “I’ll let you do the exciting job of going through them.”

“Thank you, Ina.”

“You need anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” Truman stood and took a last sip of his coffee. “I appreciate the information on Bree.”

“Anytime.” She tapped her cheek, and he grinned as he bent to kiss it.

Just as he’d done a hundred times.

He said his goodbye and strode back toward the main part of town, the yearbooks tucked under his arm.

I’ll tackle these first thing when I reach the office.

THIRTY-THREE

Every red truck on the list had been eliminated.

Mercy wanted to hit something. Expanding the search to nearby counties had more than tripled the list and meant a lot of driving.

Now she sat in the parking lot of the hospital, trying to calm her frustration before she went in to check on Kaylie. And Bree Ingram. At least Eddie had been discharged that morning, but he hadn’t left the hospital. Instead he’d gone to sit with Kaylie. He’d called Mercy to explain that he and Kaylie had a shared experience, and she would need someone to exchange gunshot jokes with.

Mercy hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at his remark.

Her mother and Pearl had updated her hourly on Kaylie’s progress. Thankfully each of their reports said the same: no infection yet. Kaylie was awake and had some issues with getting her pain under control, but Mercy’s mother had handled it. Mercy easily imagined her mother riding the nurses until her grandchild was out of pain. Pearl’s report a half hour ago had said Kaylie was sleeping. She’d added that Eddie was sleeping in a chair in Kaylie’s room due to his own pain management.

At least Kaylie wasn’t alone. Her support group was strong.

Mercy started to get out of her Tahoe and stopped, watching a red-haired woman leave the hospital.

Sandy.

Her gait was rapid and determined. Her head down, her arms swinging with purpose as she walked straight to her SUV.

Something is up.

Mercy jogged to intercept the woman. “Sandy!”

Sandy stopped. Fear flashed on her face and then vanished as she recognized Mercy.

Guilt poked Mercy. The woman was just assaulted. I shouldn’t have startled her.

“I heard Bree woke up,” Mercy said as she reached Sandy at her vehicle.

“She did. But it was brief, and it hasn’t happened again yet.” Something odd flickered in her eyes, and she scanned the parking lot, clearly wanting to be on her way.

“What’s going on, Sandy?” Mercy crossed her arms. “You look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

The tall woman’s gaze grew confrontational. “Of course I do. I have a business to run.”

Mercy waited. Sandy’s gaze bounced everywhere, and an air of urgency swirled around her.

I don’t think it has anything to do with her B&B.

“Sandy,” she said in a low tone. “What happened? I can tell you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Last time we talked you practically accused me of murder. I can’t say I want to repeat the conversation.”

“I was doing my job . . . and I didn’t accuse you of murder. I asked you about your past. It was a simple connection. Tabitha was murdered while digging into a nearly thirty-year-old crime. She talked to you. Therefore, I looked into what you were doing thirty years ago. And I did the same with Bree.”

The woman exhaled and looked at Mercy head-on. “That’s what’s bugging me. Bree’s past. Today I had a thought.”

“And?”

“Do you know what Bree said when she woke up?”

“I heard she thought she was dying and wanted to be buried.”

Pain flashed in Sandy’s gaze, and her mouth tightened. “That’s correct. She also said ‘sorry’ a few times, ‘killed him,’ and then asked for Lucas.”

“‘Killed him’?” The hair on Mercy’s arms rose. “What the hell?”

“I know. It’s been bouncing through my brain all afternoon.”

“And it’s made you think of something to check out.” She looked hard into Sandy’s brown eyes. “Do you have an idea of who attacked her?”

Her head jerked. “Oh no! It’s nothing like that . . . I have no idea who did that.”

Disappointment rolled over Mercy. “Then what is it?”

“I’m not sure . . . but I need to take a look.”

Mercy couldn’t interpret the expression on Sandy’s face.