Anyone would struggle.

She opened her eyes and nodded at Nora, who revealed a new photo.

Chris looked away, the image burned on his retinas. Francisco Green was spread-eagle in ashy snow. Half his head was gone, his blood staining the snow around him.

Gianna was quiet. Chris finally looked back, keeping his gaze on her, not the photo she was intently studying.

Her profile was perfectly still, her gaze darting over the photo. She tucked loose hair behind her ear, never looking away from the tablet.

“He fell on his right side when he was shot,” she stated. “When I grabbed the camera, his right arm was stretched out above his head and his left arm was across his body, his left hand in the snow. Someone rolled him onto his back.”

“Anything else?” Nora asked.

Gianna was quiet another second and then shook her head. Nora closed the photo.

“The team is still gathering evidence,” said Henry, “but it was pretty clear when Nora and I were up there this morning that at least one other person walked through the scene inside the cabin.”

“Did anyone else from the area report the fire or deaths? Perhaps it was someone from nearby who went inside,” suggested Chris, searching for another explanation.

“No other calls. We’ve canvassed the other nearby cabins.” Henry glanced at Nora. “There’re not many.”

Chris nodded in agreement. “But what about the footprints outside? Surely he left a trail coming in and going out.”

Nora sighed. “Too much new snowfall. Right next to the cabin we can make out the prints because there was some protection from the walls. But as soon as we moved away, the tracks were lost. Even around Gianna’s Suburban, it almost looks like nothing ever took place. Except for the fact that the window was broken out. We want the vehicle for evidence,” she said, with an apologetic look at Gianna. “I arranged to have it brought back to town. We shouldn’t keep it long.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” said Gianna.

“Sanchez said the items that you’re missing from your home are more personal than valuable,” Henry said. “Obviously we’re moving forward with the idea that it might be related to what happened up at the cabin.”

“Both incidents seem very focused on Gianna,” Chris pointed out. “I get that there are two men dead, but everything seems to be circling around Gianna. And her daughter.”

The two cops looked at Gianna with thoughtful expressions and she visibly squirmed. “That’s not news to anyone. But I’ll say again, I have no idea who would want to harass me.”

“I’d say this goes far beyond harassment,” Nora said in a dry tone. “I’d like you to try to find some old photos with that medallion if possible. You said your uncle has them? Where does he live?”

“Southern California. But he’s supposed to arrive in town today.”

Disappointment crossed the detective’s face. “Is there someone else who can look through them while he’s gone?”

“I’m sure he can assign it to one of his assistants or staff.”

“Staff?” Henry asked. “Wouldn’t he ask a family member?”

“I’m it as far as family goes. And he has plenty of spare staff. That’s his business. He owns WorkerBee, the temporary employment agency, and has offices all across the United States.”

“That’s who called you today?” Chris asked. WorkerBee was huge. A successful company built on a reputation of caring about its employees and always listed as one of the top one hundred places to work in the States.

“Yes.”

Chris wondered if Michael had discovered that fact in his background check on Gianna.

“I didn’t connect you with WorkerBee,” Nora said with a frown. “It’s not referenced anywhere in your history.”

Gianna gave a small smile. “Uncle Saul has worked hard to protect my privacy. He’s tried to eliminate any traceable connections between me and the business . . . with my blessing. I prefer people know me and like me for who I am, not whom I’m connected to.”

Chris understood. In Oregon the Brody name was synonymous with politics. His real father had given decades of public service, working his way up through state and national politics.

“How big is this business?” Nora asked. “Would an angry former employee strike out at you to get back at your uncle? What about competitors? Are there any implications here in business competition?”

Gianna leaned back in the restaurant booth, surprise clear on her face. “There’s no way. What would be the point of stealing some of my things to get back at my uncle? Or setting that fire? I don’t see the connection. I don’t have anything to do with his work.”

“That’s what I’m trying to feel out. Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to talk to your uncle while he’s here. Perhaps he knows something that could shine a light on your situation.” Nora tilted her head. “Is that like him, to immediately fly out when you’re in trouble? Did you tell him everything that happened?”

Gianna silently stared at Henry and Nora, tension spiraling around her again. Chris fought an urge to tell Nora to ease up on the questions; the detective was right to explore the possibility. WorkerBee was huge and part of an extremely competitive industry.

But this feels personal. Not like a business dealing gone wrong . . .

“Why don’t you arrange to talk to her uncle?” suggested Chris. “Like Gianna said, she keeps her connection to his company to a minimum. No doubt her uncle can tell you what you need to know.”