Daniel leaned across the desk and pointed to the Band-Aids on the man’s forearm. “You left part of yourself behind, Jim. Crime scene guys found your skin in the bark of that tree.” Jim paled a little. “Now I can take you in and get a warrant for a DNA sample or you can tell me how you knew to be up that tree yesterday afternoon.”

“I can’t. Beyond the constitutional aspects, if I tell you, I’ll never get another tip.”

“So you got a tip.”

Jim sighed. “Daniel… If I knew I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t know who it was.”

“An anonymous tip. Convenient.”

“It’s the truth. The call came through on my home phone, but the number was blocked. I didn’t know what I’d see when I got there.”

“Was the caller male or female?”

Jim shook his head. “No. Not gonna tell you that.”

Daniel considered. He’d already gotten more than he thought he would. “Then tell me when you arrived and what you did see.”

Jim tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?”

“An interview, exclusive. You might even sell to one of the big guys in Atlanta.”

Jim’s eyes lit up and Daniel knew he’d plucked the right chord. “All right. It’s not complicated. I got the call yesterday at noon. I got there at about one, climbed the tree, and waited. About two the bikers came through. A half hour later Officer Larkin showed up. He took one look at the body, climbed back up the bank to the road, and threw up. Pretty soon you state boys showed up. After everybody left I climbed down and went home.”

“Once you climbed down, how exactly did you get home?”

Jim’s lips thinned. “My wife. Marianne.”

Daniel blinked. “Marianne? Marianne Murphy? You married Marianne Murphy?”

Jim looked smug. “Yes.”

Marianne Murphy had been the girl voted most likely to do… everybody. “Well.” Daniel cleared his throat, not wanting to visualize Jim Woolf with the buxom and very generous Marianne Murphy. “How did you get there?”

“She dropped me off, too.”

“I’ll want to talk to her. To confirm the times. And I want the pictures you took while you were sitting there. All of them.”

Glaring, Jim popped his memory card from his camera and tossed it. Daniel caught it with one hand and slipped it into his pocket as he stood up. “I’ll be in touch.”

Jim followed him to the door. “When?”

“When I know something.” Daniel opened the door, then stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. And stared.

Behind him he heard Jim’s soft gasp. “Oh my God. That’s…”

Alex Fallon. She stood at the bottom of the police station stairs, a satchel over one shoulder. She still wore her black suit. Her shoulders abruptly stiffened and she turned slowly until she met his eyes. For a long moment they stared at each other across Main Street. She didn’t smile. In fact, even from this distance Daniel could see her full lips go thin. She was angry.

Daniel crossed the street, his eyes never breaking away from hers. When he stood before her she lifted her chin, as she’d done that morning. “Agent Vartanian.”

His mouth went dry. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m here to see the sheriff about filing a missing person report on Bailey.” She looked over his shoulder. “Who are you?”

Jim Woolf stepped around him. “Jim Woolf, Dutton Review. Did I hear you say you were filing a missing person report? Perhaps I can be of assistance. We can print a photograph of Bailey, did you say? Bailey Crighton is missing?”

Daniel looked down at Jim and frowned. “Go away.”

But Alex tilted her head. “Give me your card. I may wish to talk with you.”

Again smug, Jim gave her a card. “Any time, Miss Tremaine.”

Alex flinched as if he’d struck her. “Fallon. My name is Alex Fallon.”

“Any time, Miss Fallon.” Jim gave Daniel a salute and was gone.

Something had changed and Daniel didn’t like it. “I’m going to the station, too. Can I carry your bag?”

The way she searched his face made Daniel uncomfortable. “No thank you.” She started up the stairs, leaving him to follow.

He could see her hunch one shoulder from the weight of her bag, but it didn’t seem to affect the sway of her slim hips as she hurried. Daniel thought her bag was a far safer thing on which to focus. He caught up to her easily. “You’re about to topple over. What are you carrying in here? Bricks?”

“A gun and lots of bullets. If you must know.”

She started up the stairs again, but Daniel grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Excuse me?”

Her whiskey eyes were cool. “You said I might be in danger. I took you seriously. I have a child to protect.”

Her stepsister’s daughter. Hope. “How did you buy a gun? You’re not a resident.”

“I am now. You want to see my new driver’s license?”

“You got a driver’s license? How did you do that? You don’t live here.”

“I do now. You want to see my rental contract?”

Bowled over, he blinked. “You rented an apartment?”

“A house.” She really was staying a while.

“In Dutton?”

She nodded. “I’m not leaving until Bailey’s found, and Hope can’t live in a hotel.”

“I see. Are we still meeting at seven?”

“That was my plan. Now if you don’t mind, I still have a lot to do before then.” She’d run up a few more stairs before he called her name.

“Alex.” He waited until she stopped and turned again.

“Yes, Agent Vartanian? What is it?”

He ignored the ice in her voice. “Alex. You can’t take a gun into the police station. Even in Dutton. It’s a government building.”

Her shoulders sagged and her frosty expression melted away, leaving exhaustion and vulnerability in its place. She was afraid and doing her damndest to hide it. “I forgot. I should have come here first. I wanted to get my driver’s license before the DMV closed. But I can’t leave a gun in the car. Somebody might steal it.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her unpainted lips, tugging at his heart. “Even in Dutton.”

“You look tired. I’m going to see the sheriff. I’ll ask him about Bailey. Go back to your house and get some sleep. I’ll meet you at seven in front of the GBI building.” He eyed her satchel. “And for God’s sake, make sure the safety is on on that thing and you put it in a lockbox so Hope can’t get to it.”

“I bought a lockbox.” She lifted her chin, a gesture he was coming to anticipate. “I’ve coded enough children in the ER who’ve played with guns. I won’t put my niece in any more danger. Please call me if Loomis refuses to file Bailey as a missing person.”

“He won’t refuse,” Daniel said grimly, “but give me your cell phone number anyway.” She did, and he committed it to memory as she started back down the stairs, her steps weary. When she got to the street she looked back up at him.

“Seven o’clock, Agent Vartanian.”

Somehow the way she said it made it seem more like a threat than the confirmation of a meeting. “Seven o’clock. And don’t forget to change your suit.”

Dutton, Monday, January 29, 4:55 p.m.

Mack pulled the earpiece from his ear. How the plot thickened, he thought as he watched Daniel Vartanian watch Alexandra Tremaine drive away. Oh, wait. Alex Fallon. She’d changed her name.

It had been a surprise to hear she’d come back. That was one of the good things about a small town. No sooner had she stepped into Delia Anderson’s real estate office than the word began to spread. Alexandra Tremaine is back. The sister who lived.

Her stepsister Bailey Crighton was missing. He had a good idea where Bailey might have been taken. And why. But that was not his business at the moment. Should it become important, he’d act. Until then, he’d watch and listen.

Alex Tremaine was back. And Daniel Vartanian was interested. This, too, he’d watch. It could be useful later. He smiled. What a kick-off that would have been, to kill the identical twin and leave her in the same exact place. I wish I’d thought of it. But he’d kicked it off with a target of his own choosing. She’d deserved everything she got, but Alex Tremaine would have been a most excellent first victim. Now it was too late.