My laugh sounded thin. "Hardly. I'm talking about something a little more sophisticated. Would she know how to cut a brake line?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and when Barr's mother finally spoke the bantering note was gone. "I don't think so. Hannah's a tough little thing, and she can ride most anything with four legs, but she knows horses, not cars."

"You're sure."

"Well, we spend a lot of time together, but I couldn't say for sure, no. She has a life away from here. I don't know what all it involves. Not my business."

I couldn't keep the disappointment out of my voice. "All right, thanks."

"What happened?"

Silence on my end this time.

"Sophie Mae, did something happen to your car?"

I sighed. "Yes, ma'am. The brakes went out on my little pickup."

"Are you okay?"

"I am. My truck wasn't so lucky. It was completely totaled."

An intake of breath on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry to hear that. I really am. But why would you think Hannah had something to do with it?"

"Uh, well, Barr kind of said-oh never mind. I shouldn't have called. It's just that neither of us is exactly neutral on the subject of Hannah, and I thought you might be able to, well, you know. Provide some perspective on the situation." The more I talked, the dumber I sounded. But did that stop me from saying more? No.

"See, Barr talked to her, and she said she'd leave town, go home. She left the place she was staying, and he can't find her now, but she's stopped by my house to talk to me twice since then."

"What did she say?"

"I wasn't home either time." I rubbed my eyes. "I just don't know what to think. And then when this happened this morning, we had to wonder."

"Now listen," Cassie said. "Hannah can be a little flighty, but she never struck me as the sort who would really hurt anyone. She'll come back here soon enough. Maybe she just wants to meet the woman who captured Barr's heart so thoroughly. Don't begrudge her that."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'll try not to jump to any conclusions."

"Don't call me ma'am, for heaven's sake. I'll try to get a hold of that girl from this end, see if I can't talk some sense into her."

"Oh, gosh. I don't want to cause any trouble between you and an employee." And the last thing I needed was to make Hannah even angrier.

"Now don't you worry about that. And Sophie Mae?"

"Yes?"

"I'm awful glad you're okay. I haven't met you face-to-face yet, but I'm getting real fond of you already. You take care of yourself, hear?"

"I will. Thank you."

I felt better after talking to Cassie Ambrose. She had a calming, grounding effect. I could only imagine what it would be like in person. But the truth was she didn't know much more than Barr or I did about Hannah's mechanical ability.

My teenaged helper, Cyan, was eager to work after missing a day. Business had been gradually picking up during the previous six months, so when she arrived I dumped a ton of recent online orders on her, armed her with an inventory list, boxes, tape, packing peanuts, and my computer, and told her she could stay as long as she needed to get it all done. She set to her tasks with cheerful alacrity, the Dixie Chicks thumping away on the portable stereo I'd recently added to my workroom.

Since I didn't have a vehicle at the moment, I had to walk to CRAG. I'd promised to watch the retail shop for the four-to-eight evening shift now that we were open again. I wasn't going to let the co-op down just because a semi destroyed my only means of transportation. Not that I wouldn't have changed my mind in a second if Barr had actually taken the day off.

Oh, my poor little Toyota. It had been such a steady and reliable companion for so long. I missed it already. What could I possibly get for the insurance money? It was an old pickup by their standards, and they probably wouldn't give me much for it. Getting a new vehicle, even a used one, would be expensive.

Vehicle failure seemed to be quite the theme surrounding Ariel's murder, but in truth it had nothing to do with how she was killed. Ariel had been hit on the head and then strangled. And she sure as heck hadn't been the one to cut my brake line.

But had she cut Scott Popper's? Barr would find out, whether he was the lead detective on the case or not.

Irene was seated behind the register at CRAG, looking bored. She glanced up when I walked in, then went back to the occasional desultory swipe of her pencil across the drawing pad open in front of her.

"Hi." I slung my tote bag under the counter with a dull thump. "Has it been busy?"

She sniffed. "No. You were wrong. No one's come in."

"Well, perhaps no one knows we're open again. It happened kind of fast."

"Maybe"

What an Eeyore. "Are you going to stay awhile, or do you need to get going?"

"I'm waiting for Zak to come get me," she said, filling in the shading on a meaty arm. I glimpsed enough of the rest of the drawing to see she was designing yet another of her female power figurines. "He's late. Again. But then, so are you."

I looked at the clock on the wall. "I was here on time."

She sniffed again.

Oh, brother. What did she have against me, for Pete's sake? I'd never so much as said boo to her before joining CRAG, and my interactions with her since had been infrequent and low key.

"As long as you're here, I'm going to go upstairs and check out some of the fiber for sale."

She shrugged without looking up. Her pencil scratched across the rough Bristol board.

I went up to the shelves and baskets filled with fiber ready to spin. Gabi's stash hadn't been much smaller than this. The raw, uncarded alpaca wool caught my eye, and I thought of Lindsey Drucker, raising animals, spinning, weaving, and living with another artist. It couldn't possibly be as ideal of a lifestyle as it sounded. I mean, could anything live up to being that perfect?

Lindsey was a woman with demons, after all. Demons Ariel had shared, and that she'd tried to save her from.

"Sophie Mae," Irene called from the bottom of the stairs. "Sophie Mae! Zak's here, and I'm leaving. Now."

Sheesh. Give a woman a little time to shop, won't you? "Okay, I'm coming."

I hit the ground floor, and Irene was out the door. Her son turned to follow.

"Zak," I said.

He looked at me over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"I told Rocky Kaminski about the painting you wanted, but-"

"I know." His gaze jerked to his mother, already halfway across the parking lot, then back to me. "His wife called me. Can I leave the painting here for a day or two after I get it?"

"Rocky's going to sell it to you after all?"

He nodded.

"Okay." I noted the black grease under his fingernails. Was he as handy at unfixing cars as he was at fixing them? And how would that translate to strangulation? "You must have really loved Ariel," I suddenly blurted out. The words hung awkwardly in the air between us.

He looked surprised, then ducked his head as pink embarrassment crept up past the rivets in his ears.

I kept my tone mild. "It's nice that you want her picture, is all." I busied myself behind the counter, deliberately not looking him in the eye. Like facing a strange dog, I wasn't sure what I was dealing with here. Best not to appear threatening in any way.

"We were seeing each other," he said.

I risked a glance at him.

"But she broke up with me."

"Really? I'm sorry. That must have hurt"

"Not really," he said.

I stopped arranging and rearranging a pile of Post-its and looked directly at him.