“And what did Leanne have to say?”

“She denied the whole thing. So Alana took her over to Joe’s, and he showed them the tape.”

That was why Leanne had never mentioned being out of school. She didn’t want to admit she’d made a pornographic video at thirteen, which she used to solicit a married man. Claire also understood why Tug had kept quiet all these years. But how had Joe and that tape and Leanne’s behavior affected the investigation into Alana’s disappearance? It must have hampered the sheriff’s ability to do a thorough job with everyone being careful not to say too much about the day in question.

“Why hasn’t Joe told anyone?” Claire asked. “Like one of the investigators you hired?”

“Because he’s a good man.”

If what she was hearing was true, Claire had to agree. He’d tolerated a lot of talk, been convicted of committing adultery with her mother in the court of public opinion, and yet he’d never stepped forward to point a finger at Leanne. That certainly changed how she thought of him.

Now she could explain some of those “inconsistencies” listed in that file. But what did that have to do with her mother’s disappearance? Or were the incident with Joe and the kidnapping two separate items?

“So…Mom took her back to school?” Claire remembered there being some confusion about that in what she’d read.

“No. She was crying too hard. She’d had a terrible fight with Leanne. You can imagine what it must’ve been like after they left Joe’s. So I closed up and took Leanne back to school for her. I thought it might help your mother to have some time alone.”

“When was that?”

“I can’t remember exactly. About one o’clock, I think.”

But the log said Leanne hadn’t signed in until two. “And Mom was…”

“At the house. That’s where I left her.”

“And she was fine?”

“As fine as could be expected, under the circumstances.”

That meant Alana had gone missing between one and three-thirty, when she and Leanne got home. “That’s why you were so worried when I called that day.”

“Yes. I was worried before you called.”

This made sense, but what about the previous sightings of her car at Joe’s house—if those reports were true? “Thanks for telling me.”

He lowered his voice. “What are you going to do with the information? Roni, even Joe’s wife—they don’t know, Claire. I don’t want it coming out. It would really hurt Leanne and could cause problems for Joe.”

Obviously, he felt that being honest with her had betrayed her sister. They’d always been close. “Nothing. For now,” she told him.

“Leanne’s your sister.” The caution in his tone suggested she should protect the secret as well as he had. But if everyone was protecting this secret or that secret, how would the sheriff’s department ever get to the bottom of what had gone wrong?

Claire felt she owed Leanne a lot. They were sisters, as her stepfather had just pointed out. She understood how the slightest upset could throw Leanne into a tail-spin, especially since the accident. But did those considerations outweigh the hope that full disclosure and absolute honesty might bring Alana back—or catch the man who killed her?

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9

Claire frowned at the steak on the plate in front of her. “I told you. I already had dinner.”

Isaac folded his arms and leaned against the counter. The plastic containers he’d taken from the refrigerator were still strewn across the counter as if he thought she might want seconds. But as good as the food looked—there were sweet potatoes and asparagus to go with the steak—she couldn’t possibly eat more than he’d served her.

“You’re the reason I cooked extra,” he said with a wink.

She arched her eyebrows at him. “Don’t act like I stood you up. I told you I wasn’t coming.”

“You’re here now.”

Because it hadn’t occurred to her that caller ID would identify the pay phone at the Kicking Horse Saloon. Or that he’d get out of bed to look for her in the middle of the night. “I don’t understand why it matters to you whether I eat.”

“You mean I’m such a hard-hearted bastard I don’t mind watching you waste away?”

“I’m not wasting away.”

“You won’t if you eat.” He motioned to her plate. “Dig in.”

“Fine.” Too tired to argue, Claire shoveled a bite of sweet potato into her mouth. She should’ve stayed home tonight. She hadn’t expected her date with Rusty to be exciting, but neither had she expected it to fail quite as badly as it did. “It feels weird to be sitting in the kitchen where I lived as a child,” she said.

He poured a glass of cranberry juice and put it on the table beside her. “Oh, yeah? Do you like what I’ve done with the place?”

Obviously, he was joking. It was well-maintained, but he hadn’t changed a single thing since he moved in three years ago and neither had the people who’d owned it before him. “I wouldn’t plan on hiring out as a decorator if I were you.”

He shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll remodel.”

He’d done a lot with the shack he’d inherited from Tippy. It was small but well-kept and in such a beautiful setting he’d stayed there much longer than anyone had expected. That was where she’d always visited him before, where she’d always pictured him even after he bought this place.

“What made you give up Tippy’s house on the lake?” she asked.

“Mostly the size. I needed more room and this gave me a different view and even more privacy.”

“The pictures you’ve hung make it a nice bachelor’s pad.” Mostly wildlife photos he’d taken himself, they added a masculine touch. “It’s easy to tell you like what you do.” Her gaze lingered on a framed print of a hippopotamus submerged in a swampy river with just his eyes, ears and nostrils showing. “I think it’s great how much you love your work. You’re the perfect kind of guy for it.”

He poured himself some juice. “What kind of guy does it take?”

“Someone who likes to ramble, who feels most at home when he’s on the road. Or in the wilderness, as the case may be.” She wished he’d start putting the rest of the food away and stop watching her. His presence was forcing her to eat more than she wanted. “Have you had any close encounters since that bear attack—other than with the tree that nearly wiped you out last night?”

He finished his juice and rinsed the glass. “I got a strange spider bite in Kenya a few months ago.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Made my hand swell up to three times its size.” He showed her the scar.

“Do you know the kind of spider it was?”

“No. It didn’t happen while I was shooting. It happened while I was sleeping.”

“Were you someplace you could get medical help?”

“Not really. One of the guys I was traveling with lanced it and sucked out the poison.”

“That must’ve been fun.” She nibbled on her asparagus. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

He leaned against the counter. “You mean besides here?”

“You like Pineview?”

“Don’t you?”

“It’s okay.” She drank a sip of her own juice. “But I’m leaving here someday.”

“When?”

“As soon as I figure out what happened to my mom and feel Leanne will be fine on her own.”

He crossed his feet. “Where do you want to go?”

She thought of all the exotic places he’d been and felt like a country bumpkin by comparison. She’d never left Montana. “I don’t know. Someplace far away and metropolitan. Maybe Los Angeles or New York.”