Jim wheeled his bike up the makeshift ramp and put it on its side. “I appreciate it.”
She asked her cousin, “You didn’t mention this to Granny, did you?”
“Said Jim was having problems with his bike and I was giving you two a ride back.”
“Thanks.” She hopped into the truck after Jason and Jim squeezed in beside her.
On the ride back to Timberline, the three of them discussed who could be behind the vandalism of Jim’s bike, but she and Jim kept mum about their true suspicions.
When they arrived at Jim’s cabin, he and Jason unloaded the bike, and Jim invited him into the garage to look at the other motorcycles.
While Jim and Jason were in the garage, Scarlett sat on Jim’s front porch, stretching her legs in front of her and tapping the toes of her boots together. Dax and his bike were gone, but she figured he’d be back. He had business in Timberline, and Jim was convinced that business involved more than looking over Slick’s motorcycles.
Jason emerged from the garage with a big smile on his face.
She called out, “You see something you like?”
“Oh, yeah. Do you want a ride back to your cabin? I drove by earlier and it’s still a mess.”
“I left my car here.” She pointed to her now-clean car parked at the side of the house. “And I have someone coming out tomorrow to start the cleanup and landscaping—your friend, Tony.”
“He told me.” Jason raised a hand to Jim, who was locking up the garage. “Thanks, man. I’ll be back later when I have the cash.”
Jingling the keys in his palm, Jim joined her at the porch as Jason turned his truck around.
“You gave him a deal, didn’t you?”
“He’s a nice kid, really appreciative.”
“Is your brother going to mind that you’re selling one of the bikes for a steal?”
“Dax won’t care as long as I leave him a few. He doesn’t care about material things.”
“Then why the crime?”
“Beats me. Excitement? A big snub to authority?”
She traced a crack in the wood handrail with her fingertip. “I wonder if it was the same for that gang of Quileute who was involved in drugs.”
“Could be, not that I’m discounting money as a motivator for most criminals. It just never motivated Dax.”
“So, the Quileute gang manufactured or procured drugs and sold them to the Lords of Chaos who turned around and sold them on the streets.”
“Or distributed them elsewhere.”
“And somehow the drugs and money are tied to the kidnapping of three young children. How?” She picked at a piece of chipped paint.
“Trafficking maybe.”
She clenched her teeth against the chill racing up her spine. “That’s horrible.”
“Sometimes the world is a horrible place.” He covered her fidgeting hand with his own and his warmth seeped into her flesh. “Are you okay to go home by yourself?”
She flung out her other arm. “It’s daytime. I’ll be fine.”
“I never did get the chance to install your new locks.”
“Not that those locks would’ve protected me against the fire last night, and since the firefighters just left my place unsecured, the locks wouldn’t have prevented the break-in, either.”
“True, but that’s no reason to ignore basic security measures. That was an extraordinary event last night.”
“Funny thing about those extraordinary events.”
“What?”
“They seem to be happening to me on an ordinary basis.”
“Ever since the Timberline Trio case was unearthed.”
“Pretty much.” She disentangled her hand from his and pulled herself up by grasping the porch’s handrail. “My cousin Annie is coming by to help me clean up this afternoon, so I won’t be alone. I’m going to have a look for those childhood mementos.”
“Looking for a pink ribbon?” He stood on the step above her, towering over her even more than usual.
“Yep.”
“Be careful, Scarlett.” He smoothed a hand down her arm. “Don’t tell anyone about it.”
“I’m not going to run around town blabbing it. I’m convinced there’s not one person in Timberline who can keep a secret.”
“Not even the sheriff’s department.”
She leaned back to look into his face. “Why do you say that?”
“How else did that story of the pink ribbon get out? If the kidnapper took something from one of the children, you’d think the police and the FBI would want to keep that quiet.”
“It’s the Quileute. We hear things. I’m pretty sure that info wasn’t available to the other citizens of Timberline.”
He bent forward and touched his forehead to hers. “Just be careful. We don’t know who’s watching and listening.”
Her fingers dabbled against his jaw, and she felt his warm breath caress her cheek.
Then he wedged a finger beneath her chin and, tilting her head back, brushed his lips against hers.
The roar of a motorcycle engine broke them apart, and Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at Dax, his long hair blowing behind him.
“What are you going to tell your brother about the tires?”
“I can’t hide that the tires were slashed, but he doesn’t have to know anything about what we discussed with your grandmother.”
Dax parked his bike next to Jim’s and circled the damaged motorcycle. Then he pulled off his helmet and shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head as he trudged to the porch.
“What the hell happened?”
“Someone took a knife or a box cutter to my tires at the reservation.”
Whistling through his teeth, Dax shook his head. “Old resentments die hard, don’t they?”
“Could’ve been teenagers.” Jim shrugged his broad shoulders. “Reminded me of something you’d do.”
“Guess so. How’d you get back here?”
Scarlett waved her hand in the direction of the road. “My cousin gave us a ride in his truck.”
Jim descended the porch steps and buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m selling him one of Slick’s bikes.”
“That’s cool, man.”
“I’ll give you half the proceeds.”
“As long as you didn’t sell him the two I was eyeing, I’m good.” Dax rubbed his bloodshot eyes, the deep lines on his face making him look more like Jim’s father than his older brother. “I’m gonna head inside and get some shut-eye. I’m beat.”
Jim raised one eyebrow. “What’ve you been doing today?”
“Ridin’.”
“Not using again?”
Dax chuckled. “I’m just old, brother. See you around, Scarlett.”
“Thanks for washing my car.”
He nodded and then tromped past them, his boots heavy on the steps. He closed the front door behind him with a slam.
Biting the side of his thumb, Jim stared at the door. “Something’s not right with him.”
“That applies to a lot of people around here.” Scarlett dug her keys from her purse. “I’m going back to my place.”
“When I get my tires changed, I’ll come over and install those locks for you.”
“I’ll be there. Sorry about your bike, sorry it happened on the rez.”
“Not your fault. I’m just wondering if we’d taken your car if the same thing would’ve happened.”
“Something tells me it would have.”
She slid into her car with her lips still tingling from Jim’s soft kiss. She’d wondered what would’ve happened to her car if they’d taken it to the reservation, but even more, she was wondering what would’ve happened if Dax hadn’t interrupted that kiss.
/> * * *
HER COUSIN ANNIE aimed the hose at the last window in the front, spraying water against the glass streaked with flame retardant. “They make a bigger mess putting out the fire than the fire itself.”
“Not quite.” When the water stopped, Scarlett scrubbed the window with a cloth and then sluiced the water off with a squeegee. “I really appreciate your help, Annie.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. Who would do something so stupid? This is just not your year.”
“It’s gotta get better, right?” She traced her bottom lip with her finger. Running into Jim this trip had just about made everything a little better.
Annie turned off the water and wound up the hose. “I think getting rid of all those trees in front of your place is a blessing in disguise. I never liked parking beyond the copse of trees and then walking through them on that path—creepy.”
“But very private.”
“Too private if you ask me. When’s Tony coming out to clear the land?”
“Tomorrow. I’m hiring him to do some landscaping, too.”
“Do you need me to do anything else? I’m meeting some friends in Port Angeles tonight and need to get going.”
“No. I can do the rest. Thanks again.”
She helped Annie pack up some of her cleaning supplies and load them into the van she used for her cleaning business. When she pulled onto the road, Scarlett turned toward the house. She’d skipped lunch, so she popped open a carton of yogurt and carried it to the hall closet, which she used for storage.
The cabin didn’t have a garage, just a shed out back, but Scarlett didn’t store much beyond paint supplies there. Any photos or newspaper clippings or cards she’d boxed and stashed on the top shelves of this closet.
She dragged a chair in front of the closet and pulled two boxes from the top shelf. Would she have kept something as inconsequential as a ribbon?
Once Granny brought it up, Scarlett remembered filching it from Granny’s knitting basket. It had been important enough for her to steal back because of the way it had made her feel.
It was sort of like when she and her girlfriends would go out to the woods and spin around and around just to feel dizzy. Stroking the ribbon had given her the same sensation.
When Granny had sat her down and explained to her about the gift of the shamans, it had never occurred to Scarlett that the pink ribbon was momentous in that way.
Tucking one box under each arm, she returned to the living room and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace. She pulled the first box toward her and rummaged through its contents.
She smiled at the photos and the cards she’d saved from friends and even tried jamming the promise ring she’d gotten from Tommy Whitecotton onto her pinky finger. But no pink ribbon was nestled among the memories.
She popped the lid from box number two and fished around inside. These photos and keepsakes were from her high school years. She thumbed through a stack of senior pictures, collected from her friends, and stopped at one of a serious, dark-haired boy.
She traced her finger over Jim’s young face. She must’ve gotten up the courage to ask him for a picture. She flipped the photo over, but he hadn’t signed it. Maybe she’d stolen it from him.
Giggling like a high school girl, she plucked the photo from the bunch and dropped it on the coffee table. He’d been such a hottie back then and had only gotten better with age.
She shuffled through the rest of the photos and keepsakes but didn’t find a pink ribbon, or any ribbon. She replaced the lid on the second box and stacked one box on top of the other on the kitchen counter.
As she scraped up the last bit of yogurt with her spoon, a horn began to blare outside. She dropped the carton in the sink and flew to the front window. Sweeping the curtain aside, she peered through the glass at her own car sitting just beyond the burned logs and scorched trees.
Must be her horn, but it didn’t sound like her car alarm. She grabbed her keys from her purse and, aiming the key fob in front of her, she jabbed the button to unlock the car door as she stepped outside and walked toward her wailing car.
She opened the door and blinked at the block of wood propped up on the seat and wedged against her horn.
“What the hell is this?” She hunched forward to knock the wood loose.
She sensed a whisper of movement, but before she could turn around someone shoved her face-first onto the passenger seat.
She screamed and struggled to turn her head.
A hand gripped the back of her neck, the thumb pressing close to her windpipe.
She tried to kick out behind her, but a body fell heavily on her back and the point of a knife pricked her throat just beneath her jawline.
She froze, her next scream turning into a whimper.
Hot breath and a hoarse whisper in her ear. “You’ve been warned. Leave it alone.”
Chapter Twelve
Jim rolled up to Scarlett’s cabin on a set of tires borrowed from another bike, enjoying the view. She’d be so much safer once the landscaper cleared the burned mess and passersby could see her cabin from the road.
His eyebrows collided over his nose as he took in Scarlett’s car with the car door open wide. Then his heart started pumping double time when he saw her pointy-toed boots hanging out the door.
He parked behind her car and jumped off the bike. “Scarlett?”
As he reached the car door, she rolled over on her back and choked.
He took one look at her tear-streaked face, pale with fear, and grabbed her hands, yanking her out of the car and into his arms. Her body trembled against his.
“What in God’s name happened? Are you hurt?”
Sniffling, she hauled in a couple of shaky breaths. “Someone just threatened me, held a knife to my throat.”
His pulse jumped and he scooped her into a tighter hug. “How long ago? Why were you just lying in the car? Did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t hurt me, but he told me to stay where I was. That was about five minutes ago. I’m sure he’s long gone, but I was too afraid to move.”
“Did you get a look at him?” Resting his chin on the top of Scarlett’s head, he scanned the woods at the edge of her property. “What direction did he go?”
“I didn’t hear a vehicle, so he must’ve come and gone on foot, which probably means through the forest. He wouldn’t want to chance being seen from the road.”
“You didn’t get a look at him?”
“He approached me from behind and smashed my face into the car seat.”
“How’d he do all that without revealing himself?”
“It...it was a trap.” She kicked at a piece of wood on the ground. “He rigged this up to honk my horn. When I came out to investigate, he came up behind me. The horn was blaring and my ears were ringing, so I didn’t hear him approach.”
He combed his fingers through her long hair. “What did he want? Did he say anything?”
“He told me I’d been warned and to leave it alone. He obviously meant the Timberline Trio case.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Do you want me to try to go after him?”
“No.” She grabbed his jacket. “He had a head start, and he might...”
“I’m not afraid of him, Scarlett. He’s a coward.”
“You’re not going to find him, Jim. Don’t leave me here.”
Cupping her face with one hand, he drew his thumb across her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, but we need to call the sheriff’s department.”
“The man was wearing gloves. The cops aren’t going to find anything.”
“Let them worry about that. If he took off through the woods, he might’ve left evidence behind. Besides, didn’t I tell you it’s important to document all of these
incidents?”
“The sheriff’s department is going to deem me a public nuisance.”
“Let ’em. They don’t seem to be doing their jobs—murder, arson, vandalism. Where does it stop?”
“It stops when people give up on investigating the Timberline Trio.”
He lifted the piece of wood on the ground with the toe of his boot and let it fall. “How does this person or people know you’re looking into the case? I’m thinking it has to do with your association with me.”
“My association with you? How do they know we’re not just old friends, or...?”
“Something more?” His blood stirred at the thought of something more with Scarlett.
“Probably because we found a dead body together and visited your grandmother together.”
“Maybe—” she twirled a strand of hair around her finger “—we should make people believe we’re not just together to investigate the Timberline Trio.”
He snapped his fingers. “Dinner tonight? In public?”
“That might do it. Of course,” she said, and looked up at him through her dark lashes, “we have to make it look like more than just a business meeting.”
He swallowed. “I can do that, but first let’s get the cops out here.”
Deputy Stevens came out to investigate and he and another deputy canvassed the woods but came up empty-handed.
They seemed to dismiss the connection to the Timberline Trio case and asked Scarlett a lot of questions about her known enemies—the hunters in the area, as she’d been known to sabotage their traps and protest expanded hunting areas.
When they left, she rolled her eyes at Jim. “Law enforcement in this town seems to think I deserve these attacks because of my stance against hunting. I don’t like hunters, but even I’ll admit they’re not violent types—against humans, anyway. We’ve exchanged words and heated arguments, but not one of them has ever attacked me.”
“Could be a first.”
“I’ve been too busy to protest much lately. Why would they turn violent on me now? No, this all started happening when I stepped in to help that reporter, Beth St. Regis, who was planning to do a segment on the Timberline Trio for her Cold Case Chronicles show.”
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