by Johnny Diamond and his cronies. The man using the computer could be one of those cronies. There must be plenty of clean-cut, attractive drug dealers out there. She’d have to leave this town.
Then what? She had no place else to go. Maybe she should just turn herself in. Could she really be charged with murder if she had no memory of the act? If she had no memory of her life?
She hadn’t discovered much more about herself other than she knew Spanish. She’d come across a Spanish-language TV show and could understand every word they were saying. With her pale skin and light brown hair she didn’t look Latina, but she could be half or have spent time in a foreign country. The possibilities were endless.
Blowing out a breath, she did a hard shutdown of the computer, just in case it didn’t log her out, either. She didn’t need anyone snooping into her browsing history, and Mr. Clean-cut would probably be none too happy if he found out someone had been snooping into his.
Maybe he was just interested in the murder. He didn’t seem to recognize or have any interest in her.
She looped her purse across her body and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to run. She had some digging to do first.
Ten minutes later she was seated at the bar of Sutter’s, a local restaurant, flipping open a menu. She’d used the money from Diamond’s bag—the drug money—to buy a few clothes, a purse, and pay first month’s rent to Linda for the duplex. Once she got her life back, she’d return all the money she’d used to the police...anonymously.
The bartender tossed a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her. “Are you ordering dinner?”
“I’ll have the Sutter’s burger and a root beer.”
He took the menu from her and tapped it on the edge of the bar. “Caroline, right?”
“Good memory.” Unlike some people.
“Part of my job. I’m Bud.”
“I’ll take that menu, Bud.”
Caroline jerked her head to the side and almost slid off the bar stool.
The man from the library straddled his stool and took the menu from the bartender. He nodded at Caroline. “Were you able to get your work done on that computer? I think the library needs to upgrade.”
“I—I was just—” she zeroed in on the menu “—looking up restaurants.”
His green eyes flickered. “And you found this one.”
He must’ve heard Bud say her name. She twisted the napkin in her lap. “Oh, I’ve been here before. I was checking out a few other places.”
“Are you new to Timberline?”
“Sort of. My mother’s cousin lives here and invited me out.” She said a silent prayer for Linda Gunderson.
“Working at Evergreen Software like everyone else?”
Bud delivered her root beer with a wink, and she plunged her straw into the foam while he took the man’s order, giving her time to think.
If she refused to answer his questions, it might seem suspicious, but she didn’t want to tell him her life story—especially since she didn’t have one, outside of waking up with a dead Johnny Diamond on a hotel room floor.
And she didn’t want anyone to know that story.
He handed the menu to Bud and turned his rather sharp green eyes back to her. “Evergreen?”
“No. I’m working at my cousin’s shop right now.” She toyed with her straw. Two could play at this game. “I guess you’re not a local, either, since you mentioned the internet connection in your hotel going down.”
“That’s right.” He thanked Bud for his beer and took a sip through the foamy head. “I’m here doing some research for a book.”
She released the breath she’d been holding in one slow exhale from parted lips. “What kind of book?”
“Sort of a travel book that also touches on the history of the area and local legends and customs.” He held out his hand. “I’m Cole Pierson, by the way.”
“Caroline Johnson.” She wiped her fingers on her cocktail napkin and squeezed and released his hand quickly.
If Johnny Diamond was from this area, the book might explain why Cole was snooping around his social media. Maybe she could even get some info out of Cole about Diamond without arousing his suspicion.
The bartender delivered her food, and she hesitated.
Cole said, “Go ahead. You don’t need to wait for me.”
As she sawed her burger in half, Cole watched her with his head to one side. “Who’s your cousin?”
Biting her lip, she placed her knife across the edge of her plate. Did his research make him naturally nosy, or did he sense her secrets?
“Linda Gunderson. She owns—”
“Timberline Treasures.” His cell phone buzzed in his front shirt pocket, but he ignored it. “I heard about the store that Linda and her sister own. Maybe you can put in a good word for me so I can interview them.”
“Louise is out of town, but I’m sure Linda would be happy to talk to you about Timberline’s history, and you won’t need an introduction from me.”
“Is that a no?”
Bud placed a plate overflowing with mashed potatoes and several slices of meat loaf in front of Cole, and Cole whistled. “Looks good.”
Caroline took a big bite of her burger. Did he expect her to respond? He really didn’t need an introduction to Linda, since she loved talking about Timberline. Was he trying to extend their contact with each other?
Not that she minded, since he was a sweet piece of eye candy, but she had other priorities here.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So how about it? You’ll tell your cousin she can trust me?”
Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. Trust him? How had they jumped from exchanging a few words over dinner to trust?
“Trust you?” She gave a nervous giggle. “I barely know you. Like I said, you don’t need an introduction from me. Linda will talk to you about Timberline.”
He took another sip of beer and then picked up his knife and fork, holding them poised above his plate. “Do you know anything about Timberline? Did you visit your aunt much?”
“Cousin, and no. This is my first time out here.”
He raised his brows as he cut into his meat loaf. “What brings you out here now?”
“Fresh start.” She shrugged.
His glance shifted to her right cheek and the bruise she’d been masking with makeup. Or had she imagined that glance?
The man made her nervous. He asked too many questions. Everyone else had accepted her story without blinking an eye.
Time to deflect and go on the offensive.
“Is that what you were doing in the library? Research?”
“Looking into some local stories, local personalities.”
She pushed away her half-eaten burger. Was Johnny Diamond a Timberline local? Maybe they’d been headed here together? If so, nobody seemed to recognize her yet.
“Why this town? What’s so special about Timberline?” She needed an answer to that question herself. Why was the name of this town scribbled on a piece of paper and stuffed in her jacket pocket?
Cole cocked his head. “The Timberline Trio case for starters, and all the recent fall-out from that old case.”
She nodded. She’d heard the Timberline Trio case mentioned