Cold Case Connection. Dana Mentink

other man shook hands, as well. “Justin Dover.” His blond brows drew together. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard... I mean... I can’t actually believe it, but...”

      “I can,” Gavin said. His dark eyes were shadowed with fatigue, she noticed. “The whole high school thing is rearing its ugly head again.”

      Justin groaned. “Will it ever be over?”

      “Not until Trish O’Brian’s killer is caught,” Sergio said.

      Both men stiffened. Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what your interest is in all this, but we were both cleared of that crime.”

      “My interest?” Sergio said. “Easy. It seems that whoever killed Trish O’Brian might have also murdered my sister, Fiona Ross. I’m here to find out the truth about that.”

      “You’re Fiona’s brother?” Gavin’s mouth pinched into a tight line. “I saw you around in high school a few times, but I don’t think we ever formally met. You graduated a couple years ahead of us. I was so sorry to hear about Fiona’s death, we both were, but listen to me. I believe to this day that there was someone else in those tunnels that night who killed Trish.”

      “And you had nothing to do with it?” Sergio’s question reeked of disbelief.

      “My whole life stalled after what happened,” Gavin snarled, “but now I’m finally restarting it. I’ve got a wife and a baby on the way and my ranch is edging into the black. Remember that when you’re stirring the pot around here. People’s reputations are on the line.”

      “Only the guilty will pay,” Sergio said. “I promise.”

      Justin sighed. “The police found us innocent.”

      Helen searched Farraday’s face but saw no reaction there.

      “Not being charged with a crime doesn’t necessarily mean someone’s innocent,” Sergio said.

      Gavin’s hands tightened into fists.

      Justin shook his head and sighed. “There will always be people in this town who think we killed her.” He looked at Helen, his gray eyes troubled. “You remember what that felt like when the cops were looking at you?”

      Helen gulped. She did. If she and Fiona hadn’t gotten lost and exited a tunnel completely on the other side of the forest, they would have been, and briefly were, suspects too.

      “I’ll help in any way I can.” Justin shot a look at Gavin who nodded grudgingly. “We’ll both cooperate fully. Fiona was our friend too and if her murder is linked to Trish’s we want to help you sort that out, but just be careful, okay? We shouldn’t have to pay all over again for something we didn’t do.”

      When Sergio didn’t answer, Helen nodded. “The next session is starting in the conference room.”

      Gavin and Justin headed away.

      Farraday rolled one shoulder as if he felt a pain there. “Good reminder. Don’t mess up people’s lives trying to play at being detectives.”

      “Do I look like I’m playing?” Sergio spoke softly, but his words were knife edged.

      Farraday turned abruptly and strode away. Helen watched him pass by a woman with a pixie cut of flame-colored hair. She was bundled in a leather coat, striding toward the conference room. Her cheeks were heavily freckled.

      That red hair. Those freckles. They struck Helen in such a familiar way that she did a double take, but the woman had passed by without acknowledging her. A stranger. She must be.

      “What?” Sergio said, noting her interest.

      “Oh, nothing. Someone I thought I knew.”

      Forget the past, Helen. You’ve got a job to do right now. With Liam’s wife Maggie, her new cook, away for her honeymoon, she needed to check in with Tiny, the man she’d borrowed from the local Chuckwagon Restaurant to fill in. There were ingredient spreadsheets to go over, employee schedules to finalize. Part of her longed for the steadying element of neat columns and tidy sums.

      “I’ve got to go,” she told Sergio. Though she had the feeling he wanted to talk to her about Gavin and Justin, it would have to wait.

      Put him off like you did to Fiona? Guilt stabbed through her but when she looked around to catch Sergio, he’d already left.

      It wasn’t until well after eleven that evening that Helen trudged up the stairs to her room, her private oasis. It was the only place she could escape the demands of the lodge. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was temporarily satisfied.

      Tiny had done a stellar job preparing vats of cowboy chili, his famous corn bread and pans of peach cobbler which satisfied the convention goers and the regular patrons alike. The combination of Tiny’s cooking talent and her behind-the-scenes planning had paid off. Each step sapped her energy further. Tired as she was, she could not stop the thoughts from flailing around in her head about Fiona’s and Trish’s untimely deaths. Not just deaths, murders. Farraday thought she and Sergio were playing detective games, but there was nothing trivial about the stakes.

      The capture of Trish’s murderer.

      Unmasking Fiona’s killer.

      And the reputations of two men who had already had their lives ripped apart. Justin’s words echoed in her mind.

       We shouldn’t have to pay all over again for something we didn’t do.

      She used her key, pushing the heavy wood door ajar, waiting for the exuberant greeting from Jingles. Mitch had taken him to the vet to have his sutures checked and was to have secured the dog in her room while she completed her evening rounds.

      The dog did not come.

      “Jingles?” she called, reaching for the light switch. She flicked it twice with no results. A power outage? Not unheard of since the main building hadn’t been remodeled like the more modernized cabins. The biggest improvement had been installing key card readers on the lobby doors which gave her more comfort about lodge security. That modernization hadn’t been applied to her own room. The Best for the Guests, was her motto. Perhaps Mitch had kept Jingles on the ranch for some reason.

      She was reaching for her phone to activate the flashlight when something moved in the darkness, something that was not canine, but human.