chorus frog and this particular toy is unique to Timberline.”
The little girl’s eyes widened as she tugged on her mom’s sleeve. “Mom, can I have it?”
“Okay.” She rolled her eyes at her husband, who shrugged.
Caroline brought the stuffed frog to the counter and winked at Linda. Linda rang up the family’s purchases and when they left the store, she patted Caroline on the back. “You’re a born salesperson.”
Scooping the trinkets from the box, Caroline said, “I want to do my best to repay you for your kindness, Linda.”
“When that haunted, hunted look leaves your eyes that will be repayment enough for me. It took my sister, Louise, years to recover from the abuse dished out by her boyfriend. When you told me your story of domestic violence and I saw that bruise under your eye—” she patted Caroline’s hand “—I knew I had to help you.”
Caroline blinked back tears as a pang of guilt twisted in her belly. She’d told Linda Gunderson a little lie to explain why she had no ID and why she was using a fake name, Caroline Johnson. She didn’t want her abusive ex tracking her down.
Linda had gone above and beyond by introducing Caroline as her cousin’s daughter, who’d moved out West for a fresh start. Linda extended her kindness even further by offering her the duplex next to her own, which she and her sister owned, and giving her a job at her shop so she could start earning some money with very few questions asked by the others in this small town.
But that haunted, hunted look in her eyes? That wouldn’t go away until she knew her identity and what had happened at the Stardust Motel.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Linda.”
“I needed help in the store, anyway, with Louise off on her cruise for a month.” Linda sniffled and dabbed her nose. Then she shoved a handful of magnets at her. “Can you stock these and the pencils before you leave?”
“Of course.” Caroline gathered the items and deposited them in their proper places around the store. When she was done, she took the empty box from the counter and left it by the back door of the storage room.
She lifted her black leather jacket and her new purse from the hook and returned to the store, where Linda was helping someone select a sweatshirt. Caroline waved on her way out.
If she hurried, she could make it to the library before it closed. She’d just scratched the surface of Johnny Diamond—enough to discover his talents for all forms of criminality, but not enough to find out about his personal life or any women in it. Had she been one of those women?
Once outside, she glanced at the moody sky, threatening rain, and then hurried across the street toward the civic center at the end of the block that boasted the sheriff’s station, city hall and a cozy library.
She pushed through the glass doors and rounded the corner to the reference section. Two of the three public computers were occupied, but the third glowed in welcome and she strode toward it.
She was two steps away from pulling out the chair when a man slipped in front of her and plopped into it.
“Excuse me.” She put her hands on her hips and hovered over his very broad shoulder. “I was just about to use this computer.”
The man cranked his head over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows over a pair of greenish eyes. “I’m sorry. I was already seated here, but the log-in I got from the reference librarian didn’t work and I went back for another.”
“Oh.” Caroline shifted her gaze to the pad of paper on the table next to the computer, which had been there before he grabbed the chair from under her nose. “I guess I’ll wait.”
“I really am sorry. I won’t be long. The internet went out at my hotel. Otherwise, I’d be there on my laptop.”
She waved her hand. “That’s okay. Maybe one of the others will free up.”
He turned his head to the side to take in the other two users, and his lips twisted into a smile. “Looks like they’re here for the duration. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I’ll be over by the magazines. Don’t let anyone sneak in ahead of me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Thanks.” She pivoted toward a collection of love seats scattered in front of the magazine rack. He must have thought she was a real pain—or worse, that she’d been trying to come on to him. Attractive man like that probably had women making up all kinds of excuses to get close to him and exchange a few words.
She snatched a celebrity magazine encased in plastic from the rack and sat on the edge of one of the love seats, facing the computers.
True to his word, about five minutes later, the man stood up from the computer and stretched. He tapped on the keyboard and tucked his notebook under his arm.
She jumped to her feet. On her way back to the computer tables, she replaced the magazine. “That was fast.”
“It’s all yours. Have a nice evening.”
“You, too.” She settled in the chair, warm from his presence. She still had a password from the previous time she’d used the computers here, so she clicked a few keys and swore. The computer was locked and asking her for a password. The guy hadn’t logged off.
She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair and tromped off to find the reference librarian.
The librarian looked up from her own computer behind the reference desk. “Can I help you?”
“I’m trying to use computer number one, but the person before me didn’t log off and now I’m being prompted for a password that I don’t have.”
“That keeps happening. He probably did log off, but we’ve been having issues with that computer. If you don’t mind, you can access with the same user log-in so we don’t have to shut it down and restart it. The password is timberline4, the number, not the word. And it’s all lowercase with no spaces.”
“Thanks.” Caroline returned to the computer and entered the password. As the computer digested her entry, she scooted her chair closer. She’d do another search on Johnny Diamond and try to dig a little deeper this time—beyond the article about his murder.
The computer monitor woke up, and she didn’t even have to launch the search engine since the previous user hadn’t closed out, thinking he’d logged off.
As the window filled the screen, an icy fear gripped her heart. She didn’t have to search for Johnny Diamond—the man sitting here before had already done so.
With her hands shaking and her belly in knots, Caroline scrolled through the display. Specifically, the man before her had done a search of Diamond’s social media sites.
Did drug dealers really post pictures of their meals and funny cat videos? She clicked on the same links he’d accessed, but found nothing. No wonder he hadn’t spent much time at the computer. Diamond didn’t seem to have a social media footprint.
But why was that guy even checking? What was Diamond to him? She slumped in her chair and closed her eyes. He didn’t look like an associate or fellow drug dealer. Too clean-cut for that, but what did she know?
Too clean-cut. She gripped the arms of the chair. A cop?
She forced herself to breathe. There was no way the cops could’ve traced her here. She’d hitched different rides to get to Timberline, avoiding bus stations and cameras.
Her fingers dug into the fabric on the arms of the chair. Unless the cops knew something about Diamond’s destination. Her search of his background hadn’t turned up anything on Timberline, so what connection could he have to this