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Tallahassee. She distrusted the people around her, becoming suspicious of everyone from her co-workers to the police officers handling the case. Was her therapist in on it? Was the grocery clerk watching her? Were the police starting to suspect she was actually guilty? Were her friends really friends? The constant paranoia suffocated her.
    And then Aunt Maggie passed away. Unmarried and childless, her aunt had left her California bed and breakfast to Molly in her will. Molly knew her mother’s twin sister had always considered her the daughter she never had. She had fond childhood memories of spending summer vacations in Cranberry Cove with Aunt Maggie, who told stories of how the town had attempted to grow cranberries, but found it wasn't as successful as it was for towns farther north, in southern Oregon. The cranberry bogs were gone, but the name “Cranberry Cove” had stuck, which was a good move for tourism. A visitor could hardly turn in any direction without running into cranberry something-or-other.
    Although Molly hadn’t visited often as an adult, she’d always kept in touch with Aunt Maggie, first through hand-written letters and, later, through email. That had been something – convincing her elderly aunt to get a computer and email account!
    After the bank robbery, taking over the bed and breakfast was a chance for Molly to escape, to move three thousand miles away and start a new life. She packed her bags and left in the middle of the night, bought a one-way train ticket to safety. Occasionally she still glanced over her shoulder or jumped when the telephone rang. But the threatening notes never followed her, and the guests at the inn were always pleasant. She’d kept no contact with any co-workers in Florida. Sometimes she missed the life she’d had in Tallahassee, the comfort of a longtime routine. But she never missed the daily fear.

CHAPTER SIX
    Dan was stretched out on the bed in the Cottage Suite, flipping through a local travel magazine when Susie walked in. “All ads,” he criticized. “I don’t know why travelers even bother to read these things.”
    He tossed the magazine aside. “So, how did you do today? A decent haul?”
    “Not great.” Susie tossed her bags on the sofa in the sitting area. “Some pearl earrings, a lace camisole, a rhinestone bracelet and a scarf from the local artist co-op. And a sweater that I actually paid for. I like the scarf.”
    “Sorry, dear. Not the cream of the crop selection you’re used to.” He patted the bed, inviting her to join him. “Maybe you need a new hobby.”
    “Don’t start that ‘dear’ crap or get any ideas,” Susie snapped. “It’s bad enough I have to be affectionate to you inside the inn. Don’t push it.”
    “All part of the job, sweetheart.”
    “You heard me. Zip it.” Susie pulled the pearl earrings from her jacket pocket and tossed them on the table in front of the sofa. She dug the bracelet from the other pocket and the scarf from her oversized tote.
    “There’s a light out along the garden pathway,” Dan said.
    “Who cares?” Susie’s tone was disgusted. “It’s not like this is the Four Seasons.” She reached into a shopping bag and pulled out other items.
    “Ooh, let me see the camisole,” Dan said.
    “I told you, zip it.” Susie dropped her jacket on the sofa and headed to the bathroom, closing the door. She took off her baggy sweater, pulled the camisole off her slender torso and folded it neatly.
    “This town is beyond boring,” she shouted through the door. “Even the stores are a drag. I miss Miami and New York and Chicago and Boston.”
    “Tough luck, honey,” Dan said. “You’re stuck here for the time being.”
    Susie threw the bathroom door open and glared at Dan.
    “Listen, you low life. In the first place, I’m not your honey, sweetheart or dear. So lay off that crap when we’re not in public. And second of all, if you hadn’t decided to go after the reward money, I wouldn’t be