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with Dr. Livingston, my old psychiatrist, I was unflappable.
    “Bookstore signing, four public appearances of my choice, and I get daily, in person, updates on your investigation.”
    “Fine.”
    We shook hands on it, and he held my hand longer than I liked. “Partners.”
    “Whatever. Give me the rest. I have your job to do.”
    “You’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’ll set up the bookstore event.”
    I left with my file, ignoring the deputies who stared at me and the sinking feeling I’d regret this deal. Deanna stopped me for the picture I hadn’t taken with her and I obliged. By the time I got out of the office, I wanted to scream, or better yet, drink . It was easier with Gabriel here yesterday than it was to do this alone. I shoved the thought aside. I was never a codependent person before, and I wasn’t going to become one now.
    I walked around the town, getting a feel for its layout, clutching my file and clearing my head, as the cold wind bit at my exposed skin and made my nose run. I couldn’t let Fagan get to me or he’d have the upper hand.
    A large, stone courthouse marked the center of the community with a bell tower, and the several streets surrounding the courthouse had shops and doctors’ offices. Most of the hotel and restaurant chains were pushed to the outlying edges and small neighborhoods kept the distance between the old and the new areas. I got back to the B &B hours later. I was cold and tired, but ready to dive into the investigation. Martha poked her head out of the kitchen.
    “Did Sheriff Fagan keep you at the station talking? Pretty girl like you, I bet he did. He’s always had an eye for the ladies.” She put her hands on her hips and waved a wooden spoon at me. “You two would make an adorable couple.”
    I laughed as I entered the kitchen. “No. I went for a walk.”
    Martha looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my empty ring finger. “He’s single, you know.”
    “Imagine that.” I rubbed my arms, trying to warm up.
    “You must be frozen to the bone. Have a seat. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”
    “That’d be great, thank you. I’ll be right back.” I headed upstairs, used the washroom, and then, since I was there anyway, dropped the folder in my room and collected my notebook and pen. When I got back, I took a seat while Martha fluttered around the kitchen. “So you knew Mary Nelson? Did you know her well?”
    “As well as most I suppose. She was a sweet girl. A little quiet, but always obliging. She helped me out here sometimes during the summer seasons, especially after my own daughter died. Never late once. Very dependable.”
    “I’m so sorry—how did your daughter die?”
    “She got in with a bad crowd and overdosed at a party. Mary would never have done such a thing. Had Cindy stayed friends with her, she’d still be alive.” Martha shook her head, traces of wistfulness in her eyes.
    I gave her a minute, let her pour us each a mug of steaming cocoa, before gently asking, “Do you know who Mary’s friends were?”
    “Well, she always hung around that Nikki Obermiller girl. Never liked her much, but it wasn’t my business. And she dated Bryan Jenkins since they were in junior high. He took her death very hard. Hasn’t been the same since.”
    “Death is hard to overcome. Anyone else?”
    “She didn’t really talk about her social life while we worked. I suppose Nikki or Bryan would know more about her friendships than I do.” She pushed my untouched mug closer. “Drink up.”
    I took a sip. A scorching heat stung my lips and made me jerk back in pain. I lowered the cup and blew on it. “What do you think happened to Mary?”
    “I think she stopped to help someone. She was always so nice, too nice maybe.”
    I nodded. It was as possible as any other scenario.
    “What do you think happened?” she asked me.
    I tapped the pen on my notebook. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
    Martha squeezed my hand, her eyes watery.