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you squeamish? Because if you are—”
    “I most certainly am not.” Jane was quick to dispel the notion. “I am mother to six-year-old twin boys. I’ve seen every manner of cut, burn, scrape, and bruise in addition to several cases of broken fingers and toes.” Edwin looked unconvinced, and Jane felt her irritation growing. She had an inkling that she was being manipulated, but she was unable to extricate herself. “Fine. Let’s go.
After
I get my purse.”
    “Allow me.” He ran back to the gate, as nimble and fleet- footed as his horse, collected her bag, and returned it to her with an exaggerated flourish.
    Jane almost pointed out that he’d failed to pick up her change purse but decided that would be churlish. Someone would turn it in to Eloise who’d recognize it as Jane’s and return it to her later. “Thank you,” Jane said.
    If she’d expected Edwin to respond by apologizing for nearly knocking her over, she was to be disappointed. He walked away without speaking, and his stride was so swift that she had trouble keeping pace.
    “Jane! Good, good, good,” Doc Lydgate said when she entered his office. “Would you come on through?”
    Jane hesitated. She’d never seen a dead body, and despite her boast to Edwin, she was, just at that moment, feeling a little squeamish.
    She darted a sidelong look at Eloise’s brother, and he raised his brows as if to question her resolve. “Of course,” she told the doctor firmly. “Though I doubt I can identify her.”
    “You know everyone at the Hall and in the village by sight. If this woman was a guest at Storyton, I suspect you’ll recognize her.” Doc Lydgate led Jane into his examination room. He drew back the blue curtain obscuring a stainless steel table before Jane had a chance to prepare herself. Suddenly, she was staring down at a figure covered from feet to shoulders by a crisp, white sheet. Her first impression was that the woman was unnaturally still and had a face as pale as milk.
    This is what death looks like up close
, Jane thought.
    She took a step toward the table, inexplicably drawn to the lifeless stranger, and studied the blue tint of the woman’s lips, her high cheekbones, dimpled chin, and smooth brow. Then Jane’s gaze traveled over the length of honey blond hair, which cascaded off the side of the table and pooled onto the floor like a puddle of spun gold.
    “Rapunzel,” Jane whispered inaudibly and then turned to the doctor. “Was her hair hanging loose? I don’t remember seeing so much hair when she was on horseback.”
    “No,” Doc Lydgate replied. “It was fastened in a complex knot at the nape of her neck. I had to undo the arrangement in order to check her scalp for lacerations or signs of swelling. When I heard that she’d fallen from her horse, I assumed she’d been concussed.”
    Jane couldn’t tear her gaze away from the woman’s face. The delicate curve of her brows, the soft bow of her upper lip, her unblemished skin. “She’s certainly not from around here, and I doubt she’s a guest at the resort either. Look at her, Doc. A woman like this couldn’t walk through a room without being noticed by everyone. It’d be like ignoring a shooting star.” She thought for a moment. “What about the mare? Where’d she come from?”
    “She’s one of Sam’s,” Edwin said.
    The doc was clearly taken aback. “A horse from Hilltop Stables ran wild through the center of town? Why’d she leave the mountain path? What spooked her?”
    Edwin didn’t answer.
    Jane scrutinized him closely. “You were on horseback too. Did you rent that gray from Sam?” She then gestured at the woman without turning to look at her lovely, but lifeless, features again. “Someone might be waiting for this woman at Hilltop as we speak. Did you see her on the trail? Sam never lets strangers ride on their own. He always serves as a guide to people he doesn’t know.”
    “Sam doesn’t play nanny to me,” Edwin said blandly. “We