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time is the sheriff supposed to get here?”
    Sheriff? Elizabeth groaned. “Not another setup!”
    Sunny glared. “After the way you treated the last man we introduced you to? Not in this lifetime, babe. We learned our lesson.”
    “Introduced me to?” That wasn’t what had happened, but why try to debate the issue? To be fair, there had been just the one time, when they had invited Ian’s manager as Elizabeth’s dinner date. “You were matchmaking, and he didn’t appreciate it any more than I did.”
    Sunny pouted. “You both made that clear, which is why I’ve given up my quest for finding you Mr. Right.”
    “We care about you, Elizabeth. We just want to see you as happy with someone as Sunny and I are. We didn’t mean to meddle.”
    Chagrined, she apologized. “I overreacted when you said the sheriff was coming. I just figured—”
    Sunny snorted. “In any event, I wouldn’t try to set you up with Wilson Drake. He’s hardly your type, Liz.”
    Elizabeth bit back a “why not?” and stayed quiet. She didn’t have to ask. Wilson Drake wouldn’t be interested in chubby, dowdy Elizabeth Stevens, no matter how much he flirted with her. He flirted with any woman, even those double his age. So why did Sunny’s remark rankle?
    “He wants to talk to me about Cat Hodges, not that I’m much help. Kris knew her best, I think.”
    “He interviewed me this afternoon. I get the impression he’s desperate for any clues.”
    “Yeah, and I doubt they’ll catch whoever did it.”
    Ian frowned at Sunny. “Why do you say that?”
    “Because crimes against women are never given the focus and attention of crimes against men. It’s just sexism at work.”
    “You’re always singing that song, and it’s not true.” Ian grabbed another slice of the garlic bread. “This sheriff may surprise you.”
    “Maybe. Frankly, I hope he does catch the guy. Who’s to say he won’t strike again?”
    Sunny’s words burned into Elizabeth’s mind. She feared that he
would strike
again, and next time
she
could be the victim.
    While Ian and Sunny chatted about what movies to order from Netflix, Elizabeth rushed to finish her pasta. She pushed aside her wine to keep a clear head. Her nerves atwitter at the mere thought of Wilson Drake, she
so
didn’t want a third encounter with the sheriff today. Nor did she relish driving home alone after dark.

    Wil had to turn on his headlights by the time he turned off County Road 471 and idled through the entrance to Drake Oaks, the family homestead. His grandparents had bequeathed the estate to his dad, who now lived in the main house alone except for the visiting nurses. Wil had chosen to live at Drake Oaks but in a bungalow on the river. Once his parents’ starter home, it was the type of house a realtor would advertise as a handyman’s special. Wil aptly referred to it as either Work Haven or Money Pit.
    His interview with Sunny Davis hadn’t taken long since she corroborated what he’d heard from Kris Knight and Elizabeth Stevens. Of the three friends, Sunny claimed to be closest to Elizabeth. He wondered a bit about their friendship, since they didn’t seem to have a lot in common. Maybe it was her Northern accent or her heavy-handed makeup, but Sunny seemed too pretentious.
    She lacked Elizabeth’s down-to-earth naturalness.
    Pulling to a stop outside his father’s house, he hesitated, fatigue settling in bone-deep. Usually, he looked forward to checking on his dad before heading home. How strange to think of his sixty-five-year-old father as an old man when he was almost twenty years younger than Gabe Reesor. But Gabe hadn’t suffered a crippling stroke. Maybe Wil was exhausted, but he wasn’t too tired to give his dad a few minutes of his time.
    He climbed out of the Jeep, then headed up the steps to the front porch. A matching second-story porch had been screened in above it, enabling folks to enjoy the view of the river without gnats and those annoying love bugs.