Fatal Threat. Valerie Hansen

tearful pleas and enlist in the marines rather than stay in Paradise.

      So, what do I have to do to get him to see me as a responsible adult instead of a giggly teenage buddy? she wondered with a sigh. Sara stiffened her spine, raised her chin and made sure none of the on-duty firefighters were listening before she said, “Okay. Suppose somebody is mad enough at me to try to shoot me. Who? And why?”

      “Don’t ask me. Ask yourself,” Adam snapped back. “Start with why anybody would start a fire in Vicki’s apartment.”

      “I don’t have a clue. Really.”

      “How about that guy you recognized? You met him in Texas?”

      “Yes.” She swallowed hard, her mouth dry.

      “What happened there?”

      “Besides losing my best girlfriend in the whole world, you mean?” She noted his morphing expression, unsure whether it portrayed anger or loss or grief.

      Adam set his jaw. “Yes.”

      Sara decided he was struggling to control anger, which was actually a necessary step in the grieving process, so she tried not to hold it against him. At least he was staying civil toward her—for the present.

      “Vicki thought she’d found a problem with the records kept by the local overseer for the mission organization,” Sara said. “That was why she insisted on going back to the office trailer despite the storm. The Brazos River and its tributaries were already flooding and more rain was falling, but she’d stashed the proof back at the office.”

      He rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. She could have saved a copy on a thumb drive.”

      “Not without electricity and a working scanner to copy the original invoices. She—we—needed those paper copies. They had signatures on them. There was no way to prove who was involved in the corruption without them. Anybody she accused could easily have denied it.”

      “That’s what she gave her life for? A bunch of paperwork?” Running his fingers through his short, dark hair he began to pace. “And you didn’t stop her?”

      Sara was trembling, inside and out. She clenched her fingers together. “I tried. She wouldn’t listen. I told her the flood water was getting too high, moving too fast, but she was determined.”

      “You could have grabbed her, shaken some sense into her.”

      “I did!” Gulping back sobs Sara relived that terrible evening in a flash. “I was holding on to her slicker. It was wet. My hand slipped.” She inhaled shakily. “And then she was gone.”

      Watching Adam’s reaction, Sara realized he was accepting her story. When he said, “I’m sorry, but at least that explains a few things,” she arched an eyebrow and stared, waiting for him to go on.

      “I got texts from Vicki the evening she disappeared.” He plopped down on the wide rear bumper of his engine, leaned his elbows on his knees and bowed his head.

      “When?” Sara cautiously joined him.

      “Around six. It was already dark here so the sun would have been setting where you were, too. She told me you two were okay, then mentioned the mystery game we used to play when we were kids. The game where one of you pretended to be Holmes and the other one Watson.”

      “That’s it? That’s all?”

      “Pretty much,” Adam said with a sigh. “I texted back for details but she never replied.”

      Mirroring his pose, Sara nevertheless kept her distance. The chrome platform of the bumper was cold, even through heavy fire-protective clothing. “That must have been right before she put on her rain gear and headed outside.” An icy shiver zinged up her spine. Had the influence of Vicki’s discovery followed her all the way home to Missouri?

      “Maybe whoever was shooting at me thinks I can expose that crime. Vicki and I were always together. How would they know I can’t prove a thing?”

      Turning slightly to face her, Adam scowled. “The only way they would was if Vicki had told them so and they’d believed her. And that’s only plausible if she didn’t drown before...”

      Wide-eyed, Sara pivoted to stare back at him. “Before?”

      His jaw muscles worked as if he could barely make himself speak. “Before they had a chance to kill her.”

      “That is so not funny.”

      “It wasn’t meant to be.”

      “Vicki drowned accidentally. The coroner signed off on her death without question.”

      “Because he was sure or because he was buried in work? No pun intended.”

      “You were at her funeral. You saw her, same as I did. There wasn’t a mark on her.” Sara’s voice broke and she had to pause to recover. “She did something foolish and the flood took her. She wasn’t the only victim but she was the only one from our missionary group.”

      “Until today,” Adam reminded her.

      “Yes. Until Rodrigo.” The memory of the failed rescue would probably stick in her memory the rest of her life. As a nurse she had seen death, of course, but always in a hospital setting where she and her coworkers could work hard to stave off the inevitable. Acting as a volunteer EMT was harder. In the field she was reduced to guessing the severity of injuries and praying she was making the right diagnoses.

      Losing Vicki had shaken Sara’s faith to the point that she’d begun to question her effectiveness as a nurse and as a praying Christian. She’d sent up hours of fervent prayers for her cousin, yet Vicki was gone. If God had heard her and denied her request, as Scripture taught could happen, she wasn’t at all happy about it, let alone ready to accept it.

      And then there was the matter of poor Rodrigo. Why had he been inside the burning apartment? Why had he followed her home to Paradise? Vicki had seemed romantically attracted to him during their brief trip but they hadn’t had time to develop a real relationship. Or had they?

      Sara sighed quietly. Vicki was easy to like, easy to talk to. Men and women both warmed up to her immediately. Unlike me. She chanced a sidelong glance at Adam. He’d been the same way, always laughing and enjoying her cousin’s company a lot more than hers. The hardest test for Sara was when they had both bid him goodbye after his enlistment. Vicki had thrown her arms around his neck and even stolen a kiss, but when it had been Sara’s turn Adam had acted embarrassed and resisted. All in all, she had loved her cousin and envied her at the same time.

      Admitting that character flaw only added to Sara’s sense of personal guilt. If Adam was right and her cousin had been purposely drowned, perhaps it was time to redeem herself by trying to uncover the truth.

      But how? The only concrete tie to the missionary volunteers was Rodrigo. How was she ever going to learn how involved Vicki may have been with him? Her diary! Maybe she’d confided secrets in those pages. All Sara had to do was figure out a way to get a peek at the diary, assuming it had been sent home with her cousin’s other personal possessions instead of accidentally destroyed or kept by the Texas police. It would be wonderful to uncover a budding romance because it might indicate that Rigo’s visit to Paradise wasn’t made for nefarious reasons.

      Remembering Vicki’s recent funeral and the way Helen, Vicki’s mother, had wept and wailed and spread accusations of blame, Sara realized she’d almost rather be shot at again than have to approach that grieving woman and ask for a peek at Vicki’s journal.

      Another thought intruded, pulling her back to the elements that she was certain about. Her gaze met Adam’s. “Wait a second. Rodrigo was inside the burning apartment. We know he couldn’t have shot at us. So who did?”

      Adam’s incredulous expression made her feel foolish. When he huffed, rolled his eyes and said, “Took you long enough,” she realized he had already asked himself the same question, probably