Field of Danger. Ramona Richards

      “You may know more than you realize.” Aunt Suke suddenly stood. “You need some snicker doodles.”

      “Cookies?” April asked weakly.

      Aunt Suke paused and looked at April steadily. “Trust me. It’s going to be the normal, everyday things that get you through this. Cookies. Tea. Friends. Family. What about your sisters?”

      “June’s not back from that conference in California yet. I haven’t called her because I know she’d want to come home early, and she doesn’t need to. She flies home next week.” April sighed. “I love my sister, but to be honest, I don’t know if I can handle June right now. She’ll want to take over everything. Tell me what to do and tell Ray how to run the investigation.”

      “You don’t think Ray could rein her in?”

      April shook her head. “They’re not close enough yet. He’d just irritate her.”

      “What about Lindsey?”

      April paused, not really wanting to cross into this territory and talk about her other sister. “Lindsey and I aren’t on good terms right now. We talk, but we’re not what you’d call close. Besides, she’s still at a culinary school in D.C.” April shook her head. “No. I don’t have many friends here in Caralinda. And I lost my closest friend today.”

      Raising an eyebrow, Aunt Suke reached out to clasp her hand. “Well, you found a new one, as well. Two, if you count Polly.” After one last squeeze to April’s hand, she stood.

      As Aunt Suke went to the cookie jar, Polly perked up, and April looked around the industrial-size kitchen. High-ceilinged and filled with dark woods and polished bronze appliances, it was a practical combination of old and new. She sighed. There was such a romantic nature about a house this old and historic. Levon had spent many an hour talking about the Stockards when April first moved to town, especially the house, which was one of the oldest in Caralinda.

      Levon had said…

      April pushed the thought away and brushed another tear from her eye.

      The plate of cinnamon-laced cookies added a pungent aroma to the air, and Aunt Suke tossed one to Polly, who caught it neatly with a powerful snap of her jaws. Aunt Suke sat, waving a hand at April. “Stop thinking about Levon and my house and eat a cookie.”

      April sighed. “How did you know?”

      Aunt Suke shrugged. “You’re going to have flashing thoughts about Levon for a long time to come. It’s natural. Part of grieving. Part of the questioning. As time goes by, you’ll want to think about anything but what happened in the field. Your mind will wander, especially to those normal things.” She smiled. “As to the house…happens every time someone sees inside for the first time. When this is over, I’ll give you a tour.”

      “I’d like that. I love old homes. I was raised in one. But you’re right, the tour should wait until later, when my mind is clear again.” April focused on her tea again. “I can’t believe Levon is dead. He was a good friend. It just doesn’t seem real.”

      “Which is why you’re not grieving for him yet. You will. It’ll be real all too soon.”

      The doorbell stopped April’s reply, sending a long series of melodic gongs echoing through the house. Polly stood with a soft woof and bounded out of the kitchen. April flinched, almost involuntarily, and the two women looked at each other a moment.

      Then Aunt Suke straightened an already stiffened spine. “Probably just the sheriff. That turkey buzzard murderer may be determined, but even he would have better sense than to just ring my doorbell.”

      Both stood and April followed Aunt Suke from the kitchen through the connecting rooms, down a hallway to the front of the house and into a long, elegant entrance foyer. Polly waited at the door as Aunt Suke looked through the peephole then unlocked and opened the massive oaken door to her home.

      Daniel Rivers stepped inside without invitation, immediately spotting April. At the sight of the devastation on his face, Levon’s death abruptly became real.

      She took one step toward Daniel, then burst into tears.

      THREE

      Anger drained away from Daniel as he closed his arms around April’s shoulders. His shoulders dropped as he held her, whispering into her hair. “I’m sorry. I know you loved him, too.”

      April pushed back and looked up at him, a tinge of red returning to her skin, brighter because the rest of her face remained so pale. She nodded and stepped away from him, looking away, her gaze suddenly distant. “Like a father.”

      Aunt Suke tugged at his arm, and Daniel looked down at her.

      “Does Ray know you’re here? He’ll have your skin on his wall if he doesn’t.”

      Daniel heard the truth in her words and looked down at April again, wishing she’d let him hold her, comfort her. Comfort each other. But April would not look at him, even though tears still streaked her face.

      He focused on Aunt Suke. Her white hair spread out over her shoulders like a wide fan, and her blue eyes flared with the fire of a mother bear protecting her cub. “You shouldn’t be here, Daniel. You can’t make me believe Ray wants you working on this.”

      A spear of annoyance shot through Daniel, but she was right. Daniel had spent more than twenty years trying to figure out how Aunt Suke knew everything about everybody in town. Then, about ten years ago, he’d given up and accepted it as a fact of life in Caralinda.

      Ray would have a fit if he knew Daniel had stopped at Aunt Suke’s. Ray’s strict instructions to stay away from the case and the scene had sound reasoning behind them. Not only would Daniel have no objectivity about the murder, but his involvement would be a perfect target for a defense attorney. Ray had told him to go home and start making calls to his family.

      Except that he couldn’t. He had to do something, and he knew that he could interrogate April with an experience almost everyone on the force except Ray lacked. Only, he hadn’t exactly gotten off to a professional start. He should be asking questions. Instead, he wanted to hold her close and make the pain go away.

      Daniel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to shove down the grief roiling inside. Letting the breath out slowly, he slid his hat off his head and ran one hand through his black hair.

      “Sorry, Aunt Suke.” He looked at the woman standing behind her. “My apologies, April. It’s just that…well, Dad, he…” He stopped, trying to gather thoughts scattered to the winds by grief. “I knew you were here and that you saw…”

      As his voice trailed off, Aunt Suke softened and reached for his arm. Polly, sensing the change in mood, relaxed and slowly wagged her tail. “Well, you’re here now. Get out of the door and stop letting all my cold air out. Sit down in the front parlor and get yourself together.” With small, affectionate prods, she ushered them all into the only room in a fifty-mile radius that could legitimately be called a “front parlor” and opened thick damask drapes to let in the bright sun.

      Obviously a room for entertaining ladies, the elegant, spotless parlor had tall windows, a tasteful selection of Queen Anne furnishings and a soft, Oriental rug over a polished hardwood floor. The graceful, feminine room made Daniel a little nervous, and he immediately checked his shoes to see if he’d tracked anything in.

      Aunt Suke caught the move, smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Today is not a day to worry about a little dirt. Sit.”

      He did, on a sofa that looked too fragile to hold his weight. But it felt solid beneath him, and he relaxed a little, watching as April perched uneasily on a small chair on the other side of a low coffee table, her tall, slender frame making the slightest of depressions on the cushion. She was avoiding eye contact. Was she embarrassed at the way she’d cried on his shoulder? He hoped not. He was glad that she’d felt she could turn to him for comfort. The only part that