Westin Family Ties. Alice Sharpe

young his whole life. But what warmed him to Laura’s heart was that he made the time to visit Mrs. Priestly on a regular basis, and that couldn’t be easy coupled with the demands of running a successful restaurant.

      “I have a better idea,” he said. “I don’t know how much of our family dynamics you’ve gathered since you’ve worked for Grandma…”

      “I try to mind my own business,” she said.

      “Yeah, well, the truth is my father and Grandma’s own lawyer are doing their best to prove she’s incompetent so they can take over her affairs.”

      Laura had suspected as much. She’d picked up on several innuendos. She suspected Mrs. Priestly had, too.

      “I know Grandma is well over ninety and failing in many ways, but she seems perfectly lucid to me,” Robert continued. “Everything kind of hit the fan tonight when she got a good look at her investment portfolio. She accused Dad of mishandling her accounts. She went so far as to threaten an audit.” He raked a hand through his wet hair and sighed. “If she insists she saw a murderer, Dad and that shyster Gibbons will use it to argue her mind is slipping. And if they get power of attorney, they’ll call all the shots.”

      “But your mother and sister would never agree to that.”

      “Mom will do whatever Dad tells her to do. And Donna is great, but her husband has sunk all her assets in that string of auto-repair shops, and I hear things aren’t going well.”

      “Donna is over here all the time. She’s very sweet with your grandmother.”

      “Still, right now she has other things on her mind.” He took a deep breath and regarded Laura with anxious eyes. “I don’t think my grandmother is senile, do you?”

      She met his gaze. “No, I don’t.”

      “Good. You spend the most time with her, so if she was slipping—”

      “I haven’t noticed anything like that.”

      “Okay. Let’s go talk to her together. Maybe she saw a couple of kids having a fight. If she’s still sure she saw a murder, then we’ll call the authorities. How does that sound?”

      Laura nodded, relieved for his help. One way or another, Robert would take care of things now, which suited her fine. She wanted no one in an official capacity to look into the nonexistent past of Laura Green. She wasn’t ready for that yet. A few more weeks…

      They hurried upstairs, careful to make as little noise as possible.

      Thursday Afternoon

      CODY WESTIN had already decided this meeting with his detective in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, would be the last one. Two other times he’d come running from the family ranch in Wyoming when Smyth dug up leads. The first had been in March, soon after Cassie left him. That time had proven to be a false sighting. The next had been a couple of months ago, only they’d found the woman using Cassie’s identification and driving her car had actually stolen them. The theft hadn’t been reported, which left Cody wondering if Cassie was dead or alive. He knew Smyth had a new lead, but Cody wasn’t counting on a miracle, not anymore.

      “I have a name for you,” Smyth said. He was about Cody’s age, late thirties. While no one would ever look at Cody and peg him for anything but exactly what he was—a guy who spent a lot of time out in the weather riding horses, mending fences and herding cattle— Smyth had a street look that made him fit in just about anywhere. He was dressed as Cody was, in boots and jeans, but he sported a Giants baseball cap instead of a dusty brown Stetson.

      “I just received solid information that Cassie was seen at the home of a local woman four months ago,” Smyth said. “The lead was a little late coming because the woman who stole your wife’s things lied about when and where she stole them. Since the DA struck a deal with her, she swears the theft took place in Coeur d’Alene, so I looked harder at Cassie’s background. Turns out her older cousin graduated from a very small high school and one of the cousin’s closest friends married and settled here.”

      “You talked to Lisa about Cassie? She won’t answer any of my phone calls or emails.”

      “I didn’t talk to her. I snooped around behind her back. It’s what you pay me for. Anyway, the friend’s name is Emma Kruger, who employs a cleaning service. One of the women on the team that cleans the Kruger house swears she saw Cassie in a car with Emma Kruger. This is the address.”

      He slid a piece of paper across the table and Cody picked it up. This was his first time in Coeur d’Alene, so the street address meant nothing to him but the timing did. “So as of a few months ago, and well after the theft of her identity, Cassie was alive.”

      “It looks that way,” Smyth said. “We’ll know in a few minutes when we drive out there and talk to Emma Kruger and make sure this isn’t another red herring.”

      Cody pocketed the paper. “I’m going to handle this myself,” he said.

      “Are you sure?” Smyth didn’t sound too surprised.

      Cody nodded once as he took from his pocket a cashier’s check made out to the investigator. “This is the end of the line for me. If Cassie is alive and still avoiding me, then it’s time to call it quits. I need to put my energy back into our ranch. My father and brothers need me there. They’ve covered for me enough.”

      The detective took the check, looked at it and then folded it in thirds. “If you find her, what then?”

      “I just want to know what happened,” Cody said, but internally, he was enough of a man to wince. You know what happened, he told himself. You know why she left you.

      Wishing he was already back in Wyoming tending to business, he got to his feet and picked up his hat. He started to take out his wallet to pay for the late lunch, but Smyth held up a hand. “It’s on me. Good luck, Mr. Westin.”

      EMMA KRUGER TURNED OUT to live in a very large, very white lakeside home complete with its own pier, dockage and what appeared to be a sunning island accessible by a walkway. Cody glimpsed this from the road that curved around an inlet of the lake. The driveway itself emptied out in front of the house, where a black BMW was parked in front of a closed garage. At four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, the only sign of life was a gray-and-white cat stalking a bird on a patch of grass.

      He rang the bell and waited for a minute or so until he heard running footsteps and the door opened. A woman a few years younger than himself stood there panting. She wore black leggings and a purple racer back tank. A stretchy band circled her forehead and kept wispy strands of brown hair from getting in her eyes.

      “You caught me midworkout,” she said a little breathlessly. “What can I do for you?”

      Subtlety wasn’t in Cody’s nature. He took off his hat and produced what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “I’m trying to locate my wife. I was told you might be able to help me.”

      The woman looked puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Oh, wait, are you one of Nathan’s football coaches? Laci’s husband, maybe?”

      “No, Ma’am. My name is Cody. My wife is Cassie Westin. Cassandra. You were a good friend of Cassie’s cousin, Lisa Davis, back in high school. I have a photograph—”

      Her thin lips compressed. “I don’t know any of those people,” Emma said, and started to close the door.

      He caught it in one hand. “I don’t know what Cassie told you about me and I guess I don’t care. I am simply what you see here in front of you. A slightly burned-out cowboy who wants to wrap this thing up and go home to his dog and ranch where he belongs. Any help you can give me will be deeply appreciated.”

      Emma looked into his eyes, started to shake her head, then seemed to reconsider. She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. “I have a napping toddler inside, and I need to go pick Nathan up from football practice in about twenty minutes,” she said, as she