Within Range. Janice Kay Johnson

painkillers for Jacob, bath powder, floss and hair spray and gel. Stick deodorant, which he tossed into the suitcase along with the toothbrushes and toothpaste.

      A minute later, he carried the suitcase and plastic potty seat out to her living room, where he paused to pick up the thin, tattered blanket before going out to her now-empty car. He was taking advantage of unlocked doors to set everything on the back seat next to the boy’s car seat when Ms. Boyd came hurrying out of the neighbor’s house carrying her son.

      She told him she’d go to the Lookout Inn, a pricey place to stay, but without driving a distance she didn’t have a lot of choice. The bed-and-breakfast inns in town probably weren’t any cheaper, and wouldn’t afford as much privacy.

      “All right,” he said. “One more thing. Would you allow me to look in the trunk of your car without a warrant?”

      She recoiled. “You think I—Of course you can look.” Cheeks flushed, she handed over her car keys, then stayed where she was.

      The trunk was as tidy as the floorboards of her car and the house. He did lift the cover to be sure no bloody pipe lurked beneath with the spare tire and jack. Nope.

      After slamming the trunk lid, he gave her back the keys. “I may check on you later.”

      She looked less than happy at the idea, but dipped her head in apparent resignation and leaned into the car to fasten her drowsy son into his seat. A minute later, she drove off.

      Left standing on the sidewalk, Seth watched the car proceed cautiously down the street until it turned out of sight. He swore under his breath and rolled his shoulders.

      She left him unsettled. And he didn’t think it was just the uncomfortable fact that she was an attractive woman.

      After some thought, he decided part of the problem was that her responses had veered from the norm. Which led him back to where he’d started: Helen Boyd wasn’t telling him all she was thinking, by a long shot. But what was she hiding?

      * * *

      HELEN JUMPED SIX inches at the soft knock on the door of the hotel room even though she’d expected it. She had horribly mixed feelings about seeing Detective Renner again tonight. She wanted to know what he’d learned, of course. How could she make decisions otherwise? But he made her nervous; he watched her with those penetrating blue eyes until she felt as if he was reading her mind.

      He also wasn’t the only one who could find her here. She approached the door cautiously.

      “Who is it?”

      The detective’s voice both reassured her and didn’t. Like she had a choice about whether to let him in.

      He dominated the room from the moment he stepped into it. She couldn’t quite figure it out, since she had the feeling he was trying to be unassuming. Some of it was size; he certainly topped six feet, which made him a whole lot taller than she was. Broader, too, with impressive shoulders and a rangy, athletic build.

      As she backed away, she decided unhappily that the quality was innate. The strength of his control and purpose, his determination, were impossible to miss. She wondered if his police chief or whoever was his direct boss ever dared to give him an order.

      Of course, he started by assessing her with those sharp eyes before sweeping the room in search of...who knew? Enemies crouching behind the bed or peering from the closet? At last, his gaze settled on Jacob, sound asleep on one side of the queen-size bed. He looked so small in the big bed, so defenseless.

      In a low voice, the detective asked, “Will we wake him if we talk?”

      Helen shook her head, knowing her voice softened because of his concern. “An earthquake wouldn’t wake him once he’s really conked out. He’s a very early riser, though.”

      His laugh was quiet and a little gravelly. It sent a shiver of reaction over her skin. “I won’t keep you long.” He still eyed Jacob as she led him to the pair of small upholstered club chairs by the window. “He’s past needing a crib?”

      “Oh, yes. He was only fifteen months old the first time he climbed out of his crib.” She grimaced at the memory. “He fell, of course, screamed bloody murder—” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat. “That was a poor choice of words.”

      Another rumble of a laugh settled her nervousness a bit.

      “Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but we transitioned to a mattress on the floor pretty quick. Which turned me into the world’s lightest sleeper. Every night, I imagine him wandering around the house while I sleep, completely unaware.” Why was she babbling? “I may not get a good night’s sleep again until he leaves home for college.”

      His smile was a little crooked. “According to my mother, that’s no guarantee.”

      Helen gave a choked laugh. “Thank you for that thought.” She looked down at the table, clasped her hands together on her lap and struggled for calm before she lifted her chin again. “Have you found out anything?”

      “Nothing to explain her death yet, I’m sorry to say. I was able to talk to her husband. You were right. The car at the curb was hers.”

      “What about children?” That possibility bothered her terribly.

      “Two stepkids,” he said. “Thirteen and fifteen. Her husband is ten years older than Ms. Sloan. The kids weren’t home, so I can’t say how they’ll take her death.”

      With a huge lump in her throat, Helen only managed a nod.

      “None of the neighbors saw anything helpful, unfortunately. Most weren’t home until five thirty or later. Your Iris naps late every afternoon.”

      She closed her eyes momentarily. “I knew that.”

      He was silent until she looked at him again, when he said, “So now I have a problem.” All traces of humor or sympathy had vanished from his face. The shadow of his evening stubble only made him appear more threatening. “I have to understand the connection between you and Ms. Sloan. It wasn’t chance she was killed in your kitchen.”

      “I don’t know!” Helen cried. “I don’t have a relationship with the woman.”

      “After seeing the two of you, I might have guessed you were sisters,” he said slowly.

      “That’s ridiculous,” she protested, stiffening when she realized that hadn’t come out as forcefully as she’d hoped. “Even in a town this size, there must be a lot of women with dark hair and brown eyes. And...and about the same height.”

      “Close enough in age to be twins.” He sounded both thoughtful and inexorable. “And it’s more than coloring. You have similar bone structure, noses. Straight on, I wouldn’t mistake you for her, but at a quick glance...” Renner shrugged.

      Light-headed, Helen could feel the speed of her pulse in her throat. Dear Lord, she should have run. Before this man got too curious about her.

      “I don’t understand.” Her voice came out little more than a croak, but that was surely natural, given what he’d just suggested. “I’m a single mother. New in town. I haven’t been on a date since my divorce. The only man at work who ever asked me out just got engaged to someone else. I do my job, and the rest of the time Jacob is my whole life. How could I have an enemy?”

      “Ex-boyfriend. Ex-husband.” Seemingly relaxed, he never looked away.

      She could tell him. She could say, I think my ex-husband murdered Andrea, thinking she was me. But then what? Richard was sure to have an indisputable alibi—he’d have been in a meeting with someone like the Seattle city mayor or a congressman. Anyway, admitting to that much would mean revealing her real name—and Detective Renner would soon find a warrant for her arrest. If she’d killed a man in Seattle, why not a woman here in Lookout? Richard was smart enough not to have left so much as a fingerprint behind, she thought bitterly.

      Fingerprints.