Within Range. Janice Kay Johnson

lip. “She said something like, ‘I don’t have any appointments, and anything else can wait for tomorrow.’”

      A tomorrow that would never come for her.

      Seth asked for Ziegler’s number and address. The man was evidently retired as a vice president with a local bank. Seth called, found he was home and drove to a spectacular Tuscan-style mansion on a bluff above the river. Turning, he saw Mount Hood seemingly hovering almost near enough to touch, too. Hell of a view all around.

      Ziegler turned out to be a slim, silver-haired man who was well-preserved for the seventy-three years old the DMV records said he was.

      “I’m shocked,” he repeated several times. “Why would anyone want to hurt Andrea? She’s good at her job because people like her.”

      Once they were seated in an enormous living room with gleaming wood floors and a wall of windows looking out at the river, he spread his hands and said, “Tell me how I can help you.”

      Seth couldn’t decide how genuine that was, but explained that, at this point, he was trying to get to know the victim, in a manner of speaking. “Hobbies, friends, any problems in her life, of course.”

      “Problems? I really don’t think she had any. Well, maybe two.” Ziegler smiled wryly. “Both teenagers.”

      “The stepkids.”

      “Defiant fifteen-year-old boy, sulky thirteen-year-old girl.” He shrugged. “My sense is that she actually had an okay relationship with them. She’d laugh telling me about them. They’re just at difficult ages.”

      Fifteen-year-old boys had been known to kill before...but to follow a stepmother to a house where she wasn’t supposed to be, then take her down with a single, powerful blow? Seth didn’t believe it.

      “I’ve met her husband a few times,” Ziegler continued. “Nice guy. Did you know he’s in banking, too? Manages a branch here in town.”

      Seth did know that. It had crossed his mind that a real estate agent and a banker could be up to something questionable together, but again...why was Andrea at the rental? In fact, trespassing in it?

      “Andrea did have a certain reserve,” Ziegler commented. “I sometimes thought she had to work at being as outgoing as she appeared to her clients.” He frowned. “I do believe her warmth was genuine, and she and Russ had a connection those of us who’ve been divorced three times can only envy.”

      Seth left a card and asked the guy to call if he thought of anything that might be helpful in uncovering the reason she’d been targeted.

      If she was, he thought again, as he drove down the winding, paved lane from the house.

      Next on Seth’s agenda was to stop at the craft brewery where Andrea Sloan’s husband, Russell, had supposedly met two friends right after the bank closed at five o’clock. According to him, he’d left his car in the bank parking lot and walked to the brewery. Andrea had let him know not to expect her before six thirty or seven.

      When Seth asked if she had said why she’d be late, he’d answered dully, “She didn’t work conventional hours. Weekends, evenings...” He shrugged. “When somebody looking to buy is free, she made herself available. We didn’t eat dinner most nights until seven thirty or eight.”

      There wasn’t any chance Ziegler had intended to sell Helen’s rental, was there? Seth asked himself belatedly. That nobody had told her yet?

      Sitting outside the brewery, situated in a handsome old brick building in the oldest part of town, Seth called the man and asked.

      “No, as long as I can keep a tenant in it, a little house like that makes more money for me than I’d get from selling it.”

      “She hadn’t recommended you sell?”

      “She never said a word about it, and I didn’t, either.”

      Seth went into the brewery and asked to speak to the manager. A man with a billiard-ball bare and shiny head came out. Prematurely balding, Seth guessed, since the guy didn’t appear much older than he was.

      “Sure, I know Russ Sloan,” he said readily. “He’s one of a group of other professionals and downtown merchants who gather here often. He was in yesterday afternoon, in fact.”

      At Seth’s request, he reran security footage that showed Sloanwalking in with a second man at 5:11, both laughing, and leaving just before 6:30. Unless he’d hired a killer, that let him off the hook. Especially since finding a hit man wasn’t as easy as many people thought.

      Seth thanked him and went back out to his car.

      It would take a big slice of his day, but he wanted to talk to Ms. Boyd’s boss in person. He could grab some lunch on the way.

       Chapter Three

      Two days had passed since Andrea was murdered, and Helen sat on the edge of the bed watching Jacob fitting pieces into one of his simple puzzles. He’d been really good, considering his routine had been turned on end. She was the one on the verge of a breakdown. All her mind did was spin with thoughts and fears interspersed with pictures, starting with that single high-heeled shoe lying on her kitchen floor and ending up with Detective Renner’s narrowed eyes as he asked questions that told her he thought she might have killed Andrea.

      Mixed in were fleeting memories of the moment she realized she was pregnant. The surge of love when her newborn son was placed in her arms.

      To top it all off, both mornings when she’d gotten dressed, she was reminded that Detective Renner had handled all these clothes, including her underwear. Did he notice the practicality of everything she wore? Helen hated that thought.

      Having the phone ring was a welcome novelty.

      But who else? It was Detective Renner, letting her know she could return to her rental house. “I’ve taken the tape down,” he said tersely.

      She wanted to ask about the blood but didn’t. She could clean it up. She could. Living there with the constant awareness a woman had been killed in the kitchen, a woman who had likely died in her place...that was something else altogether.

      The weight of guilt clashed with the ever-burning determination to keep Jacob away from Richard. If he’d found her there instead of Andrea...he’d have Jacob right now. Her family might not even know for ages, and unless he was convicted of murder, they’d lose if they took her ex-husband to court to contest custody. Her whole reason for being was to keep her son safe, give him a chance to grow up knowing he was loved.

      “Thank you for letting me know,” she said politely.

      “I’d suggest having the locks changed and consider installing a security system.”

      No matter what she did, she wouldn’t feel safe in that house, but the reality was that she couldn’t afford to keep staying at a hotel. Conserving her money was especially important now.

      “Your landlord might agree to bear the cost,” the detective continued. “Especially since it was his employee killed in your place.”

      That gave her a tiny lift of hope. He was right. But no matter what, she’d pay to have the locks changed. Now, today, even if that cost extra.

      A security system would be reassuring if she intended to stay any length of time...but she didn’t. Of course, she couldn’t tell the detective she planned to disappear as soon as she could.

      “Yes, all right,” she said, realizing Renner was probably waiting for a response. “Do you know any more?”

      “I haven’t made an arrest, if that’s what you’re asking.” He spoke curtly, betraying frustration. “Which means I’d like to sit down with you again, Ms. Boyd.”

      Her throat constricted.