Pine Lake. Amanda Stevens

Yes, as far as I know.”

      “Bad news, that boy. Comes from a long line of bad news.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “Look, here, you two. I need you to keep quiet about this, at least until we can notify next of kin. And I’d like the chance to speak with Waller before he tries to skip town.”

      Olive glanced from Tommy to Jack. “You don’t think her death was an accident, do you?”

      “That’s safe to assume,” Tommy said. “We’ll know more after the autopsy, but the first thing we have to do is get her out of the water. You don’t need to be here for that. I’ll have Hank run you home while we wait for the coroner.”

      “I can take her,” Jack said.

      Tommy didn’t look too pleased by the offer. “In your boat? How’s that going to work? Olive lives in town, last I heard.”

      “We’ll go to my uncle’s cabin and get my car. Seems to me you’ll need all your manpower here, Sheriff.”

      Tommy scowled down at her. “You okay with that arrangement, Olive?”

      She resisted the urge to inform him that she’d much rather be alone with Jack King than any of the other men present. Instead, she nodded and turned to Jack. “Thanks.”

      “No problem.”

      Tommy was still frowning. “I’ll need to see each of you in my office first thing in the morning. And remember what I said about keeping this quiet.”

      Jack took Olive’s arm and helped her navigate the slippery bank. Once they’d cast off, she averted her gaze from the spot where he’d taken Tommy to view the body. But she couldn’t help glancing back at the bridge. She let her gaze travel up the iron braces to the very top of the truss. If Jack hadn’t spotted her...if he hadn’t climbed up there beside her...

      Something came to Olive as the bridge receded in the distance. Now she understood why Jack had asked her if she’d heard a loud noise or a car engine.

      In all likelihood, she’d been asleep on that beam when Jamie Butaud’s killer had thrown her body off the bridge.

      * * *

      A LITTLE WHILE later Jack pulled his car into Olive’s driveway and parked. She’d been very quiet on the ride into town, staring out the window until she needed to give him directions to her house.

      “Are you okay?” he asked.

      “Yes, just lost in thought.” Her voice had taken on a raspy edge, either from nerves or the night air.

      Jack cut the engine and the headlights went out, but the street lamp on the corner cast a hazy glow inside the car. Her skin looked pale in that light, but her face was alive with color—the copper of her freckles and the bright blue of her eyes framed by the deep russet of her hair. She peered at him so steadily he had to shift his gaze to the window, instinctively taking stock of their surroundings.

      She lived on a quiet street in the oldest part of town. The houses on her block were small with wide front porches and tidy fenced yards. Jack had grown up only a few blocks over in a sturdy old Craftsman that his mother had loved. It had pained her to leave the house of her dreams, but after everything that had happened to their family, Pine Lake no longer seemed like home.

      “What an awful homecoming you’ve had,” Olive murmured, echoing his thoughts. “This night must bring back a lot of bad memories for you.”

      “This town is nothing but a bad memory.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, scanning the street behind them.

      “If you really feel that way, why did you come back?”

      “My uncle’s estate has some loose ends that can’t be tied up over the phone or in an email.”

      “Oh, of course. I was so sorry to hear about his passing. He was a nice man. I always enjoyed his stories.” Her regret sounded deep and genuine.

      Jack turned in surprise. “His stories?”

      “He took classes at the community college where I sometimes teach at night. He was one of my favorite students.”

      Jack stared at her in astonishment. “Leon went to night school? I never knew him to be interested in anything but fishing.”

      “Then it may surprise you to learn that your uncle was a very gifted writer.”

      He cast her a doubtful glance. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Leon King?”

      She smiled. “Yes, same man. He always spoke highly of you. He was very proud of the way you’d turned things around after everything you went through.” She paused thoughtfully. “For the record, I never believed you did it.”

      “Why?”

      His blunt challenge seemed to catch her off guard, but she recovered quickly. “Because of the way you would look at Anna. Anyone could see you were crazy about her. And why wouldn’t you be? She was a beautiful girl, inside and out.”

      “She was,” he said quietly.

      “And because it wasn’t in you. You weren’t capable of hurting anyone. I doubt you are now unless someone backs you into a corner.”

      “You deduced all that in the space of one car ride?”

      “I deduced all that a long time ago. You’re a good guy. Just like your uncle. Why else would you have climbed to the top of that bridge to rescue me?”

      Her conviction caught him off guard. When Jack had decided to come back to Pine Lake, he’d braced himself for the whispers and gossip. The lingering suspicions. But he hadn’t prepared himself for Olive Belmont.

      “I’ve been away from here for a long time,” he said. “I may not be the man you think I am.”

      “I may not be the woman you think I am,” she countered. “If you think about me at all,” she added sheepishly.

      “Hard to forget someone you meet on top of a bridge.”

      He saw a shiver go through her as she turned to stare out the windshield. She looked very enticing with her hair all mussed and her lips slightly parted. Another time, another place and Jack might have responded to the subtle invitation in her smile. But a hookup was the last thing he needed, particularly with Nathan Bolt’s cousin. He’d come to town to poke a hornet’s nest. Depending on what he found, things could get ugly. Sides might have to be chosen. After all was said and done, he’d return to Houston while Olive would still have to live here. Jack knew only too well what it was like to be a pariah in Pine Lake.

      She gave him another tentative smile and he tamped down the urge to tuck back her hair as he studied her face in the dim light.

      “I know now why you told the sheriff I had just arrived at the lake,” she said. “I figured it out in the boat. You think I was on top of the bridge when the killer dumped Jamie’s body in the water.”

      “Seems a safe bet. It couldn’t have taken more than five minutes for me to get to the bridge after I first heard a splash and you were already up there.”

      “So you wanted to place me on the road rather than the bridge.”

      He shifted his position, turning toward her as he relaxed his arm across the back of her seat. “I heard that splash and then a few minutes later, a car engine. The vehicle drove away on the other side of the lake. Even if you really had been on the road at the same time the body was dumped from the bridge, you wouldn’t have seen anything.”

      She gave him an anxious look. “That explains why you asked if I’d heard a car engine. But I told you before—I never remember anything when I sleepwalk.”

      “Jamie’s killer wouldn’t know that, though. He or she might not want to take the chance that something would eventually come back to you.”

      That gave her pause. She