Mountain Sheriff. B.J. Daniels

      She took a breath and tried to calm herself. There was no one out there. It had just been a trick of moonlight and shadows. Hadn’t her life always been full of shadows? But not for much longer.

      So close to finally getting everything she wanted, she felt nervous, jittery, excited and maybe a little spooked. Spooked because something could go wrong.

      But she knew that was just her aunt Harriet talking. After all those years with the pessimistic old woman, Nina could hear Harriet in her head. The voice of negativity. The voice of defeat.

      She pushed all thoughts of Harriet away as she looked out the window again and saw nothing but the movement of trees and ferns in the faint moonlight.

      Glancing at her watch, with its glowing dial, Nina saw that she had at least another hour to wait. She wanted to try to finish this duck decoy, hating to admit that over the past month, she’d come to enjoy the painting.

      It required an exactness that appealed to her. She’d found she had a talent for it that surprised—and pleased—her.

      From behind her, she heard a soft click. The sound of the door, on the other side of the building, opening?

      She turned slowly. A single small bulb illuminated the employee entrance, casting the dark images of hundreds of ducks over her. Mallard and canvasback, pintail and greenwing, buffalohead and widgeon decoys filled the shelves from the floor to ceiling.

      From where she stood, she couldn’t see past the shelves covered with ducks. Had she imagined the sound, just as she’d imagined the face at the window?

      “Sure, that’s all it was,” she could hear Aunt Harriet sneer. “Fool.”

      Something moved across the light on the other side of the building. A flicker of dark shadow followed by the soft scuff of a shoe on concrete. The scent of damp night air cut through the sweeter scent of freshly carved pine. She heard another click. The door closing?

      It was too early. Unless there’d been a change in plans. But then, wouldn’t she have gotten a call? After all, tonight was supposed to be the last time they would meet. Once she had the money…

      She glanced up at Wade Dennison’s second-story glassed-in office, half expecting to see the owner of the plant watching her as he so often did. But the office was dark, just as she knew it would be, and there was no one behind the glass.

      Another soft scuff of a shoe, closer this time. She told herself it had to be one of the employees. No one else had a key to get in. Unless in her excitement she’d forgotten to lock the door.

      Her heart lodged in her throat as she frantically tried to remember locking the door.

      Maybe meeting here hadn’t been such a good idea. But usually she had the place to herself, preferring to work at night. Her co-workers thought she worked late to impress the boss and resented her for it—as if she cared. But that was why meeting here had seemed ideal. No one ever came around at night and she didn’t have to worry about her nosy old landlady eavesdropping.

      “Who’s there?” she called out, expecting an answer.

      Silence.

      She hadn’t been afraid, hadn’t had any reason to be afraid. Until now.

      She heard Aunt Harriet snickering inside her head. “Told you this scheme would get you killed.”

      Nina hadn’t considered how vulnerable she was, alone here in the plant. Dennison Ducks was ten miles from town and a good two miles from the nearest house, which was Wade Dennison’s.

      Another soft scuff of a shoe on the concrete. This one much closer. Her pulse jumped. Who was in the building with her? Someone who’d seen her car in the parking lot, known she was in here alone, maybe even knew exactly where she was in the building? Or one of the people she’d been expecting, only earlier? Either of them would have answered her. So who was in the building with her?

      She could feel a presence on the other side of the row of ducks, someone moving slowly, purposefully, between the shelves toward her.

      Panic filled her. She grabbed the duck off the table, smearing the wet paint. She could make a run for it around the opposite end of the shelves, dash for the door, but she knew it would be too easy for the person to cut her off before she got out—even if he didn’t have a weapon.

      She could hear breathing on the other side of the dense wall of carved ducks. It had to be someone who knew why she’d come to Timber Falls. Knew why she’d wanted to work at Dennison Ducks so badly. Someone who’d found out about her meeting here tonight. Someone who thought he could keep her from getting what she deserved. That narrowed it down considerably.

      But which one was dumb enough to try to stop her? She thought she knew as she waited, clutching the large wooden duck in her fist, determined not to let anyone take what was rightfully hers. Not again.

      She listened as the footsteps moved closer and closer—stopping at the end of the ceiling-high shelf filled with ducks nearest her.

      Quietly she slipped to the end of the row and raised the duck over her head. Come on. Just a few more steps…

      The figure came around the end of the wall of duck-filled shelves.

      Nina stared in confusion. For an instant, she almost laughed she was so relieved. She lowered the duck. She had nothing to fear.

      She couldn’t have been more mistaken.

      Chapter Two

      Wednesday, October 28

      Early the next morning, an ill wind whirled through Timber Falls. It started at the north end of Main, down by the Ho Hum Motel. Just a breeze. But by the time it reached Betty’s Café, it had picked up speed, dirt and dried leaves, stripping Lydia Abernathy’s maple tree bare.

      Now a dust devil, it reeled past the Spit Curl, the post office and the Timber Falls Courier, discarding leaves and dust like unwelcome offerings in each doorway of the small Oregon town.

      By the time the dust devil swept past Harry’s Hardware and the Duck-In bar, the sky was dark as mud.

      As if sensing more than an ill wind had blown into town, Sheriff Mitch Tanner got up from his desk at Town Hall to close the window moments before the panes began to rattle. Dirt and debris clattered against the glass. The dense wall of rain forest surrounding town shimmered in the dull light, a flickering of dark shadows from within.

      Just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind died, the dust and debris settled, leaves floated gently to the ground and the first drops of rain plinked against the window.

      The rainy season in Timber Falls had begun.

      Mitch groaned. Trouble always seemed to accompany the rain. And he feared, this year both had come early. To make matters worse, Halloween was only days away and he’d heard that the Duck-In bar was hosting a costume party. He could figure on a long night of breaking up fights and trying to get locals home safely.

      Behind him, Wade Dennison cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Sheriff…”

      Mitch dragged his gaze from the rain-streaked window, trying to shake an ominous sense of dread as he turned his attention back to the man sitting across the desk from him.

      Over sixty, his dark hair peppered with gray, Wade Dennison had a look of privilege about him.

      “It just isn’t like Nina not to show for work.” Wade was a soft-spoken man, but a powerful one in this town. He owned Dennison Ducks, Timber Falls’s claim to fame—and its main source of income.

      Mitch nodded, wondering why Wade was in such a tizzy. This couldn’t be the first employee who hadn’t shown up for work.

      “I called. Her landlady said she didn’t come home last night,” Wade was saying.

      “She doesn’t have a cell phone?”

      Wade shook his head, worry