Nora gestured for the officers to take him to the hospital. She pointed at two other deputies. "You know this Sam Gates?" They nodded. "Go see if he's at the diner. Politely ask him to sit in the back of your car." The two deputies immediately left.

"That shouldn't take more than five minutes," said Nora. "Either he's there or he's not."

"If Jessop knew Denny was murdered, he hid it really well," said Ava.

The other detectives gave a chorus of agreement. "I thought the same thing," said Nora. "And he doesn't strike me as the type of guy who can lie effectively." She shook her head slowly. "I don't think Denny would have stepped out of his cabin to meet with any of that group on his own."

"Maybe he went outside for a phone call," suggested Ava. She looked at the OSP detectives. "Would it have been disruptive to the rest of the cabin if he was on the phone in his room?"

The men exchanged glances. "I don't think it would have been disruptive, but I was in the bedroom directly above his. He probably thought I would hear," said Duff Morales. "I know I step outside sometimes when I just want some additional privacy."

"It's the most logical reason for no evidence of a struggle," added Ava. "It appears he willingly stepped out of the cabin, and I don't think it was in response to someone inviting him outside. Who does that at one in the morning? No cop I know."

"But it feels targeted," said Mason. "If he wasn't summoned outside, then it was a crime of chance. I can't believe that just yet."

"It's too early to draw any conclusions," Ava said. Her mind sped with questions.

Did someone draw Denny out?

Was he specifically targeted? Or would the killer have settled for Mason?

She fought to control the shiver that rocked through her body. Her morning phone call from her boss could have been much uglier.

Nora nodded at Zander and Ava. "If Sam Gates is at the diner, I want you two to talk to him with me, but the rest of you are witnesses and have no reason to be there."

A mix of grumbles came from the four OSP detectives.

Ava felt bad for the four men whose friend had been murdered, but Nora was right. She exchanged a look with Zander. Technically the FBI was part of the investigation at the request of OSP. Under the circ.u.mstances, he could take over completely. But she suspected he preferred to sit back and watch. So far Nora hadn't done anything they disagreed with.

"I'd like Detective Callahan to come along," said Zander. "He was in the bar and the first to find the body. I'd like to hear his opinion of what Sam Gates has to say."

Zander missed his calling as a diplomat. He'd made a polite request and hadn't been an a.s.s about it. He'd left the option in Nora's hands to agree or disagree.

"Fine with me," Nora said. "You three can follow me to the diner."

6.

Mason was happy to see Sam Gates glumly sitting in the back of the Lincoln County deputies' car. His dark head hung low, but as their group approached, he turned his face to the window and anger shot from his gaze.

"Any problems getting him to cooperate?" Zander asked the deputies.

"Not at all," said one. "We spotted him through the diner window as he was drinking his coffee. He barely looked at us when we went in. We walked over to his table and said we wanted to talk to him about a bar fight last night."

"He gave us some s.h.i.t," said the other. "But he stepped outside. Seemed confident that he hadn't been involved in any fight."

"Know anything about him?" Zander asked.

Mason bit his lip as he stopped himself from simultaneously asking the same question. Taking a backseat wasn't his usual role, but he would stay quiet so he wasn't asked to leave. His presence had no purpose to the investigation.

But he was going to stick around as long as he could.

It was for Denny.

He thought back to his final conversation with his boss last night. It'd been uncomfortable. He'd never heard Denny ask for relationship advice, and relationships weren't something they talked about at work. He was a bit surprised Denny had approached him instead of Ray. Ray was the one who easily discussed feelings and therapy and flowers. Froufrou c.r.a.p.

But Ray had never been divorced.

Maybe talking about froufrou c.r.a.p makes a marriage last longer.

Mason had tried to joke with Denny at first, cracking a few ex-wife jokes, but Denny had stayed serious, so Mason listened carefully. The man was having a crisis of the heart, and Mason had been with Ava long enough to learn that everyone needs to talk at some point in their life. It doesn't kill a man to listen.

It was the first time he'd seen raw doubt in Denny's eyes when he asked Mason if he'd done the right thing by turning down his ex-wife's offer of reconciliation. It'd unnerved him. Why had he turned to Mason for advice?

"Geez, Denny," he'd said. "How long have you been divorced?"

"Nearly fifteen years. She married again, but he died two years ago."

"And she approached you? Have you guys been staying in touch that much?"

"We have two sons and three grandkids. We've always had some contact. She still lives in Portland."

Mason was silent for a moment. "What do you want to do?" He didn't know what else to say.

"I don't f.u.c.king know. I told her it wasn't a good idea, but now I'm having second thoughts." His eyes pleaded with Mason to give him an answer.

"Well," Mason said, trying to channel his inner Dr. Phil. "You haven't lived together in fifteen years. I doubt she's the same person she was fifteen years ago. I mean, are you the same?"

"h.e.l.l no."

"Then you can't just get back together." A burst of inspiration hit him. "You're gonna have to date her."

"Date my ex-wife?" Denny looked confused.

"Yeah. Get to know each other again. See if you're compatible now. Having kids and grandkids in common might not be enough. Take her out to dinner and go to a movie or Blazer game. You know . . . talk."

Denny stared at him for a few seconds. "Is that what you did with Ava?"

"Sort of. We worked together. It forced us to talk to each other and spend time in each other's company. When our case was over, I didn't want our time together to stop," he said gruffly, wondering if he'd shared too much information.

I'm way out of my comfort zone.

"Dating," Denny said as he rubbed at his chin, lost in thought. "I've dated quite a few women over the last decade. Never found one where I wanted our time to never stop. I was always finished at some point. You haven't hit that point yet?"

"Not going to happen," stated Mason. "We're in it for the long haul."

"Everyone says that at first."

"Yeah, but I know. I've got enough years under this belt to know it's true. I only say it when I mean it. I'm not swayed by mushy stuff."

Ava touched Mason's hand and startled him out of his musings.

"Hey," she said. "Where were you?" Her dark-blue eyes studied him, and he suddenly understood how she'd felt every time he'd a.n.a.lyzed her, looking for signs of stress over her sister. It was like a spotlight on his face. But a light that was aimed with concern and love.

"Thinking about last night. Denny and I had a long talk."

"A good one?" she asked.

"It was." His smile was genuine. "I realized how lucky I was to find you. Denny gave me a glimpse into what my life might have continued to be."

"All work and no play?"

"Exactly. And lots of doubts and what-ifs and concern for my future."

"What do you mean what-ifs?" Her brow furrowed.

He swallowed but plunged forward. They'd pledged not to keep secrets unless it was truly for the good of the other person. "I used to wonder how it would be if Robin and I got back together."

"Ah. I understand. That would be a normal train of thought. You have a son together and you've told me you liked being married."

Mason held her gaze. "Do you know how incredible you are? I just told you I'd thought about getting back together with my ex-wife and you didn't blink an eyelash."

"But that was before you met me. I don't care what you did or thought about before then. I only care about after." She paused. "Do you still think about what life with her would be now?"

His ex-wife had been remarried for several years. Mason had struggled when she first told him the news, but he'd seen it was a good situation for her and his son Jake. "Never," he stated. "That's the honest truth. Denny made me look at it for the first time last night, and it was hard for my brain to go there. I like where I'm at now."

She smiled. "Me, too."

He wanted to touch her but held back. They'd already broken their rule once that day and he wasn't about to do it with a suspect ten feet away. But he felt the invisible ribbons of affection that bound them together. Sometimes he wondered how other people couldn't see it.

"Dial it down, guys," Zander muttered.

Maybe they did.

From his expressions Ava could tell that Sam Gates was a professional at giving att.i.tude. Right now "surly" and "defensive" were accurate descriptions of his mood. The deputies were very familiar with Sam Gates. They'd told the detectives that Sam was known for his temper and fists but not for any crimes involving a weapon.

"His mouth is his primary weapon," said one deputy. He'd glanced at Nora and Ava apologetically. "Just saying. Wanted you to be prepared."

Ava was amused. The deputy looked like a clean-cut kid straight from a farm and no doubt had been raised with good manners. "We're fine," she'd a.s.sured him.

Zander opened the back door to the patrol car and grabbed Sam's arm, forcibly hauling him out and to his feet.

So that's the role Zander's taking.

Ava hadn't seen Zander play the hard-a.s.s very much. Nora started to step forward and then moved back, letting Zander take the lead, a look of understanding on her face.

He held Sam against the car and frisked him again, getting his face close to Sam's while not saying a word, his hands rough and fast as they sped through Sam's pockets and felt his limbs. Sam swallowed hard but was silent through the exam. He glanced at the two deputies, who'd taken up a position several feet away, clearly yielding the situation to the people Sam didn't know.

Zander finished and stood eighteen inches from Sam with his arms across his chest. Zander was tall and built like a long-distance runner. The att.i.tude of barely restrained anger he'd adopted was having the expected effect of making Sam nervous as h.e.l.l. Usually Zander had a calm manner that was comforting to witnesses.

"Where were you last night between nine P.M. and two A.M.?" Zander asked.

Ava could barely hear him, his voice was so low and rough.

Again Sam looked to the deputies, who'd intentionally turned away, and then glanced at Mason, Ava, and Nora. Ava met his gaze. No friends to help you here. He looked down at his feet.

"Pete's Bar," he muttered. "Why?"

"What time did you leave?"

Sam tried to look Zander in the eye but could do it for only two seconds. "Dunno. After last call. Tim drove me home."

Zander turned to the deputies. "Can you two find out when Pete's Bar closed last night? And who was tending bar?" The deputies gave him a casual salute and headed toward the bar two blocks down the street.

Zander turned his icy gaze back to Sam. "Want to guess at the time?"

Sam looked up at the gray sky, twisting his mouth in thought. "One-thirty? Two?"

"Remember any problems in the bar last night?"

Sam's gaze went directly to Mason. "No. I confronted a guy who'd dented my truck, but nothing happened. That guy there"-he tipped his head at Mason-"bought us a pitcher of beer."

"Who'd you confront about the truck?"

"Am I under arrest?"

"We're just having a chat." Zander showed him his teeth.

"Who are you? None of you dress like cops."

Zander reached into his jacket pocket and flipped open his ID. In unison Ava whipped out hers, along with Mason and Nora.

Sam's mouth dropped open. He stared at Zander's and then squinted at the other three IDs. "Holy s.h.i.t! The FBI? Why? What happened? I heard someone was killed up in the hills, but no one said anything about the FBI!" His gaze grew eager and interested.

Ava's heart dropped. This wasn't the response of a killer. She glanced at Mason and saw he'd felt it, too. Either Sam was the biggest psychopath she'd ever met or he'd had nothing to do with Denny's death.

"The truck," Zander reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. That guy. Don't know his name. He's not local, but he's around here several times a year. Is that who was killed?"

The realization struck and Sam straightened his spine as his mouth dropped open. "Me? You think I killed him? Because I b.i.t.c.hed about a dent? Jesus Christ! I wouldn't do anything like that!" He looked to Ava and Nora, his gaze pleading. "You got to believe me. I didn't hurt anyone."