Milo slid his hand down her forearm, sought her hand with his. "You're not alone. And you're not going to be a murder suspect for long."

She reveled in the feel of his fingers entwined with hers, felt the boost it provided to her confidence. "You're right. I'm not. I just wish my positive didn't have to be someone else's negative."

"I see what you're saying, I really do. But you deserve so much better, and Tiffany Ann's family deserves justice."

He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb, a gesture that brought the warmth her hot chocolate had failed to provide.

"Justice," she repeated softly. "Justice for Tiffany Ann."

"That's right. It's the only thing we can-"

The familiar notes of her cell phone interrupted Milo's words, the sound bringing more than a few perturbed looks in their direction. Shrugging an apology to her companion and the unfamiliar patrons at nearby tables, Tori pulled the phone from her purse and checked the caller ID screen.

Stu Walker.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this," she offered to Milo as she flipped open the handset and held it to her ear. "This is Tori."

"Miss Sinclair? This is Stu. Stu Walker. From Ridge Cove." The staccato cadence to the man's words made her sit tall in her seat as she pulled her hand from Milo's and placed it against her free ear. "I don't know who else to call. I tried the number on the papers but got some daggone message. I called county but they take forever. Then I remembered you live in Sweet Briar."

"What's wrong?" she asked, her words causing more than a few heads to turn in her direction.

"I found Travis. In the creek bed. He's been there a mighty long time."

Found Travis in the creek bed?

The man's haunted words took root in her mind and she gasped. "You mean he's-"

"Dead," Stu finished, his dread mirrored in her heart.

"But how-how did it happen?"

"I'm guessin' he was strangled on account of the rope around his throat."

She closed her eyes in an effort to prevent the table from spinning any faster. "Strangled?" she repeated in a choked whisper.

"Sure 'nuff."

"Tori, what's going on?" Milo leaned across the table and touched her face, searched her now wide-open eyes with his own. "Who is that?"

She shook her head as she pulled the phone closer. "You think he's-he's been there awhile?"

"Since that last mornin' I saw him."

Her hand left her ear and grabbed hold of the table. "Why? I mean, how do you know?"

"There's not much left of him. Seems the animals have gotten hold o' him pretty well. But the clothes . . . they're the same."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm Stu Walker."

Instantly her mind began sifting through everything Stu had told her about that morning, questions firing through her mind faster than she could ask them. "So he handed you back the Sweet Briar contract and then left?"

"He'd already given me the paperwork first thing that mornin' . . . I needed it to show Miss Gilbert when I was givin' her the tour. And I didn't see him leave. The Sweet Briar representative just told me they'd talked and all was well."

"Didn't he have a car?" she asked.

"Nah. Travis just walked through the forest and across the field to get to my place. It's why he liked the setup."

Maybe he'd fallen on the way- He was strangled.

"You need to call county. Right away," she urged.

"I did. But if it's like normal, they won't be 'round until sometime after nightfall."

"Did you tell them you found a body?" she whispered into the phone.

"Makes little difference with those fellas. That's why I bought the services from Sweet Briar. Though, between you and me, I can't help but feel I just got scammed out of ten thousand dollars."

"Probably because you did."

"What?" The man's troubled voice turned to anger. "Wait a minute little lady, are you in on this?"

"No. I just kind of stumbled on it."

"I swear someone's gonna pay for this."

"You're right, Mr. Walker. She is." Slowly but surely any reservation she'd been feeling dissipated, in its place a sense of resolve. Milo was right. Justice needed to be served no matter who got caught in the cross fire. "You focus on Travis . . . wait for county to show up. In the meantime I'll do everything I can to get to the bottom of your contract with Sweet Briar."

She snapped the phone closed in her hand and stared at it. "Milo, why would Georgina sign something like that? Didn't she know she'd get caught? I mean, the first time something major happened she had to know it would come out." She fisted her hand around the phone, the corners of the flat metal handset digging into her skin. "Poor Travis."

"Who's Travis? Who was strangled?"

Words poured from her mouth as her thoughts continued on the same loop. "I mean, why on earth would she sign her name to something like that? She signed her name, Mil-"

"I'm beginning to wonder how your Colby, bless his heart, can sign hundreds of books on any given day. Thirty papers nearly did me in."

The phone dropped from her hand as she grabbed hold of the table once again, Georgina's words from that second sewing circle rushing her thoughts. Were those the papers she'd been signing?

And thirty?

"Oh, Milo," she whispered. "What happens if Ridge Cove isn't the only one she scammed? What happens if she went after some of the other rural towns?"

"Then she's in even more trouble than we realized." Milo raked his hand over his face, his shoulders tense. "I guess it's a little naive to hope she didn't know."

"Yeah, ri-"

"Thank heavens I didn't have to read them."

She clapped her hands to her mouth. Was it possible? Really possible?

"I've been signing a lot of paperwork for Thomas the last week or so. He's compiling a few petitions to lobby for the rights of seniors on the state level and he thinks it would help their fight if they had some mayoral signatures. He's hoping my name will carry clout."

"And gain instant trust," she whispered.

"Trust? Trust who?" Milo reached across the table and pried her hands from her mouth. "Tori, what's going on? Please . . . talk to me."

She forced her eyes to focus on the man sitting across from her, a man who'd brought a smile to her face the moment she'd seen his reflect- His reflection. In the mirror.

In an instant the threads began to come together. Threads that had seemed so inconsequential one strand at a time, yet created an entirely new entity when brought together.

Georgina was no more the key to Tiffany Ann's demise than Tori was, the woman's role as mayor no more a reason to cast blame than Tori's status as an outsider.

"Tori?"

"I saw you in the mirror." She gestured toward the pegboard hanging on the wall behind Emma. "I knew you were standing behind me."

"I figured that but what does that have to do with that call and with Georgina?"

"Tiffany Ann saw him. She knew he was standing behind her and she took off." All the clues had been there from the very beginning, only she hadn't seen them. Until now. "He had time to poison her coffee because she left it behind when she ran out. He, like everyone else, knew her late morning routine. He knew she'd be here."

Why hadn't she seen it before?

"Who, Tori?"

She hadn't left Stu's parking lot because of a phone call. She probably hadn't even realized the contract was a scam. She'd run because she saw him murder Travis. She was jumpy and nervous because she was scared for her life . . . not because she'd been on drugs as he'd insisted. She hadn't told anyone because she feared no one would believe her. . . .

Flipping the phone open, Tori dialed the last incoming number, her heart and mind needing one last round of confirmation for something they already knew to be true.

"Stu, here."

"Mr. Walker, it's Tori Sinclair again. I need to ask you one more question."

"Okay, shoot."

"This representative who spoke to Travis while you were concentrating on Miss Gilbert . . . what was his name?"

"Thomas Hayes."

"That's all I needed to know." She shut the phone inside her palm and rose to her feet. "I need to see Investigator McGuire."

"McGuire? Already?"

Wrapping her hand around the white paper sack of cookies, she planted a grateful kiss on Milo's forehead, the warmth of his skin beneath her lips bringing a much-needed sense of calm to her soul.

"I think the correct word is finally."

Chapter 22.

She'd envisioned this room for as long as she could remember-the basic details she'd wished for as a child firmly in place, the extra touches she'd dreamed of as an adult bringing it to life in a way she could never have imagined.

Slowly, she turned around and around, her gaze skirting across the child-drawn murals and easy-to-reach shelving, lingering momentarily on the small stage that held the promise of laughter and creativity for years to come, and coming to rest on the overflowing costume trunk. Starting that very night, Sweet Briar children could don clothing worn by a favorite storybook character, adding a whole new dimension to the world of reading-one where alternate endings could be tried and favorite parts could be relived.

But somehow, someway, those assembled outfits meant so much more now. They represented the kind of magic that happened when people worked together for a common goal. They represented what could happen when preconceived notions and outdated stereotypes were laid down in favor of basic human understanding and compassion. And they represented what genuine friendship could accomplish.

"Miss Sinclair?"

Tori spun around, the hem of her black ruffled skirt skimming across her knees. "Yes?"

"Miss Sinclair, I'm not sure if you remember me but"-the twenty-something man bowed his head momentarily before reengaging eye contact-"I'm Nina's husband."

"I know who you are," she answered, her voice even despite the emotions coursing through her body.

"Then you know what I've done." Again his head dipped only to lift high once again. "I realize I need to take whatever punishment comes my way even if it's one I can't bear to face. But"-he twisted his hands inside each other-"please know Nina had nothing to do with any of this. She didn't help. She didn't-and doesn't-know."

"Why? Why did you do it?" she finally asked.

"I thought Nina should have gotten Ms. Dixie's job. She worked long and hard for that woman and got nothin' but grief in return."

"You'd never know it to hear Nina talk. She's not had a bad thing to say about Dixie or anyone else since I've been here." She tugged the pale pink sleeves farther down her wrists. "In fact, she may be one of the most positive people I've ever met."

A smile lit his face as he nodded. "Nina is special. I'm a lucky man to have her in my life. I guess I just wanted people to see that. And I figured if you messed up she'd-"

"Look better?" Tori offered.

"Yeah. And then maybe they'd give her a chance." Duwayne toed the floor awkwardly. "I just don't understand why people can't see her for who she is."

She reached out, touched the man's arm. "Some of us do. And we consider ourselves very lucky to have her in our lives . . . don't we?"

He nodded.

"I don't intend to press charges, and I don't intend to tell Nina what you did, but"-she turned her head to the side to meet his eyes-"you need to do something for me."

Surprised, he nodded again, this time even more emphatically. "Anything."

"Have faith in your wife. She'll get where she's going. And trust me . . . when she does, it will mean so much more if she did it on her own. With you cheering her on from the sidelines believing she can do it."

"You're amazing, Miss Sinclair . . . just like my Nina says." Duwayne grabbed hold of Tori's hand and shook it gently, his throat moving fast to stifle the emotion she saw glistening in his eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."