The smoke billowed out and Mac and Teri stumbled into the fresh night air.

In the distance, we heard the sirens.

"Ah, the cavalry, just in time," I said.

Mac and Teri were coughing as they collapsed on the ground, gasping for air.

Firefighters rushed onto the scene, trying to control the burning stable. The paramedics had Bedford on a gurney, wheeling him toward the ambulance with Maggie at his side.

"Bedford, you'll be fine," I heard Maggie say as I approached and stood next to her. He reached up and grabbed Maggie's wrist and pulled her to him. "Please Bedford, lie still," she said.

"I never told," he whispered. I leaned in, as did Maggie.

"Never told who?" Maggie asked. Bedford coughed violently and kept his vice grip on her wrist.

"Secrets, so many secrets." His voice came out in a desperate whisper.

Then he said something else that both Maggie and I could barely hear. It sounded to me like he said "love." I leaned back as he closed his eyes.

I stood there numbly staring at Bedford's still body. Finally, he let go of Maggie and the paramedics lifted him into the ambulance.

Behind us, the fire department soaked the smoldering rubble while Steve and his deputy directed the traffic. Mac was standing now, with his arm around Hannah, who was sobbing. Teri was close by.

We watched as the ambulance drove out of sight.

"You three look like h.e.l.l," Steve said. "What happened?"

"Not now, Steve," Maggie said quickly. "I need to get Kate and her family to the clinic. You can drive. We should have gotten another ambulance. Aunt Hannah, please stay here."

"I'll leave my deputy with her," Steve said.

We drove in relative silence to the clinic. The ambulance was already there. The paramedics met us at the door as they were coming out. Maggie talked to them for a moment or two. When I saw her shoulders slump, I knew. I felt the tears catch in my throat.

"Let's go. You all need to get checked out. Doc's with Bedford," Maggie said in a tired voice. She looked at our questioning faces and shook her head.

She examined Mac and Teri first. "You're next," she said, and beckoned me into the small examining room.

I sat on the table and Maggie snapped on another pair of gloves. She reached up and pulled the dirty bandage off my forehead and I caught my breath and flinched.

She winced. "Sorry," she whispered, surprisingly gentle.

When she was finished, she stripped off the gloves, tossing them in a nearby wastebasket. She then turned to me. I took a deep quivering breath and, as I reached up to rub my forehead, she held my arm.

"Don't do that, you're filthy," she said.

Then, unexpectedly, she reached up and brushed the hair off my forehead. Her fingers lingered for a moment.

She gave me a worried look. "Are you all right?" she asked.

I nodded. "And you?" She said nothing, and when I saw her bottom lip quiver, my heart broke. "Bedford's dead, isn't he?" I asked. The tears welled up in her blue eyes and I whispered, "I'm so sorry, Maggie."

Maggie put her hand on my shoulder. "I know. I can't believe it. What a horrible accident, Kate," she said.

I thought of the shovel wedged through the handles of the stable door, and, of course, thought of everything else that has been happening since I drove into this town. "I don't think it was an accident, Maggie."

I looked into her eyes and saw the realization there. She blinked several times but said nothing. She just flopped down on the table next to me. Instinctively, I put my arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. She clung to me and quietly cried for a moment or two. She looked up then with sad eyes and I reached down and ran my thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears.

"C'mon. We need to tell Steve," I said.

Doc was talking with Mac, Teri and Steve when Maggie and I came out.

"Your family told me what happened, Kate. Could you see how the fire started?" Steve asked.

"No, but I don't think it was an accident, Steve," I said, and now all eyes were on me.

After everyone cleaned up, we sat at the kitchen table.

"Okay, Kate. Let's hear it," Steve said.

"After Maggie and I got Bedford out of the stall, I tried to go back in to get Mac and Teri. The stall entrance was blocked, so I ran around to the front of the stable. There was a shovel wedged through the handles of the stable doors. I had to yank it out in order to open them. It doesn't take a great detective, which I am not, to know someone put it there. And I'm thinking whoever it was started the fire."

There was silence around the table. Steve took a deep breath. "Any ideas?" he asked.

"Well, I think the only one who knew was Bedford," I said. I then thought of my conversation with him earlier in the day. "I had a talk with Bedford this morning after Chance found Miranda's jewelry. He said he talked to you and the deputies outside after the intruder incident. He was cryptic-"

"Who? Bedford? I didn't talk to him. I didn't see him until he was walking up to Maggie's car," Steve said.

"Okay, then he was not being cryptic, he was lying," I said.

"Why lie about that?" Maggie asked and I shrugged.

"Maybe he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing," Teri offered.

"What could he be doing at that time of night?" Mac asked.

"Well, because of his limp, he couldn't be the intruder, that's for sure," Steve said, and I nodded in agreement.

"But if he was outside, wouldn't he have seen something?" Maggie asked.

As I listened to everyone, my mind raced recounting the conversation with Bedford once again. "Yes, I think he probably would have," I said. "I think Bedford knew much more than we'll ever know. For instance, he told me that Maggie saddled her horse that morning. Maggie told me it was already saddled and ready for her. Did he lie? Perhaps. He lied about talking to Steve. What else was he lying about?

"After I met your Aunt Sarah, I overheard them. Sarah asked Bedford what he had said to me. He told her he said nothing, but then for some reason he brought up Alexander Winfield," I said and looked right at Hannah.

It was then I realized the Hannah had been conspicuously silent. I looked at her as she sat at the head of the table. Our eyes met and for an instant, I got that old feeling. Though it had been many years since my investigating days, I could still recognize that look.

Hannah knew something.

Chapter Thirteen.

What do you think, Hannah? What did Bedford mean about your father?" I asked.

Hannah's face showed no emotion. "I'm not quite sure, Kate. He could have meant anything."

"Well, Sarah sounded concerned he'd say something. And I have to tell you, Maggie and I heard his last words," I said.

Hannah looked at me then. "What did he say?"

"He said, aI never told.' When Maggie questioned him, he said, asecrets, so many secrets.'" I looked to Maggie for confirmation.

"That's exactly what he said," Maggie said and looked at her aunt. "What does that mean, Aunt Hannah? What secrets about Grandfather?"

I watched Hannah. She looked old and tired. I reached over and took her hand. "Hannah, I think whatever Bedford knew is connected to this whole mess. Please, whatever you know, however innocuous, now's the time."

"Aunt Hannah," Maggie said. "I understand our family's dynamics. No one knows this better than I do. I remember Grandfather being an unapproachable, bitter old man. I remember Father being the same way. But Aunt Hannah, what does Aunt Sarah have to do with Grandfather?"

"Your Grandfather favored Sarah with a seat on the Board of Directors at the Winfield Clinic. I don't know why, and I never asked," Hannah said and I heard the dismissive tone in her voice.

"Hannah, I don't like to press you about family issues, but someone is trying their d.a.m.nedest to scare the h.e.l.l out of Maggie, if not downright kill her. Bedford is dead and the fire was no accident," I said, in a stern voice. Maggie shot me a disapproving look, which I ignored.

"Which is where I come in, Hannah," Steve said. "I agree with Kate. Someone started that fire, and when the fire marshal comes out to investigate, I'm sure he'll determine it was arson."

"Perhaps nothing was said at the time, but what do you think was going on between Sarah and your father?" I asked. I was getting very impatient with this whole mess. I was tired, sore, and I just wanted to go home.

Hannah looked right at me with determination. "Knowing my father's lack of integrity and Sarah's greed and ambition, I always thought there was something between them."

"An affair?" Steve asked and Hannah closed her eyes.

"I don't know, but I a.s.sumed," she said.

Nothing was said for a moment or two. Steve then stood. "Well, it's very late and I think this is enough for one night. I'll be in touch with you." He said his good-byes and was gone.

"Aunt Hannah, why don't you go to bed? You look exhausted," Maggie said, urging Hannah out of her seat.

Mac and Teri followed, which left Maggie and I sitting at the kitchen table.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Maggie said in a tired voice.

"I agree and it won't be the last, I'm afraid."

"Well, I think a good night's sleep is in order, Miss Ryan. Doctor's orders," she said and stood.

I groaned as I hoisted myself out of the chair. "I'll obey that one. But only that one."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"Perhaps you're getting to know me," I blurted out but quickly recovered, "and I should keep my mouth shut and go to bed. Good night."

As I sat on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door. Letting out a small groan, I took the long hike, all of three feet, to the door.

"Didn't we just say good night?" I asked with a wide yawn.

Maggie stood there and motioned me into the bathroom. I obediently followed her; she had forgotten to check my shoulder. Her hands were shaking and I could tell she'd been crying, which wasn't surprising since so much had happened in the past two days. I could only imagine what her life had been like for the past twenty years, growing up alone and scared.

She fumbled with the gauze and tape and then dropped it on the floor.

We both bent to pick it up and clunked heads. G.o.d, what a weekend we'd been having.

"Boy, I'm running out of body parts here," I said chuckling as I rubbed my head.

She laughed almost too hard. It'd been my experience that when someone laughed that hard at seemingly nothing, especially one of my jokes, crying is not far behind.

All at once, the crying started. It sounded as though it came from her soul as she covered her face with her hands.

I instinctively put my arms around her and whispered, "Maggie, let it go."

She sobbed openly and I said nothing. What could I say? Her tears subsided after a moment or two then she stepped back and I let her go. I picked up what she dropped and placed it on the sink, then handed her a Kleenex and she dried her eyes.

"Okay now?" I asked.

She nodded, taking a deep, quivering breath. She finished re-taping my shoulder.

"Thanks, Doc."

"You sure you're all right?" she asked, fidgeting with the first-aid kit.

What a little woman she was, I thought as I watched her. A little woman with a fiery temper. Something pulled at my heart then. It was something I hadn't felt in a long while, and I didn't even dare put a name to it. I realized I was staring at the diminutive doctor.

"Just a flesh wound, ma'am," I joked again.

She rolled her eyes and pushed me into my room. She came out of the bathroom with a gla.s.s of water and a capsule.

"No arguing. Take this, you'll sleep better," she said with authority.

I grumbled childishly and took it-and slept like a baby.

I don't think I moved once all night. It was only six-thirty when I hauled my aching body out of bed. A hot shower revived me and I felt ready to tackle this mess.

Being the only one up, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Okay, I thought, let's get started. I got a pencil and paper, and wrote down Miranda's name on one side and Jonathan's on the other, and then I got to work. I poured a cup of coffee and began.

Miranda is murdered on Halloween, 1986. Made to look like a robbery. She was stabbed several times. No sign of a struggle, all wounds in her chest. That doesn't sound like a thief to me. This was a brutal act for Christ's sake. The criminal was smart enough not to leave fingerprints or any evidence of any kind. Why in the world be so methodical, and then take the time to bury the jewelry and run the risk of getting caught. This doesn't make sense.

My daffy mutt sniffs around, finds jewelry. That night we have an intruder and it's a woman. I am sure of that. It's the only thing I'm sure of, right? s.h.i.t!