Dina excitedly took Casey's hand and led her to the back of the shop. "We have to decide what you're going to wear. We're going to be so hot."

"Don't I just need a breath mint and lip balm?" Casey protested as Dina pulled her away.

All three watched Dina guide Casey into the back then appeared oddly silent.

"Dina could be a problem," Diesel informed them.

"What if we gave her a job here at the shop?" Ruger suggested with a curious tilt of his head.

"Do we really want to include her?" Diesel asked while poking through the paper bag for another sandwich.

"She's been Casey's best friend since kindergarten, and she loved my parents," Grey informed them. "We can trust her."

"Someone's got a hard on for Casey's friend," Diesel remarked while grinning.

Grey glared at him and wasn't impressed. "That was a long time ago. Things have changed since then," he remarked. "We have more important things to do."

"More important than you doing Dina?" Diesel teased.

Grey sneered at him and appeared to be losing his patience. Ruger rolled his eyes and stepped between the two before Diesel started tossing Grey around like a ragdoll.

"We're obviously losing focus here," Ruger announced firmly then eyed Diesel. "And you need to cool it with the s.e.xual references."

"Says the moral fiber that holds us all together," Diesel snorted while wearing a cheap grin.

Ruger wasn't impressed. His look was cold and serious. "Tread lightly, my friend."

Diesel snorted then walked away.

It was early Sat.u.r.day morning and just one week before the town fair. All seemed peaceful within the small town of Darwood Falls, but it wouldn't stay that way long. Small pockets of vendors would start filtering into the town to setup for opening weekend. By late week, the town would be a madhouse with vendors attempting to move into the fairgrounds and setup trailers, equipment, rides, and games. Most locals were enjoying the calm before next weekend's storm of visitors. The police station bullpen was quiet and void of life, as it was most Sat.u.r.day mornings. Jeannie was off on most weekends and the deputies patrolled the town but weren't required to hang around the office. Emergency dispatch would contact them if there were any calls. It was a nice setup, which kept a police presence without unnecessary personnel. Sheriff Holt was the officer on duty this particular weekend, even though next weekend all three officers would be working long hours. Vaughn sat behind his desk with his booted feet propped on top. He leaned casually back in his worn chair and read from Catherine Remington's journal. He had his temple propped against his hand as his brows knitted with concern to what he read.

"No sooner had Brandon left the store," Catherine wrote, "when Wayne Harford dropped in. I knew he wasn't there to 'look around' as he reported. Ernest would sometimes make purchases, but his sons never just stopped in. I kept an eye on him and rightfully so. He approached me at the desk and asked about the settee in the back. He claimed Ernest had sent him to inspect it, but I knew it wasn't true. Ernest never looked twice at that old sofa. I couldn't exactly call him on this, since I prided our shop on being professional. Instead, I went into the back room with him and indicated the antique couch. I knew better than to turn my back on Wayne. It was a mistake many women in town had made, and I'd heard the horror stories. He pointed out a tear in the cushion. There hadn't been one before, so, naturally, I looked. I'd made the mistake and turned my back on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but I didn't realize what I'd had done until he was already tackling me to the settee. He was like an animal pawing at me, groping my body, and trying to pull off my clothes. I couldn't believe he'd go this far!"

Vaughn stared at the journal in his hand as his mouth hung open. The look of shock on his face was indescribable. He held his breath, turned the page, and continued to read.

"I knew his intentions, and I had to stop him! Being on top of me, he had me at a disadvantage. I had only one action of recourse to stop him, and I took it. I wasn't sure which of us was more surprised by my hand clamped on his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es through his pants. It wasn't a place on the man I'd wanted to touch, but my hand was there now, and I had every intention to rip them off! He wanted to hit me; he tried to hit me, but I gripped even harder and twisted my hand. I'd never seen a man drop so fast. I made a conscious effort to release him as he fell to the floor. Something inside me screamed to keep ahold of him, but I just wanted my hand off his filthy body. As he clutched himself while writhing around the floor, I considered running out the back door and screaming like a crazy woman, but something snapped inside me. He was a Harford, and there was no justice against a Harford. There was just me. As he writhed on the floor crying like a little boy, I did the unthinkable. I grabbed his arm, twisted it away from him, and I kicked it with all my anger. It snapped with the most hideous sound. He now screamed and begged me to stop. I released his arm and watched him clutch it while crying as he lie on the floor. I still wanted to kill him. From where I stood, I could just as easily snap his neck, but I suppressed those urges. I'd made my point without killing the monster."

Vaughn shut the journal, tossed it on his desk, and ran his fingers through his hair. He uncertainly sat forward and stared at the journal with his brows knitted. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the journal, leaned on the desk, and continued to read.

Chapter Seventeen.

The fairground was busy that afternoon. Locals and out-of-towners had volunteered to scrub the buildings and prepare the grounds for the upcoming fair. The parking field was being roped off and signs were pounded into the ground to help direct traffic flow. Former sheriff Wiley played with the sound system at the stage furthest from the main entrance. It made an ear-piercing screech that caused everyone within earshot to grimace and turn. Abby stopped her luxury golf cart and glared at Wiley. He grinned his apologies. Ernest and Mayor Lance stood on stage and shook their heads while pointing at Wiley at the sound system toward the back. Abby drove up to the stage and joined her husband and brother. Wiley continued to fiddle with several switches. When his sound check didn't shatter any eardrums, it was obvious he'd gotten in right. Vaughn approached Wiley and the sound system from across the fairgrounds. Wiley glanced at him, grinned, and returned to his duties.

"What brings you out this way, Vaughn?" Wiley asked. "Pre-bachelor auction jitters?"

"You're a funny man," Vaughn scoffed. "Don't quit your day job."

Wiley looked at him and uncertainly sat on the table. "You look a little distracted. I'm guessing it's something more than putting your b.u.t.t on the auction block."

"I'm way beyond distracted," Vaughn informed him sternly. "I'm disturbed and possibly sickened by something I'd just read in Catherine Remington's journal."

Wiley stared at Vaughn with a look of surprise. "Catherine Remington's journal? I don't remember anything about a journal."

"Casey gave it to me," he replied and waved his hand. "We're getting off subject." Vaughn tensed while staring at Wiley. "She filed an a.s.sault report against Wayne Harford six months before she was killed." He was unusually silent then raised his brows and continued. "I searched every file we have, and I didn't find any report."

Wiley stared at Vaughn and appeared frozen. Vaughn stared back and didn't blink.

Vaughn slowly nodded and appeared to understand the silence. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? What happened to that report, Wiley?"

Wiley took a deep breath, uncertainly looked around, and then took Vaughn by the arm. "Let's walk."

The two men walked away from the stage area and into a large clearing void of activity. Vaughn continued to cast glares at Wiley, who appeared reluctant to speak as they walked.

"Yes, Catherine filed a complaint against Wayne for attempted s.e.xual a.s.sault," he reluctantly remarked. "I took down every word she said, believing every word she said."

Vaughn stopped and forced him to face him. His look was stern and harsh. "What happened to that report, Wiley?"

There was a long silence. Wiley frowned. "Ernest happened."

Vaughn looked up, shook his head with disbelief, and almost laughed. He looked back at Wiley and glared his annoyance. "You let Ernest bully you into burying a s.e.xual a.s.sault complaint against his son? The b.a.s.t.a.r.d intended to rape Catherine Remington. The only reason he didn't succeed is because she stopped him. How could you allow something like this?"

"I didn't allow it, Vaughn," Wiley protested then fell silent and appeared ashamed. "I buried the report to protect her; to protect the Remington's." He took a deep, shaken breath and stared across the fairgrounds at nothing. "There had been a lot of talk going around town that year. Rumor had it Brandon Remington was going to run for mayor. The powers that be didn't like it." He finally looked back at Vaughn. "Ernest came to me with Wayne's side of the story. His version would have caused such a scandal; it would have destroyed any chances Brandon had to win an election." Wiley appeared exhausted. "Yes, Ernest wanted me to bury the complaint, but I didn't do it to keep my job. I buried Catherine's complaint so Brandon would be angry enough to run for mayor."

"That's wrong, Wiley," Vaughn scoffed. "You manipulated the law. That's what we've been trying so hard to put an end to. Brandon was going to run anyway."

Wiley shook his head with a defeated look. "No, he wasn't," he replied softly. "I had to turn him against me, it was the only way."

Vaughn shook his head and looked away with disgust. "That complaint could have made the difference in our search for Catherine and Brandon's killer."

"I know you think Wayne did it, Vaughn, but it couldn't have been him," Wiley announced. "As much as I'd love to pin it on them myself, they didn't do it. Even Casey admitted the man who attacked her couldn't have been Wayne. He's too big."

"Then it was Ryan or Blain," Vaughn interjected.

"We've checked their alibis a hundred times," Wiley replied. "They checked out every time. If you really want to solve the murders, you'll need to come up with a different suspect."

Vaughn entered his office with a look of disgust and flopped down in his worn chair behind the desk. He leaned back, clasped his hands over his abdomen, and immediately looked at the ceiling.

"What could have been done differently?" Vaughn asked softly aloud to no one. "If Catherine had reported it to me, would it have made a difference? Or were the Remington's sentenced to death no matter what?"

He shook his head with disgust, leaned forward, and rubbed his already tired eyes.

"The answer's in her journal," Vaughn muttered. "I need to go back further."

Vaughn removed his keys and reached for the upper, right hand drawer. He stared at the drawer and suddenly hesitated. The wood had fresh splinters along the edge. Vaughn tossed his keys aside and pulled open the drawer. The journal was gone!

"No, no!" Vaughn cried out and rummaged through the drawer in vain.

He violently slammed the drawer and pushed his chair away with such force, it struck the wall. Vaughn sprang to his feet and looked around the office while attempting to control his rising temper. His body trembled as he put his hand to his forehead several times while searching for some answer.

"It wasn't Wiley," he insisted softly. "He wouldn't have done this." He remained deep in thought while scratching his brow. Vaughn suddenly looked up and appeared enraged. "Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h!" He violently kicked the desk, jolting it several inches. He collapsed into his chair, groaned, and covered his eyes. "Casey's going to kill me."

It was after two in the morning on Sunday. The tavern's parking lot was nearly empty, with most of the locals finding their way home after a long night of drinking and rowdy adventures. The few trucks remaining out front belonged to those with no place better to be or the few workers attempting to clean up. Wiley counted the register while Dina swept the floor. She was the last waitress remaining, since it was her turn to close-up with Wiley. A few hard-core drinkers remained at the bar and attempted to talk Wiley into one more round. At this time of night, he no longer acknowledged them. It was the only way to get them to leave. Once Dina finished with the floor, she began straightening chairs. Her attention briefly shifted to the corner table. Dina's mother sat slumped in her chair with her elbows on the table and attempted to hold up her head with her hand. She fumbled with her drink, the gla.s.s stained with red lipstick prints. Olivia dropped the gla.s.s and it shattered on the floor, alerting Wiley and the remaining patrons to the drunken woman's presence. She looked up and appeared unable to focus. For the first time, she stared directly at Dina as her body swayed with intoxication.

"What are you looking at?" Olivia scoffed in a low, slurred voice.

It was possible she didn't even recognize her own daughter these days, not that it mattered, because she didn't acknowledge she had a daughter for many years. Dina frowned with disgust and returned to straightening chairs.

"Go home, Dina," Wiley announced from across the bar.

She looked at him and appeared surprised. "But I still have--"

"I've got it," he replied firmly then offered a tiny smile. "Go on. Get out of here."

Dina smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Wiley."

He gave a slight wave. Dina tossed her ap.r.o.n onto the bar, accepted her purse from Wiley from behind the bar, and hurried for the door. She glanced back only briefly. Olivia was now slumped over the table out cold. Dina headed out the door and showed no emotion to the woman's condition. She walked across the nearly empty parking lot toward her old car parked alongside Wiley's pickup truck beneath the vapor light. As she approached her car, she saw the back tire was flat. Dina groaned with disgust.

"Great," she scoffed.

She'd end up having to wait for Wiley to finish his work in order to give her a ride home. It seemed inconceivable that anyone she knew would be up this time of night. Instead of getting home half an hour early, she was going to be at least an hour later. As she approached her car, she visually a.s.sessed the damage to the tire. Her eyes strayed to the front tire. It was flat as well! Dina's eyes widened, and she suddenly appeared horrified. She took two, quick steps backward then turned to run back for the tavern. A man in a mask stood between the two cars, blocking her route to the tavern. Dina gasped and stood frozen while staring at the man. She glanced behind her. Her only option was the nearby woods. They were dark and intimidating. She glanced back at the man as her breathing became heavy. He lunged for her. Dina screamed and ran for the woods beyond her car. Her screams would go unheard. The walls were too thick in the tavern. Her attacker chased after her. Dina ran into the woods without looking back. In the dark, they'd be difficult to navigate, but there was a path somewhere up ahead.

There was the sound of a loud grunt just behind her. Dina uncertainly looked back and suddenly stopped. Her attacker lie on the ground, writhing in agony. She hesitated only a moment then uncertainly headed back for the parking lot and the motionless man. The man in black slowly moved to his feet while clutching his shoulder. Dina jumped with alarm and prepared to turn back for the woods. Her a.s.sailant suddenly turned and ran away. Dina watched him run across the parking lot and disappear into the woods across the street. She uncertainly entered the parking lot near her car and scanned the area. Nothing moved. There was no one there, but someone had to be there. Something or someone stopped the man from chasing her. She looked back at the tavern and ran across the parking lot for the door. A police blazer pulled into the parking lot. Dina suddenly stopped and watched the blazer approach. The interior light came on, revealing Deputy Tucker. He looked at Dina through the open window and offered a charming smile.

"Hey, Dina," he announced. "Just making my rounds. Everything under control tonight?"

She just stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Two seconds sooner, and he would have run over her attacker on the road. She appeared relieved and hurried to his open window.

"You just missed him, Deputy," she announced while now panting and holding her chest. "This guy slashed my tires then came after me. He took off into the woods that way," she said while pointing across the street, "just two seconds ago."

Deputy Tucker appeared stunned and quickly grabbed his cell phone. He pressed the walkie-talkie b.u.t.ton. "Mitch.e.l.l, you out there?"

There was a moment of silence. His phone beeped and Deputy Mitch.e.l.l's voice followed. "Yeah, I'm here, Tucker. What's up?"

"I'm at the tavern," he announced while glancing at Dina. She was looking more fl.u.s.tered now than before. "Some guy slashed Dina's tires then attacked her. He's in the woods north of the tavern. Patrol the area on the other side. I'm having a look-see."

"Roger," came Mitch.e.l.l's reply. "Should I call the sheriff for backup?"

"Negative," Tucker replied. "I don't want to give him too much of a head start. I'll take Winchester."

"Copy that," came Mitch.e.l.l's reply.

Tucker jumped out of the truck as Wiley appeared on the tavern porch.

"What's going on?" Wiley suddenly asked.

Tucker nodded Dina to Wiley. "Stay with Wiley until one of us gets back," he informed her.

"You can't go after him alone," Dina cried out.

"I'm not," Tucker announced and removed his rifle from the blazer. "I'm taking Winchester."

Chapter Eighteen.

Dina sat at the bar with the few remaining drunks surrounding her with great interest as Wiley slid a gla.s.s of whiskey on the bar before her. She accepted the gla.s.s in trembling hands and sipped it. Dina made a face and set it back down. She remained visibly shaken as Wiley and the drunks stared at her.

"He started to chase me," she said softly and shook her head, "and, next thing I know, he was down. He was just lying there in agony."

"Think the idiot fell?" Wiley asked.

She shook her head defiantly. "No, he was taken down," Dina announced firmly. "Someone took him down, and they took him down hard."

"But you didn't see anyone?"

"No, no one," she replied. "It was the strangest thing. Who was he, Wiley? What did he want?"

Wiley uncertainly shook his head. "It was obviously an ambush, being your tires were slashed," he informed her, "but no one would have any reason to go after you. You haven't done anything--" He suddenly fell silent.

Dina stared at Wiley as he fidgeted. Her look turned concerned. "You think he came after me because of Casey? Someone wants revenge on her, so they came after me?"

Wiley appeared tense and straightened. "It could be anything, Dina. Let's not go jumping to conclusions."

Dina picked up the gla.s.s in her trembling hand and drank the entire contents. It was possibly the first alcoholic drink she'd ever had. The tavern door suddenly opened, startling everyone inside. Grey looked around the bar, saw Dina near Wiley, and hurried for her.

"Are you okay?" Grey asked while placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dina suddenly burst into tears, jumped from her chair, and clung to Grey. He uncertainly held her against him as she sobbed into his neck. Her emotional outburst surprised him. He immediately turned soothing and clung to her.