Page 3 of Fatal Witness

If only she could remember—

Lizi barked when she heard a soft knock at her studio followed by her uncle’s voice.

“Mail’s here,” Keith said as he opened the door.

Dani quickly closed the sketch pad as he entered. Her uncle got really upset when she questioned him about their life before they came to Montana. He would flip out if he thought she was beginning to remember people from her past. “Thanks.”

Lizi rubbed her head against Keith’s leg as Dani sorted through the mail, separating it into bills, ads, payments, and the latest issue ofPottery Making Illustrated.

“I see you made the cover,” Keith said, pointing to the magazine with one of her plates on the cover.

“My work, not me.” Making the cover was a surprise—a nice one. She smoothed the plastic sleeve encasing the magazine and read the caption under the photo: “Talented ceramic artist Dani Collins talks about combining her two loves—painting and clay.”

“Same difference.”

Dani frowned. Keith worried there would be trouble every time she received any type of attention through her art, but he would never tell her why. Just like he wouldn’t talk about what happened to her parents.

“It’s not the first time my work has been featured in a national magazine. Nothing happened before, and I don’t expect anything to happen this time, especially since my photo isn’t even featured in the article. Besides, I’m not even sure whatcouldhappen since you won’t tell me.”

“I know ... but if—”

“The wrong people see it, there will be problems.” She’d heard him say it so many times that she could finish the sentence for him. Except he wouldn’t tell her who those people were or what the problems could be. Dani studied Keith as he stared at the cellophane-wrapped magazine. What secrets did he hold that made him so afraid? And why did he refuse to talk about their past life?

Keith was like a father to her, and his wife, Laura, whom he’d married when Dani was eleven, had been like a mother ...hadbeen.She blinked back tears. It’d been a month since the woman who’d raised her through her turbulent teens died of cancer, but some days it was as fresh as yesterday.

Laura had always been her ally, and she would miss her. Laura had even encouraged Dani to ask Keith about her parents, but when Dani did, he never told her what happened or what made her forget them.

“Your past is best left alone.”Keith had been so upset and hurt by her questions that she’d dropped it. But with Laura’s passing—Dani preferred that word much better than died—it drove home that if something happened to Keith, her questions would never be answered.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

She looked up. “I will later. Right now, I need to finish packing.” Dani itched to check out the article but refrained, just in case the journalist hadn’t kept his promise about not using her photo. Keith would have a fit.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Early.”

He glanced toward the wheel and supplies by the door. “It’s not too late to cancel.”

“I cannot believe you suggested that. The workshops start Thursday, three days from now. The university is expecting me, spent money advertising the classes ... not to mention, I made a commitment to be there.” Dani raised her eyebrows when his lips pressed in a thin line. “Why is this such a big deal for you?”

Keith held her gaze briefly, then he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Cincinnati is thirteen hundred miles away—you don’t usually venture that far.”

“Don’t you think it’s time? I’m thirty-four years old and back living at home.” He started to say something, and she palmed her hands. “I’m not saying I didn’t want to be here for Laura, and I know you’re lonesome and would like me to stay on.”

“I appreciated you being here. Laura loved you like a daughter. And I do too.” He hugged her. “I do hope you’ll continue to make this your home. ’Cause you’re right, itislonesome when you’re not here. I’ll miss you this weekend.”

He knew how to play on her sympathy.

“I’ll think about continuing to live here.”

“Good!” He smiled as though it were a done deal. “It seems to me living here would be more convenient instead of driving out here from your apartment in town every day.”

It was also smothering. “If I do stay on, you have to cut me loose.”

“I know ... it’s just...” He frowned. “You’re smart, but you’re not street-smart. You’ve led a sheltered life—”

“And whose fault is that?”

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