Page 8 of Twin Jeopardy

“How old was this girl?”

“Ten.”

The lines across his forehead deepened. “Why are you writing about something that happened that long ago?”

She explained her planned series of articles focusing on Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue.

“And she was ten, huh?”

“Yeah, I know.” The same age as their older brother, Adam, when he had been killed by a speeding car. “I interviewed the girl’s twin brother Friday. When he talked about feeling lost after she was gone, I knew exactly what he was going through.” She had been nine when Adam was killed, Mitch seven. Young enough to not fully comprehend how someone could suddenly be gone. Old enough to see the way their family changed forever on that day.

“Did you tell him about Adam?” Mitch asked.

“No. It’s not something I talk about with anyone but you.” Her mother, the only parent left now, had long ago stopped talking about her eldest son, the memories too painful.

“Yeah, me either.”

She left the file on her desk; then she and Mitch walked over two blocks to the edge of the park and a food truck that sold tacos and other Mexican street food. She and Mitch had just settled at a picnic table with their purchases when Vince and two other men in the khaki uniform shirts of Eagle Mountain Road and Bridge took their place in line. “Hey, Tammy,” Vince said.

“Hi, Vince. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” Then he was called to place his order, and he turned away.

“Who is that?” Mitch asked.

“Vince Shepherd. Valerie’s brother.”

“Is he single?”

“Why? Are you interested?”

He made a face. “I was thinking for you.”

It was her turn to scowl at him.

“I’m just saying,” he said. “The two of you seem to get along well.”

She laughed. “Saying hello to each other doesn’t tell you anything about how we’d get along.”

He held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Don’t blame me for wanting you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she said. Maybe not the level of happiness she craved, but life wasn’t all bliss and she didn’t expect it to be. She touched her brother’s wrist. “I’m fine, Mitch. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Just don’t go stirring up trouble with this article.”

“Oh, please. There’s nothing about this article that could cause me trouble. I’m not an investigative reporter digging up dirt in a big city.” Maybe in another life, she would have chosen a more exciting career, but being the sole reporter at a small-town paper suited her. It was comfortable and safe, and that’s what she craved—most of the time, at least.

“IDIDN’TKNOWyou knew Tammy Patterson,” Vince’s coworker, Cavin, said when the three of them were seated at a table a short distance from where Tammy and her friend were eating.

“We’ve met.” Vince poured salsa onto his tacos.

“I heard she split up with the guy she was dating,” the third man at the table, Sandor, said.

Vince stared at him. “How do you know these things?”

“My wife works at the salon where Tammy gets her hair cut. She knows everything there is to know about half the female population in town. And then she comes home and tells me everything.”

“The scary thing is, you remember it,” Cavin said.

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