Page 47 of The Edge

“You any closer to finding out who killed Jenny?”

“Just really starting. Interviewing people, taking statements, going over the crime scene, checking the forensics. Not very exciting but all very necessary.”

Says the fake investigator from Homeland Security.

“I also met with Alex Silkwell. You mentioned before that no one really knows her?”

Palmer dabbed at a spot on the counter with her cleaning rag. “Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have said that. What business is it of mine? So what’d she have to say?”

“Nothing too remarkable. I went inside her studio. She’s quite an artist.”

“She should be. My grandmother mentored her.”

“Bertie taught Alex?”

“Yes. When Alex was in high school. You wouldn’t know that, of course. Bertie was incredibly talented. She could have really been something if she had pursued it. When she was young she was even offered a spot at an art school in Paris.”

“Damn. So what happened?”

Palmer shrugged. “She loved Gramps. They were high school sweethearts. They decided to stay here and raise a family. But she continued with her artwork. And taught folks like Alex.”

“The building behind the house? Was that her art studio?”

“Yes.”

“Alex seems to have followed her example of staying put. She had offers, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” Palmer said absently, with a frown. “If I had been Alex, I would’ve been gone in two seconds flat.”

“Not into small towns?”

“I could always come back to visit.” She looked around the café. “And this may come as a shock, but serving food and coffee in the town where I was born and grew up was not a significant element of my youthful dreams. In fact, it had no place whatsoever,” she added with a sad smile. “I went away to college and didn’t think I’d be coming back. But here I am.”

“You’re still young. You can still dream and then do something about it.”

“Far easier said than done.”

“I think that’s why they call them dreams.”

“You want another cup?”

“No, I think I’ve hit my caffeine allotment for today. By the way, I’m having dinner with Dak Silkwell tonight.”

“Really? You two becoming best buds?” she said jokingly.

“He’s just someone I need to talk to.”

“Well, I need to get back to work. Hope you and Dak have a great time. But don’t let him get you drunk. You won’t like yourself in the morning. Trust me.”

She walked off, leaving him to wonder about what she had meant by that.

CHAPTER

23

BY THE TIME DEVINE GOTback to the inn Harper and Fuss were gone. He stood at the spot where he had seen the scope flash and then eyed the window of his cottage.

Not a difficult shot. Cover was good. The shooter had chosen their position well. The grass had been too soaked to hold any footprints.

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