“No. If I had, I would have tried to convince him or her to talk some sense into Joy.” He studied her with hooded eyes. “Now, Ms. Bagwell, why are you asking me these questions?”
Ginny knotted her hands in her lap under the table. “I had the impression the two of you were more than business acquaintances.”
A flicker of unease settled across his features. “We had dinner a few times, but it was mostly business. I thought if I showed her my plans for the development, she’d be swayed into selling.”
“But it didn’t work?”
“No, she was stubborn,” he muttered.
“That must have angered you, especially if your business plans relied on her cooperation.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you’re suggesting that I killed Joy because she refused to sell, you’re way off base. Maybe you should talk to the sheriff instead of running around making accusations.”
“I did speak to him, but he isn’t sharing.”
“That’s for damn sure. I asked him what happened, but he shut me down. Even implied that I might have killed her to get hold of her property, just like you did.” He released an angry sigh, stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “If I were you, Ms. Bagwell, I’d go back to Asheville. If you keep running around making accusations, you might end up like Joy.”
* * *
GRIFF CALLED FLETCH, explained his conversation with Jacob and asked him to meet him at the put-in to the trail near Raven’s Ridge. There, Griff led the way. Three miles in, they passed the point of origin for the latest wildfire.
The ridge overlooked the burned area, so the arsonist could have set it, then climbed to higher ground and watched it sizzle along the forest floor, eating up leaves, twigs and brittle grass as it spread.
Although crime-scene investigators had combed the area, he and Griff searched the territory again to make sure they hadn’t missed something. When they were satisfied they hadn’t, they climbed upward toward the ridge, following the path leading to the top. More rain threatened as dark clouds rumbled and swallowed the light from the sky.
Griff and Fletch hiked past trees so thick they had to turn sideways to weave between them. When they reached the top, the steep overhang jutted out over the woods below and offered an expansive view of where the fire had started.
The perfect place for an arsonist to watch his handiwork and bask in the glory as the flames licked higher and higher.
Griff and Fletch divided up and searched separate areas, the threat of bad weather forcing them not to waste time. Near a cluster of hemlocks leading away from the overhang, Griff spotted boot prints that had been somewhat protected from being washed away by the rain the night before. He shone his light along the edges and thought they might be able to make a cast, then noticed a path of crushed weeds a few feet from the prints.
He panned his light across the brush. Something shiny was trapped in the weeds. He pulled on gloves, and stooped to his knees. His fingers brushed over the shiny metal object, and he freed it, then held it up to examine it. A lighter—fancy, expensive, with the emblem of a black panther on the side.
Not one teens would own.
A hiker on the trail could have dropped it. But considering the location where he’d found it and the proximity to the latest wildfire, it raised suspicion. He bagged it and put it in his pocket, then strode over to Fletch where he finished making the cast of the boot print. They searched for another hour. Unfortunately, they found nothing else. Rain threatening, they hiked down the mountain to their vehicles.
“I’ll run these by Jacob’s office,” Fletch offered.
“Thanks.” The lighter might belong to the arsonist, but the fact that Joy’s business and home had also burned down was seeming less like a coincidence. And more like they could be connected.
Which led him back to Ginny Bagwell.
She’d been shaken the night before. Had bruises where she’d fallen—or been pushed. He’d warned her she was flirting with danger.
What if something had happened to her while he’d been gone today?
* * *
GINNY SPENT THE afternoon at the coffee shop researching Thad Rigden on her computer. She looked for anything she could find indicating he was shady, dangerous or that he might have killed Joy out of anger over the fact that she refused to sell.
He had been through a nasty divorce settlement, which had gone public when his wife sued him for half of their assets, assets that amounted to almost a million dollars. The wife had filed a restraining order against Thad during the divorce proceedings with claims of intimidation tactics.
Had he used those tactics on Joy and the situation had spiraled out of control? Was he so desperate for the investment opportunity to replenish the money he’d given his wife that he’d resort to murder?
The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes to the next hour, and she realized it was time to meet her next date from Meet Your Mate. She hurried back to the inn and changed into a nice sweater and black slacks, then walked to the wine bar William Roberts had suggested.
As always, she checked her surroundings and seated herself to face the doorway. For the next hour, she watched couples and individuals come and go, but her date didn’t show. Wondering if she’d misread the time and place, she checked her phone for messages and reviewed the original interchange. No. She had the date, time and place correct.
The creep had stood her up.
Annoyed, she polished off the one glass of merlot she’d allowed herself to sip while waiting, paid the bill, gathered her purse and headed outside. More dark storm clouds threatened, thunder rumbling, and she increased her pace hoping to make it back to the inn before another deluge of rain descended.
The sun had come and gone while she was in the wine bar, and night had fallen with the temperature dropping again, adding a crispness to the air. Just as she passed the alley between Mitzi’s and the craft store, footsteps pounded behind her.
She halted, sliding her hand to open her purse, then spun around to see who was there. A shadow moved into her vision, then suddenly jumped her. She tried to steady herself, but two strong hands shoved her backward and she hit the brick wall and fell into the dark alley.
Chapter Eleven
A shadow in the alley just past Mitzi’s caught Griff’s eyes as he drove toward the inn. He slowed, wondering if it was a lost tourist or someone attempting to break in the back door of the café. Occasionally drifters or vagrants Dumpster dived for food outside the restaurants. With tourist season beginning, sometimes seedy or questionable loners crept in to hide out on the trail, so it could mean trouble.
He eased into a parking spot at the diner, climbed out and walked toward the alley. Sounds of scuffling and voices echoed from the dark corner.