I know they think the worst of me, but they are small minded and petty. I don’t expect them to understand what Henry and I share.

Then in middle of September she wrote:

Bill is worried and thinks things are about to go bad. I can’t deal with this any more. I have to think about Rose.

Bill? That was a new person, and she’d actually shared his full first name. But without a last name to go with it, it wasn’t enough to help me.

I can’t continue down this path. Henry refuses to change his mind and Harrison has helped me realize what I need to do. As long as I can placate Dirk, I should be fine.

I hope.

Another new name, although it was just as unhelpful at the last.

She wrote about quitting her job and how thankful she had been to get a new one even though it entailed a salary cut. But by then an attorney had contacted her to let her know her grandparents had possessed oil stock, which should have been transferred to Dora. Soon Daddy moved in with her, so she decided to save the stock in case she needed it after the baby was born. She wrote about how happy she was in spite of her continued fears that she was going to get caught, although she never said what she had done.

Then, weeks after my birth, she wrote her last entry:

He came to my house, with Rose sleeping in the next room. In the middle of the day! He told me that if word gets out, he’ll make me pay. I don’t know what to do. I wish I’d never met him.

I went to Henry because if I tell Harrison he’ll take matters into his own hands. Henry’s the only one who can stop this madness, but he told me I’m overreacting. That man threatens my baby and he says I’m overreacting.

Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.

Who had threatened her? Could the same person have also played a part in the fire and Dora’s accident?

I looked at my pages of scribbled notes and only one thing came to mind.

What on earth had Dora mixed herself up in?

Chapter Eight

A little over an hour after I called Neely Kate, I pulled up to her house, half-expecting her to tell me she was still getting ready. But she met me at the door wearing a pair of jeans, one of Ronnie’s flannel shirts, and a pair of boots. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her hair still looked pretty from the day before.

“Are you ready?” I asked, refraining from making a comment on her appearance.

“Let me get my coat.” She disappeared behind the door and came back a few moments later wearing what looked like one of her cousin’s canvas work coats. It was so anti-Neely Kate, I had to keep from gasping.

I forced a smile. “Well, let’s get goin’.”

She paused and studied the truck for a moment before climbing in. When I got behind the wheel, she asked, “I heard you ran off the road yesterday, but your truck looks none the worse for wear. Were you still in Mason’s car?”

The realization that she’d been tuned in to the Fenton County gossip washed over me, leaving a feeling of relief. She was becoming more engaged in the world again. “It’s a long story.”

“What happened?”

I filled her in, telling her about the note and the accident.

Neely Kate paid attention to the entire story, more interested than I’d seen her in weeks. “Did the deputies find the car?”

“No. Mason called Deputy Miller last night. Apparently nothing’s turned up. I bet they’re long gone.”

“Thank goodness, I guess.”

I leaned over the back of the seat. “I got you a surprise.”

Her eyebrows lifted in expectation and she gave me a grin when I produced a donut box. “So you really are trying to get me fat.”

“Hey,” I said as I backed out of the driveway. “Sometimes a girl needs a donut.” I pointed to the cup holders. “And I got you coffee too.”

I was encouraged when, instead of arguing with me, she opened the lid to the box, grabbed a powdered sugar donut, and took a bite.

“So what’s our plan?” she asked, her mouth still full.

“We’re goin’ to the Nestons’ place first. It’s an older bungalow in the Forest Ridge neighborhood.”

“Hey,” she said, turning toward me. “Isn’t that where poor Mr. Mitchell lived? The guy Bruce Wayne was accused of killing?”

I cringed. “Yeah, but it’s not his house.” It wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s parents’ house either. They lived across the street from the man he’d been accused of murdering. Considering the way they’d written him off after his arrest, I sure as Pete wouldn’t have accepted a consultation request from them.

“Did you ask Mason about his investigation on Dora last night?”

I sucked in a breath. “No. I asked him about Hilary first and we had a huge fight.”

“Wait. Was it that bad?”

I shook my head. “No. He had a perfectly logical explanation. But I completely overreacted and got angry with him for not tellin’ me in the first place.”

“That’s not like you.”

“I know, but that woman drives me crazy.” Truth be told, she’d driven me crazy since before Joe and I even dated. I told Neely Kate Mason’s side of the story and she listened in silence until I was done.

“I understand why you were upset,” she said slowly, as though thinking through her words. “But I can also see why he wouldn’t want to dredge up all those bad memories. When Hilary chose to ignore him, it must have been easy for him to pretend he’d never met her.”