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.And last night someone spied on me.I think.I’m not positive.It could have been kids.”“One at a time.Stick to the basics.When, what, where, how.The why is fairly obvious.You said you found a famous missing plane and then said you didn’t.”“Yes, but this guy’s motive…I don’t know.”“The instant message came first?” When she nodded, he said, “Tell me about it.”His tone was encouraging and even tender, not the least bit dictatorial.But his eyes—those black, incisive Sinclair eyes—gave him away.Inside, she knew, he was pulsating with the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake the information out of her, syllable by syllable if necessary.It was just the warning she needed.Wanting to slip inside this man’s soul for a look around was crazy and dangerous—like doing a preflight check, discovering mechanical problems and going up anyway, even when she knew the plane wasn’t airworthy.Some things you just didn’t do.But she told him about the instant message, the fax, the car.She focused on the facts and didn’t mention flipping on lights and ducking under windows and sleeping on the couch.Fear had always been a private issue for her.When search parties had found her, when Andy McNally had pulled her out of the lake, she’d never admitted her terror.When she finished, Wyatt set the spoon down and returned to the table.The snow was piling up outside her cabin.March snows were often wet and deep, but not long-lasting.Penelope imagined her deck brimming with summer pots of flowers, herbs, tomatoes.Everything changed.Nothing lasted forever.She said, “You should know I’m not operating under the assumption that you’re not responsible.I don’t think either you or Jack Dunning has an ironclad alibi, should I report these incidents to the police.You both have motives for wanting to spook me into showing you the dump—or the plane, seeing how you both think I lied.”His jaw was set tight, controlled.“Fair enough.But we’re hardly alone in thinking you changed your story.”“Who else cares about finding the plane? You care because Colt’s your uncle.Jack cares because it’s his job.”“Frannie’s from Cold Spring, and she and Colt most likely went down in this vicinity.There could be parties unknown with motives unknown who want to manipulate you.The fax said not to show anyone what you found in the woods.”“That could be reverse psychology.”“It could be a lot of things.You still have it?”She nodded.“I’ll get it.”With sudden energy, she shot up from the table, but stopped halfway to her bedroom.She turned, saw he was watching her.She forced herself to concentrate.“Aunt Mary’s fax machine was messed up this morning.”The black eyes showed no emotion.“And you think it was our mad faxer?”“Why not? He could have snuck in last night and popped off the fax to me.There was no sign of a break-in, but he could have had a key, stolen a key, picked the lock, snuck in when Pop and Aunt Mary weren’t looking.The airport office isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”“He—or she—could have seized the moment.”“Right.I know it’s hard to swallow, but so’s a threat by fax.I suppose whoever sent it could have used his own machine and messed up Aunt Mary’s just so I’d think it came from hers.But that’s getting labyrinthine.”Wyatt thought a moment.“It’s always possible your aunt messed up her fax machine without any help.”“I guess.A few years ago, you could count the number of fax machines in town on one hand.Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bubba Johns had one.” Before Wyatt could jump in, she added, “And no, I don’t suspect him.”She darted into her bedroom, located the fax, returned to the kitchen, and handed it to Wyatt.While she paced, he unfolded it, read it, and pinned his gaze on her.“You should have Jack take a look at this.He’s an experienced investigator.My father wouldn’t have him on retainer if he weren’t discreet.”Penelope shook her head.“I think this is a case of the more you stir it, the more it stinks.There’s no overt threat.It could be a reporter trying to goad me into changing my story—it could be Jack Dunning for all I know, or you, or some idiot relative of mine having a laugh at my expense.Look, I’ve already had a search party formed to come after me, turned an old dump into a plane wreck and got myself grounded.This time I’m looking before I leap.”Wyatt smiled.“You do have a reputation for putting people around here through their paces.But what do you believe right now? What do your instincts tell you?”Her instincts had already told her not to get into an alliance with this man, and a fat lot of good that had done her.“My instincts told me to get out Granddad’s Winchester and buy bullets.Just in case.”“You could move in with your folks for a few days,” Wyatt suggested, “or take a room at the inn with your cousin.”“Are you kidding? I’d never live it down.You just said you know my reputation.Something happens in Cold Spring, New Hampshire, people look around to see where I am
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