Carol Ericson - Sudden Second Chance

How many adults looking for answers had made the pilgrimage to Timberline, believing they were Stevie, Kayla or Heather? But she had a strong feeling she’d been here before.

She withdrew the frog from the bag and kissed him before stuffing him back in the bag and dropping it on the passenger seat. She’d kissed plenty of frogs in her day, but this one really was going to make all her dreams come true.

She locked up the car and strode back to the restaurant. It had just opened for dinner and a sea of empty tables greeted her—no excuse for the hostess to stick the single diner by the kitchen or the restrooms. She nabbed a prime spot next to the window, ordered a glass of wine and started checking the email on her phone.

Every time Beth looked up from her phone, more and more people filled the room, and she began to notice a few furtive glances coming her way. Linda had been right. News in a small town traveled fast.

If the locals showed an interest in the story, it would make for some good TV. She and her crew never went into these situations with the goal of actually solving the mystery, although a few times they’d gotten lucky. She’d gotten lucky when Duke had shown up during her story two years ago—lucky in more ways than one.

That Cold Case Chronicles’ investigation had led to the arrest of a child killer who’d been living his life in plain sight of the grieving families. It had been one of her finest hours...and had cost her a budding relationship with Duke.

When the waitress brought her a steaming bowl of soup, Beth looked up just in time to see Duke walk into the restaurant.

She ducked her head behind the waitress and peered around her arm.

The waitress raised her eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

“Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

“In Timberline, that’s not hard to do even if you are from Hollywood.”

“LA.”

“You are that host from Cold Case Chronicles, aren’t you?” The waitress had wedged a hand on her hip as if challenging Beth to disagree with her.

“I am, but I don’t live in...” She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m from Hollywood.”

“I wasn’t here during the first set of kidnappings but—” the waitress looked both ways and cupped a hand around her mouth “—I could tell you a thing or two about Wyatt Carson. I used to date him.”

“Really?” Everyone seemed to want to talk about Wyatt, but that case was one for the books. “Did he ever talk much about his brother and what might’ve happened to him?”

The waitress’s eyes gleamed. “A little. I could tell you about it...on camera. I’m Chloe Rayman, by the way.”

“We’ll talk before we commit anything to video, Chloe.” Beth held out her card between two fingers. “If it’s something we can use, I’ll have my cameraman film you when he gets here.”

“Oh, I think it’s something you can use.” Chloe plucked the card from Beth’s fingers and tucked it into the pocket of her apron.

Even if Chloe didn’t have anything of importance to add to the story, the waitress would want her fifteen minutes of fame anyway. Beth’s challenge on these stories had always been to separate the wannabes from the people with hard facts. Sometimes the two types meshed.

Beth lifted a spoonful of the seafood bisque and blew on the hot liquid.

“Digging in already, huh?”

She’d taken a sip of the soup and choked on it as she looked into the chocolate-brown eyes of Duke Harper. She dabbed a napkin against her mouth. “Dive right in. It’s the only way to do it.”

“It’s the only way you know.”

“I’d invite you to sit down—” she waved at the place across from her “—but I’m sure you have important FBI business.”

The wooden chair scraped the floor as he pulled it out. “The only important business I have right now is dinner.”

She gulped the next spoonful of soup and it burned her throat. What possible reason could Duke have for joining her for dinner? Maybe he wanted to grill her for information this time.

“The seafood bisque is good.” She drew a circle around her bowl of soup with her spoon.

Chloe returned to the table, practically bursting at the seams. “Are you Beth’s cameraman?”

“Would it get me a beer faster if I were?” Duke lifted one eyebrow at Chloe, who turned three different shades of red.

“Of course not. I mean, what kind of beer would you like?”

“Do you sell that local microbrew on tap here?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have that and the pork chops with the mashed potatoes, and you might as well bring me some of that soup she’s slurping up.”

Beth dropped her spoon in the bowl. “Why did you join me if you’re going to sit here and insult me?”

“That wasn’t an insult. Are you getting overly sensitive out there in LA? You used to be a tough broad, Beth.”

Rolling her shoulders, she exhaled out of her nose. Duke liked to needle her. It hadn’t bothered her before—when they’d been in love. But now that he hated her? She couldn’t take the slightest criticism from him.

“Pile it on, Duke. I can take it.” She set her jaw.

“Relax, Beth. Your slurping made the soup sound good. That’s all I meant.”

Relax? Was that a jab at her anxiety? She squeezed her eyes closed for a second. If she didn’t stop looking for innuendos in his conversation, this was gonna be a long dinner.

She scooped up a spoonful and held it out to him with a surprisingly steady hand. “Try it.”

He opened his mouth and closed his lips around the spoon. “Mmm.”

Heat engulfed her body and a pulse throbbed in her throat. My God, she couldn’t be within five feet of the man without feeling that magnetic pull. And he knew it.

She slipped the spoon from his mouth and lined it up on one side of the bowl just as Chloe brought Duke’s beer and another bisque.

“Are you done, Beth?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She pushed her bowl toward the eager waitress.

When she disappeared into the kitchen, Duke took a swig of beer and asked, “What’s up with the waitress? Is she your new best friend or what?”

“She dated Wyatt Carson and thinks that’s going to get her camera time.”

“You have that effect on people, don’t you? They tend to fall all over themselves in your presence.”

She stuck out her tongue at him and took a gulp of wine. She needed it to get through this meal.

“Interesting case, Wyatt Carson.” Duke flicked his bottle with his finger.

“I know, right?” Beth hunched forward. “Why do you think he did it? Hard to imagine he’d want to put other families through that hell when he’d suffered the loss of his brother.”

“One of two things.” Duke held up two fingers. “Either he missed the attention and limelight of those days when his brother went missing or he really did just want to play the hero. He kidnapped those kids and then rescued them. Maybe he thought he could get past his survivor’s guilt by saving other children when he couldn’t save his brother.”

“Twisted logic.” Beth tapped her head.

“Do you want a slurp, er, sip?” He held his spoon poised over his soup. “I had one of yours.”

“No, thanks. I have some fish coming.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the camera adds ten pounds. You still run?”

“There are some great running trails here. Did you bring your running shoes?”

“Of course. Running is the only thing that kept me sane...keeps me sane with the pressures of the job.”

“Same here.” So the loss of his partner must’ve weighed heavily on him. Did he suffer from that same survivor’s guilt as Wyatt Carson?

“You doing okay with all that—” he circled his finger in the air “—panic stuff?”