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over the edge. From that position, she pulled as hard as she could, swinging and kicking her legs until she got one heel over. Once there, it was easier to pull herself the rest of the way with the strength of her leg. But when she jumped down on the other side, she landed awkwardly, rolling her ankle. Bolts of stabbing electricity shot through the joint. “Schhhhheisse!” She cussed in German and tentatively walked it out until the pain eased.

All the while, Renegade waited for her at the bottom of the climbing rope that hung from a tree. Caitlyn laughed at him. “I’m not climbing that thing carrying you today, Ren. No way. I’ll be lucky if I can get my own lazy ass up that rope.” Caitlyn patted Renegade’s head, and jumped as high as she could up the rope, gripping it in her hands. She wrapped the dangling rope around her leg, and she made it about three-feet further up the rope before she had to rest. She had nothing left. Sliding back down to the ground, she sat in the dirt next to her dog. “Well, it’s just the first day. You’re going to have to be patient with me, Ren. I’ll get there. I promise.”

Caitlyn took a long hot shower and spent the rest of her afternoon creating a Murder Wall in her living room to assist her investigation. She hadn’t hung any pictures since she’d moved in, so the location made perfect sense. She found a topographical map of north-eastern Wyoming in her truck, but after searching her kitchen drawers she couldn’t find any tacks to stick it to the wall. She also lacked red string which she wanted to use for attaching related clues to each other, making it obvious at a glance which of them were connected, and how. And her printer needed new ink so she could print out the photos she’d taken of the gravesite. Catie made a list of the items she needed, then loaded Ren up into her truck and headed into Moose Creek.

Caitlyn’s property was on the opposite side of town from her family’s ranch, and it was about a twenty-minute drive before she saw the first roof-tops of the town’s buildings. After cresting a small hill, she drove down onto Main Street. It was after lunchtime, so there weren’t many people out on the sidewalks. She passed the gas station, the bookstore, and the café before she rolled past the Sheriff’s Office on the far end of town. I wonder how Dylan’s fairing inside that little jail cell? Are they questioning him, or is he napping on that flimsy cot? The questions she didn’t want to ask herself were: did Dylan kill Wendy Gessler, and if so, why? She let her mind travel over all the things she knew. Remembering her discovery of Wendy’s body, she scrutinized Dylan’s subsequent reactions. He was the one who called the sheriff. Would he have done that if he was guilty?

Lost in thought, Caitlyn almost drove past the Mercantile. She swerved hard and bounced over the curb into the parking lot. She clipped on Renegade’s leash and grabbed her purse. It wouldn’t take that long to get the things she needed.

13

Caitlyn and Renegade entered the Mercantile and waved to the owner before making their way to the hardware section in search of a box of tacks. Finding a pack, she also picked up a roll of masking tape. One could never have enough masking tape. The small craft area was in the back corner of the store, and Caitlyn and Ren headed there next to find some red string.

“Well, if it isn’t Caitlyn Reed.”

Caitlyn looked up from her list to see Eleanor Smooter standing next to a younger woman about her own age, whom Caitlyn didn’t recognize. The older lady’s hairstyle—reminiscent of Betty Rubble from the Flintstones—was from a distant decade last century, complete with a little blue bow. “Hi, Ms. Smooter. How are you?”

Eleanor raised her pencil-drawn eyebrows at Caitlyn. “I’m sure I’m having a better day than you, dear.” Her voice took on a sickeningly sweet timbre that set Caitlyn’s teeth on edge. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother, Dylan.” She cupped the side of her mouth with her hand and leaning in, whispered loud enough for the clerk up front to hear, “I hear he’s in jail—arrested for the murder of Wendy Gessler.”

Red heat flashed behind Caitlyn’s eyes, and she gritted her teeth before responding. “The sheriff only took Dylan in for questioning, Ms. Smooter. We found Wendy’s body on our property, that’s all. My brother didn’t kill anybody.” Caitlyn tugged on Renegade’s lead. “Come on, Ren. Let’s go.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Caitlyn, dear.” Ms. Smooter slid her large floppy arm protectively around the woman beside her. “But I had dinner with the sheriff last night, and Bruce told me he was going to put Dylan in jail for murder.” Her dark eyes brimmed with challenge.

Caitlyn studied the younger woman standing by Eleanor’s side, trying once again to place her. She didn’t remember having ever seen her before. On impulse, Caitlyn thrust her hand toward the woman. “Hi, I’m Caitlyn Reed. I don’t believe we’ve met.” The young woman lifted her chin and glowered down at Caitlyn before she lightly clasped Caitlyn’s outstretched fingers.

“This is…my house guest, Maribel Martin. She’s visiting from Nebraska.” With her arm still around Maribel’s shoulders, she pulled the woman close. Maribel’s sweater fell open and Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice her pregnancy.

“Welcome to Moose Creek, Maribel. Maybe I’ll see you around.” She gave a curt nod to Eleanor and strode away. I’d forgotten Eleanor Smooter and Sheriff Tackett were an item. I need to come to town more often if I want to stay caught up with the local gossip.

Caitlyn found the red string and the other items on her list, paid, and went back out to her truck.

“Caitlyn! Catie!” She snapped her head around to see

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