LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter One

      “What do you mean, I have to pay cash?” Adam Hunter speared his grease-stained fingers through his hair. He’d taken over the Bear Lake Garage from his dad ten years ago. Adam, and his father before him, had always had a line of credit at the local bank. They’d been doing business on credit with the auto-parts store in Missoula for thirty years or more.

      The lanky auto-parts delivery kid shrugged. “That’s what the boss said. Only cash. No credit.”

      “There must be some mistake,” Adam said.

      “You can call Devin if you want.” The kid handed him the invoice. “It says right there, cash only.”

      Adam took a quick glance at the papers listing the parts he knew he had ordered: a new headlight for a customer who had missed the target driving into his own garage, a dozen sets of spark plugs, radiator hoses, a couple of batteries to have on hand. He pretty much had to take the kid’s word for it that the red stamp across the invoice meant what it said: CASH ONLY.

      The racket of the garage’s flatbed tow truck shifted his attention away from the invoice. Gears clattered and a whiff of diesel exhaust blew in through the wide-open doors as Vern Rutledge backed the truck up. An hour or so ago they’d had a call from the sheriff’s office to pick up a car that had had an encounter with a deer on Highway 93, the road that ran through the town of Bear Lake en route to and from Glacier National Park, Montana.

      Even from a distance, the damage to the front end of the four-door compact was obvious. Must’ve been some big buck that got hit.

      When Vern turned off the engine, a young girl hopped down from the truck cab followed by a striking woman who moved with the grace of a dancer. Long brown hair curled past her shoulders. The afternoon sun caught the strands, touching them with a hint of red.

      “Good-lookin’ lady,” the delivery guy said under his breath.

      Adam agreed she was good-looking. Add to that, she was downright classy in the way she dressed and held herself so erect. Her outfit of slacks with sandals and a tidy blouse tucked in at her narrow waist marked her as a tourist. So did the Washington plates on her car.

      “Hang on,” he said to the delivery kid. “I’ll get you the cash and give Devin a call later to straighten out the mix-up.” The faster he took care of the delivery, the sooner he could turn his attention to his pretty new customer.

      * * *

      Still shaken by her violent encounter with a tree when she’d swerved to miss a deer, Janelle Townsend smoothed her hand over her daughter’s hair. Thank goodness Raeanne had had her seat belt on in the backseat. Janelle had been the only one in front,

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