LITMIR.BIZ

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But none of that explains the men after you.”

      “Maybe someone’s hoping to scare me, so I’ll sell out.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense, either. There are multiple bidders. I could sell to whoever I wanted. There’s no way any of them could insure they’d be the new owner. And why help out the competition?”

      “All right. Let’s set that aside for now and finish in here. What’s next?” he asked.

      “I want to remove all the hardware and a few built-ins, like the fireplace mantel. Whatever stays will be demolished along with the house, and that’s scheduled to begin tomorrow.”

      “Where do you want to put this stuff?”

      “In that big metal storage compartment over there.” She pointed to the green, metal bin beside the driveway, across from her trailer. “It’ll be pretty full after that, but I can’t afford any additional storage places, so the boxes over there with dishes and housewares will go to my dad’s workshop. It’s that small building on the south side of the house.”

      “What kind of workshop?”

      “Dad liked tinkering with wood. Spending hours there was his way of relaxing.” And hiding out. After her mother’s disappearance, he’d spent most of his free time there—away from her.

      Emily pointed toward the den. “The boxes in there marked with a red D for donation are going to charity. They’re filled with Dad’s belongings,” she added, her voice wavering slightly.

      “You okay?” he murmured, eyeing her closely.

      She nodded. “Packing those was very hard.”

      “Your dad’s clothing?” he asked, taking a few steps toward the boxes.

      She nodded again. “If you know anyone who might be able to use them…”

      “No,” he answered quickly. “The People have taboos against that.”

      “Sorry. I forgot,” she said. “Something to do with ghosts. Is that right?”

      “No, not ghosts—not exactly, anyway,” he stated. “Navajos believe that the good in a man merges with universal harmony, but the chindi, the evil side, remains earthbound, ready to create problems for the living. The chindi is said to be particularly attached to a person’s earthly possessions, so Navajos avoid coming into contact with those.”

      “All right then,” she said with a nod. “Dad’s clothes will go to the homeless shelter as planned.”

      “Did you search his clothes carefully? People often forget what they’ve stuck in their pockets.”

      “I thought of that, but didn’t find anything.” She sighed. “Dad wasn’t the careless type. He was methodical and careful. But I’m making him sound too serious, and that’s way off the mark. Dad loved games.”

      “What kind of games?”

      “The kind that offered a challenge, and a high degree of intelligence to solve. For example, he refused to have a safe in the house because he said safes could be stolen. If he had something of particular importance to him, and it wasn’t related to business, he’d just hide it. He loved mind games. He told me that a thief would have to know him personally to even get close to something he’d hidden.”

      She laughed softly. “One summer he hid an Ella Clah mystery I’d been reading. It took me two weeks to track it down. He’d placed it on the top of our grandfather clock behind the crown. You had to be eight feet tall or up on a ladder to spot it.”

      “Now he’s left you with another puzzle to solve,” Jonas commented thoughtfully.

      She nodded. “Guessing what he was into.”

      THEY WORKED TOGETHER for two hours, then started taking boxes to the workshop. After the third load, as they stopped to take a break, they heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

      Jonas went to the workshop’s double doors and studied the truck coming toward them. “Know anyone in a tan crew cab pickup?”

      “Not that I can think of offhand,” she answered, coming to join him. “My foreman, Ken, drives a big white truck with his company logo on the door.”

      Without making a point of it, Jonas stepped in front of her. The gesture reminded her of the danger she was facing, but at the same time his protectiveness was reassuring.

      Moments later a man in jeans, a windbreaker, boots and a brown baseball cap climbed out of the truck.

      Emily breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s my neighbor, Grant Woods,” she said.

      Grant strode over, his expression serious. His face was tanned, and all sharp, jagged angles. He nodded to Jonas, then focused on her.

      “Emily, since you’re going ahead with your construction plans, I wanted to make sure you also take responsibility for all the wear and tear on our shared stretch of road. It’s already taken a beating from those big trucks hauling in your lumber, and the cement mixers are going to eat it up. What you do to your driveway is your problem, but that section of common road—you’ll have to fix any damages your crews cause. You understand?”

      “Sure, Grant. If you see a problem, just let me know,” she said, annoyed by his tone.

      “There’s an easy way for you to avoid all these problems, Emily. Let me buy you out. I’ll exceed whatever property value estimates a Realtor comes up with by, say, ten percent?”

      “Thanks, but as I told you the other day, I’m not interested in selling to you or anyone else. I intend to build my inn here. All the permits have been approved, and the work begins tomorrow.”

      “With all the setbacks you’ve been having, what makes you think anyone will want to patronize your motel?”

      “Inn,” she corrected. “And how do you know I’ve been having trouble?”

      He gave her a wry smile, then turned and waved his arm. “I live just a mile and a quarter away. How could I miss the sirens and flashing lights running up and down the road? This used to be a quiet spot—until you came back home.” He paused for effect, then added, “I liked it the way it was.”

      “Just give my business a chance. In the long run, you might like the changes it’ll bring,” she said.

      “Doubtful, but it’s your money.” Grant started to go back to his truck, then stopped and reached inside his windbreaker. “I almost forgot. When I drove out to get my mail, I saw your box was full, so I picked it up, as well. You do know that the mailboxes are by the side of the highway now instead of at our gates? They changed that a couple of years ago.”

      “Sure. They’re hard to miss. And thanks,” she said, taking the bundle he handed her.

      As he drove off, she removed the rubber band holding the envelopes and catalogs together, and started to leaf through the stack. “He opened my bank statement!” she muttered, then shook her head. “No, never mind. I’m just thinking the worst because he annoyed me. It’s possible it wasn’t sealed properly.”

      Jonas took the envelope and studied it. “It’s hard to tell one way or another, but that guy doesn’t exactly make a great first impression. How long have you known him?”

      “Since high school. Back then, he was a loner. The jocks would give him a hard time, shoving him around, and the girls avoided him because he creeped them out. He was overly nice—smarmy—and heaven help you if he had a thing for you.”

      “Did he? Have a thing for you, that is?”

      “Me? No. I was a freshman when he was a senior, and just the girl next door who rode on the same school bus until he got his own car. The only time he ever paid any attention to me was when my mom disappeared.” She saw Jonas nod absently, and realized that, like everyone else in the community, he’d heard the story.

      After

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