Chapter One

“So, listen to this,” Haley said as she scrolled through her phone. “They found a guy stabbed fifty-four times and pretty much hacked to bits. In a motel room in Albuquerque. Can you imagine? A housekeeper comes in and finds that mess?”

“That’s why I’m still single. You can’t trust women.”

“Why would you assume a woman did it? They suspect it was a drug deal gone bad. The motel is apparently a known meeting place for that sort of thing. Besides, I don’t think a woman would have the stomach for that kind of killing.”

Mike shook his head. “Another reason why I got out of the city. People are freaking crazy. I like it just fine up here where my only concern is an occasional fender bender and breaking up drunken fights when the river rats get into it.”

The “up here” was Timber Falls, a little mountain village that stayed alive only because of the tourists who gathered there each summer. River rats, mostly. And the campers and RVers who wanted to get off the beaten path. Timber Falls wasn’t at all accessible, really. Only one road came into town, dead-ending at Main Street before turning into a bumpy forest road that climbed into the mountains. The town was buffered by a high mountain pass on one side—at twelve thousand feet—and a winding road on the other that followed the river and slashed through town. That road—the only road—would take you down to Amber Springs, the closest town with amenities within two hours’ drive in any direction.

Timber Falls had barely a hundred full-time residents, yet during the summer months when the river was swollen, several thousand tourists crowded into town. The one motel as well as the lodge stayed booked into September. The RV parks were packed as were the forest campgrounds in the area. The Timber River flowed through town in cascades of rapids with several nice chutes that could be challenging. Two outfitters ran the river, offering up raft trips all summer long for those who wanted to test their skills on the Class V rapids.

She poured him another cup of coffee. “How long have you been here, Mike? Ten years?”

“Yep. It’ll be ten in July. And you’re what? Seven?”

“This will be my seventh summer, yes. I bought the place in the fall, right after the tourists left. Moved here in January, remember?”

Mike Goodson—Chief Goodson—was her best customer and closest friend in town. When she’d bought the saloon, now officially named the Timber Falls Bar and Grill, he’d been the first one to come by and welcome her to town. Not that she hadn’t already been familiar with it. She’d spent every summer of her college years working on the river. She and Gail.

The front door opened and the bell jingled, signaling a customer. She glanced at the wall clock, not much past six thirty. She opened at six each morning and Mike usually came by then for coffee and sometimes breakfast. It gave them time to visit, which, during tourist season, was about the only free time either of them had. Especially now. Curtis and Molly had left her unexpectedly two weeks ago, heading back to New Mexico to tend to Molly’s ailing mother. That left her alone to work the breakfast crowd—serving as waitress and cook both. She now realized how much she had come to rely on them.

“Good morning,” she called to the young couple who entered. “Pick any table you want. I’ll bring coffee.”

She glanced at Mike. “Time to start my day.”

“I thought you were going to switch up the hours on one of your seasonal workers.”

“I am. CeCe is going to switch from nights in exchange for being off this whole week. She’s got friends in town. So, five more days. I can do it. Sylvia comes in at ten and Rhonda at noon.”

She grabbed the coffeepot and plastered a smile on her face. The couple had chosen a table near the corner window that looked out at both the road in front and the river to the side. It was too early for the rafts to run, but it was still a beautiful sight. Each table had place settings and coffee cups turned upside down—Molly’s doing. It saved them having to juggle cups and coffeepot at once.

The couple, a young man and woman in their late twenties, she guessed, had already turned the cups over. She filled them both. The woman reached for two sugar packets from the basket on the table and the man yawned and grabbed a creamer.

“Are you running the river today?” she asked, reminding herself to make pleasant conversation with the customers, something else Molly had taught her. God, she missed them.

“Yes. Our tour starts at nine. We’re doing the long one.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Dead Man Falls, just outside of town, will have you screaming.”

“That’s what we hear. We put in yesterday just past that, so we missed it,” the woman said. “It was still fun.”

“Well, I hope you have a good time today. Do you need a moment to look over the menu or would you like to order?”

“Oh, give us a little while. I just want to drink my coffee and wake up,” the woman said. “We’re camping. Unfortunately, most of our neighbors are college kids. They didn’t quiet down until about two this morning.”

“Tell the camp hosts. They’ll talk to them. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Yes, I think we will. Thanks.”

She topped off Mike’s cup before putting the coffeepot back on the warmer. “What are you going to have this morning? A taco or a plate?”

“Better make it a taco. Chorizo and egg. I’ll take it with me.”

“Why in a hurry?”

“I haven’t been to my house in weeks. I’m doing laundry this morning before making my rounds.”

“Since Curtis and Molly left, I haven’t been to my house either.”

“You staying in the apartment upstairs?”

“Through this week. Once CeCe changes shifts, she can handle it until about seven. That’s when the breakfast crowd starts rolling in and that’s when I’ll roll in too.”

She went into the kitchen to start his breakfast when his cell rang. She only absently listened to him talk as she cracked two eggs onto the greased griddle. Just as she put the chorizo on, Mike stuck his head inside the kitchen.

“Got to run. No time for breakfast.”

She glanced at him, seeing the ashen look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hell, they…they found a guy dead.”

She paused, spatula in hand. “Dead? They who?”

“That was David, one of the campground hosts. Says it’s a goddamn bloody mess out there.”

“Oh my god. A bear attack?”

“Don’t know.” He pointed at the griddle. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. I’ll have it myself.” When he turned to leave, she called after him. “Let me know what’s going on.”

“I will.”

Even if her choices for friends wasn’t limited, Mike was still the best. They were probably the youngest two in town—him at forty and she at thirty-three. Youngest of the locals, that is. During tourist season, everyone hired seasonal help, including her. Mostly college students wanting to earn enough money to allow them to stay up here all summer. She was lucky in that regard. The old saloon had four rooms upstairs—a brothel at one time, she’d been told—in addition to the small apartment. Curtis and Molly had lived in the apartment—where she’d been staying this week—but she offered free housing and restaurant meals in exchange for work. Well, not totally an even exchange. She did pay a small salary in addition to the room and board. All four rooms had two twin beds, so she hired eight seasonal workers each summer. Fortunately, they usually returned for two, sometimes three years. Hers was one of the few places in town that could offer housing in addition to a salary.

She mindlessly made the taco, wrapping it up in foil and placing it under the warmer. She would have it later when there was a lull. She looked around the kitchen with a sigh. Hard to believe she’d been here that long—her seventh summer. Even harder to believe that Gail had been gone for eight. Eight years come June.

Sometimes it seemed like only yesterday.

And sometimes a lifetime ago.