The Last Sister (Columbia River)(7)

“Only the obvious. He’s black. And he married a white woman,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Zander couldn’t speak.

Her gaze softened. “Shocked, are you? Every community big or small harbors some sort of hate and ugliness in its underbelly. Oregon has a very racist history. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t support it, but I won’t pretend it doesn’t exist. Hopefully that isn’t the reason that nice young couple was murdered.”

“He was hanged,” Zander forced out. “That’s a pretty clear message.”

“Or someone wanted the shock value. Or to put investigators on the wrong path.” She tilted her head a degree, her gaze narrowing. “Why am I doing your job?”

“You’re not.” But Zander was grateful for the reminder; he knew better than to let his focus narrow. Vina was correct to consider alternatives. “Was Lincoln Mills black?”

“No.” Her expression closed off. “He was a good father, and his death was a tragedy. His girls have suffered horribly since he died.”





5

It was midafternoon when Emily arrived at the diner and tried not to stare at Madison’s long, pink tulle skirt and black T-shirt as her sister waited tables. Old Converse tennis shoes and a small tiara rounded out the outfit. The clothes would be understandable on a thirteen-year-old. Or a six-year-old. But her sister was thirty-one.

Emily sneaked to her tiny office without being seen and collapsed into a chair, her brain scrambling over how to talk with her staff about Lindsay’s death.

Her employees were her second family. Along with Madison, Leo, her line cook, and Isaac were currently working. Isaac did everything besides cook and wait tables. Dishes. Cleanup. Prep work. The sullen teen wasn’t a talker, but he was a good worker. With Lindsay and herself—and sometimes the aunts—the five of them kept the restaurant running through the quiet months. Lindsay’s absence would leave a gaping hole.

This wouldn’t be easy.

Emily procrastinated, balancing the books for the previous day, the numbers soothing her overstimulated mind. It took only a few minutes; business was slow. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to leave the office.

Madison spotted her, and Emily gestured for her sister to follow as she headed toward the kitchen. Only two tables were occupied. Emily shoved open the swinging door and stepped into the kitchen, feeling the tension in her shoulders reduce a bit. It always happened. Behind the kitchen doors she was no longer on display to the diners. Back here it was just her and her employees. A place to relax before putting her hostess face back on.

But today was different.

From his position behind the prep area, Leo caught her eye and immediately laid down his knife and wiped his hands on his apron, his expression guarded.

Emily’s throat closed. She couldn’t speak.

Behind her, Madison stopped just inside the swinging door. Leo read Emily’s face. Her cook had worked in the restaurant since before Emily was born and was like an uncle to her. He turned his head toward the out-of-sight dishwashing alcove and shouted, “Isaac. Can you come out here?”

The teen emerged, his apron soaked and hesitation in his step.

The three employees stared at her, waiting.

Madison spoke first, her voice cracking in a show of emotion unusual for her. “What happened to Lindsay? Was she really murdered? Her husband too? Rumors are flying, and I don’t know what to believe. They say their house is crawling with police.”

Leo and Isaac were silent, their gazes on Emily. She looked directly at Leo and saw he was expecting the worst. She gave it to him.

“Lindsay was killed. Sean too,” Emily finally forced out, her mouth bone-dry. “They don’t know what happened yet, but they’re investigating.”

Madison sucked in a rapid breath with a sob. “No. That can’t be true. I talked to her last night.”

“Holy shit,” Isaac muttered, thrusting his hands in his back pockets. He wouldn’t look at Emily, staring anywhere else in the kitchen, his eyes growing red as he rapidly blinked.

Leo was silent, but waves of shock and sorrow rolled off him. He didn’t have any relatives and had adopted the diner’s employees as his family. Emily knew Lindsay had been a favorite. He abruptly turned and marched off. Emily heard the rear delivery door open and slam shut.

“This isn’t happening,” Madison muttered, her lips white. “You’re mistaken.” She grabbed the counter near the coffee machine.

Emily shook her head, unable to speak.

Sean’s hanged body flashed in her mind. A bloody Lindsay on the floor of her bedroom.

No one needed those details right now.

“How?” Madison spit out. “How?”

“That’s for the police to determine.”

Fury and sorrow alternated in Madison’s eyes.

“Do we need to close the restaurant?” Isaac asked. “You know . . . because . . .”

The idea had crossed Emily’s mind more than once. She looked from Isaac to Madison. “Your thoughts?” The two stared miserably at each other.

“I’d rather stay busy,” Isaac mumbled. “I don’t want to sit around at home and think about it.” He wiped a hand across his face.

The bell on the front entrance sounded. Customers. Madison’s distraught expression vanished. “I’ve got it.” She spun and hit the swinging door hard with her palm to open it.