The Last Sister (Columbia River)(83)

“So you’re saying I was a hottie?” She winked.

“Definitely. Did Emily—”

“I don’t know where Emily got this file of photos, but it’s brought back so many memories of when we were young. Now we get the senile-citizen rate,” she said with laugh.

He winced, remembering that Simon had specifically asked Emily to not show it to Dory. “I imagine it has.” He glanced at the photos spread across the desk, and one caught his attention, bringing a grin. “Is that the sheriff?” The men in the picture portrayed a group camaraderie that Zander had never experienced. He estimated that most were in their thirties or late twenties, fishing poles and tackle boxes at their feet. The sheriff was easy to pick out; he was as gaunt as he was today.

“Oh yes. That is Merrill. Can you guess who this is?” She pointed at a man.

Considering he’d been in town only five days, Zander wasn’t surprised he couldn’t place him. He shook his head.

She shuffled the photos. “Here’s a better one.”

It had been taken at the same time with the same men, but the face of the man she’d indicated was clearer. He struggled to place it.

“That’s Lincoln. The girls’ dad.”

Now Zander recognized the man. He looked closer, recognizing that Emily had his eyes. Lincoln’s hand caught his attention, and Zander tensed, ice filling his limbs. He immediately checked the hands of the rest of the men.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He slid around the photos on the desk, finding two others that had been taken at the same time and comparing them.

“Dory, who is this?”

She studied the man. “Why that’s our mayor, Harlan Trapp. I forgot he used to have hair.” She giggled. “And there is Simon—he was a looker back then. Too bad he wasn’t interested in me then. I might have said yes.”

“Who are the other people?”

“Well, there’s Rod Barton—he’s Brenda’s brother. Merrill Greer. I don’t know the others.”

Harlan Trapp stood next to Sheriff Greer, his right hand in front of his stomach, pointing at the sheriff with two fingers and his thumb. Lincoln Mills and the two men Dory didn’t know were making the same gesture.

A KKK hand sign.

Harlan Trapp was a white supremacist. Along with Emily’s father.

It added a little weight to Billy’s assertion that Harlan had killed Sean Fitch.

Dammit. He wished Ava weren’t out of commission. Zander needed to discuss this with someone. Now.

His gaze locked on Sheriff Greer, clearly buddies with the other men. No hand sign.

Was he part of it?

Do I tell him what I just discovered about the mayor?

The photos were twenty-five years old. They could mean nothing.

“Dory, where is Emily?”

“She and Madison are running an errand in this cockamamie weather. Picking up a fabulous surprise for my sisters.”

“Madison went with her?”

“Yes.”

At least she had taken her sister.

Who can I trust? He felt ill that he now had doubts about Sheriff Greer.

Did the sheriff warn Harlan Trapp that we were going to his home?

Vina.

Emily’s aunt knew everything about everybody. But would she talk to him? Without holding back? “Thanks, Dory.”

He left the office and hunted down Vina. She was on the floor, chatting at a table with a large family. Five kids. “Vina, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” She excused herself and followed him. Thea noticed and tagged along. The two women had curious looks as he led them to a quiet corner and showed them the photos of the group of men. “Can you identify these men?”

The two women exclaimed over the photos, stating they’d never seen them before. They confirmed all of Dory’s identifications, and, like Dory, couldn’t name two of the men. “I think those guys were from the coast guard,” suggested Thea.

“No. I’m pretty sure they’re friends of Lincoln’s from Portland,” countered Vina. “I remember this person. He upset Brenda about something.”

Thea moved her nose nearly to the picture and then agreed with Vina. “Portland folks.” Her nose wrinkled as she said it.

“I’m Portland folks,” Zander said, curious as to the distaste in Thea’s tone.

“But you’re a nice guy,” Thea said earnestly. “You treat our Emily well.”

He nearly coughed.

Vina nodded. “We’ve seen it.”

“And these guys weren’t nice?”

“I wish Lincoln hadn’t hung around with them,” added Thea. “Things might have been different.”

“You need to explain.”

The women looked at each other and shrugged. “You know,” added Vina, as if that answered everything.

They know what he was.

“Look here.” Zander pointed at Lincoln’s hands. “See anything odd?”

The women studied the photo. “No.”

“What if I told you he’s making a white supremacist hand signal?”

Neither woman flinched.

That tells me more than anything they’ve said.

“If that’s so, then three others are doing the same,” said Thea.