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Paradise sat in the conference room with Blake, Jenna, and Detective Greene, who was the last person she’d hoped to see after

the shooting incident. She should have expected him to be the one to show up. Though the situation had been terrifying at

the time, she hoped the incident would convince the detective that none of them had anything to do with the murder of Ms.

Mason.

The room held the aroma of strong coffee mingled with the freshly baked sweet rolls Jenna had brought in. Paradise’s stomach

growled, and she realized she’d missed lunch. She rose and poured a cup of coffee while Greene grilled Blake. At least he

was leaving her alone.

Greene clicked his pen off and on again before putting the tip to the green notebook in his hand. “You claim to have never

seen the couple before.”

Blake’s eyes flickered at the way Greene emphasized claim . “As far as I know they weren’t with the initial protests, though I could have missed them. The first group of protesters included probably thirty or so people. This couple today sat in the back of the vehicle and seemed more concerned with making out than with seeing the animals.”

When Greene’s lip curled as he wrote, Paradise decided she’d better jump in even though she hated to attract the man’s attention.

“I can corroborate that. When I boarded the vehicle, they were wrapped around each other and didn’t interact with Blake through

the tour. They didn’t get off the truck either and didn’t even seem to notice we’d stopped.”

“Did you say anything to them directly about getting off the vehicle?” he asked.

“No. It’s common for people to stay in the truck and observe the animals through the open windows. Some people are afraid

or simply don’t want to get out. Like I said, they seemed uninterested in the animals. I wondered why they even came.” Blake

ran his hand through his thick dark brown hair and it stood on end. “When the first bullet pinged on metal, I grabbed Paradise

and hit the ground. I yelled for the few people who got out to take cover too. You can talk to them to corroborate our story.”

“You recognized the sound as gunfire?”

“I’ve been in war zones, Deputy, so I immediately recognized it. I’m pretty sure it was a 9-millimeter.”

“Did you feel threatened, like the shooter was aiming for you?”

“They never shot at us directly—only at the lock on the gate. But ricocheting bullets can kill just as easily as intentional

ones, so I knew better than to ignore the danger.”

“Did either of you try to confront the shooter?”

“Like I said, I knew better. When the shots ceased, I saw them running away.”

When Greene’s questioning gaze turned her way, Paradise steeled herself. “I kept my head down when Blake checked to see what was going on. I didn’t see anything until he told me it was okay to crawl out from behind the lean-to. Our priorities then were making sure the visitors hadn’t been injured and none of the bears were shot.”

“Seems odd the shooter aimed at the gate knowing he might strike one of the bears. That doesn’t show much concern over the

animals.”

“I thought the same,” she said. “I was shocked to find the bears uninjured. It was very reckless of them.”

“How did they get a pistol into the park?”

“We don’t have a metal detector or anything like that,” Jenna said. “They easily could have brought it in with a backpack

or a purse.”

Greene turned his attention back to Blake. “You’re familiar with guns. Did you recognize the type of pistol?”

Blake shook his head. “I was too far away to see it well. I only saw the barrel, though when security arrived, I searched

the bus for casings. I found none. I suspect the shooter’s partner picked them up as he or she shot the weapon. A search around

should turn up the ricocheting bullets though.”

“He or she? So you aren’t really sure if the man or the woman operated the weapon?”

Blake shook his head again. “As I said, I only saw the barrel sticking out the window.”

Greene clicked off his pen. “That’s it for now. I’d like you both to try to provide details for police sketches to see if

we can track them down. Saturday afternoon work for you? I can arrange for a forensic artist to come here. That’s typically

best since the memory is often jogged by being where the incident occurred.”

“We’re shorthanded here,” Jenna said. “The last excursion will be over at four. Blake would be free after that.”

“I’ll arrange for the artist to be here at four thirty.” Greene rose and glanced at Paradise. “I’d like a word with Ms. Alden privately. Walk me out, please.”

Paradise’s gut tightened, but she stood and followed him out of the room. He said nothing until they reached his SUV.

He opened his door and gave her a coaxing smile. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Dislike is radiating off you like

a furnace, and I’d like to make amends for our first meeting. I’m sorry if I was out of line.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”

Seriously? The guy clearly thought he was irresistible to women. Paradise ignored his extended hand. “It’s all forgiven, Deputy

Greene.”

His smile wobbled a bit before he pinned it back in place. “That’s good. Maybe our next meeting won’t be so awkward. I’d hate

for this to get back to the sergeant, you know? You sure we’re square?”

“I handle my own battles,” she said evenly. “You don’t have to worry about me running to your boss.”

Relief lit his green eyes. “Glad to hear it.” His big hand came down on her shoulder, and he gave a slight squeeze.

She moved away immediately, and his hand dropped off. “I don’t like to be touched.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

His flat tone told her he hadn’t taken the rejection any better than he’d dealt with her refusal to go out with him. She watched

him get into his SUV and drive off. He was still going to be a problem.

***

Paradise shut the door to her cottage behind her and sank onto the chair in the tiny living space. Rosy, the little fennec fox, trotted over to greet her. “Hey, Rosy.” The fox settled by her feet, and she wished the small animal liked being handled. Having Rosy on her lap right now might give her a little comfort.

Her eyes burned, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Was there some sort of sign over her head inviting men to hit on

her or something? She’d had to deal with this kind of thing all her life, starting when she was in foster care. It had led

to an unshakable distrust in men.

She gritted her teeth and rose to stomp to the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were luminous with moisture, and even her cheeks

were pale. Where was that come-hither sign and how did she erase it? She pulled back her unmanageable mane of hair. The wind

had left it even more untamed than usual, and she saw nothing that would draw anyone. Did men sense weakness in her somehow?

All predators saw that in their prey, but she’d worked hard to project a strong, confident manner.

She splashed cold water on her face and wiped it with the towel before she sighed. Though she wasn’t hungry, she should eat

something. Rosy should be fed too. She went into the kitchen and fed the fox before she opened the fridge, staring at the

contents. Nothing appealed to her, so she turned toward the coffeepot.

Someone tapped at her door, and she tensed. Surely Greene wasn’t back. She turned that way and spotted Blake’s dark hair through

the window. The stab of relief quickened her steps to the door.

Blake’s face held concern. “You okay? I saw the way you stomped off after Greene talked to you. What did he want?”

She stepped out of the way to allow him to enter. “He wanted to apologize for our first meeting. In reality, he was afraid

his bad behavior would get back to the sergeant.”

“Scumbag.” He stopped by Rosy. “How’s she doing?”

“Better. I should be able to take the wrap off in a day or two.”

“You just let her roam here?”

“She’s litter trained. Besides, she’s good company. Want coffee? I was about to make some.” She didn’t want to be alone after

that encounter, but her spine stiffened at the realization she was giving him the wrong signals. “Sorry, that was out of line.

Let’s maintain some professional distance.”

He shut the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s get this out in the open, Paradise. I’m not the enemy

here. I never was. Can we at least talk about what happened back then?”

“What good would it do?” she fired back.

He stepped past her and settled on the chair she’d just vacated, leaving the love seat for her. “I’m not leaving until we

clear the air. Neither of us can work in this tension. You know it as well as I do.”

She wanted to throw him out, but he was much too large for her to handle. And maybe he was right. They’d never talked about

what he’d done—there’d been no chance after CPS moved in.

She crossed the small space and dropped onto the love seat. Her hands shook, so she clenched them together in her lap and

said nothing. If he wanted to talk, he could start the conversation.

“What do you think I should have done?” He watched her intently. “Waited until Mr. Adams raped you? My options were limited.”

She flinched at his bald statement. “I trusted you. You had to have known when you talked to the caseworker that they’d remove

me.”

“I didn’t know they’d take you so far away! And I couldn’t stand by and watch what was happening. No one could.”

“I had it under control. I told him if he tried to enter my room again, I’d tell his wife. You should have trusted me to take care of myself. I don’t need anyone’s help. He wasn’t the first man to try something. Nor was he the last.”

He scratched his dark hair and it sprang back into its upright position. “No one is that strong, Paradise. When I was in Afghanistan,

I was the one there giving aid. But even I needed help—a team. Allowing no one into your inner circle is a tough way to live.

We all need other people. And God.”

His voice gentled, and she knew his mention of God wasn’t an accident. It had been a conflict during their teen romance too.

She couldn’t trust a God who would take her parents in one fell swoop and leave her dependent on strangers. Her views hadn’t

changed in all these years either. What kind of God did that? She didn’t want anything to do with a being like that.

When she didn’t reply, Blake leaned forward. “What would you have done if it had been me? I loved you. You know I did. I hoped

your caseworker would listen to me. Mom would have taken you. I told the caseworker we would.”

Paradise’s eyes filled when he said he loved her. Past tense. And of course it was because it had all been so long ago for

him. To her, his betrayal was still fresh. “You should have known better, Blake. We lived next door. Adams could have easily

continued to have contact with me if I merely moved to the next house over.”

Realization reflected on his face. “I never thought about that. You still didn’t answer my question. What if you saw that

same thing happening? Would you have ignored it and turned a blind eye?”

“I told you in confidence! Why do guys think they have to fix everything? Sometimes women need a shoulder to cry on. We don’t expect you to rush in and make things worse. Talking it out can show the way to fix things. And I knew what to do. I had it in hand, but you ruined everything.”

She saved the real blow for last because it would be the knockout. “Did you ever think that where I would be sent next would

be worse, Blake? It was worse. They were a nice family but blind when it came to their son. They didn’t believe me when I told them about him, and

h-he raped me.” She choked back her pain.

Blake’s expression turned grim, and he reached for her. She shook off his touch and ran to the door to hold it open for him.

“Please go.”

“Paradise,” he whispered.

“Don’t say anything, Blake. Just go.” She didn’t look at him, and after a hesitation, he left. She shut the door and went

to make coffee.