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B ungalow Fifteen had every amenity Noah didn’t need. The decor was tasteful and minimal. He could have eaten off the bamboo floors. Fresh flowers populated surfaces and there were no paintings here either. Just lots and lots of windows framing more showstopping views of Arizona. The bathroom off the bedroom had given him a moment of pause with its plush, all-white linens, marble tub and glass walk-in shower. On the back deck, there was a hot tub.

What Bungalow Fifteen lacked was a murder board.

So the coffee table in the living room had become Noah’s work area. There, he’d arranged maps of the resort, lists of names, including staff and guests from the time of Allison’s murder, pictures of the discovery scene at the pool cabana, Allison’s notebook, and the schedule Laura had pulled from her fridge.

On the couch, folders were open to the Coltons’ history. The section on the patriarch, Clive Colton, was doubly thick.

One manila folder lay closed. Inside lurked pictures of Allison’s body at the pool cabana and others from the morgue, close-ups of the entry wound from a needle and abrasion marks on the backs of her legs.

She hadn’t died in the pool cabana. The killer had drugged her at an unknown location and then transported her to a public place that would appear less incriminating.

Was Allison aware when the needle had gone in? Was she afraid? Or had she simply floated away like the dandelion tufts she often picked from the cracks in the sidewalk and blew into the wind?

Noah locked down that train of thought as the ache inside him let out a train-whistle scream. He avoided looking at the photos unless absolutely necessary.

He picked up the list of names, culling members of staff, crossing off those he’d been able to pin down alibis for with a few well-placed phone calls. Most people had been at home in Sedona. The exceptions were, of course, those who lived on property—Tallulah Deschine and the Coltons.

The tip of Noah’s pen hovered over Laura’s name. He wanted to strike her from the list of possibles. He knew on a primal level she had been precisely where she had told Fulton she was during the interview process—alone at home in bed.

But the cop in him wouldn’t allow it. Not because he doubted her innocence. Because striking anyone from a list of suspects was impossible without corroboration. The only witness to Laura’s activities during the time frame of Allison’s murder was the tabby cat, Sebastian.

Noah would have sat the feline down and questioned him if he could have.

Tallulah, Adam and Joshua were still on the list, too. All claimed to have been in bed, sleeping, according to Fulton’s notes. Knox Burnett, the horseback adventure guide who had tried to revive Allison the morning her body was discovered in the pool cabana, hadn’t been able to confirm his whereabouts in the wee hours of the morning. He had also taken several days off from his work at Mariposa, claiming emotional distress.

Noah had cleared the concierge, Alexis Reed, whose neighbors had seen her arrive home around dinnertime that evening and whose car hadn’t left her driveway until sunrise. But he hadn’t crossed off Erica Pike, the executive assistant whose whereabouts hadn’t been as easy to establish.

Between security, housekeeping, maintenance, transportation, the spa, gym, restaurant, bar, stable and front desk, there were one hundred staff members at Mariposa. There could also be one hundred guests if the bungalows were booked solid.

They hadn’t been, he noted, the day the murder took place. February was supposedly the calm before the storm of the long hospitality season that stretched from March to October. Still, the chill and intermittent snow flurries hadn’t deterred everyone. Seventy-two guests had been booked at Mariposa for the week the crime had taken place. With some legwork, Noah had obtained some alibis there as well.

This left less than two dozen possibles on his short list.

Noah rubbed his chin, reading the four names he had circled. There were more questions around these names than others—like actor CJ Knight. Knight had checked out ahead of schedule the morning Allison was discovered in the pool cabana. Noah’s calls to his manager, Doug DeGraw, had been pointedly ignored.

He eyed his notes where he’d cross-checked possible suspects with those who had attended Allison’s meditation or yoga classes. There were fewer names on the list he’d cross-referenced with the late-night stargazing excursions she had tagged along on.

The bracelet she had given him lay among the maps, photos and notes. The evil eye stared at him baldly. He’d searched the pool cabana. It had been swept already by crime scene technicians, and the police tape had come down, clearing it for use. Noah had found nothing in or around the area they had missed.

He lamented the absence of security cameras. The pool area was along a major thoroughfare. CCTV could have easily picked something up if the Coltons weren’t so concerned with the discretion of their overclassed clientele.

A knock made him drop the sheet of paper in his hand. He felt the weight of his off-duty gun on his belt. Rising, he grabbed the leather jacket from the back of a chair and swung it on as he approached the door.

Peering through the peephole, he scanned the two people on his doormat. His teeth gritted. Trying to relax his shoulders, he did his best to cast off the pall of tension that shadowed him everywhere. He snatched open the door and fixed what he hoped was a devil-may-care grin on his face—something befitting a rock-and-roll guitarist.

Adam and Joshua Colton may have shared similar heights, builds and coloring. But they couldn’t be more different. Adam stood as high and straight as a redwood. No trace of a smile touched his mouth.

On the flip side, Joshua grinned widely, a sly twist teasing one corner of his mouth higher than the other. His hair was longer than his brother’s and carelessly wind-tossed. While Adam’s eyes injured, Joshua’s practically twinkled. “Hey, Fender Bender!” he greeted Noah, earning a groan from Lurch at his side.

Whether it was because Joshua’s enthusiasm reminded him of Allison’s or because his ready familiarity with Noah made Adam uncomfortable, Noah felt a strong chord of amusement. “Fender Bender?”

Joshua lifted a shoulder. “Adam told me not to lead with ‘Motherplucker.’”

A choked laugh hit Noah’s throat. He covered it with a cough as Adam cast a disparaging look over at his brother. The elder Colton shifted his weight and attempted to start over. “We’re going for a morning run.”

“Okay,” Noah said uncertainly.

“You should come with us,” Joshua suggested.

“Or not,” Adam dropped in. “I’m sure you’re booked.”

Joshua nodding knowingly. “With Laura.”

Adam shifted gears fast. “You’re coming with us, Steele. No ifs, ands or buts about it.”

“Pretty please,” Joshua added, posthaste.

Noah lifted a brow. He glanced at his jeans. “You know, I’m not really dressed for—”

“We’ll wait,” Adam inserted.

When Joshua moved forward, Noah stiffened. He wouldn’t have time to hide the mess on the coffee table. “Ah... It won’t take long for me to get changed.”

Joshua’s smile turned stilted. “What’re you hiding in there, Keith Richards?” He craned his neck to get a look. “Burned spoons? Coke? Heroin? Women?”

On the last word, the younger Colton’s voice dropped to a dangerous bass. Noah would’ve been offended if he wasn’t so impressed by the hard gleam in his eyes. He tried to laugh it off. “None of the above,” he said. “I just don’t want it to get back to Laura that I’m a slob.”

Joshua lifted his chin slightly. “Sure. We’ll wait.”

“Just a minute.” He shut the door and shrugged off the jacket, cursing viciously. Throwing it over the back of the chair, he then unlaced his boots. In the bedroom, he removed the gun holster and tucked it safely under the mattress.

Quickly, he exchanged the jeans he wore for an old pair of sweatpants. He left on the 1969 Johnny Cash San Quentin State Prison T-shirt and grabbed the sneakers he’d stuffed in his duffel as an afterthought. Happy for the foresight, he scrubbed the back of his hand over his bearded jaw, left his jacket on the chair and opened the door to find the Coltons waiting with varied levels of patience.

Stuffing his bungalow key card into the pocket of his sweats, he injected a hint of nerves into his voice as he asked, “You two are going to go easy on me, right? Being on the road doesn’t leave a lot of time for exercise.”

Joshua and Adam traded a glance as they led the way up the path. “Sure thing,” Joshua replied before he broke into a jog, getting a head start.

Noah caught up with Adam and muttered, “Thanks for your help back there.”

“You want Josh’s trust,” Adam retorted, “earn it yourself.”

Adam pulled ahead, trailing behind his brother. Noah was forced to kick it into gear. A cloud of warm air plumed from his mouth as the cold slapped his face.

He kept up with them just fine, even as the path turned rough around the edges and the bungalows fell behind. They passed signs for a trailhead. The path declined, forked, inclined, forked, declined and inclined again. Caution signs zipped past, as well as guardrails looking out over long drops.

They reached a high point and Adam and Joshua let up finally. Adam doubled over, holding his hamstring while Joshua paced, panting.

Noah tried not to grope for the trunk of a nearby shrub tree. He liked to think he was in good shape, but he sipped air that felt thin. They’d pushed him, either to test his mettle or as some kind of Colton initiation rite.

They would need to work harder to throw him off the scent, he thought with a lick of triumph as he caught Adam’s wince. “Is this the halfway point?” he called out.

Joshua spared him a look over his shoulder. “This is as far as we go, Steele.”

No more “Fender Bender.” Not even a “motherplucker.” Noah circled, swept up in the panorama. “Hell,” he whispered, impressed. He could understand why people paid thousands of dollars to stay at Mariposa. The state parks were littered with people. To find a solitary hike these days, a person had to wander off the map.

Here, there didn’t seem to be anyone around for miles. The quiet struck him. He raised his face to the sun. No wonder Allison had been in love with this place.

I get it now , he told that part of his mind that still felt connected to her somehow.

Another thought struck him. He’d been lured away from other guests with only Laura’s brothers for company. He eyed the long tumble of rocks down to the bottom of the hill. “Is this where you kill me?”

A laugh left Adam. It sounded grim. “I wish.”

At least big brother’s honest , Noah mused.

Joshua turned on him, hands pressed into his hips. “What do you want with Laura?”

The question shouldn’t have caught him off guard. He’d have done this, too, had Allison brought a man around to meet him. He searched his mind.

And found that some part of him could answer the question. Something inside his chest that had cracked like an oyster.

What did he want with Laura?

Everything.

No, he schooled himself. That wasn’t the right answer. That couldn’t be the answer at all. He didn’t want anything from Laura.

Except her mouth. Her smile—the real one he found so elusive. Laughter he’d never heard. Her banter. Hell, even her rebuttals.

He wanted her hands, he thought, unbidden. Soft, clean, manicured fingers tangled up in his, spreading through his hair...

He shifted when that image alone turned him on. Shifting away from the Colton men, he put some distance between them and him. He didn’t think they would be amused if they saw what the simple thought of their sister did to him.

Joshua didn’t let up. “Answer the question.”

Noah thought about it, vying for an appropriate response that would appease them both. What came out was “I want her to know she’s safe.”

“Of course she’s safe,” Adam snapped at his back. “Mariposa’s safer than anywhere else.”

Noah whirled on him. “Is that right?”

The light of challenge died in Adam’s eyes.

“Would I be here if she felt safe?” Noah pressed.

Joshua shook his head. “I’m not sure how you could make her feel any safer than Adam and I can.”

“Someone was murdered under your noses,” Noah pointed out. “Someone she cared about.”

“She blames herself,” Adam mumbled.

“Allison’s death had nothing to do with Laura,” Joshua said.

“How do you know?” Noah asked. “How do you know she’s not the next target?”

Both men froze. Noah struggled against the need to press further, to question them more about Allison. But Laura had warned him not to give himself away to Joshua if he could help it.

If Joshua did have loose lips, then Noah’s cover would be blown before he could avenge Allison. “She needs me,” he said and wondered if it was true, because he knew all too well that the next part was. “I can’t let her do this alone.”

Adam and Joshua remained studiously silent. After a few minutes, Joshua stretched for the return run.

It wasn’t until Joshua had started back for the trailhead that Adam spoke up again. “Allison gave private lessons to some guests.”

Noah nearly skidded on a patch of ice. “Why didn’t you mention it before?”

Adam chose not to answer that. Instead he told him, “She’d go to them.”

“Their bungalows,” Noah muttered.

“Yes,” Adam replied. “When she came to me with the idea, I advised against it. Our goal is to keep the staff presence to an absolute minimum, in and around the bungalows. Maintenance crews and Housekeeping don’t go there unless a guest has a spa treatment or excursion scheduled. All requests are seen to personally by the concierge.”

“You asked her not to do it?”

“Allison has a way of talking you into things.” Adam grimaced. “Sorry—she had a way. I told her she could start taking on a handful of private lessons at a time, as a trial run. If everything went well, she could take on more in the spring.”

“Do you know which guests signed up?” Noah asked. “Do you know which ones had private lessons scheduled during the week she was murdered?”

“I don’t know their names,” Adam explained. “I just know she had three signed up during that time, two she taught that same day. She was excited. She enjoyed helping people, whether it was in a group setting or one-to-one.” Adam cursed under his breath. “Did she die because I gave in—because I let her go into people’s bungalows against my better judgment?”

If the private lessons had led to Allison’s undoing, what were the three names on her exclusive list?