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“My grandmother lives here,” Max said with surprise as Keaton turned their car into the retirement community parking lot.

They had an appointment to interview Daisy Swanson, Noelle’s great-aunt.

“My grandmother will kill me if she finds out I was here and didn’t stop in to visit for a bit,” Max added.

“She’s a bit of a tyrant.” His grandmother Paulette had strong opinions about family.

She insisted on regular visits from Keira and from Max’s mother and two other sisters when they were in town.

He suspected Paulette had felt a disturbance in the Force when he’d crossed the city limits of Bend. Somehow she always knew when he was in town. He’d told only Keira he was coming because he didn’t know what sort of free time he’d have.

“I’m sure we can find a few minutes for her,” said Keaton as he lifted their equipment out of the back seat. “Get our work done first, though.”

The retirement community was made up of small houses for independent living, apartments for a low level of care, and rooms in the main building for people who needed frequent medical attention.

Max’s grandmother lived in one of the small houses.

After her husband died, she’d cheerfully moved from her home of forty years into the community.

She was very social and wanted to meet new people.

After they checked in at the reception desk, a polite young man with a tattooed neck and a southern accent led Max and Keaton back outside to the clubhouse, a large building with a common area for games or parties and several smaller rooms for other activities.

The tattooed man directed them to a room where they found a large table with several chairs.

Cheerful sunlight streamed in the large windows, and it had a nice view of the manicured grounds.

Max approved. It was much more relaxing for an interview than the conference room at the FBI.

“I’ll be back in a minute with Daisy,” the tattooed man said with a grin. “She’s quite the character.”

The two had just set up their video camera when Daisy Swanson arrived with a young woman in tow, the young woman’s relation to Noelle obvious in her face.

Lucia.

They’d requested an interview with Lucia, and she’d agreed to speak with them at the same location after Daisy’s interview.

Lucia carefully scrutinized Keaton and himself, her large eyes hesitant.

Max had watched videos of the youngest sister’s interviews from thirteen years ago.

She’d seemed ethereal back then. Delicate and tall and wispy.

Now she was an older version of exactly the same.

He knew she had trouble holding down a job and often relied on Noelle for financial support.

Noelle Marshall’s financial position had stunned him.

If he had that much money, he’d own forty motorcycles and a gigantic garage to keep them in.

Two gigantic garages. He didn’t care about having a nice house.

All he needed was space for his toys and a cot to sleep on in the corner.

He’d take world trips, traveling through foreign countries on a motorcycle.

And he wouldn’t work.

Well, maybe I would.

Max liked what he did and firmly believed that he helped other people. As good as it sounded, he couldn’t live on just motorcycle trips. He needed a purpose, and the FBI provided that.

Max and Keaton introduced themselves to the two women. Lucia said her name quietly and shook their hands. Daisy reminded him of Betty White. She had a similar warm smile, a cloudlike hairstyle, and a softly rounded face. Everyone’s grandmother.

“My goodness, aren’t you a tall one,” Daisy said as she looked up at Max. “I like that.” To his stunned surprise, she squeezed his bicep through his sport coat. “Strong too.”

“Daisy.” Lucia shot the men an embarrassed glance.

“Don’t Daisy me. He knows I’m being silly.” She winked at Max, who scrambled for something acceptable to say.

“It’s fine,” he forced out. “Have a seat, Ms. Swanson,” he said as he pulled out a chair.

“Call me Daisy, please.” She sat down and looked over at her grandniece. “You can go away now. I don’t need you peering over my shoulder while I talk to these fine men. You can talk with them when I’m done.”

“But I should—” began Lucia.

“Shoo. I’m just fine.” Daisy smiled brightly at Max. “Now. Where are you from?” she asked.

Max paused, wondering if she’d forgotten why they were there. “We’re from the FBI—”

“I know that. Where did you grow up ?” She looked at Keaton, including him in her question. “I’m a California girl myself. Grew up on the coast not far from the redwoods but moved to the Sacramento area in my twenties.”

Lucia gave the men a glance of sympathy as she went out the door.

“Oregon is nice,” Daisy went on. “I don’t mind living here now. I like seeing the snow on the mountains.”

“It’s beautiful here,” agreed Max. “I grew up in Medford. I live in Sacramento now.”

“Las Vegas,” said Keaton, looking slightly stunned that Daisy was using the interview for her own pleasure.

Max turned to his partner in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“See?” said Daisy, clasping her hands in delight. “We’re all learning something new. I heard that—”

“Ms. Swanson,” cut in Keaton. “I hate to interrupt, but we’re on a schedule, so we really need to get to our questions about Mr. Bell.”

“I’ve already been interviewed about Derrick,” said Daisy.

“We know,” Max said patiently. “But that was thirteen years ago, so we’re touching base with everyone to see if we can find anything new.”

“You still don’t know who killed that young man?”

“Not yet.”

Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “It was a dreadful shock. Poor Noelle. We were very thankful she survived that blow to her head.” Her lips pursed. “Such a horrible business. I don’t know what her sisters—and us—would have done if we’d lost her.”

“Us?” asked Keaton.

“My brother and I,” said Daisy. “William. His daughter died when the girls were young. It absolutely crushed him, but we took in those girls, and I swear they saved him from drowning in his pain and loss. It was good to have them around. Little Lucia was only two. I don’t think she has memories of her mother. ”

Max scrolled through some notes on his laptop, trying to recall what had happened to the girls’ mother. “Breast cancer, correct?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Silence hung in the room as they expected Daisy to continue to talk, but she simply looked at them, apparently done. After all her chatter, her abrupt quietness felt very odd.

Not much to say about that topic.

“How was it, suddenly having three more people in your household?” asked Max, simply to prod her along.

“The girls were so sad those first few years, but William and I did everything we could to make their lives happy. It wasn’t easy for William either, he mourned the loss of his daughter for a long time. She’d looked like Eve, you know. It was like having her ghost around every day.”

William Swanson had passed not long before Noelle moved to Oregon. Max pulled up photos of the grandfather and saw where the height in the family had come from. It’d bypassed Daisy but had clearly been handed down to the three sisters.

He was a police officer for almost three decades.

Max saw hints of the cop he’d been in the man’s posture. He stood as if he was always ready for whatever came his way. “Ms.—I mean Daisy, how well did you know Derrick Bell?”

She considered the question. “That was a long time ago, you know.”

“Do you remember how you felt about his marriage to Noelle?”

“Oh! What an event their wedding was.” Daisy nodded emphatically. “I couldn’t imagine the cost. But Noelle looked absolutely stunning. They were madly in love.”

Max felt a subtle pang in his chest. He’d heard the words madly in love a million times, but he’d never felt it for himself. There’d been a few women who came close, but it had always fizzled out.

“Until they weren’t,” added Daisy.

“You think the couple fell out of love?” Max asked.

The woman tipped her head and focused out a window. “I know Noelle did. William and I talked about the change we’d noticed in her. It was like she’d had her spine sucked out of her back.”

“How did William feel about that?”

“He was angry at Derrick.”

A small chill went up Max’s back. He recalled that Agent Patmore had written somewhere that William had stated he’d been unhappy about the change in Noelle since her marriage.

But when Patmore had asked Daisy if she knew William’s opinion of Derrick, Daisy had brushed the question aside and asked about the agent’s earrings.

Max recalled reading the transcript and being amused.

Why didn’t I wonder about Daisy’s evasion?

Because everyone had said Daisy was scatterbrained. He looked up and met Daisy’s gaze. It reflected kindness and interest. He saw no sign of confusion. Her question as they’d sat down together had simply been one of a woman wanting to get to know someone.

Max pulled up the photos of William again.

Tall. Strong. The skills of a cop.

Nearly every person interviewed on Noelle’s side of the family had spoken of William’s deep love for the three girls.

Did he hate Derrick enough to kill him?

Derrick had been severely beaten. Strong emotions had been present. It wasn’t kill and run; it had been a prime example of taking out your anger on someone.

Thirty-seven crowbar blows. Kicks to the abdomen.

Scenarios rapidly played in Max’s head as he tried to imagine William beating Derrick. Patmore’s investigation stated that William Swanson had been at home during the day of Derrick’s death. Lucia and Daisy had confirmed it.

Alibied by family.

It wasn’t the strongest alibi, but it was accepted in the absence of evidence to place William at the murder scene.

But why would he hit Noelle in the head?

The only reason he could come up with was to keep Noelle from seeing that he’d been there.

Nothing else made sense.

For the first time, Daisy had stated that William had been angry about the change in Noelle. In Agent Patmore’s interview with William, he had said the same, but no one else had. Until now.

Max wondered if Noelle’s great-aunt was saying it now because they couldn’t prosecute a dead man. Possibly she was trying to redirect the investigation toward a dead end.

Is she protecting someone?

Is it Noelle?

“Who else noticed the difference in Noelle?” asked Keaton.

Daisy waved a hand. “Oh, everyone.” She glanced at the door through which Lucia had left. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? I’m not sure Noelle realized how being with that man crippled her.”

“That’s a strong word,” said Max.

“Thankfully she snapped out of it,” said Daisy with a serious nod. “She got away from him in time to return to her old self. I don’t know if that would have been possible if their marriage had continued for a few more years.”

Max’s brain snared on Daisy’s words. “She got away from him ...” Daisy made it sound as if Noelle had escaped, not as if the marriage had been ended by a murder. Max thought back to Noelle’s interview.

I loved my husband.

I loved my husband.

I loved my husband.

Max wondered if she had still loved him at the end.