Lane swallowed against her fear. There was nothing investigative about the way Charlie was looking at her now. There was promise—like an unspoken oath to keep her and Noah safe. The sentiment stirred something deep inside. When was the last time she felt safe? That someone made her feel safe?

“Momma.” Noah’s voice chased away the warmth blossoming in her chest. There was no room in her life for those kind of thoughts . . . or feelings. Her son appeared at the edge of the room, a dinosaur in one hand and her ringing cell phone in the other.

Lane scooped up Noah and took the phone just as it stopped ringing. Caller ID said it was her sister, Meagan. She was probably freaking out that they weren’t at the community center yet. “I really—”

“I think I have everything I need.” Charlie stood, tucking his notebook into his pocket. “But Sheriff Huggins asked if we could get a copy of the photos you’ve taken at the river recently.”

“Sure, I guess.” Lane shifted Noah to her other hip and found her camera bag sitting on one of the boxes she had stacked earlier. She dug for her camera and withdrew the memory card. “Everything from the last couple of weeks is on there. Is there something you’re looking for?”

“Part of the investigation, but because of the remote location we believe the killer had to be familiar with the area.”

Lane instinctively pulled Noah closer. Was it possible someone in Walton was capable of killing? She swallowed. Lane already knew the answer to that question even if no one else did. A radiating alarm echoed from her cell phone. Officially late.

“I appreciate your time and I’ll get this memory card back to you quickly, but if you need anything . . . well, we’re neighbors.” A shy smile tugged at Charlie’s lips as he looked around the café. “I’m sure I’ll be around.”

“Monday.” Surprise sucked the moisture right out of Lane’s mouth. “I mean, Mondays are when Ms. Byrdie, I mean your aunt, makes her famous banana pudding. Sells out. It’s a good day to come. For food. Or coffee.” Stop talking.

“Sounds perfect,” Charlie said as he turned and walked down the front steps of the café’s wraparound porch. He paused and waved to Noah before tipping his hat in her direction and then disappeared down her walkway.

“He’s a big policeman, Momma.” Noah stared after the man with admiration. Her son loved anyone in uniform but especially soldiers and police officers. “Can we see him again?”

Setting Noah down, Lane started massaging the knot forming in her shoulder. It was hard to share Noah’s affection when those in uniform only reminded her of pain. And death. That last thought drew Lane back into the woods. Who killed that girl? And why?