“Uh, yeah, of course. He was Caroline’s younger brother. He’s like sixty-five.”

For some reason, when thinking fifty-two-year-old murder, I envisioned something far away, untouchable, under glass. Like one of those cold-case documentaries full of black-and-white images and slow-motion reenactments. But of course Maura was there, too…and I live with her. The people in this town are closer to Caroline Quinn’s murder than I realized.

Morgan’s phone rings, and she picks up, already sliding out of the booth.

“Caleb, oh my God, hi. I have to tell you my theory!”

She heads outside the diner to take the call, leaving Ben and me alone. In an alternate reality, it could be a date. Instead, here we are, sitting stiffly side by side, investigating a murder—possibly murders.

“So what’s next?” Ben inquires. “What are you thinking?”

“Reama,” I reply. “The fan Chris mentioned. We have to get back into WestonCon, ask around.”

“Deputy Shields wasn’t happy to see us there.”

“It’s a public place. For all she knows, we’re huge fans checking out the con. We’ll be careful.”

“You’re serious about all this?” Disapproval tugs his mouth down.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just…are you actually planning to, what? Investigate Natalie’s murder? Why? You barely knew her. Barely know any of us, really. You’ve only been here two weeks.”

“Less than two weeks, technically,” I crack, seeking a bit of levity. I’m nervous, trying to put words to what’s been driving me since the beginning.

But then I decide to lay myself bare. To trust that Ben will understand. “It’s something I can do. Natalie was murdered. It’s not cancer, or a house collapsing, or some other horrible, awful thing that sometimes happens and you have to accept it and move on. Someone did this. And I can do something about it. Help Natalie find justice.” I search his face for understanding. “You didn’t throw yourself into something as a distraction after your mom died?”

“Nothing as weird as a murder investigation, no. But…I guess I get that.” He exhales deeply, dramatically. I brace myself for his reaction, but then he blesses me with that brilliant lopsided grin. “Look, I’m happy to be your girl Friday on this one, but I’m going to need more coffee. You want?”

“Yes, please. With soy creamer and two sugars.”

“Uh, don’t think they do fancy creamers, but I can get you some half-and-half.”

“That’s good. Thanks.”

While awaiting my caffeine fix, I let my mind wander back to the matter at hand. Morgan’s not wrong. A stranger could have easily mistaken Natalie for her.

But that makes it all the harder. There’s not only the motives for why someone would want to kill Natalie to consider, but why someone may have really been after Morgan all along. I track through it in my head.