When the time came to dismiss the students, she was relieved. Monday the school term would end. Since she’d been hired for the coming year as well, she would be allowed to live in the small house down the road for the summer.

She’d been looking forward to the time to read and explore the area. But the heat this spring had curbed her enthusiasm. That and the murder story.

No wonder she felt restless. Tomorrow was Friday. There was only one more segment of the short story. Then the ending on Monday. Would Friday’s be waiting for her on the corner of that used desk in the morning when she opened the classroom?

Or would the killer?

She shivered at the thought.

“See you all in the morning. Don’t forget,” she said as she watched her students noisily preparing to leave. “Keep working on your stories.”

She watched from the window as they loaded onto the bus or climbed into waiting pickups and SUVS, then began to gather her belongings, anxious to get home.

At the sound of footfalls, she looked up to find a woman standing in the doorway, looking around as if she’d never seen a one-room schoolhouse before.

“Can I help you?” The woman was studying the birthday wall, where everyone had posted their upcoming birthdays, hers included, complete with photographs.

As the woman turned, Jolene recognized her. It was the woman she’d bumped into on the street that day outside the newspaper office. The same woman she’d seen at dinner last night at Northern Lights.

“Jolene Stevens?” the woman asked. “I’m Dulcie Hughes. Do you have a minute?”

The teacher’s hand was ice-cold as Dulcie shook it.

“What is this about?”

“Laura Beaumont’s murder.” Dulcie saw the young woman’s surprise. “Don’t bother to tell me you don’t know who I’m talking about. I saw the copy of the newspaper article you dropped on the street that day. I checked at the newspaper office and found out which stories you copied.”

“I don’t understand why—”

“I recently inherited Laura Beaumont’s house. Is there somewhere we could talk about this privately?”

Jolene Stevens seemed to hesitate, but only for a moment. “Let’s go to my place.” She pointed down the dirt street to a cute little cottage. “Just let me lock up the school.”

Dulcie waited in the car with the air-conditioning running. She had tried to pull herself together after Russell had left her at the farmhouse. He’d been angry and she couldn’t blame him. They’d shared an intimacy that a man like him didn’t take lightly. Nor did she, even though she’d let him believe she had.

Even now she couldn’t regret what happened, but she also couldn’t let it happen again. She’d gotten too close to Russell Corbett.