Her thin smile stayed firmly in place.

“Pensky.”

Wyatt held out his hand, palm up. “Can I see your paperwork?”

“Excuse me?”

“From the court?” Wyatt waited, did the staring thing with the woman, before she broke.

“I don’t have a court order. This is a preliminary investigation.”

Wyatt dropped his hand. “As you can see, Hope is in no grave danger at this moment, and without a court order, no one is obligated to answer any of your questions.”

Ms. Pensky’s jaw tightened. She obviously didn’t appreciate being denied an audience.

“The child has a broken arm and bruises all over her face.”

“From a highly publicized fall.” Wyatt’s smile slid. “Now, if you don’t mind.” It was his turn to spread his arm wide and indicate she should leave the room.

Miss Gina huffed as she walked in front of the woman and opened the front door.

Ms. Pensky glared over her shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

“You do that.”

As she left, Melanie let her shoulders fall.

“So I don’t have to talk to her?” Hope asked.

“Not today.”

“Good.” She popped off Melanie’s lap and started to leave.

“Where are you going?”

Hope shrugged. “I have to pee now.”

Wyatt and Miss Gina entered the room as Hope left.

“What kind of crap is he trying to pull?” Melanie asked the question running in her head.

Wyatt pulled her into his arms and held her. “Whatever he can.”

“She’s coming back, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Melanie rested her head against Wyatt’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Melanie was napping alongside Hope after a much-deserved shower and hot meal. Miss Gina was researching what CPS looked for in order to find a home unsafe for a child, and Wyatt was on the back porch, talking to Luke on the phone.

“Who is the pinched-faced woman going around town asking about you and Mel?”

Wyatt explained the situation. “Where did she go?”

“Sam’s. Then I heard she was at R&B’s asking a thousand questions.”

“This ex of Melanie’s is a real piece of work,” Wyatt said.

“From all the stories we heard, none of us understood what she saw in him. You’re sure he’s the one who called Child Protective Services?”

“Is there any other suspect?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Any more word from Jo about Mr. Lewis?”

“I haven’t seen Jo in two days. Zoe told me she’s done nothing but beat herself up for letting Mr. Lewis leave.”

“She couldn’t have known. None of us suspected a thing.” It ate Wyatt up that he’d smiled at the man and shaken his hand when he expressed his concern for Hope’s welfare.

“How is our little patient?”

Wyatt felt a smile on his face. “She’s a trouper. Keeping her down might prove difficult.”

“Hard to climb trees with a broken arm,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Doesn’t mean she won’t try.”

“Well, she’s getting a hero’s welcome tomorrow afternoon. Zoe is coordinating a huge barbeque. Her way of thanking all the volunteers who stepped up.”

The effort had been huge. “You know, Luke . . . we live in a great town.”

“Yeah . . . we do. Well, bud, if you need something, I’m a phone call away.”

“Thanks.”

He no sooner hung up the phone when it rang.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

It was Josie.

“What’s up?”

“Just wondering who this uptight bitch is asking questions about you and Mel.”

River Bend needed a small newspaper, then he could just put out word on the front page and eliminate the calls.

Her head was splitting and her neck was so stiff that looking in the rearview mirror took effort. Sleep was something for the weak, and Jo wasn’t giving in.

The FBI had taken over the investigation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t dig into the criminal mind of a sleazebag who lured a child into the woods and pushed her off a cliff. Because the case was personal to her, Agent Burton did a fair job of keeping Jo informed of their progress.

Not that they’d gotten very far.

A sketch artist had drawn a picture based on the collective recall of everyone who’d seen Mr. Lewis. The image had been aired all over national television without any real hits. “It’s easy to change your appearance,” Agent Burton had told her. She’d gone on and shown Jo just how easy it would be to make their so-called Mr. Lewis into a balding thug with fake tattoos on his face and neck that would distract most people from really looking into his eyes to see the color. Mr. Lewis might have worn a wig once he left River Bend, donned a pair of shorts, and jumped on a party bus to Vegas. The possibilities were truly endless.

Between Jo and the FBI, they’d sat through countless hours of airport security cameras out of Eugene and come up empty-handed. The man either disguised himself as a woman, which wouldn’t have been all that easy with the body scans and pat downs, or he didn’t bother with the airport at all.

The rental car company had been given the same information that Miss Gina had received when booking Mr. Lewis’s room. The car had been returned at the airport rental location, and by the time they’d tracked it down, it had already been released to another customer.

The room he’d used at the inn had a forensics team dissecting it for the better part of twelve hours. It was apparent that some surfaces had been wiped down before Mr. Lewis left the inn. Because he’d taken time to do that simple task, Agent Burton and Jo were convinced he’d had a prior that put him in the database. They both agreed that Mr. Lewis had used the back stairs from the kitchen up into his room unnoticed, and the front stairs when he faked concern for Hope’s disappearance. An unusual amount of dirt was found on the back staircase, laying evidence to their claim, along with a couple of prints that partially matched those in his room. They just needed a break from the many prints they’d lifted to get the man’s real name.