smile. Her thoughts were rioting, but she replied to his greeting with as much composure as she could muster.
“How do you do?”
He walked toward her and extended his right hand. She was loath to touch him but shook his hand. Not to do so would have alerted him to her aversion.
He said, “I’d heard you were living here again.”
“How did you recognize me?”
“Actually, I didn’t. As I was leaving the building, the detective you talked to pointed you out and told me who you were. Anyhow, it’s a pleasure to welcome you back to Penton.”
“Thank you.”
“Everybody treating you decent?”
“I can’t complain.”
“Good to know.” He looked around as though assessing the town square. “Things haven’t changed all that much since you and your sister moved away.”
“Some things have changed quite a lot.”
He came back around to her and flashed a grin. “Well, we did finally get a new fire station. And a Taco Bell.”
She was expected to smile; she did so vapidly.
“Let’s see, what year was that?” he said. “When you left, I mean.”
“Two thousand.”
“That long? Geez. That was the year I graduated high school. I guess things have changed. I’m district attorney now.”
“I remember Sheriff Dyle.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “My dear ol’ dad. He died a while back.”
“He sticks in my memory because he questioned my sister and me after our father disappeared.”
“Oh, hell. Sorry about that. That whole business.”
He shook his head with regret. Seeming regret. Arden didn’t buy it.
He continued. “Daddy would’ve hated bothering you girls at such a tough time. But, you know, line of duty.”
“Of course.”
“Ever hear anything about what happened to Joe?”
“Nothing.”
“Has he been declared dead yet?”
“Years ago.”
“Huh. I’d lost track.”
He was lying about that, too, and she couldn’t wait to get away from him. “If you’ll excuse me, I really need to—”
“They take care of you in there?” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the building, then pointed at the envelope she carried. “Get what you came for?”
“Yes.”
“Anything I can do to assist?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, if you think of something…” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, withdrew a business card, and passed it to her. “At your service. Anytime.”
Arden thanked him with a nod and slid the card into her handbag. “Now, I really must go.”
“Sure, sure, sorry to have detained you. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. You have a good day now.”
Congenial smile in place, he went back to his car and got in. He gave her a little wave as he drove away.
Arden got into her car, tossed the envelope containing the investigation reports onto the passenger seat, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and laid her forehead on the backs of them. “Lost track?” Hardly.
As she’d told Ledge last night, she wanted answers.
She now had one. The individual routinely driving past her house was District Attorney Rusty Dyle.
Arden’s initial impulse was to alert Ledge to her discovery. But, considering the hostility with which they’d parted the night before, she decided against calling him.
She must speak with Lisa, however. She needed to dismiss the remote possibility that their father was alive and well and keeping tabs on them.
Yesterday, Arden had been hesitant to bring up her childish dream that he would one day come back, afraid that Lisa would either chide or pity her for clinging to such an implausibility.
Learning that Lisa had secretly shared that same vain hope had forged a stronger bond between them. It had been freeing for Arden to see proof that Lisa, the indomitable one, wasn’t totally without vulnerability. She had left Lisa’s office feeling that they had been equalized. The difference in their ages, all the differences between them, had been spanned by a common heartbreak.
But did she wish for Lisa to know that she had identified the district attorney as her “stalker”? Lisa would want to act on it immediately, notify the authorities, assemble the militia.
No. Arden didn’t want to reveal what she had discovered about Rusty Dyle until she knew why he was spying on her. Since he and she had never even met, his interest couldn’t be personal. Which meant it was official and must pertain to her father and two unsolved crimes, one a probable homicide.
She had obtained the investigation reports in the hope they would yield something she could use to defend against the accusations against her father.
By the time she got home, she’d decided on the tack to take with Lisa. She got herself a