Eclipse Bay

anything. Orchardson went through them thoroughly at the time. I remember him saying that with you in the clear, there was no other viable suspect. He said he was fairly sure Kaitlin’s death had been an accident or suicide.”
    “I don’t buy suicide,” Rafe said.
    Jed shrugged. “Neither do I. But I can see her having a few drinks and losing her balance on that trail.”
    “But what was she doing there on the trail in the first place?”
    Jed considered for a moment. “Think maybe she went there to treat herself to a couple of beers after she ditched you?”
    “I don’t know. She didn’t have any booze in the car when she dropped me off at the Arch, I can tell you that.”
    “She could have picked someone up after she left you.”
    “Yeah.” Rafe studied the article on the screen. “Maybe. But Kaitlin was not a big drinker.”
    Jed crouched down behind the chair and rested an elbow on the back. He eyed the screen over Rafe’s shoulder. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
    “Curious, not serious.”
    “There’s a difference?”
    “I’m not sure,” Rafe admitted. He went back to the front page of the story he had been reading. He paused when he saw a night shot of the brightly lit facade of the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. “I see Thornley’s big event at the think tank that night got squeezed below the fold.”
    Jed made a face. “Don’t remind me. My first big story, and I lost the lead because of the Sadler piece.”
    Rafe followed the reception story to an inside page and found a photo of the crowd that had attended the Thornley reception. “Looks like most of Eclipse Bay was there.”
    “Everyone in town was invited, but it was understood that if you went you were expected to donate to Thornley’s campaign. That limited the guests to the upwardly mobile among us, the local movers and shakers, and the hustlers who felt they had a stake in getting Thornley elected.”
    Rafe smiled slightly. “Not a lot of guys like me there, I take it?”
    “Not that I recall.” Jed grinned. “I was the youngest person there, and the only reason I attended was because I was covering it for the paper.”
    Rafe leaned back in the chair, thinking. “What time did the reception end?”
    “I don’t remember precisely. It ran late because Thornley was a little long-winded in those days. And because there was plenty of free booze.”
    The lights had still been on at the institute when he walked Hannah home along Bayview Drive, Rafe thought. “So, it would probably be safe to say that everyone who attended the Thornley reception that night has a reasonably solid alibi.”
    Jed slanted him a speculative glance. “Yes. I could probably dig up the old guest list if you want to look at it. As the only representative of the local media at the event, I’m sure I got a copy. It might be in my files. But Kaitlin didn’t move in those circles, Rafe. Why would anyone from that crowd want to kill her?”
    “Good question.” Rafe thought about the oversized lingerie, the high heels, and the videos that the Willis brothers claimed to have discovered behind Kaitlin’s dryer. No point in mentioning them, he thought. He had nothing hard to go on yet. “You’re right. There’s nothing here, Jed. Sorry I wasted your time.”
    “No problem,” Jed replied. “Keep me in mind if you get any other wild hairs, okay? This is a slow news town. I wouldn’t mind a big exposé on the Sadler death, especially if it involves an eight-year cover-up. Pulitzers have been won on less.”
    “Don’t worry,” Rafe said. “If I get any more brainstorms, you’ll be the first to know.”

chapter 15
    “It was one of the more embarrassing moments of my life.” Hannah propped her heels on the ottoman, sank deeper into the brown leather sofa, and sipped glumly on the hot green tea Pamela had given her. “I couldn’t believe that I was standing there in the front hall of Dreamscape, yelling at him. I know the Willis brothers were listening to every single word. The story will be all over town by now.”
    Pamela, ensconced in the big recliner on the other side of the coffee table, curled one leg under herself. She wrapped her hands around her own mug and smiled wryly. “Very un-Harte-like.”
    “Very.”
    “One could almost call it outrageous. For a Harte, at any rate.”
    A searing vision of her black bra lying on the staircase at Dreamscape flashed before Hannah’s eyes. If Pamela only knew, she