Rant of Ravens by Christine Goff Page B

marriage.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    Rachel pulled herself up straight. “That is definitely none of your business, and definitely not related to anything that’s happened since I arrived here.”
    “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
    There was no logical reason Sheriff Garcia needed to know anything about her relationship with Roger. “I don’t care to talk about this.”
    “Things must have been bad to drive you away,” he said. His dark gaze held steady on her face.
    She blinked, forcing back the tears. “If you have to know, I’m getting divorced, all right? Aunt Miriam thought I could use a break, and offered to let me stay here while she’s away. End of story.”
    Garcia looked contrite, then shrugged. “Where’s Miriam going?”
    Rachel swallowed. Surely Aunt Miriam had told him she was leaving. “On a birding tour.”
    “Where?”
    “Why not ask her?”
    “I did. Now I’m asking you.”
    “She’s going to the Middle East.”
    “Do you know where?”
    “Look, Sheriff, I’m not Aunt Miriam’s travel agent. Maybe you should ask her for a copy of the itinerary.”
    “I did.” He smiled, then stroked his mustache again. “I hear you’re some hotshot public relations person.”
    “So they tell me.”
    “Ever do any freelance work?”
    Rachel frowned, unable to reconcile his line of questioning. “Why?”
    “I’m involved with a youth camp up here. We could use a brochure and some help putting together a fund-raising campaign. It’s pro bono work. Do you think you might be interested?”
    The request came out of left field, but he’d piqued her curiosity. “What kind of ‘youth’?”
    “Troubled.” He scooted out of the breakfast nook. “Like I said, it’s all pro bono. Give it some thought.”
    “I’ll do that.” She’d never done any freebie work, but if the cause was good…
    “Great.” He flashed a smile, then added, “I hope I don’t need to tell you not to leave town.”
    A line right out of a TV cop show, and here she’d started to think maybe there was more to this man than the stereotype. “I’ll let you know if I plan to go anywhere.”
    “Good.” He started to walk away, then swiveled back. “Oh, by the way, that goes for Miriam, too.”

CHAPTER 6
    Rachel charged upstairs to Aunt Miriam’s room the minute she’d closed the door behind Garcia. Her aunt had a few questions to answer now that Bursau was dead. Like had she had any further contact with the man before his murder? And just how serious did she think his warning was?
    Dappled moonlight illuminated the master suite. A short hallway led past a walk-in closet, a bathroom, and into an oversized room furnished with a bed, two nightstands, two dressers, and a loveseat. A half-packed suitcase was open on the floor near the foot of the bed. Aunt Miriam lay snuggled under the covers, her hair braided and wrapped around her head like a halo, a light snore seesawing past her lips.
    The urge to shake her awake tingled in Rachel’s fingers, but, in the end, she clenched her hands and went to bed without waking Miriam.
    Morning came early after a fitful night’s rest, and Rachel made a beeline for Miriam’s bedroom. She found the bed made and her aunt gone. A sweep of the house turned up only Perky. In fact, the only sign that anyone besides Rachel had been there was the half-full pot of freshly brewed coffee on the kitchen countertop.
    Had Miriam gone to the Raptor House?
    Rachel poured herself a mug of coffee and mulled over the events of the previous evening. Two things were clear. Donald Bursau was dead, and Sheriff Garcia believed one of the birdwatchers was the killer. But which one? She didn’t know much about any of them. And when had the murder actually occurred?
    Monday, after Eric’s announcement about the spotting of the LeConte’s sparrow, the entire group had rushed down to scour The Thicket. All in all, counting the others already there, there must have been more than