Free Return to Mystic Lake by Carla Cassidy Page B

dream catchers and tinkling chimes hanging down from nails at the top of the built-on wooden porch, it was like a brain freeze to the eyes.
    No sooner had they pulled into the driveway than a heavyset Native American stepped out onto the front porch, a shotgun lowered to point to the ground, and a wary frown on her plump face. “Friend or foe?” she asked as Jackson opened his car door but didn’t step out.
    “Depends on what you do with that shotgun,” he replied. “We’re FBI and we’re here to ask you some questions.”
    She nodded and propped the gun against the doorframe and motioned them out of the car. “A woman alone can’t be too careful these days,” she said.
    Clad in a yellow-and-turquoise muumuu with bright orange flip-flops, she was as colorful as her home. When they reached her porch, she gestured them into two old wicker chairs while she remained standing. “I suppose you’re here about the sheriff and his wife. I figured eventually somebody would be by to talk to me.”
    “And here we are,” Jackson said, and flashed her one of his devastating smiles. Instantly the frown across Natalie’s face disappeared.
    “Why, aren’t you a handsome hunk,” she said, her voice taking on a softer, almost simpering quality.
    “Thanks, you’re a fine-looking lady yourself,” he replied. “Unfortunately this is a business visit and not a pleasure one. We need to know about your relationship with Sheriff Caldwell and his wife.”
    “Cole and I were good friends,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jackson’s face. Marjorie might just as well have been a pet rock on the porch. “I knew Amberly because we occasionally worked together at the Native American Heritage Center in Kansas City, but we weren’t real close.” She took a step closer to Jackson and leaned toward him. “I thought she was a little bit snooty, if you know what I mean.”
    Jackson leaned toward her, as if captivated by anything that might fall out of her mouth. “So, were you upset when the two of them got married? I mean, a good-looking woman like you, maybe you had some plans for yourself with Cole.”
    “I won’t lie, I had visions of me and Cole together at one time.” The frown creased her forehead again. “But once I saw the two of them together it was so obvious that they belonged with each other.”
    As they spoke the chimes tinkled and clanged riotously in a warm breeze, the cacophony of discordant sound making Marjorie’s head ache.
    “I know this sounds crazy for a lovely woman like you, but we heard a rumor that you were kind of stalking Cole,” Jackson said. He shook a quick glance at Marjorie, who had been watching the two of them intently.
    “I was never stalking Cole,” Natalie scoffed. “But I suppose somebody might have gotten the wrong impression, because it might have looked like I was stalking them both.”
    Jackson leaned back in his chair. “And why would you be doing that, sweetheart?”
    Natalie walked over to the porch railing and leaned against it, her gaze distant for a moment, and then she focused back on Jackson. “Being Native American, I’m tuned into emotions deeper than other people. It’s a gift of my heritage. There was something primal between Amberly and Cole, a force, an energy that proclaimed them soul mates. I liked seeing them together.”
    “When was the last time you saw them?” Marjorie asked, unable to stay quiet another minute.
    “I saw Cole on Thursday, but it had been the weekend before they disappeared that I saw Amberly and him together. They were having dinner together in the local diner and I ate at the counter that night.”
    “Do you know anyone who might want to hurt them?” Jackson asked.
    “Jeff Maynard and his group of idiots weren’t too fond of Cole, but I can’t imagine any of them doing something like this. You are going to find them, aren’t you? What they had between them was something magical, and it would be a shame if they have somehow been