Free Trust No One by Jayne Ann Krentz

yourself some time. It’s not like you haven’t had a couple of major shocks lately, what with the murder and then finding yourself unemployed.”
    “Tell me about it,” Grace said. The toast popped up in the toaster. She removed it, set it on a plate and spread some peanut butter on it. “But as much as I’d like to blame my lack of momentum on those things, I don’t think that’s the real problem.”
    “What is the real problem?”
    Grace hesitated, unsure of how much to confide to Alison. There was nothing her sister could do except worry. But they were family, after all. They had never kept secrets from each other, at least not for long.
    “The dream is back, Alison. And so are the anxiety attacks.”
    “Damn. I was afraid the trauma of Witherspoon’s death might drag everything to the surface again. Maybe you should make an appointment with Dr. Peterson.”
    “I already know what she would say. She would remind me to practice rewriting the dream script before I go to bed and to remember to use the breathing exercises and meditation techniques on a regular basis and, if necessary, take the meds. I’m doing all of that. It’s just that—”
    A small amount of peanut butter dropped off the knife and landed on the counter.
    “Hang on,” Grace said. She reached for a paper towel.
    “It’s just what?” Alison pressed.
    Grace used the towel to wipe up the peanut butter. “It’s just that I can’t shake this weird feeling that there’s some connection between Witherspoon’s death and the Trager murder.”
    There was silence from Alison’s end.
    “It’s the bottle of vodka, isn’t it?” she said finally.
    “Yes.”
    “Perfectly understandable, given what happened in the past. But you said that the police found a charge for it on one of Witherspoon’s credit card statements. Sprague Witherspoon bought that bottle of vodka a few days before he was murdered.”
    “He didn’t drink vodka, Alison.”
    “Maybe not, but he entertained frequently, right?”
    “That’s true,” Grace said. “The police did say that there was a large selection of liquor bottles in his kitchen. But I told you, this particular bottle of vodka was sitting on the nightstand beside the bed where I found the body.”
    There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Grace took a bite out of the slice of toast that she had just slathered in peanut butter.
    “Grace, do you want to come and stay with Ethan and Harry and me for a while?” Alison said after a moment. “You can work on your résumé here in Portland.”
    “Thanks, but I really need to stay focused on my job hunting in the Seattle area. I can’t do that from Portland.”
    “Have you got any idea what you might want to do next?”
    “Zip.” Grace ate some more toast. “I’ve been told I should come up with a business plan for finding my next career.”
    “A business plan for job hunting? I suppose there’s some logic to that. Who gave you that advice?”
    “A man I met on a blind date that Irene arranged for me last night.”
    “The two of you wound up discussing business plans?” Alison chuckled. “Sounds like a typical blind-date disaster.”
    “His name is Julius and he was a lot more interesting than anyone else I’ve dated recently.”
    “That isn’t saying much, is it? Your social life hasn’t exactly been the stuff of legend lately.”
    “Let’s face it, my social life has never been legendary.”
    “Your own fault,” Alison said. “You’re going to have to stop sending out vibes that attract men who are looking for a sister or a best friend.”
    “I’ll work on that as soon as I get a new job.”
    “Mom’s worrying about you again,” Alison said. “She thinks you’re too old to be ricocheting from one job to another trying to find yourself. She’s right.”
    “I found myself a long time ago. It’s finding a career that is giving me problems. I’ve got to tell you, the job at the Witherspoon Way was the best