Free Camera Never Lies by Elizabeth Goddard

produce good results. In the meantime, I had to devise a methodology to interrogating—was there such a thing?
    On the trek back to the lodge, I worked to create specific, easy-to-understand questions. Once in my room, I wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath. Delving into a murder mystery made me feel dirty, but it had to be done—Mom was in deep.
    I hadn’t seen her this morning, and I needed to check on her. If she was napping, I didn’t want to wake her. Still, if she’d taken one of her sleeping pills, a phone call might not disturb her.
    I needed to hear her voice, so I opted to at least try. She sounded horrible. Instead of napping, she’d been suffering with a stomach ailment. I didn’t doubt the source of her illness lay with her announcement that she’d wanted to kill someone who’d ended up dead mere hours later. I told her to call me if she needed anything then hung up.
    Briefly I wondered what Rene and Conrad were doing. What trails they’d decided to hike. I hadn’t spoken with Rene since our conversation earlier that morning, nor had I seen them roaming the grounds. Time spent together should solidify their upcoming nuptials all the more, so I put aside any concerns I had about them.
    While I filled the tub with hot water, I tried to relax and pray. But too much had happened in a short period of time, and my mind couldn’t let go of the many thoughts clamoring for attention.
    This weekend was ranking high on my worst-time-ever list, which included the weekend my husband, Brandon, disappeared. Before that, my worst weekend had included Spencer. I’d been much younger then and considered our split to be the breakup of the century. Looking back now, I saw that I’d made a terrible mistake in my attempt to force his hand. Without a commitment from him, I believed I needed to move on. It had taken Brandon walking into my life to patch up my wounded heart.
    But I never loved him. Not like I’d loved Spencer.
    I slid under the water and wet my hair. I had to bury this line of thinking.
    After soaking for twenty minutes, I stepped from the tub. In the mirror, I examined the newest wrinkles around my eyes. It had been ten years since I first met Spencer. Now that he was back in my life—in a manner of speaking—his entrance was no less grand than his exit.
    A knock at the door caused a mad dash from the bathroom. I looked from my old sweats on the bed to the clothes hanging in the closet. My hair was a wet, tangled mess. The knock became insistent. I relaxed. Spencer would have spoken through the door by now.
    “Just a minute.” I pulled on the T-shirt and sweats I usually slept in. Then it occurred to me that it could be a ranger. What if my number had come up—they’d discovered my connection to Alec? I drew in a quick breath then opened the door.
    A woman with black hair stood in my doorway. Was she the same woman from the restroom last night? Her black hair was styled the same, but her appearance was somehow different. “Emily?”
    “Excuse me?” Her eyes widened.
    Then I knew it was her. “Did I say that out loud?”
    The smallest of smiles crept over her lips, then she hardened her expression. “I need to talk to you. May I come in?”
    Considering there was a killer out there somewhere, I wasn’t sure letting her in would be wise. I studied her as I pondered the question. Now I saw what was different from the night before. She brandished two nose piercings, one upper-lip piercing, and a small tattoo on her bare shoulder, none of which matched the emerald-cut diamonds in her ears. She’d gone with a considerably darker look today than last night. Whereas before, she could almost have been called cute in her gothic dress, today she was downright scary. But I should be accustomed to that sort of fashion abuse by now. Such atrocities abound these days.
    “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What’s this about?”
    “Look, I’m not a murderer, if that’s what you’re