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was still there. Liza turned on the radio. “I wonder what kind of taste in music Mrs. H. has.”
    But instead of music, she got talk. “This is K-MOOK, the Voice of Killamook County,” an announcer’s voice came out of the speaker.
    Liza grimaced. KMUC was the local radio station—not to mention the hobby and personal soapbox of Lawson Wilkes. Wilkes had invested what was supposed to be his college fund into a variety of Silicon Valley enterprises. Some had tanked, but enough had prospered to make him a moderately wealthy man. Unlike a lot of similar investors, he got out of high tech with that small fortune intact. Retiring to the Oregon coast, he’d bought KMUC and adopted the role of mini-media mogul. With a judicious blend of syndicated talk shows, a variety of music, and some local talent, he managed to make a modest profit.
    But to establish himself in Killamook, he’d made a deal with a community segment looking for a media outlet—the county’s politicians. The community newspaper, more a collection of ads for local stores than a news organ, had collapsed in the nineties. And even before Ava Barnes began running regional operations, the Oregon Daily had been hostile to the Killamook machine. Lawson Wilkes and his Owner’s Editorials had been a propaganda god-send. WMUC might call itself the Voice of Killamook, but it was really the voice of John Jacob Pauncecombe.
    “Now we go to our phone-in forum,” the radio host announced. “Do you think that a newcomer to politics— someone like, say, Liza Kelly, could clean up the mess Ray Massini has made in Maiden’s Bay? Let’s hear your opinions, people.”
    Liza stabbed a finger to turn off the radio. But as she drove along, the mood of the day seemed to shift to mirror her own—or rather, Oregon displayed the famous changeability of its weather. The former sunshine quickly dimmed behind a bank of clouds.
    Glad I’m safe on the ground heading home instead of up in the air with Wish Dudek, Liza thought, glancing up at the massed gray ranks spreading across the skies. It would be raining soon, and Liza didn’t want Rusty celebrating his return home with a vigorous shake in the middle of the living room.
    She pulled the Oldsmobile into Mrs. H.’s driveway and left it in front of the garage. Then she opened the door, let Rusty out, and started cutting across the lawn to her own kitchen door.
    Dark clouds had gathered to such an extent that the late afternoon seemed more like early evening. And the shadows from the shrubs were deep enough that Liza had no clue as to the identity of the male figure suddenly moving to block her path.

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    Liza recoiled as the tall, dark figure moved toward her. But Rusty bounded forward, his tail wagging a welcome. Since he didn’t like most males above the age of ten, this cut down the stalker identity list considerably.
    Then the menacing figure stepped into the light and revealed himself as Kevin Shepard.
    Liza let out a sigh of relief. Kevin represented a happy memory from high school, as Liza’s beau from the football team. She’d returned to Maiden’s Bay contemplating divorce and arrived to find Kevin already in Splitsville and starting a new career in the hotel trade, managing the tony Killamook Inn.
    A relationship developed, even when Liza’s husband, Michael, belatedly turned up hoping for reconciliation. Liza found herself in the middle of a triangle with as much low comedy as romance as Kevin and Michael jostled with each other as jealous suitors. And the whole thing had taken new sides and dimensions when Ted Everard came into Liza’s life.
    But as Kevin stepped closer, he didn’t look all that affectionate. He seemed more like a man stepping out into enemy, possibly dangerous, territory.
    “I heard you were back in town.” Kevin’s voice was as tight as his facial muscles. “What’s going on with the whole mayor thing, Liza? You decide you couldn’t live with Massini in charge anymore?