Cora stood in her way. At first, this just annoyed Beatrice. After all, she was holding a heavy log. “Excuse me,” said Beatrice brusquely.
But Cora didn’t move. Beatrice shifted the log and looked more carefully at the woman. She was very still, pale, and her expression was unreadable.
She couldn’t know, could she? She couldn’t realize that Beatrice suspected. She’d only glanced at her that one time after seeing the snow-covered boots.
“I need you to move,” said Beatrice, keeping her voice from shaking with some effort.
Cora gave a short laugh. “Not going to happen. I can see you’ve figured it all out. Your friend was right—you’re apparently are a pretty good detective. Too bad you’re not good at poker faces.”
Cora was, though. There was no hint of her intent.
Beatrice opened her m
