One It took Hank Cooper almost eight hours to get from Virgin River to Thunder Point, Oregon, because he was towing his fifth wheel, a toy hauler. He pulled to the side of the road frequently to let long strings of motorists pass. Just prior to crossing the California/Oregon border, he stopped at a redwood tourist trap featuring gardens, souvenirs, wood carvings, a lunch counter and restrooms. Skipping the garden tour, he bought a sandwich and drink and headed out of the monument-size trees to the open road, which very soon revealed the rocky Oregon Coast. Cooper stopped at the first outlook over the ocean and parked. His phone showed five bars and he dialed up the Coos County Sheriff’s Department. “Hello,” he said to the receptionist. “My name is Hank Cooper and I’m on my way to Thunder Point following a call from someone saying my friend, Ben Bailey, is dead. Apparently he left something for me, but that’s not why I’m headed your way. The message I got was that Ben was killed, but there were no details. I want to talk to the sheriff. I need some answers.” “Hold, please,” she said. Well, that wasn’t what he expected. He’d figured he’d leave a number and eat his lunch while he waited. “Deputy McCain,” said the new voice on the line. “Hank Cooper here, Deputy,” he said, and