Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming

Chapter Eight

“It’s sort of like truth or dare without the dare part. Or strip poker, without the stripping.” Hannah cut the deck of playing cards she’d talked Riley into picking up at the service station where they’d stopped for gas and a couple of deli sandwiches. “My brothers Jake and Gabe made it up. Come to think of it, there might have been a dare aspect to it early on, but I think Mom ended that after the tree-house incident.”

He looked at her skeptically as he gathered up the remains of their lunch and set them aside to drop in the trash can later. “Why do you call it popsmack?”

She grinned. “I’m pretty sure it’s because my brothers ended up in a huge punching match by the end of every game. They’re cretins.” She lightened the insult with affection; her brothers, for all the irritation they’d been over the years, were good guys, and she loved them all dearly.

“Couldn’t we just play strip poker instead?” Riley flashed her a leering grin, but she saw the nervousness behind his eyes. He was clearly a private kind of guy, and what she was asking him to do had to be pretty daunting.

“It’s just a getting to know you kind of thing,” she assured him, dealing half the cards to him atop the weathered picnic table, dealing the other half to herself.

They’d arrived early in Pavillion, since they hadn’t stopped to eat in town, so they had a couple of hours to pass before they could head toward Jackson to recreate the events leading up to the event. Talk had been sparse during the drive, Riley sinking into a sort of contemplative silence for most of the way. No doubt going over all the facts of the cases he was investigating. He was nothing if not single-minded.

But their discussion about Jack and his relative trustworthiness had convinced Hannah that she and Riley needed to get their stories straight if they were going to spend much more time in Jack’s company. Riley’s brother-in-law was good-natured and mostly benign, but he wasn’t stupid. They had to be convincing as lovers, and that included knowing a little more about each other than just their names. She’d hoped popsmack would prove a fun way to make that happen.

“It’s very simple-you play your cards one at a time. The person with the highest card wins.”

“Which means?”

“Which means the winner gets to ask any question he or she wants, and the other person has to answer that question honestly.”

The wary look in his eyes deepened. “What if it’s a really personal question?”

“Jack thinks we’re sleeping together. I think that means we should know a few really personal things about each other.”

His shoulders squared and the muscles in his jaw twitched tight. “Okay, let’s go.”

She picked up her half of the deck and dealt the top card. A three of clubs.

Across the table, Riley smiled. When he dealt a ten of hearts, his smile widened. “So, I can ask you anything?”

Hannah’s stomach tightened. He looked entirely too pleased with the idea. “Yeah, anything.”

He thought for a minute. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” she answered quickly, torn between relief and disappointment. If they both got cold feet about asking the hard questions, this game would go nowhere.

She dealt another card. Queen of spades. He dealt a five of clubs and gave her a narrow-eyed look.

“What made you decide to be a policeman?” she asked.

His expression eased. “I didn’t want to be a rancher, and Joe was my best friend. So when he decided to become a police officer, I thought it sounded like my kind of adventure.”

“And was it?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember follow-up questions being part of the game rules.”

As he started to deal another card, she put her hand over his. “Seriously. Do you like being a cop?”

He looked down at her hand on his. She started to pull it away, but he reached out and trapped it with his other hand. “If we’re supposed to be lovers, I think we should probably get used to touching each other.”

Her heart turned an erratic little flip. He was right, of course, but her mind hadn’t stopped with just holding hands. Would Jack expect to see them embrace? Even kiss?

“Should we be playing spin the bottle instead?” she muttered nervously.

His grip on her hand softened into something alarmingly like a caress. His thumb moved slowly over the back of her hand. “Probably.”

He’s still married in his heart, she reminded herself silently. He still loves his wife. She eased her hand from between his and reached for her deck.

“I do like being a cop,” he said before she could deal her next card, his blue-eyed gaze direct. “I haven’t been in a position to enjoy the investigative aspect of the job that much in a place like Canyon Creek, but I like being one of the goto guys in town. People trust me to protect them. Make sure justice is done. I like being useful.”

She smiled. “You sound like my brother, Aaron. He’s a deputy sheriff back home.”

“What about your older brother-the one who lost his wife?”

She toyed with the stack of cards in front of her. “He was in the Navy awhile-he worked in ship maintenance. When he left the service, he came back to the marina to help my parents run the place. They’d been wanting to offer on-site service to our slip renters, and now J.D. does that full-time. He likes tinkering with things, making them work.”

Riley flipped the top card of his stack on to the table face up. “Five of spades.”

She dealt a card. “Nine of diamonds.”

He smiled slightly. “Your turn.”

She was beginning to wish she’d never started this game. The more she learned about him, the more she liked, and she had a feeling he’d be a lot easier to resist if she didn’t like him quite so much.

“What’s your favorite food?” she asked finally.

His mouth quirked. “Lost your nerve?”

“It’s better than ‘what’s your favorite color?’” she shot back with a roll of her eyes.

“Fair enough.” He rubbed his chin as if giving her question some thought. “Would steak and potatoes be too much of a cliché?”

“Not if it’s the truth.”

He smiled. “I do like a good steak, but I guess my favorite food is barbecue ribs.”

“My brother Jake makes the best ribs,” she said, her mouth watering at the thought. “Slow cooked, slathered with his homemade sauce-yum. He cooked some for Labor Day.”

“I make my own barbecue sauce, too,” he said. “Actually, it’s Emily’s recipe-”

The air between them grew immediately colder. Riley sat back from the table, his fingers tapping the stack of undealt cards in front of him, moving them forward toward her.

“I wish I could have met her,” Hannah said. She immediately regretted her words when she saw the flash of pain cross Riley’s face.

“We should probably get on the road.” He looked away.

She scooped up the cards and put them back in the pack. “Okay.” She scooted off the picnic-table bench and started toward the Ford Taurus Riley had borrowed from the used-car lot.

He caught her halfway there, his hand encircling her elbow. “You should drive from here on. I’ll get you to the starting point, then you can take it from there.”

She took the keys he held out and unlocked the Taurus’s driver door. She adjusted the seat and buckled herself in while he climbed in the passenger side.

“Just head northeast on this road and you’ll come to Highway 287.”

Hannah pulled the Taurus out of the rest area and back onto the main road, stealing a glance at Riley. He’d donned a pair of sunglasses and was gazing forward at the road, although he wore a slight smile that made her own lips curve in response.

A moment later, he cleared his throat. “I think Emily would have liked you.”

Her smile faded. Forcing herself not to analyze that statement, she headed for Highway 287.

HE HAD TO STOP LETTING the mention of Emily’s name paralyze him, he thought as he watched Hannah drive west on Highway 287. If not for himself, then for Emily. She’d be horrified to know he was trapped in her memory like a bug in amber. He’d never known a woman more alive, who’d found more joy in just living, than Emily, and she would hate what he’d become, almost as much as she’d loved him in life.

It was just-Hannah. Hannah made him feel things. Not just physical attraction. That was biological. He hadn’t stopped being a man when Emily died. But those kinds of urges were no different than his stomach growling when he was hungry or yawning when he was sleepy.

Hannah made him laugh. She made him want to know more about her. She had the same sort of vibrancy, the same curiosity, the same enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life that had drawn him to Emily.

She was dangerous to him in the way that a simple biological response to a beautiful woman could never be.

She’s leaving in less than a week, he reminded himself. There wasn’t much point in trying to learn more about her or let himself worry about where their relationship was going to go.

Maybe that was as good an excuse as any to stop worrying and just enjoy what she was making him feel. Like a limb coming back to life after being asleep for a while, the worst of the painful tingles had begun to pass, and he was starting to feel a hum of energy that reminded him he wasn’t dead after all.

He was thirty-four years old, in excellent health, with years of life ahead of him. It was time to start living again, wasn’t it?

He knew what Emily would tell him.

“I got gas at that station,” Hannah said, pointing to a Lassiter Oil station coming up on her left. Behind the station, a small herd of Appaloosas grazed on a dwindling patch of pastureland. “I’d forgotten about that. I filled up about fifteen minutes before I was pulled over.”

“Are you sure this is the station?”

She nodded. “I remember the Appaloosas.”

“Then we should stop here, too.”

Hannah slowed and turned into the gas station, parking near the front. She shut off the engine. “I know I didn’t go in. I paid at the pump. I think I got a couple of bottles of water out of one of those vending machines.” She pointed to a pair of machines standing against the wall of the station’s food mart.

Riley glanced at his watch. It was after three. According to the case report, she’d wrecked her car at Big Mike’s Truck Stop, which was about ten miles down the highway.

“It takes about three or four minutes to fill up a tank. Did you talk to anyone?”

Her brow wrinkled as she considered the question. “I’m not sure-I don’t really remember much about stopping here, except the horses. If there was someone else here filling up, I might have made small talk, but-”

He sighed. Her memory was still spotty from the concussion. Her doctor had admitted that she might never remember some of what happened that day.

“Let’s get back on the road,” he said after three minutes had passed.

She started the car, but paused a moment before putting it into drive. “I think there was someone at the pumps. I kind of remember asking about the roads to Yellowstone-whether there’d been any closings yet. I don’t remember the answer.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It probably doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to you.”

Still, he made a note to mention it to Joe. They could check the station’s receipts from that day, maybe find out who else bought gas around the time she had.

They drove a little farther west. Riley tried to pay particular attention to the surroundings, as they should be coming up on wherever the attack had taken place any time now.

“Hmm,” she murmured.

He looked up to find her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“That road we just passed on the right. I think that may be where he was waiting.”

Riley looked back toward the small dirt road they’d just passed. “You think he was waiting?”

“I check my mirrors regularly. Old habit my father drummed into me when he was teaching me to drive.” She glanced at the mirror just then. “I think it was right about here when I looked into the rearview mirror and saw the blue lights.”

He looked around them. There was no shoulder on the right to speak of; where the road top ended, the ground rose steeply up a craggy hillside.

“I couldn’t pull over here,” she said softly, her eyes narrowed as she followed the curve of the road. He noticed her breath was coming in short, fast little clips, even though her chin was up, her jaw squared with determination.

It was getting to her, being here.

“I was looking for-there.” She pointed toward a turn-off ahead, where the shoulder widened enough to accommodate a vehicle. “That’s where I pulled over. It happened there.”

She slowed suddenly, whipping the Ford off the highway on to the side road. Braking at the road’s edge, she jammed the Ford into Park and bent her head forward, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

He reached across and unbelted her. “Just breathe,” he coaxed, rubbing her back. “Take a big breath and hold it for a count of ten.”

She squeezed the steering wheel hard, breathing in and holding it while she counted to ten under her breath. She exhaled, then repeated the deep breath. Twice. Three times. One more deep breath and she looked at him, her eyes dark with humiliation. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” He slid his hand up to her neck, gently kneading the tight muscles bunched beneath his fingers. He kept his voice calm and comforting. “Just take a minute to breathe.”

After another minute, she was visibly calmer. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye when she next spoke. “Any chance we could find tire tracks on the shoulder where he pulled me over?”

“I’ll take a quick look, but we should probably call the Teton County Sheriff’s Department. It’s their case, officially. They’ll want to call in the crime-scene investigators.” He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket as he got out of the Ford and crossed to the highway to take a closer look at the shoulder.

What he found there made his heart sink.

There weren’t any tire tracks at all. In fact, the sandy shoulder looked as if it had been raked clean of any marks either car might have made upon pulling over.

Son of a bitch was always a step ahead.

HANNAH RESTED HER HEAD against the back of the seat and watched the crime-scene investigators at work in her rearview mirror. They seemed to be taking soil samples, despite Riley’s grim pronouncement earlier that someone had already tampered with the scene to remove any sort of tread marks that the police might have been able to preserve from the scene.

He’d sat with her awhile as they waited for the Teton County deputies to arrive but jumped from the car as soon as they drove up, no doubt as horrified by her humiliating bout of hysterics as she’d been.

She saw Riley moving away from the detectives overseeing the evidence collection. He opened the driver’s door and held out his hand. “I’ll drive home.”

She took his hand and let him help her out of the car, her skin burning with embarrassment. He probably wasn’t holding her weakness against her, she knew, but that didn’t ease her own sense of shame. She was a Cooper, for God’s sake. Coopers were made of tough stuff, and just because she was the only girl didn’t mean it was okay to go all weak-kneed and neurotic.

“I’m not a wuss,” she muttered aloud as she buckled herself into the passenger seat.

Riley turned to look at her. “I know that.”

She slanted a look at him. He seemed to be sincere. “We don’t have to leave now if you don’t want to. I know you’d probably rather be back there with the other detectives.”

“They’re not going to find anything,” Riley said with a brisk shake of his head. “They haven’t found anything at the turn off down the road where you thought he might have lain in waiting, either. I think he covered his tracks.” He gave a nod toward the western sky, where gunmetal rain clouds had started to gather. “Rain’s coming. Let’s not get stuck driving home in it.” He took off his jacket, tossed it in the backseat of the borrowed car, and slid behind the wheel.

She settled back against the seat, willing herself to relax. Now that her brief panic attack had passed fully, the ebb of adrenaline had begun draining her body of energy. All she wanted to do at the moment was close her eyes and let the last of the tension melt away.

Riley fiddled with the radio dial until he found something soft and slow playing on a country station out of Jackson. The quiet music blended with the hum of the Ford’s motor until the vibrations seemed to take over her weary body. Her limbs felt heavy and numb. The rain clouds blotted the afternoon sun from the sky, casting gloom across the Ford’s dark interior, drawing her deeper into her own mind.

He was nearby. She felt him, like a chill in the air around her. She struggled to open her eyes, certain that if she looked in the side mirror, she’d see him lurking behind them, waiting to make his move.

She tried to warn Riley, but her voice came out in a soft, voiceless cry. Her arms and legs felt paralyzed, and a growing hum filled her ears.

He was closer. She could smell him, the fetid stench of hate and malice, stronger than the sting of pepper spray that still seemed to linger in her nose. Was he right outside her window? If she opened her eyes, would she find him staring back at her, from a face she had struggled for two days to picture? Or would she see nothing but those hard, cruel hands, reaching for her, determined to finish what he’d started two days ago?

Hard hands grabbed her from behind and squeezed her throat, trapping her breath in her chest. Her head started pounding, and the world around her swirled into a spiral of darkness.

Oh, my God he’s here, he’s in the car, I’m going to die-

“Hannah!”

The fingers lost their grip. Air rushed into her lungs, and she lurched forward, her paralysis gone. Her surroundings swam into focus. The dashboard in front of her. Fast breathing beside her.

She had to get out.

Fumbling with the seat-belt buckle, she managed to free herself just as someone grabbed her arm. She jerked away, plucking at the door handle, a soft keening sob escaping her lungs as she missed on the first try. On the second attempt, the door opened and she flung herself out of the car into the driving rain, scrambling over the rocky shoulder.

“Hannah!”

She kept moving, though her sluggish brain tried to process how the killer knew her name. And what was he doing in the car?

She heard swift footsteps on the ground behind her, and her heart rate soared. Hands caught at her, missing at first but finally trapping her in their hard grip. She struggled to get away, but strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against a warm, solid body.

“Hannah, it’s Riley. Stop fighting me.”

She fought a few seconds longer until his words seeped into her sleep-addled brain. She twisted around to look at him, needing to see his face, to be sure.

Rain dripped off the brim of his hat, falling against her cheek. Beneath the brim, his anxious blue eyes bored into hers. “Are you okay?” His voice shook.

Relief flooded her body, knocking her off balance. She grasped his arms, her fingers digging in just to keep herself from sliding to the ground.

He caught her up against him. “You were trying to scream in the car,” he said, his voice rough.

“I thought he was here.” Her voice came out in a croak. “I thought he was trying to kill me.”

Riley’s eyes closed as he took a couple of quick, deep breaths. “I didn’t know if you were having some sort of seizure or something. I pulled over and then you just went wild.”

He had parked the Ford off the side of the road, she saw, on a narrow shoulder not far from the exit to the rest area where they’d eaten lunch and played that silly game of popsmack. She must have slept longer than she realized; they’d been back on the road for almost an hour and a half.

“It felt real,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. She’d felt the man’s anger. His hate.

“Nobody’s out there,” he assured her, pushing her wet hair out of her face. His hand lingered against her cheek, his touch warm and firm, full of strength tempered by gentle concern. Her breath hitched, catching somewhere in the middle of her chest. She gazed up into his shadowed eyes, where something glittered, fierce and white hot, stealing the air from her lungs. His fingers tangled in the hair at her temples, trapping her.

He was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him.

As she rose to meet him, his mouth descended, hard and hungry against hers.