Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming

Chapter Thirteen

“We found Hannah’s credit-card receipt from the Lassiter station, and a few others sprinkled through the day, but nothing right around the same time.” Joe Garrison gave Riley an apologetic look. “Guy must’ve paid cash.”

“Damn it,” Riley growled, slanting a look at Hannah, who sat in one of the armchairs in front of Joe’s desk. She’d been so hopeful on the drive into town, but now she looked as if Joe had kicked her right in the teeth.

“What if it was him?” she asked faintly. “I can’t even tell you what color hair he had, or what shape his face was. Why didn’t I pay more attention?”

“Because you weren’t expecting some nosy guy at the gas station to track you and try to kill you,” Joe said sensibly.

“And we don’t even know if it’s the same guy,” Riley added, laying his hand on her shoulder. He soothed her tense muscles beneath his palm and turned back to Joe. “Has Jim Tanner held his press conference yet?”

Joe glanced at the wall clock. “It’s supposed to start in about twenty minutes.”

More waiting, Riley thought. Hannah’s growing impatience was contagious.

“What about security video?” Hannah asked suddenly. “Don’t most places like that have cameras trained on the gas islands to discourage gas theft?”

“The Lassiter station’s security video hasn’t worked in over a year,” Joe answered. “Population is so low in Wyoming, people here don’t take the same precautions you find in other states. It’s just not a big problem, most of the time.”

“I bet he knew it, too,” Hannah said glumly. “This guy seems to be a step or two ahead of us.”

“He’s clearly a local,” Riley agreed.

“He wore gloves, so no fingerprints. He moved fast before I even got a look at his face, so I can’t ID him. Even at the gas station, I never got a good look at him. Now that I think about it, he was careful not to turn his face toward me.” She looked up at Riley. “Maybe he was already in hunting mode.”

It was possible, he conceded. “Did anybody find out who was working that shift at the Lassiter station? Maybe he’d remember if our guy hung around longer than usual.”

“We’ve got the cashier’s name. I have Prentiss tracking the guy down to see if he remembers anything from the day of the attack.” Joe picked up the television remote and hit the power button. The small television on the credenza near the window flickered on, the volume low.

No press conference yet, just a syndicated talk show, Riley noted. He turned back to look at Hannah. Her green eyes met his, shining with a mix of excitement and dread.

He knew just how she felt. He’d never been as close to finding the killer as he was now, yet he wasn’t sure he was really prepared for the uncertainty that lay ahead. What if, despite all efforts to keep her safe, Hannah ended up hurt-or worse? How could he live with such an outcome?

And what if they actually found her attacker, and it turned out Emily hadn’t been one of his victims after all? Could he start from scratch, devoting more years of his life to nothing but cold, comfortless vengeance?

“Here we go,” Joe said suddenly, and he turned up the volume on the TV.

As Sheriff Tanner laid out the basic details of the pepper-spray attack, Riley found his gaze drawn to Hannah. Emotions played across her face as she listened, a battle of fear and hope. As much as he had riding on this case, she had more. It was her life in danger, and she’d stayed here to help in spite of that fact, when a lot of other people would have gone home.

She was one hell of a woman.

I’m going to keep you safe, sweetheart, he vowed silently. Whatever it takes.

On television, Tanner had finished his statement and was taking questions. Most were utterly predictable. Did they have a suspect? Were other women at risk? Was Ms. Cooper going to make herself available for questions?

“What is he going to say when they ask if there’s a connection to the murder in Grand Teton State Park?” Riley asked Joe, knowing the question was coming.

Before Joe could answer, a reporter asked just that question. Joe nodded toward the television.

“We aren’t certain, but we’re proceeding as if there’s a possibility,” Tanner answered carefully. “That’s why it’s important for women traveling alone to be especially careful. Local and state agencies have agreed that no law-enforcement officer driving an unmarked vehicle will attempt a traffic stop in Wyoming. So if such a vehicle attempts to pull you over, do not stop. Call nine-one-one and drive to a public place. Do not stop in an isolated place for any reason.”

“What if you have car trouble?”

“Lock your doors, call for help if you have a phone. I know cell service doesn’t work in all areas, but the people of Wyoming are friendly, helpful people. The Wyoming Department of Safety and several corporate partners are making distress signs available for motorists. These can be placed in windows to alert other drivers to your need for assistance.”

He motioned to his right and a uniformed officer brought out a long banner with the words “Assistance Needed-Call 911” printed in block letters across the length.

“Please remember-if you see this sign, it is not a good idea to stop and give aid yourself. Please contact the local authorities and alert us to the problem.”

“They’re afraid the killer might use this to lure in unsuspecting good Samaritans,” Hannah murmured.

“It’s possible,” Riley agreed.

The rest of the questions were little more than rewording of previous questions. Tanner put an end to the questions and left the stage, and the station returned to the local news anchors in the studio.

Joe turned off the television and looked at Riley. “That went okay, don’t you think?”

It could have been a lot worse, Riley had to concede. God knew he was relieved to have information about the killer in front of the public.

Joe’s phone buzzed. “Boss?” Over the intercom came the tinny voice of Bill Handley, the day-shift desk sergeant. “Sheriff Tanner from the Teton County Sheriff’s Department on line one.”

Joe exchanged a quick look with Riley and picked up the phone. “Garrison.” He listened a moment, glancing at Hannah. “Yes, they’re both here. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

He pushed a button and Jim Tanner’s voice came over the line. “Good morning, Patterson. Ms. Cooper.”

“Hello, Sheriff Tanner,” Hannah murmured.

“Tanner,” Riley added gruffly, his stomach knotting up.

“I’m just going to get straight to the point,” Tanner said. “I have an idea to go on the offense on this case, but it requires your help, Ms. Cooper.”

“No,” Riley said firmly.

Both Joe and Hannah looked up at him, startled.

“What do you have in mind, Sheriff?” Hannah asked.

“I want you to give an interview to one of the TV stations and let them know that you’re seeing a psychiatrist here at the hospital in Jackson-someone who’s helping you recover some of the memories you lost thanks to the concussion.”

“You want to set her up as bait,” Riley interpreted.

“In a controlled way. I have already discussed the idea with one of the hospital’s staff psychiatrists, and she’s willing to go along with the plan.”

“I’ll do it,” Hannah said swiftly.

“No, she won’t,” Riley said, glaring back at her when she once again turned angry eyes toward him.

“When do you want me in Jackson?” Hannah asked, her gaze doing fierce battle with Riley’s.

“I need time to set things up, but I think we’ll want to shoot for the local evening newscast,” Tanner answered. “Give them a day to promo the interview, make sure our guy knows to watch. So, if you could be in Jackson tomorrow morning, we can get the ball rolling.”

“Set it up,” Hannah said firmly.

“Hannah, no,” Riley pleaded softly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Call Chief Garrison when it’s set,” she added, her eyes softening. “He’ll pass the information along to me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Cooper. You’re doing a brave thing.” Admiration rang in Tanner’s voice.

“I just want this man caught,” Hannah replied.

Tanner rang off and Joe hung up the phone. He looked at Riley, sympathy in his eyes, then spoke to Hannah. “If you want to back out at any point, don’t feel obligated to go through with this plan. I know Sheriff Tanner will do all he can to keep you safe, and I’ll make sure I’m in on things, too, but nobody can promise you that there’s no danger.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero,” Hannah said. “I want to be able to go back home and sleep at night knowing I didn’t chicken out on a chance to catch a really bad guy who’s hurt a lot of people.” The look she gave Riley made his heart hurt.

“If you’re doing this for me-”

“For you, for me, for that woman in the national park and all those other women you told me about.” She leaned over and took his hand. “For Emily.”

He lifted her hand, pressed his lips against her knuckles. The arguments he wanted to make died in his throat.

Joe cleared his throat. “I guess that’s it for now.”

Riley didn’t let go of Hannah’s hand as he turned to look at his friend. “I want you in on everything. Every bit of the planning. Can you stay on Tanner, make sure he’s covering all the possibilities?”

“Of course. But don’t you want to do that yourself?”

Riley looked at Hannah again. “No, I’m going to spend the next twenty-four hours talking her out of this crazy idea.”

SO, SHE WAS REMEMBERING, he thought, replaying the sheriff’s press conference in his head.

Jim Tanner hadn’t said it in so many words, but clearly he was holding something back, something that put that smug half smile on his face throughout the entire press conference.

So far, he hadn’t had much luck finding out where the girl was hiding out. His friend at the Sheriff’s Department didn’t know. He’d even made a point of running into Mark Archibald, the reporter who’d managed the first interview with Hannah Cooper, but he wasn’t dropping any clues about the woman’s whereabouts.

No need to panic yet. Whatever the woman remembered, it wasn’t enough to implicate him. She’d never gotten a good look at him; he’d been careful, wearing nondescript clothing and his hat low over his face. She might have seen his belt buckle, but that wouldn’t hurt him. He wore it only when he was hunting, and it had been a hand-me-down, not a purchase.

Still, he’d feel better when he finally tracked her down.

HANNAH COCKED HER HEAD, watching Riley flip the steak on the grill. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her, fueling her suspicion that he was playing some sort of game with her. On the up side, at least she was getting a steak dinner out of it. But she couldn’t help wondering why he wasn’t trying to talk her out of playing bait for the killer.

Driving home from the Canyon Creek Police station, he hadn’t said a word about Sheriff Tanner’s plan. On the contrary, he’d taken the scenic route, detouring along lightly traveled side roads winding through open range, where horses and cattle grazed on the last good grass before winter arrived. He was a charming tour guide, telling her all about the local legends from a time when cowboys were kings.

“Just north of here,” he had told her, “lies the Wind River Indian Reservation. Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone. Emily’s mother grew up there.”

Which explained Jack’s coloring.

“Emily’s mother died when she was little-not long after Jack was born. They grew up with their dad, so they never really knew much about their mother’s side of the family. She always regretted that.” Riley’s voice had gone faint, as it often did when he spoke of his late wife.

He’d changed the subject, and the conversation for the rest of the ride home had been light and inconsequential.

Certainly no mention of Sheriff Tanner’s plan to put her in the killer’s crosshairs.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with something?”

“Got it covered,” he assured her. He closed the grill cover and came to sit next to her on the rough, wooden bench set against the back wall of the house. He edged closer, enfolding her cold hands in his. “Are you sure you want to wait out here with me? Your hands are like icicles.”

She leaned against him, happy for his body heat. Though the house blocked some of the wind whipping down from the north, the sun was already beginning to set, robbing her of its waning warmth. “And miss watching you play chef? Not a chance.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Better?”

He smelled like wood smoke and grilling steak. Her stomach growled, and she chuckled inwardly. Tasty, indeed.

“Somebody’s hungry.” His low, growly baritone rumbled in her ear, turning the statement into a nerve-melting double entendre. She looked up to find him watching her, his gaze restless.

She swallowed hard, her heart fluttering wildly. “Yes.”

He bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. His lips traced a shivery path up to her ear. “Me, too.”

So, this is what he’s up to.

Resistance was impossible, even though she was onto his plan of distraction. By the time his mouth slid over the curve of her jaw, she was far beyond protest.

His lips found hers, moving lazily. She lifted her hands to his head, his crisp, short-cropped hair rasping against her palms, making them tingle. She pulled him closer, ready for the next course, but he gave her only a quick taste, his tongue brushing lightly over hers, before he pulled back. The kiss was an appetizer, only whetting her hunger.

“Don’t want to burn anything,” he murmured, pulling away and returning to the grill.

He grabbed a set of tongs and flipped the steaks. The smell wafting toward her made her mouth water.

At least she told herself it was the smell.

“You haven’t given up on talking me out of the plan, have you?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Did you think I would?”

She shook her head slowly. “It’s not going to do you any good. You can’t wine and dine me out of this.”

He smiled slightly, his eyes dark with determination. “I wasn’t expecting food to change your mind.”

Oh, my. The unspoken promise of that statement sank in, spreading heat over her throat and down her back. The fleece coat she wore to fend against the evening chill felt suddenly heavy and constricting.

“And I’m out of wine,” he added. “Afraid we’ll have to go into this sober.”

She unzipped her jacket, grateful for the cool rush of air. “I don’t like wine anyway. Makes me sleepy.”

“Exactly.” He turned back to the grill.

Warning bells rang frantically in her brain, but walking away seemed beyond her. Instead, she scrambled mentally for a safe topic to cool down the heat rising between them. “I called my parents earlier. I told them what I had decided to do.”

He looked over his shoulder again. “What did they say?”

“Not to do it, of course.”

“Mom and Dad know best.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line. “If they were in my position, they’d do what I’m doing. Where do you think I learned it from?”

His answer was to flip the peppers charring on the grill.

“I just hope they don’t call my brothers and let them know what’s up. I’m surprised Aaron hasn’t called me already. He’s the cop,” she reminded him. “Chickasaw County’s finest.”

He closed the top of the grill again and turned around to look at her. “What would Aaron the cop tell you?”

“Not to do it,” she answered.

“Seems to be the consensus.” He walked slowly toward her, every step a seduction, whether he intended it to be so or not. She tried to look away, but her muscles seemed paralyzed.

A fly in a spider’s web, she thought faintly. Then he sat beside her again, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. What was left of her rational side curled up and whimpered.

He had large hands, rough with work. He ran the pad of his thumb lightly across her bottom lip. “You have a beautiful mouth. Has anyone ever told you that?”

The memory his words evoked helped her gather up what was left of her self-control. “Yes.”

His thumb stopped moving. “Whoever he was, he was right.”

“He liked kissing me.” She forced the words from her mouth, not because she wanted to talk about that painful time in her life, but because it was her best defense against Riley’s potent seduction. “But he loved someone else.”

Riley dropped his hand to his lap. “What happened?”

“He married her, not me.”

Riley breathed deeply, bending forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “When was that?”

“About four years ago.” She hadn’t planned to tell him more, but the gentle encouragement in his eyes made her open up about Craig, their whirlwind romance, the wedding plans and the terrible moment when, at the bachelor’s party, he confessed to Hannah’s brother Aaron that he was still in love with another woman. “Aaron made him tell me the truth.” She smiled wryly. “Craig’s lucky. Aaron was really ticked.”

Riley took it all in silently, his expression solemn. Surely he couldn’t miss the parallels between then and now, between Craig’s lingering feelings for his old flame and Riley’s unending passion for his dead wife.

“I think I knew long before he told me.” Shame burned the back of her neck. “I just thought I could change his mind. But you can’t will a man to get over the woman he loves.”

“No.” Riley moved restlessly away from her and opened the top of the grill. The smell of grilled peppers and steak filled the light breeze, but she’d lost her appetite.

Apparently, he had as well. Turning off the grill, he transferred the meat and peppers to a couple of plates, but he returned to her side without bringing the food. He turned toward her on the bench, reaching out to take her chin in his hand. He lifted her face, making her look up at him.

The intensity of his gaze made her stomach tighten into a hot, tight knot. “I don’t want you to go to Jackson tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how to stop you. You’ve already said wining and dining won’t work.”

She had to laugh at that, and his lips curved in response, but he soon grew serious again.

“I can only tell you that I came damned near losing my mind when Emily died. I don’t think I’ve gotten all of it back yet.” He cradled her face with gentle strength. “If something happened to you, I don’t think there’d be anything left of me.”

Tears trembled on her lashes and tumbled down her cheeks. She blinked them back, fighting for control. “You hardly know me,” she said, trying to be reasonable. But even as she spoke the words, she knew they were inadequate. In a few, brief days, she’d shared more about herself with him than she’d shared with most of her family. He knew the fears that hid behind her bravado, the longing she buried beneath her outward contentment.

He didn’t have to contradict her. She saw in his eyes that he knew the complexity of their relationship went far beyond a few days of acquaintance. Soul mates, her traitorous mind whispered, and she couldn’t disagree. But the truth didn’t make Riley any less in love with his dead wife.

She closed her eyes and drew away from him, needing breathing room to gather the scraps of reason still left in her rattled brain and try to figure out what to do.

She wanted him. She couldn’t have denied that truth if her life depended on it. And she also knew the futility of letting her desire become anything more demanding. They might have a deep and special connection, but that was no guarantee of happily ever after.

Could she settle for happily right now?

“Please don’t go to Jackson tomorrow,” he said.

She forced her eyes open, letting the tiny flicker of anger licking at her belly grow into a slow burn. “I told you my decision,” she snapped. “You’re going to have to respect it.”

She stood and entered the house, leaning against the door for a second to calm her jangled nerves. She listened through the door for any sign that he intended to follow, but all she heard was the clatter of plates and cutlery.

A sudden crash made her jump, and she peeked through the small window set in the top of the door and saw Riley crouching by the grill, piling up pieces of a broken plate with swift, jerky movements.

She went to the guest room, closing the door behind her, and sat on the bed, hating herself for breaking the peace between them. He’d just opened up to her, sharing feelings she suspected he hadn’t shared with anyone since Emily’s death, and she’d rewarded him with a temper tantrum.

Nice, Hannah. Way to make sure the rest of your time in Wyoming is a living hell.

RILEY TOSSED THE PIECES of broken plate into a trash bag one by one, grimly enjoying the sound of each thunk. As irritated as he was at the moment, he found a strange sort of pleasure in the feeling. It had been a while since anyone had inspired in him a powerful emotion outside of grief.

He understood her frustration with his stubborn insistence that she back out of Jim Tanner’s plan, but what choice did he have? He’d sacrificed a normal life in his quest to find Emily’s killer, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice Hannah.

Which was also a new sensation-caring about someone more than he cared about revenge.

He set the trash bag in the bin by the door and went back to the grill to gather up the food and take it inside.

Hannah was nowhere to be found. He glanced down the hall and saw the door to her room closed.

So she was hiding. Trying to stay mad? He knew she wasn’t as angry at him as she wanted to be. But anger was better than vulnerability. He knew that better than most people.

He found a pair of clean plates and split the steaks and peppers between them. Going back to the drawer for flatware, he glanced down the hallway again. The door was still closed.

He waited until after he’d poured ice water in two glasses before he went down the hall to knock on the door. “Hannah?”

She didn’t answer, but he could sense her listening just behind the door.

“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to assume something bad happened to you and bust the door down,” he warned.

The door opened and she stood on the other side, looking up at him with flashing green eyes. He took a step forward before he could stop himself.

She put her hands up, almost defensively, but when her fingers touched his chest, they curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His heart rate soared as their bodies made contact. He couldn’t have stopped his physical response if he’d wanted to.

She rose to her toes and pulled his head down, slanting her head back and fitting her mouth against his. He drank in her sweetness, fire building low and slow in his belly.

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered, sliding her lips across the edge of his jaw.

He felt himself falling into her, the last shred of resistance gone. Pushing her back toward the bed, he fell atop her, shifting so that her body cradled his. Her thighs parting to welcome him, she tugged urgently at his shirt, her eyes glazed with hunger.

“Hannah-” he began, needing to be sure she knew what was about to happen between them, but she silenced him with her mouth, drawing him down to her with strong, determined arms.

There was nothing he could do but follow her into the sweet, desperate madness.