Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming

by Paula Graves

  Hannah smiled, clearly pleased to have something to do besides lie in bed. She took the knife Jack handed her and went to work chopping onions and peppers.

  Riley watched her deft hands make short work of the vegetables. “You’re good with a knife.”

  She looked up with a start, her knife slipping and nicking her knuckle. “Damn it!” She sucked her knuckle between her lips, her forehead wrinkling.

  “I’m sorry-” He grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the tap. Taking her hand, he dabbed at the blood to check how badly she’d cut herself.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. But she didn’t pull her hand away as he applied a little pressure to the shallow nick.

  “I’ll get a bandage.” Jack set aside the beef tips he was seasoning and headed toward the bathroom.

  “I told you I wasn’t much of a cook,” she said, her cheeks flushed and her lips curved with a rueful smile.

  “I startled you.” They stood so close he could smell the apple soap she’d used when she’d showered earlier. The scent reminded him of spring-fresh, crisp and full of promise.

  Her green eyes darkened. “I guess I’m still jumpy.”

  His blood simmered, slow and hot in his veins. He’d forgotten the feel of fire licking low in his belly and pulsing hunger drumming in his chest.

  “Here we go.” Jack returned to the kitchen with the first-aid kit Riley kept in the bathroom. He eased Riley aside and pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment.

  As Jack bandaged Hannah’s hand, Riley crossed to the back door and pushed aside the faded curtain, looking out into the deepening blue of nightfall. A chill wind rolled down the mountains, rattling the door. He was tempted to step outside, into the bitter breeze, and let it cool his burning thoughts.

  How was he going to make it through a night alone with Hannah Cooper without losing his mind?

  Once bandaged, Hannah finished her task of chopping vegetables. She and Jack worked together with enviable ease preparing the chili, while Riley kept a watchful distance. With Jack, Hannah laughed, she joked, she sparkled like a jewel set incongruously in the middle of his plain, utilitarian kitchen.

  This was the real Hannah Cooper, Riley realized. The one unencumbered by fear. The woman she must have been when she arrived in Wyoming, before a killer had tried to make her his next victim. She didn’t have to think about clues or harsh memories with Jack. She could just be Hannah, the woman from Alabama who’d come to Wyoming to go fishing and see Old Faithful and the Grand Teton mountains.

  Jack was right, Riley realized with some pain. Emily would have loved Hannah.

  Despite her long nap that afternoon, Hannah didn’t make it through dinner without breaking into yawns.

  “We’re boring her already,” Jack teased.

  She gave a rueful laugh. “I promise I can stay awake long enough to help with the dishes.”

  “No, you don’t.” Riley broke his silence. “You go on and get to bed. Jack and I can handle a few dishes.”

  She gave him an odd look, then pushed herself out of her chair and offered them both a soft good-night.

  After she’d gone down the hall, Jack looked at Riley. “You were quiet during dinner.”

  “I figured you and Hannah had conversation covered,” he replied drily, immediately kicking himself for the irritation in his tone. He was acting like a jealous jerk.

  Ironically, it worked in his favor. “I’m not moving in on your girl, Riley. I know I’ve got a reputation as a player, but you’re family. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Riley made himself laugh, although inside his guts were in a tangle. “I know.”

  “And you know, you guys don’t have to be all proper and formal around me. It’s not going to kill me to see you kiss the girl.” Shooting Riley a pointed look, Jack got up and started putting away the leftover chili.

  The image Jack’s words evoked made Riley’s mouth grow dry. What would it feel like to kiss her? To feel her soft curves settle against his body as if she’d been made exactly for him? The need to know was suddenly overwhelming.

  He had to get out of the house. Now. Go take a ride, work off some of the restless energy tormenting him. But before he could act on the impulse, there was a knock at the back door.

  Riley made sure his Ruger was tucked firmly in his waistband, ignoring Jack’s curious look. He crossed to the back door and edged the faded curtains away from the inset window.

  Joe and Jane Garrison stood outside, stamping from foot to foot against the cold night air.

  Riley unlocked the door and let them inside, giving Joe a warning glance. He’d already told his friend about Jack’s unexpected arrival and the charade he and Hannah had to keep up in front of his brother-in-law.

  Joe and Jack knew each other from way back, but Jane hadn’t yet met his brother-in-law. Joe handled the introductions, and Jane immediately engaged Jack in conversation, giving Joe a chance to show Riley the file he’d brought over.

  “Jane spent the last couple of hours online, tracking down all the snake-shaped belt buckles she could find. She printed them out and they’re all in here. I thought you’d want to see them as soon as possible, while the dream is still fresh in Hannah’s mind.” Joe handed over the folder. “Also, I’ve asked Jim Tanner to fax me the personnel files of the hospital security staff as soon as he gets access to them. His people will run the background checks, but I figure it won’t hurt to put both departments to work on it.”

  “Good idea,” Riley agreed. “If you do get them, I’ll bring Hannah to the office. Give her a chance to get out and take in a little fresh air.” Maybe, with people around, he wouldn’t find himself thinking about the softness of her skin or wondering what she tasted like.

  Because if he didn’t get control of his treacherous body soon, the next four days would be the longest of his life.

  A WAXING MOON HUNG LOW in the eastern sky, spreading cool blue light across the mountain in the distance. Beyond, the night was alive with stars, millions of them, more visible than Hannah could ever remember. She had grown up in one of the more remote areas of Alabama, where there weren’t enough city lights to obscure the stars in the night sky, but even at home, she had never seen quite so many stars as this.

  She couldn’t orient herself, an odd feeling. She knew the window of Riley’s darkened bedroom faced east, or she couldn’t have seen the moon from this vantage point. But what was east when you didn’t know where you were in the first place?

  She had always prided herself on being aware of her surroundings, of picking up on the nuances of her settings that most people never even noticed. She was as skilled a tracker as any of her brothers, as good a boatman, as successful a fisherman and she was the best night hiker in the family.

  She didn’t like feeling so up-ended. It reminded her too much of that moment, four years ago, when she watched her future shatter into a million pieces.

  She leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane, feeling the vibration of the night wind rattling the glass. In a little while, Riley Patterson would walk through the bedroom door behind her and they’d close themselves into this small, intimate room for the night. The thought gave her a sense of safety, the knowledge that in this place, with Riley watching over her, nothing outside could hurt her.

  But with that sense of safety came another, more complicated feeling of reckless anticipation. Riley would be there soon, so close she could hear him breathing, and she could hardly wait.

  It was crazy. He was still clearly mourning a wife he’d never stop loving, and their acquaintance was supposed to be businesslike and short, spanning no more than the next few days. She’d been around other attractive men before without feeling like a schoolgirl trembling with a crush. Far more suitable and available men.

  Or was that the appeal? Her brothers always teased her about her competitive streak. Did she think she had a fighting chance at winning his heart away from the other woman this time?

&n
bsp; Go for it, Hannah. Maybe you’ve got a better shot against a dead woman.

  Idiot.

  She pushed her hair back from her face, wincing as her palm brushed against the scrape on her forehead. She had to get control over herself before she did something stupid.

  A soft knock on the door behind her made her nerves twitch. The door swung open, spilling light from the hallway into the darkened bedroom. Hannah turned to look at Riley as he entered, her heart suddenly hammering against her breastbone.

  He paused in the doorway a moment, a tall, lean silhouette against the light. She couldn’t see his eyes in his shadowy face, but she felt his gaze like a touch. She felt suddenly naked, despite the warm flannel enveloping her from chin to ankle.

  He reached for the light switch.

  “Don’t,” she said. She wasn’t ready to come into the harsh light of reality yet.

  He hesitated a moment, then dropped his hand to his side and closed the door behind them, plunging the bedroom into darkness again.

  Hannah turned back to the window, leaning her hot cheek against the cold glass pane. “You can see the mountain better without the light on.”

  Warmth washed over her as Riley edged close to the window, just behind her. Though he didn’t touch her, she felt him as surely as if he had. “That’s Sawyer’s Rise.”

  “The mountain?”

  “Yes.” He moved the curtain aside, stepping up beside her. She looked up and found moonlight painting his masculine features a cool, shadowy-blue, emphasizing the hard, lean lines of his cheekbones and the deep cleft of his chin.

  In this light, he looked as if he’d been carved from the face of the mountain, solid rock with a million unexpected facets. The itch to touch him tingled in her fingertips. Would he feel like stone, cool and rough to the touch?

  After a moment of exquisite tension, he spoke again. “There’s something I need to show you.”

  He moved away from the window. A moment later, the soft glow of lamplight filled the bedroom, obscuring the moonlit landscape outside behind the reflected light in the windowpane. Hannah caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection, her hair a tousled mess, her cheeks flushed beneath shadowy eyes.

  She turned away quickly, running a hand through her hair to tame the riotous tumble. “What is it?”

  He was carrying a thin manila folder, she saw. He sat on the bed and opened it, patting the mattress beside him.

  She took a seat where he indicated and looked at what lay inside the folder. There were photos, obviously pulled from the Internet and printed on a color printer. Belt buckles, in a variety of snake shapes.

  “Jane was a busy woman this evening,” he murmured. “Do any of these look familiar?”

  Hannah took the folder from him and started leafing through the printouts. None of the belt buckles jumped out at her. So much about the attack on her that day remained fuzzy, whether from the aftereffects of her concussion or the sheer trauma of the ambush. The more she tried to force herself to remember, the more confused the effort seemed to leave her. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly.

  “Can you eliminate any of them?”

  She looked again. There were a couple of designs where the snake itself was the belt buckle. She was sure that hadn’t been the case with her assailant. “Not these,” she said, setting those pictures aside. “And not these two, either,” she added, culling out a couple that were a dark, weathered pewter rather than a soft, shiny silver.

  “That helps,” he said, although she heard a faint strain of frustration in his voice.

  She stood up and began laying the other printouts on the bed, placing them in a grid. When she was finished, she stepped back and closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind so she could go back to the day of the attack.

  She’d been driving down the highway, hoping to make Jackson before nightfall. But she hadn’t been speeding-she’d checked her speedometer when she saw the blue light behind her.

  “I pulled over,” she said aloud. “I reached for my purse and got my driver’s license. I turned back to the window, and I saw only his midsection. He had jeans on, and he was wearing a silver belt buckle-” The image in her mind came into sharp focus suddenly. It was oval-shaped, fashioned of silver with black detailing. The snake was coiled, its diamond-shaped head in the center of the buckle as if ready to strike.

  She opened her eyes and looked at Riley. He was looking at the images, a deep furrow in his brow.

  She looked down at the images, scanning them to see if any matched the belt buckle she remembered. She spotted it, third from the left, middle row. As she reached for it, Riley moved forward at the same time. Their hands met over the image.

  Electric tingles rippled up her arm. She looked up, surprised, to find him staring at her, a strange intensity shining in his blue eyes.

  “Is that the one?” His fingers tightened over hers.

  She nodded, suddenly breathless.

  A triumphant grin spread slowly over his face.

  “How did you know?” she asked, looking down at his hand still covering hers on top of the color print.

  He let go of her hand and stood, crossing to the desk near the window. He pulled a thick file folder from the bottom drawer and brought it over to the bed. “Can you put away all of the other prints?” he asked, already thumbing through the file in his lap.

  She replaced all the useless printouts in the manila folder from which they’d come and held on to the one she’d identified, looking at it more closely. It was definitely the one she’d seen that day. But if it was a popular style-

  “Here.” Riley held out a piece of paper.

  She took it from him, wincing as she realized it was an autopsy photo. The photo showed a close-up image of a woman’s abdomen, from the bottom of the breasts to the pelvic bone. A dark bruise marred the skin of the upper belly, just below the ribcage.

  Riley pointed to the bruise. “Can you see that?”

  She looked closer. Suddenly, the bruise started to take a recognizable shape. “Oh, my God. It’s the belt buckle.”

  She looked up at him, surprised to find him laughing softly. He dropped the file folder on the bed and reached for her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. His laughter vibrating against her chest, he swirled her around and around until her head swam.

  He set her down, finally, still laughing softly as he kept her close. “You don’t know how long I’ve been puzzling over that bruise,” he murmured against her hair, his grip tightening.

  Tentatively, she moved her hands up his sides, tracing the whipcord muscles lining his ribcage. Deep in her belly, heat pooled, setting off tiny tremors that rippled up her spine. Her breathing sped up as her heart began to pound like a hammer against her ribcage.

  Oh, God, it was happening again.

  Riley pulled back slowly, his gaze meeting hers. His eyes went midnight dark, and she realized he’d felt the traitorous response of her body to his. His eyes darkened, but not with anger or surprise. Where her hand rested against his chest, she felt the racing of his heart. Resistance fell away, leaving only hard, ravening need.

  Kiss me, she thought, her breath trapped in her aching lungs.

  She nearly collapsed to the floor when he let her go.

  Chapter Seven

  Riley crossed to the window and gazed out, as if he could see the mountains instead of his own traitorous reflection there. His whole body was humming with awareness. He could even hear Hannah’s soft, quick respirations behind him.

  “This is a break in the case, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He took a deep, steadying breath. He could control himself, damn it. He’d become very good at self-discipline over the last few years.

  He turned to look at her. “Her name was Cara Sandifer. A rancher found her body in an irrigation pond a few hours after she was killed.” He crossed to the bed, keeping his distance from her, and added the printout of the belt buckle to Cara’s file. “Because her body was found so quickly, the eviden
ce in her case is probably the best we have at the moment.”

  “We should tell someone. Joe. You should call Joe.”

  Riley nodded. “He can fax a notice over to other law-enforcement agencies in the area. We’ll also track down the manufacturer and see how many belt buckles we’re looking at, what stores in Wyoming carry them, that kind of thing.”

  He glanced at Hannah and found her sitting in the middle of the bed, her knees tucked up against her body protectively, the same way she’d sat in the hospital watching the crime-scene investigators go over her bed. Compassion trumped his uneasiness, and he crossed to her side, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “This is good news. You really came through for us.”

  She lifted her chin, unfolding out of her self-protective tuck until she sat cross-legged. When she spoke, her voice was stronger. “I hope it helps you find him. That’s all I want, you know. To find this guy and go back home in one piece.”

  Her tone didn’t change, but Riley couldn’t miss the warning in her words. She may have felt the same charge of electricity between them that he’d experienced, but she was no more interested in pursuing it than he was.

  That should make things between them considerably less complicated, he thought with relief.

  He should have known better.

  “THERE ARE 450 STORES in 36 states that carry the Cal Reno brand buckles. Most of those have, at one time or another, carried the Rattler design. At least thirty of those stores are located in Wyoming, and God knows how many there are in the surrounding states.” Joe Garrison’s expression was grim.

  Hannah stared at the police chief, her heart sinking. “That many?”

  “We’ve put out a request to track the purchases, but if someone made the purchase with cash, there’s really no way to identify him. We can hope he paid with a credit card.” Joe looked apologetic.