by Rita Herron
She let his comment slide. If Robert hadn’t killed Joy, one of the men from the site or the real estate developer could have. Jacob could investigate them and free her up to deal with Robert.
Unless William Roberts had been Robert. He could have set up the date to lure her away from Griff, then watched from afar as she waited on him to arrive. Then he’d stood her up, followed her and attacked her in the alley.
She quickly jotted down the names, then pushed the pad toward Jacob.
He folded his arms and studied her. “Do you have a sketch or photo of the man this source of yours dated? The one who allegedly attacked her?”
Ginny stood, furious. “I’m working on it.” She turned and glared at Griff. “This is the reason I said no police. I don’t like being interrogated as if I’m a suspect.”
“Miss Bagwell, I’m trying to find out who assaulted you and solve a murder investigation,” the sheriff said. “Without your cooperation, that’s impossible.”
She tapped the notepad. “There’s your list.”
She started for the door, but Griff cleared his throat. “Ginny, wait. Is there anyone else who would want to hurt you?”
* * *
HIS PLAN WAS WORKING. Reese, who called herself Ginny now, was on edge. By now, she must have seen the flowers he’d left for her in her room. And she’d gotten his message. Knew he was watching.
That he’d have her soon.
Rage knifed through him though as he remembered that big fireman rescuing her in the alley. Hell, he’d been on the verge of coming to her rescue when the bastard jumped in to be her hero.
Had she started hooking up with him? With other strangers?
Apparently so. She’d rejoined that damned dating site. He’d been monitoring it for months just in case she resurfaced.
Worse, the fireman seemed to be buddy-buddy with the sheriff. Mitzi said they were brothers.
Had Reese, Ginny, told the police about him? Had she shown them a photo from his first profile?
It didn’t matter. He didn’t look like that anymore. Even she wouldn’t recognize him on the street.
Although she would remember when he got her alone. She’d remember everything.
Chapter Twelve
Griff’s question echoed in Ginny’s ears. Is there anyone else who would want to hurt you?
She hesitated, then pointed to the list. “I gave you the names of everyone I’ve talked to since I arrived. You can talk to them and then tell me if one of them attacked me.” Head held high, she left the office and walked through the hallway to the front door.
Outside, the sky was dark, wind whipping through the trees and making the traffic light sway in the intersection. Rain still threatened, the temperature in the low fifties, although the wind chill made it feel more like thirty in the mountains.
She stepped outside, scanning the street, the hair on the nape of her neck bristling. Even though she’d left Robert, she felt as if he’d been with her, smothering her, his claws sunk deep into her psyche, every day since.
It had to stop.
She’d just reached the corner by the traffic light to cross the street when she heard Griff call her name. She tensed, bracing herself for a confrontation.
“You’re not walking back to the inn alone,” he said huskily.
The concern in his voice touched her. “Griff, I appreciate you coming to my rescue earlier, but I’m fine now. I just want to go to my room and rest.”
“All right. But I’m going to make sure you arrive safely.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. You were attacked once tonight. What if that guy comes back for you?”
“He probably just wanted my wallet and is long gone,” Ginny said as she quickened her pace.
“You don’t believe that and neither do I,” Griff said. “If he targeted you because you’re asking questions about Joy’s murder, he must want to stop you.”
Ginny ignored the twinge of guilt she felt for fudging the truth with Griff. He seemed sincere, like he was really worried about her safety. Realizing there was nothing she could say to deter him from accompanying her, she lapsed into silence until they reached the inn.
She glanced up at the quaint two-story house, desperate to remember that beauty still existed amidst the ugliness that had become her life. But her breath caught at the sight of a shadow in her window. Her hand automatically moved over her purse, and she itched to reach inside and draw her weapon.
“Thanks for walking me back.” She turned and headed up the porch steps, but Griff stayed on her heels.
“I’ll walk you to your room,” he said quietly.
The intensity in his eyes made her stomach flutter. “Griff, just go. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“More like a bodyguard,” he said, his voice thick.
She had needed one three years ago. Had asked the police for one. But they hadn’t had the manpower.
It was too late now to start over. And definitely too late to start anything with this sexy fireman.
If Robert was waiting for her in her room, she wanted to see him and get it over with so she could leave town before Griff had to find out the truth about why she’d come to Whistler.
* * *
GRIFF GENTLY TOUCHED Ginny’s arm. Jacob had caught him as Ginny rushed out the door. Liam had found another case where a woman was strangled, and her house set on fire afterward to cover her death.
A woman named Tess Taggart from Raleigh.
He wondered if Ginny knew about the case. She’d claimed her source had survived, but if she’d done her research and found out about this other woman, that might have triggered her to make a connection to Joy.
“Come on,” he murmured. “I want to take a look at those bruises. You might need medical attention.”
“I don’t,” she said.
He chuckled. “Humor me. EMT training is part of my job.”
“For goodness’ sakes, you’re a pest,” she said, a note of irritation to her voice.
He chuckled. She was a feisty, independent little thing. “Aww, Ginny. A gentleman makes sure a lady gets home safe and sound, all the way to her door.”
Ginny clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. “I haven’t been with any gentlemen lately.”
He raised a brow. Her comment raised more questions in his mind. “Well, my mama and daddy taught me to be one.”
They’d reached the porch, and he opened the front door. Ginny fidgeted. “Thank you, Griff, but I’m inside now. I’ll be fine.”
“To your doorway,” he insisted.
Anger flared in her eyes, and she sighed then walked past the parlor to the staircase. He followed, scanning the entry and room in case her attacker had slipped in and was posing as a guest. If the creep who’d assaulted her had done so because of Joy’s murder, he’d probably been watching her and knew where she was staying.
Griff had also noticed her reaction when she’d looked up at the window as if disturbed by something. Was someone in Ginny’s room?
More curious than ever, he cupped her elbow with his hand and guided her up the staircase. “I’ll just make sure you’re tucked safely inside, then I’ll leave for the night.”
She shot him an annoyed look, then reached for her key. Her hand trembled and for a moment, she simply stood there as if afraid to go in. Or was she afraid he would?
Was she afraid of him?
His stomach clenched at the thought. Maybe he had come on too strong. But he was only trying to protect her.
And find out what she was hiding. If she knew who’d killed Joy, she needed to talk.
She fiddled with the keys and dropped them, so he picked them up and unlocked the door. Through the open doorway he spotted the bathroom door that had been left ajar and the bed where a red lace nightgown lay. Had she left out
a gown to wear for a lover? Could that be the shadow he’d seen in the window?
Maybe she had a boyfriend back home who’d decided to join her in Whistler?
The scene in front of him certainly looked as if it had been staged for a romantic rendezvous.
A sea of rose petals trailed the floor from the doorway to the bed, then dotted the coverlet. Champagne sat chilling in an ice bucket with two flutes beside it. A box of expensive chocolates was on the pillow.
He narrowed his eyes. Not just a box of chocolates. A box with a photograph lying next to it.
A picture of a young woman who resembled Ginny.
The color drained from Ginny’s face, and she staggered sideways and gripped the edge of the doorway with a groan.
Griff grabbed her arm to steady her and caught her as her legs buckled beneath her.
What in the hell was going on? If this was a romantic rendezvous, she didn’t look happy about it.
* * *
THE PHOTOGRAPH... TESS... Her precious little sister.
Emotions clogged Ginny’s throat, and the world blurred into a fog of memories. The last few times she’d seen Tess. Christmas. Three years ago. They’d made eggnog and sugar cookies and gorged on them as they watched their favorite holiday movie.
Then the spring festival in Boone where Tess had rented a booth to showcase her paintings. She’d been so excited that day to sell three of her original pieces to people who’d been enthusiastic enough about her style to mention her to local art galleries.
With their parents gone, it was just the two of them, and they’d pinky sworn to celebrate every holiday and birthday together.
After their father’s death when their mother realized how fragile life could be, she’d made Ginny promise to take care of Tess if something happened to her.
But she’d failed her mother. Her father. Her sister.
Tess could have enjoyed a long, exciting and successful career as an artist. She’d dreamed of traveling to Paris one day and painting along the Seine River.
But all her dreams had been cut short. Her life snuffed out with senseless violence.
All because Ginny had allowed herself to fall for a slick psycho like Robert.
She should have been the one who’d died.
“Ginny, what’s going on?”
Griff’s hand at the small of her back was gentle but firm. So was his voice.
“Were you expecting somebody tonight?”
Was she? Yes. She’d known he was here.
She had to pull herself together.
Releasing a weary sigh, she stepped inside the room. Her fingers itched to pull the gun, but her gut instinct screamed that Robert was already gone. He was playing out his fantasy game of tormenting her.
“Ginny, please talk to me,” Griff said in such a quiet, soothing tone that she gestured for him to come in and to close the door.
Angry at Robert for his sick need for control and at herself for allowing him to still rattle her, she stiffened her spine.
“Were you expecting someone? A boyfriend maybe?” Griff asked.
She dropped her purse on the table by the door, then strode to the bathroom and peeked inside. Another bubble bath waiting. More rose petals. The scented soap he’d chosen for her. The one she thought was so sickening sweet it was nauseating.
Griff was right behind her and looked over her shoulder. “Am I interrupting something?”
For the first time since she’d met Griff, relief that he’d insisted on following her flooded her. Yes, he was interrupting. But apparently it wasn’t time for her to confront Robert face-to-face. The demented jerk was making a statement, indicating he would choose the time.
Just like he wanted to be in control of everything else.
A fit of anger overcame her, and she dipped her hand into the tub to release the water, then wiped her hand on the towel and hurried back to the bed. She snatched the picture of her sister and pressed it to her chest, then raked the rose petals onto the floor with one hand, crushing them beneath her boots.
Griff stepped back, hands raised, confusion marring his face. Then understanding, as if he realized for some reason she needed to vent.
She didn’t need to simply vent. She needed Robert out of her life forever.
Exhausted from the fight with her attacker and emotionally drained from Robert’s intimidation tactics, she sank into the chair in the corner. Griff stood by the door, shifting onto the balls of his feet, his steady breathing the only sound in the room.
She sat in silence, clutching Tess’s picture in her hands as she tried to gather her composure. The clock in the room ticked away the minutes. Thunder rumbled softly outside. The creak of footsteps in the hallway echoed through the doorway.
Griff knelt in front of her. “I know it’s been a helluva day. You were attacked. And now it’s obvious someone was in your room. What’s going on, Ginny?”
She shook her head, too tried to pretend any longer.
“Do you know who was here?”
She released a shaky sigh then looked into Griff’s eyes. The kindness she saw reflected in the depths tore at her resolve to keep her secret. Damn Robert for putting her in this position. For changing her...
“Do you?” Griff asked in a low tone.
She nodded numbly.
“Who was it?”
She squeezed her eyes to stem tears, then shook her head. She didn’t want to share her story with Griff. It was too humiliating.
He lifted her wrist and rubbed slow circles across her palm, then traced the burn scar on her wrist. “Does whoever it was have something to do with this?”
She gave a small nod.
He rubbed his thumb across her chin and lifted it, so their gazes locked. Robert’s had been filled with seduction and lies.
Griff’s were more serious, somber, filled with a quiet, tender understanding and kindness that she’d never seen before in a man. He was strong. Tough. Dealt with life-and-death situations. Saved lives. He cared about others.
He could hurt her if he wanted. Not physically because he wasn’t that kind of man. A rarity.
But emotionally. Because she liked him. Was starting to trust him.
Shame filled her. Would he help her if he knew the truth? Or would he look at her the way she saw herself—as the woman who got her little sister murdered?
* * *
GRIFF DIDN’T LIKE the pieces of the puzzle shifting and connecting in his head. Pieces of hidden truths he suspected had brought Ginny to Whistler that were personal.
She wasn’t just chasing a story. At least not just any story.
He gently took the picture from her and studied it. The girl in the picture looked younger than Ginny. Hair a soft blond, hazel eyes, a slight pug nose. Similar, but different. A relative?
“Who is this?” he asked softly.
She ran her finger over the woman’s face. “My sister. Her name was Tess.”
Griff tamped down a reaction as the truth dawned. Tess Taggart, the woman from Raleigh who was murdered. “What happened to her?” he asked, desperate for her to explain.
“She’s gone.” She stood, wrapped her arms around her waist and walked over to the window. Rain began to patter the panes and fog blurred the view to the outside, cocooning them into the warmth of the room.
Although Ginny was shivering.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Maybe not, but he sensed she needed to. He tried to recall everything she’d told him, deciphering through it for the truth in her story. “The man who set all this up? Did he kill her?”
She closed her eyes, her lower lip quivering. “He did.”
“Was she dating him?”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t even know her.”
G
riff twisted his mouth in thought. He hated guessing. She’d told him about an anonymous source, had said the woman escaped. Had she lied? Was there really a source?
Liam’s report echoed in his head. “How did she die, Ginny?”
Her eyes remained closed as if she was reliving the painful memories. Or maybe concocting another lie to tell him.
“She was strangled, wasn’t she?” The truth made his stomach knot. “Like Joy? That’s the reason you came to Whistler isn’t it?”
She didn’t have to answer. The gut-wrenching agony on her face told him everything.
He couldn’t help himself. She looked so vulnerable and broken that he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “You believe the same man who killed your sister killed Joy. And he was in your room. He knows you’re here looking for him?”
She nodded and leaned into him, her chest heaving up and down with emotions. “Yes. And it’s my fault they’re dead,” she murmured. “All my fault.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ginny’s chest eased slightly as she finally confided in Griff. Shame followed.
She’d carried the burden of guilt alone for so long that it was more than humbling to admit it out loud. Griff would look at her differently now just as she looked at herself differently. The contempt she felt for her actions was overwhelming.
But at least now he knew, he’d be repulsed and leave her alone.
He slowly released her and looked into her eyes, his jaw clenched. “What do you mean? It’s your fault?”
She folded her arms across her chest, bracing herself for his disgust. “Tess didn’t know the man who killed her. She wasn’t dating him. I was.”
Griff arched a brow. “You’re the anonymous source, aren’t you?”
She nodded. She might as well confess everything now. “I met him on a dating site. All my friends were doing it and said it was safe, as long as we met in public.”
His jaw tightened. “Go on.”