by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron
“Really?”
“Yes, I suspected she was holding out for more money, so I was working on securing a more lucrative deal for her.”
“I see. But now that she’s dead, it’ll probably be easier to take over.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Actually, that’s not how it works. If she didn’t have a specific will dictating who the property went to, it will go into probate. That could take months which will slow down the entire project.”
That was true. “Did she have a will?”
Irritation carved frown lines around his mouth. “I don’t know. Since the police ruled her death a homicide, nothing can happen until the investigation is complete.”
“One of the other store owners mentioned that Joy had a silent partner. Do you know who that was?”
“No. If I had, I would have tried to convince him or her to talk some sense into Joy.” He studied her with hooded eyes. “Now, Ms. Bagwell, why are you asking me these questions?”
Ginny knotted her hands in her lap under the table. “I had the impression the two of you were more than business acquaintances.”
A flicker of unease settled across his features. “We had dinner a few times, but it was mostly business. I thought if I showed her my plans for the development, she’d be swayed into selling.”
“But it didn’t work?”
“No, she was stubborn,” he muttered.
“That must have angered you, especially if your business plans relied on her cooperation.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you’re suggesting that I killed Joy because she refused to sell, you’re way off base. Maybe you should talk to the sheriff instead of running around making accusations.”
“I did speak to him, but he isn’t sharing.”
“That’s for damn sure. I asked him what happened, but he shut me down. Even implied that I might have killed her to get hold of her property, just like you did.” He released an angry sigh, stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “If I were you, Ms. Bagwell, I’d go back to Asheville. If you keep running around making accusations, you might end up like Joy.”
* * *
GRIFF CALLED FLETCH, explained his conversation with Jacob and asked him to meet him at the put-in to the trail near Raven’s Ridge. There, Griff led the way. Three miles in, they passed the point of origin for the latest wildfire.
The ridge overlooked the burned area, so the arsonist could have set it, then climbed to higher ground and watched it sizzle along the forest floor, eating up leaves, twigs and brittle grass as it spread.
Although crime-scene investigators had combed the area, he and Griff searched the territory again to make sure they hadn’t missed something. When they were satisfied they hadn’t, they climbed upward toward the ridge, following the path leading to the top. More rain threatened as dark clouds rumbled and swallowed the light from the sky.
Griff and Fletch hiked past trees so thick they had to turn sideways to weave between them. When they reached the top, the steep overhang jutted out over the woods below and offered an expansive view of where the fire had started.
The perfect place for an arsonist to watch his handiwork and bask in the glory as the flames licked higher and higher.
Griff and Fletch divided up and searched separate areas, the threat of bad weather forcing them not to waste time. Near a cluster of hemlocks leading away from the overhang, Griff spotted boot prints that had been somewhat protected from being washed away by the rain the night before. He shone his light along the edges and thought they might be able to make a cast, then noticed a path of crushed weeds a few feet from the prints.
He panned his light across the brush. Something shiny was trapped in the weeds. He pulled on gloves, and stooped to his knees. His fingers brushed over the shiny metal object, and he freed it, then held it up to examine it. A lighter—fancy, expensive, with the emblem of a black panther on the side.
Not one teens would own.
A hiker on the trail could have dropped it. But considering the location where he’d found it and the proximity to the latest wildfire, it raised suspicion. He bagged it and put it in his pocket, then strode over to Fletch where he finished making the cast of the boot print. They searched for another hour. Unfortunately, they found nothing else. Rain threatening, they hiked down the mountain to their vehicles.
“I’ll run these by Jacob’s office,” Fletch offered.
“Thanks.” The lighter might belong to the arsonist, but the fact that Joy’s business and home had also burned down was seeming less like a coincidence. And more like they could be connected.
Which led him back to Ginny Bagwell.
She’d been shaken the night before. Had bruises where she’d fallen—or been pushed. He’d warned her she was flirting with danger.
What if something had happened to her while he’d been gone today?
* * *
GINNY SPENT THE afternoon at the coffee shop researching Thad Rigden on her computer. She looked for anything she could find indicating he was shady, dangerous or that he might have killed Joy out of anger over the fact that she refused to sell.
He had been through a nasty divorce settlement, which had gone public when his wife sued him for half of their assets, assets that amounted to almost a million dollars. The wife had filed a restraining order against Thad during the divorce proceedings with claims of intimidation tactics.
Had he used those tactics on Joy and the situation had spiraled out of control? Was he so desperate for the investment opportunity to replenish the money he’d given his wife that he’d resort to murder?
The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes to the next hour, and she realized it was time to meet her next date from Meet Your Mate. She hurried back to the inn and changed into a nice sweater and black slacks, then walked to the wine bar William Roberts had suggested.
As always, she checked her surroundings and seated herself to face the doorway. For the next hour, she watched couples and individuals come and go, but her date didn’t show. Wondering if she’d misread the time and place, she checked her phone for messages and reviewed the original interchange. No. She had the date, time and place correct.
The creep had stood her up.
Annoyed, she polished off the one glass of merlot she’d allowed herself to sip while waiting, paid the bill, gathered her purse and headed outside. More dark storm clouds threatened, thunder rumbling, and she increased her pace hoping to make it back to the inn before another deluge of rain descended.
The sun had come and gone while she was in the wine bar, and night had fallen with the temperature dropping again, adding a crispness to the air. Just as she passed the alley between Mitzi’s and the craft store, footsteps pounded behind her.
She halted, sliding her hand to open her purse, then spun around to see who was there. A shadow moved into her vision, then suddenly jumped her. She tried to steady herself, but two strong hands shoved her backward and she hit the brick wall and fell into the dark alley.
Chapter Eleven
A shadow in the alley just past Mitzi’s caught Griff’s eyes as he drove toward the inn. He slowed, wondering if it was a lost tourist or someone attempting to break in the back door of the café. Occasionally drifters or vagrants Dumpster dived for food outside the restaurants. With tourist season beginning, sometimes seedy or questionable loners crept in to hide out on the trail, so it could mean trouble.
He eased into a parking spot at the diner, climbed out and walked toward the alley. Sounds of scuffling and voices echoed from the dark corner.
“Get off me, you bastard!”
Griff’s instincts roared to life, and he darted into the alley. Ginny. She was on the ground fighting off an attacker. Before he could reach her, she shoved the man off her. Then she raised her feet and kicked him hard. He flew backward with a grunt, then dove at her again. But she lurche
d to her feet and threw her arms up in a defensive move that looked as if she’d been trained in self-defense. The man went for her throat with both hands, but she balled her right hand into a knot and punched him in the face. He bellowed, blood spurting from his nose, and lunged at her.
Enraged, Griff glanced in the alley in search of a stick or something he could use as a weapon, but it was too damn dark to see. Clenching his hands into fists, he jogged toward the creep. The man must have heard him, because he turned his head toward Griff. Shadows clouded Griff’s vision, and the dark hoodie the man wore hid his features. The only thing he could tell was that he was medium build and height and wore all dark clothing.
His sound of rage rent the air, then he darted down the alley in the opposite direction.
Griff ran toward Ginny, calling her name. She seemed startled to see him and was trying to push herself up to stand. Her hair was tangled, her clothes disheveled, her eyes wide with fear and anger.
He gripped her arms to steady her and surveyed her features for injuries. Blood dotted her lower lip, and her cheek looked red. The damn bastard had hit her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but she was trembling and swayed as if dizzy. He pulled her up against him and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He rubbed slow circles over her back and dropped a tender kiss in her hair. “It’s over. He’s gone now and can’t hurt you.”
She gripped his arms, her breathing erratic and choppy. Griff soothed her again, then helped her to the bench in front of Mitzi’s. “Stay here and call Jacob. I’m going after him!” He didn’t give her time to protest. He squeezed her arm again, then took off running down the alley.
He jogged to the end, then checked both directions. A flash of something across the street caught his eye, and he raced across the intersection. By the time he made it to the other side, he’d lost sight of the figure. Halting by the streetlight, he scanned the parking lot and storefronts, but he’d disappeared.
Dammit.
Heaving a breath, he studied the area again, but the only people he saw were a couple walking their dog and an older man pushing his walker toward a Cadillac near the Italian restaurant. Frustrated but concerned for Ginny, he hurried back down the alley and found her still waiting on the park bench in front of Mitzi’s. She looked shaken and angry as he approached her.
He dropped onto the bench beside her. “Did you call Jacob?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
She rubbed at the scar on her wrist. “I told you I don’t like the police.”
Griff had had enough of her stubbornness. “Ginny, you were just attacked. That man could have killed you.”
When she lifted her head, the emotions in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “I know that. But I was prepared.”
His mind raced. “You may have taken a few self-defense classes, but he still could have overtaken you. For God’s sake, you’ve been asking questions about Joy’s death. That could have been her killer.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Griff pulled his phone from the clip on his belt. “We have to report this to Jacob. And this time I refuse to accept no for an answer.”
She reached up and placed her hands over his. “Please, Griff, don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Jacob has to know.”
The disappointment in her expression made guilt knot his belly. But he pressed his brother’s number anyway. Like it or not, he didn’t intend to stand by and watch men attack women in his town and get away with it.
* * *
GINNY’S FIRST INSTINCT was to run. She could flee town, drive to another place and start hiding out all over again.
But that was no life. And doing so gave Robert the power he wanted over her.
He’d said she’d never escape him. And even in hiding, she hadn’t because he dominated her thoughts. She looked for him on every corner, in every store, in every restaurant or café she went to. He haunted her sleep at night and every waking minute of the day. His menacing voice whispered her name when she stepped outside, or even in the shower. Especially when she was alone at night.
She’d been alone now for three years. Ever since he’d taken Tess from her.
She straightened her spine. This time she would not run. She would stay and fight. For Tess. And for herself.
“Let’s go to my truck,” Griff said. “We can wait on Jacob there.”
She nodded although she couldn’t quite look at Griff. He might see through her if she did.
Now that the adrenaline of the attack was wearing off, pain racked her body. She rolled her shoulder to alleviate the soreness and flexed her hands. Suddenly cold through and through, she began to tremble.
Griff walked her to his truck and unlocked it, then helped her inside and started the engine. He retrieved a blanket from the backseat. “Come here.” He leaned toward her and gently wrapped it around her. Tears burned the backs of her eyelids.
Tears she refused to let fall in front of him.
But his tenderness touched a chord deep inside her, and she allowed him to pull her up against him and hold her for a minute.
“Are you hurt?” he murmured against her hair.
Just her pride. But she bit back the words and shook her head no.
“Did you see his face?” he asked.
Had she? She closed her eyes and struggled to recall the details of the assault. She’d been so careful, watching everywhere she went. But he’d come out of nowhere and jumped her from behind. He was strong. About Robert’s height and weight.
Had she smelled his cologne?
“Ginny, did you recognize him?”
“No,” she said honestly. She had her suspicions but, she couldn’t be certain it had been Robert. Robert would have said something more. He wanted her to know he was watching. He would have whispered her name to taunt her, or at least used his pet name for her.
Love.
His tone had been so endearing in the beginning that the nickname had made her heart swell with affection. She’d felt lucky that he’d chosen her.
God...
She’d thought he’d take care of her, be her partner for life. But the day she’d realized the true man beneath the facade, his tone had changed drastically.
If he was watching her and he saw her talk to the sheriff, he’d assume she’d told the police about him. That would only intensify his rage.
“Do you want to talk about the attack?” Griff asked gruffly.
She lifted her head and blinked away emotions she didn’t want to feel. No man could be as tender and tough as Griff appeared to be. It wasn’t real.
She couldn’t allow herself to believe that it was.
* * *
GRIFF RUBBED GINNY’S BACK in slow, soothing circles. She felt so small and vulnerable in his arms that he wanted to keep her there where she was safe.
He hadn’t liked seeing that man jump her. Hadn’t liked it one damn bit.
She might think she was tough, but that man outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.
Jacob drove up beside Griff’s truck, lights twirling, and Griff reluctantly pulled away. He couldn’t become involved with Ginny when she was keeping secrets.
He opened the door, stepped out and met Jacob by his truck.
Jacob folded his arms and glanced at Ginny. “What happened?”
“I was driving over to check on her when I saw her in the alley. Some guy attacked her, and she was fighting him off.”
Jacob raised a brow. “Did you get a look at him?”
Griff shook his head. “Not a good one. Medium height and build dressed in all dark clothing. Wore a hoodie that half covered his face.”
“Does Ginny know who it was?”
“She claims she doesn’t and that she didn’t
see his face.”
“You believe her?”
A tense second passed. Then Griff cleared his throat. “I want to.”
Jacob muttered a curse. “All right. Stay with her and I’ll search the alley, then we’ll go to the station to file an incident report. I’m going to ask a couple of my deputies to search around town as well.”
Jacob retrieved his flashlight and crime kit from his car and headed down the alley. Griff got back in his truck. Ginny had recovered slightly, brushed through her hair with her fingers and looked a little calmer. Although she sported a bruise on her cheek now, and her knuckle was scraped. Anger at the sight churned in his belly, and he gritted his teeth. “Jacob wants to search the alley, then we’ll head to the station to file an incident report.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Ginny said. “The man is long gone, and I can’t identify him.”
“Maybe he left some evidence behind in the scuffle,” Griff said. “Something that will help us nail the creep.”
Ginny fidgeted and turned to look out the window. Silence stretched between them as they waited.
“What made you decide to go into investigative journalism?” he asked.
She pursed her lips in thought. “My father was a journalist,” Ginny said. “He used to travel the world and uncover stories about cover-ups with large corporations. I thought it was interesting that he helped people by exposing the truth.”
Griff had never thought about journalism like that.
She shifted and twisted her hands together. “When I was little, I carried a notebook around and eavesdropped on people’s conversations. Then I’d make up elaborate stories about what they were talking about or where they were going.” The memory brought a smile to her face.
“Your father must be proud of you,” he said quietly.
“He died when I was twelve. A hit man for one of the companies he was investigating,” Ginny said, pain lacing her voice.
Griff understood about wanting to please and impress your father. “I’m sorry you lost him that young. Did the man who killed him go to prison?”
“Yes, but it took a couple of years for the police to make the case.” Ginny swallowed. “You lost yours in the fire that happened in Whistler, didn’t you?”
