by Liz Shoaf
He wanted answers, and he intended to get them. He’d been a top-notch detective in Chicago, based on the number of cases he solved, and he’d dust off his old skills and get to the bottom of this mess.
He entered the kitchen, ready to pry the answers out of her, and stopped short when she looked up from the coffee mug she was cradling with both hands and smiled at him. Those two cute little dimples popped out on her pixie face, making her look like the most innocent person alive. He didn’t trust her sudden friendliness. Slowing his steps, he moved to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee while planning his line of questioning.
She beat him to the punch and attempted to take control of the interview.
“Listen, Sheriff Hoyt,” she said, and tilted her head to the side and widened her smile. “Sorry, you told me to call you Ethan. I know you want answers, and I’d love to help, but I don’t know anything that would help solve any of the events that have recently occurred.”
She looked relaxed, even sounded relaxed, but her right hand tightly gripping the coffee mug gave her away. The lady was nervous and he intended to use that. He sat down across from her and leaned back in his chair. After taking a sip of coffee, he placed the mug lightly on the table.
He softened his tone, made it almost cajoling. “I understand, but anything you can think of that could help will be most appreciated. I have two murdered men, a shooting and a break-in to solve.” He leaned forward with what he hoped was an earnest expression on his face. “I have a town full of citizens and tourists to protect, not to mention my own daughter and Mrs. Denton.”
The dimples disappeared, her lips formed a thin line and the ring of gold around her pupils burst into fire. “You need to brush up on your psychology classes, Sheriff. The best in the business have tried to figure me out and come up with zilch.”
Bingo! His first clue. Sam, at some point in her life, had had professional counseling. “Would you care to elaborate on that?”
He saw the moment she realized her mistake. She stiffened, then relaxed, grinned and leaned back in her chair. “You’re good.”
“So they tell me.” It wasn’t bragging; it was fact. He’d always been assigned the toughest cases in Chicago and had had a high rate of convictions.
She rubbed a finger around the rim of her mug, and he knew she was trying to figure out how much she could tell him while keeping herself in the clear. He’d done this hundreds of times and could practically predict how a perp would react. Not that he considered Sam a perp, but he was positive she was at the center of everything that had happened.
She surprised him with her next statement.
“My real name is Chloe Spencer.” She kept her gaze on the coffee mug when she dropped her bombshell but lifted her eyes, full of the earnestness he had projected earlier. It was almost as if she was throwing his psychology manipulation back in his face. “And I witnessed a murder, but that’s all I’m going to tell you, because I’m afraid for my life. That’s why I used an alias.”
Chloe. He rolled the name around on his tongue. It fit her better than Samantha. Then he realized the corner she’d neatly boxed him into.
“You knew I’d find out your real name because I have your prints on the gun I confiscated, and the tag number off your motorcycle. You’ve just given yourself a convenient excuse for not telling me about the murder you witnessed because you’re afraid.” He couldn’t believe she’d outsmarted him. Was any of it even true? He knew her name was real because that could be checked, but what about the rest?
“Where did you witness this murder?” When she stayed quiet, he brought out the big guns. “Well, no matter, we’ll get to the truth soon enough, and you’re not going anywhere until I have some answers.”
That little piece of news broke her silence. She shot from her chair and started pacing the floor. Geordie whimpered, but she ignored him. Finally she turned on him, and for the first time he was certain she was telling the truth. “Listen, Ethan, this has nothing to do with you, and if I leave town, all my problems will follow me. Your town, the tourists, your daughter and Mrs. Denton will be safe.”
She stood in front of him, her eyes filled with the truth of her statement. With the exception of her giving him a fake name, the majority of the time he was able to sort the truth from lies, and Chloe Spencer was telling the truth. Armed with this knowledge, he took another long look at the woman. Running seemed to come naturally to her. Had she done a lot of it in her life? Was there anyone who cared enough to help her?
Well, he was going to help her whether she liked it or not; plus, he had three crimes to solve. The murder, the break-in and the fact that someone had shot at them.
“No.”
“No? Did you say no?”
He saw her absently fingering her right sleeve with her left hand and was thankful her knife had left the premises embedded in the perpetrator, which reminded him. “That’s what I said, and just where did you learn all those nifty moves with a knife?”
She looked over his head, as if remembering something in her past, then looked down and gave him a saucy grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Ethan shoved to his feet. She didn’t seem the least bit afraid. He had some calls to make to get a description—even though it wasn’t much of one—of the perp out on the wire. Maybe the guy would go to an emergency room for the knife wound.
“It’s not long until daylight. I suggest you get some sleep.”
She called her dog to her side and strolled toward the doorway.
“Oh, and Chloe, don’t think of sneaking out. I’ll be in the room beside yours, and I’m a very light sleeper. Ask Penny.” He paused. “I’m going to find out why you were standing in front of room 126 tonight.”
She shot him a disgruntled look and disappeared with her dog trotting at her side.
Ethan grinned, even though he had a big mess on his hands. He hadn’t felt this alive since before Sherri died. Maybe even longer than that.
SIX
Tension filled Chloe’s shoulders the second she stepped into her room. Geordie hopped onto the bed and she plopped down beside him. What to do? Her inclination was to run, but to where? She couldn’t go to Stan and Betty’s. That was the first place the killer would look.
She also didn’t want to see disappointment on Stan’s face because here she was, once again, in the middle of a mess. Chloe had never figured out why they’d taken her in when she brought so much trouble. She’d always assumed the judge had contacted Stan when he’d realized the extent of her hacking skills and wanted her to use her talent—and teach her a valuable lesson—by helping people at the FBI. Not long after that, Stan and Betty had asked if they could adopt her. She had been so happy she hadn’t asked any questions. She’d assumed they wanted her because they didn’t have any children and she and Stan had so much in common with their computer skills.
She was a street tough kid, but they never gave up on her. And Stan was bossy, but he had a big marshmallow heart.
She ran her hand through her dog’s dark curls. “Whatcha think, Geordie? Stay and hope there are no more incidents until we find the disc, or hit the road?”
On the one hand, she was safe here with Ethan dogging her heels, but what if someone got hurt because of her? She couldn’t live with herself if Penny or Mrs. Denton were injured, or worse. She didn’t like to think of Ethan getting hurt, either.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten much of anything that day. She was tempted to go downstairs and raid the kitchen, but she didn’t want to run into Ethan if he had the same idea. She couldn’t handle another interrogation at the moment. Ethan was good at his chosen profession. She hadn’t made a slip like the one she made earlier in years.
Exhaustion caused her shoulders to slump forward as the reality of the attack in the hall sank in. The guy who killed Peter Norris had somehow tracked her to Jackson
Hole. She thought of all the precautions she’d taken and couldn’t figure out how they’d found her. She’d been careful, but they must have had a man on the ground at her apartment and followed her to Jackson Hole.
She rubbed her temples where a slight headache had started and decided to stay in Jackson Hole, at least for one more night. She needed to rest and come up with a plan. Geordie had already scratched himself out a place on the bed to sleep. Dragging her feet, she went to the bathroom, changed into the old T-shirt she slept in and brushed her teeth.
After her parents died, she’d learned to shut down her brain when she needed sleep. It was a habit that came in handy now. She slumbered almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, her last thought on the burner phones she’d hidden in Geordie’s pouch on her Harley. She was glad she’d had the forethought to do that since the person who’d tossed her room had strewn her stuff on the bed for all to see, all being Sheriff Hoyt. As sleep overtook her, she made a mental note to get in touch with Stan the next morning.
* * *
Never a morning person, Chloe grunted and cracked one eye open when her bed shook for the second time. Geordie growled playfully, and a squeal of delight accompanied the doggie snorts of happiness. It was too early in the morning for anyone in their right mind to be that happy, and she had a good idea who was in her bed playing with her dog.
Without rolling over, she grumbled, “Are you supposed to be in my room?”
The bed stilled, and Chloe flipped onto her back. Ethan’s precocious daughter looked bright and shiny as a new penny—no pun intended—in her cute jeans and frilly top. The mulish downturn of her lips ruined the cutesy effect.
“My dad says we have to stay here at Mrs. Denton’s because you’re in trouble, but I can put up with you because I get to play with your dog and eat chocolate chip cookies.” Chloe curled her lips in anticipation. The kid reminded her a little of her own young, feisty self.
“Tell you what,” Chloe dramatized with a Southern accent, “you can play with Geordie when you learn some manners.”
It didn’t surprise her when Penny’s lower lip trembled and a big fat tear rolled down her cheek.
Chloe snickered. “Is that the best you’ve got? That might work on your daddy, but I know better.”
Sure enough, the waterworks dried up real quick, only to be replaced by a challenging glint in Penny’s eye. Let the games begin.
“Penny,” Ethan’s voice roared down the hallway, “you better get back here this instant.”
Chloe pulled the covers to her chin just as he rounded the corner of her doorway, a door that Miss Penny Hoyt had left wide open.
He skidded to a stop, his eagle eyes missing nothing as he scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on Chloe tucked under the covers, his daughter sprawled on the bed, and Chloe’s dog salivating over said daughter.
Staring at father and daughter, Chloe’s stomach cramped at the thought of this small family getting hurt due to her precarious situation. Penny had already lost her mother, and the kid would be distraught without her father. Chloe knew what it was like to be without both her parents.
“It’s too dangerous for her to stay here. What if we have a repeat of last night?”
That caught Ethan’s attention and his gaze locked onto her. “Mrs. Denton’s Bed-and-Breakfast will be the safest place in town by lunchtime.”
She squirmed in bed. This probably wasn’t the best time to be having a serious discussion. “How so?”
“Because I’m letting it be known that Penny and I will be staying here for a while, and I plan to leave a patrol car parked out front day and night.”
She chewed that over for a second. “That might work.”
He shot her a tolerant grin. “I have been known to come up with a good idea or two over the years.”
“Well, didn’t that just put me in my place.”
“Daddy, she just sassed you. That deserves a time-out.”
Chloe couldn’t let that one go. “So you know all about time-outs, do you?” Penny’s cute little face clouded and turned red, but Ethan stepped in.
“Penny, it’s time for breakfast and then school. I’ll drop you off this morning.”
His statement brought the seriousness of the situation back to Chloe. He was dropping his daughter off at school because there was a possible killer out there, waiting to get his hands on Chloe. The urge to flee pounded in her skull.
“And you, Chloe, will be coming with us. You’ll spend the day at the station with me.”
His unwavering gaze made her decision. She’d accompany him and grab a burner phone from Geordie’s bag on the Harley on her way out so she could touch base with Stan and Betty. She didn’t have a plan, and this would give her time to come up with something.
“Okay,” she acquiesced, and he shot her a suspicious look before herding his daughter out of the room.
After disappearing, he called, “Make it fast, Chloe, or Penny will be late for school.”
She threw back the covers and grumbled out loud about his tone—she wasn’t a six-year-old—and Geordie grunted when he hopped off the bed.
* * *
They’d left the dog happily chomping down on one of Mrs. Denton’s cookies, and Ethan had just dropped Penny off at school. He glanced at the woman sitting stiffly and staring out the passenger window of his patrol car. Today she had on skinny jeans and a sweatshirt with a picture of her mutt on the front. He didn’t miss much, and he’d seen the tightening of her hands before she crawled into his car.
“You’re uncomfortable around law enforcement. Feel like sharing?”
She tensed, then relaxed before turning and gracing him with a saucy grin. “Why, Sheriff, there you go pulling out that imaginary psychology degree again.” She batted her non-mascaraed lashes. Sherri would never have been caught outside of the house without a full face of makeup, but as far as he could tell, Chloe hadn’t bothered with any. Not that it mattered. She had beautiful porcelain skin.
He gripped the steering wheel. He couldn’t determine why the woman upset his equilibrium, and he shouldn’t be thinking about her skin. She would be out of their lives as soon as he solved the layered mysteries surrounding her, and solve them he would.
“I have your number, Chloe. You turn sarcastic when you’re upset, and you’re upset right now, so let’s cut to the chase. Why don’t you tell me everything you know and we’ll get some answers?”
That wiped the fake smile off her face. She started chewing a nail and he felt like a jerk. Maybe her hard-core exterior hid a terrified woman inside and she really was scared for her life.
“You know, I bet a really good lawyer could get me out of Jackson Hole in a heartbeat. I haven’t done anything wrong and you have no right to keep me here.” That ruined his assessment that she might actually be like a normal woman, scared witless under the circumstances. On the other hand, at least he didn’t have to deal with any hysterics.
He turned into the station parking lot, pulled into his reserved space and turned off the engine. He twisted toward her and discovered he was right. Not a scared bone in that lean, athletic, cat burglar body. Her eyes held defiance. “You’re forgetting one thing. I saw you standing in front of that motel room where two men were found dead, and you’re not going anywhere until I have some answers, so get used to it.”
She snorted, sounding much like her dog, and he hid a grin as he opened his car door. She scrambled after him but hesitated when he held the front door to the station open for her.
“Don’t like police stations, do we?”
She lifted her sculpted chin and stepped slowly through the door.
Wanda waved at him from the dispatcher’s desk and he headed that way. She handed him a stack of messages and strained her neck to see who was behind him. While sifting through the notes, he moved to the side so she could see. “Wanda, this is C
hloe Spencer. Chloe, Wanda Armstrong. Wanda is our dispatcher and all-around office person.”
Wanda gave Chloe a big smile and immediately started her interrogation, down-home style.
“Well, hello there. It’s nice to meetcha. You just visiting Jackson Hole, or are you and the sheriff good friends?”
Ethan had no time for this, and he didn’t want to give the gossip mill anything to feed on. “I’m helping Miss Spencer with a few problems she has, and there’s no reason anyone in this town should know about it.” He followed that statement with a hard stare. Wanda got the message loud and clear.
“Now, Sheriff, you know I’m as discreet as they come.” Wanda included Chloe. “You need to talk, Miss Spencer, you let me know. I’m a good listener.”
Chloe nodded and Ethan decided she really was uncomfortable in a police station. He made his way to his office in the back, trying to figure out how to use that to his advantage.
He seated himself behind his desk and Chloe followed, but she didn’t sit down. She wandered around his office, first staring at his certificates and commendations hanging on the wall, then moving on to the framed pictures he had placed on a small shelf. She had her back to him.
“Is this Penny’s mother? The one Mrs. Denton told me about?”
He should be past all that by now, but he swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew every detail of the picture she was looking at. He’d stared at it for days after Sherri died. “Yes.” His answer was clipped, but he didn’t want to discuss his deceased wife.
“Do you believe in God, Sheriff Hoyt?”
That question caught him by surprise. In the short time he’d known her, Chloe never failed to surprise him.
“Yes, I believe in God. I go to church most Sundays, too.”
She turned, and he was taken aback by the fierce look on her face. “Good for you.” It was the first time Ethan had seen real emotion on her face. Not the persona she had developed to show the world. Had something happened to make her disbelieve?
