by Rita Herron
Griff twisted his mouth in thought. “I’ll relay that to the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll want to look into Joy’s financials and her ex’s in case of an insurance payout.” If Wayne hadn’t killed Joy out of spite, he could have done it for money.
Jacob pulled into the parking lot in his police-issued SUV and parked beside Griff.
“Any forensics that might belong to our perp?” Griff asked.
“We’re still sorting through,” Lieutenant Miller answered. “The fire destroyed most of the place. Add the water and smoke damage to the fact that this business catered to multiple customers daily, and it’s a big fat mess.”
He agreed to keep Griff updated, and Griff climbed from his vehicle. Jacob did the same, and they walked up the sidewalk together. He filled Jacob in on the forensics report as they entered the building.
“Will definitely look into the ex,” Jacob said.
“I just had a run-in with him at Mitzi’s Café.” Griff explained about the confrontation.
“Sorry about that. I had to inform him of her death last night. But I wanted to wait until the autopsy before I brought him in for questioning.”
Griff understood. Jacob would want to be armed with evidence and the ME’s report.
“He’s a ticking time bomb,” Griff said. “Who knows what he’s capable of.”
“I’ll dig up everything I can find on him.”
They walked down the hall, then Jacob knocked on the ME’s door. Dr. Hammerhead opened it, his thick brows marred into a frown. “Come on in. I’m just about to finish.”
The scent of formaldehyde and other chemicals blended with the acrid odor of death. Griff said a silent thank-you to the heavens that Joy’s body hadn’t been burned. It didn’t matter how long he was on the job, he’d never get used to the scent of charred flesh and tissue.
The doctor led them over to the exam table where Joy lay half draped in a cloth. Bins and instruments the ME used lined a sterile stainless steel tray next to the body.
Griff’s stomach knotted at the sight of the Y incision on her chest. Her pale skin looked stark white beneath the bright fluorescent light.
Emotions churned through him. Joy might have lied to him, but she hadn’t deserved this. She had her whole life ahead of her.
Last night, when he’d carried her from that burning apartment, her skin had looked bluish.
This morning bruises marred her arms. Another one darkened her shoulder.
“I did a full tox screen, and she had alcohol in her system, but no drugs.” Dr. Hammerhead lifted one of her eyelids at a time, and Griff swallowed hard.
“Petechial hemorrhaging.” He lowered the sheet and gestured toward bruises on Joy’s neck. “Official cause of death is asphyxiation due to strangulation.”
Just as he and Jacob had surmised. Griff zeroed in on the fingerprints emblazoned on Joy’s neck. Large fingerprints.
Wayne’s? Or had Joy been involved with another man?
* * *
GINNY COULDN’T STAND the wait. She had to know if Joy Norris was strangled. If she’d died at the hands of her husband, Ginny could leave Whistler.
Go back to hiding out.
She was so tired of hiding.
She’d let that jerk ruin her life. Control it for the last three years.
It had to end.
She texted Griff: What did the ME say about Joy Norris’s death?
When he didn’t respond, she darted outside the cafe. She’d go to the morgue and confront him.
Her senses remained honed as she hurried to cross the street. But just as she stepped off the curb, a car flew around the corner. She jumped back a step, but suddenly someone pushed her from behind.
She lunged forward, hands flailing to stay on her feet, but she plunged into the street, hitting the asphalt on her hands and knees.
Tires screeched and brakes squealed. Then she looked up and saw a car barreling straight toward her.
* * *
HE KNEW WHERE Reese was. Had known the moment she’d entered town.
She thought she was so smart. Dying her hair. Changing her name. Skulking in the shadows.
He’d done the same.
But he’d kept tabs on her. Had left her alone for a while and entertained himself with another. Had intended to lull her into a false sense of safety.
She’d come to Whistler to find him. His plan had worked. She must have seen the story about Joy. Joy, who looked so much like Reese that he hadn’t been able to help himself.
Joy was gone now though. And he would have Reese again. Nothing would stop him this time.
But he’d have some fun first. He’d toy with her just to watch her squirm and suffer.
He disappeared into the woods by the park, then paused behind a tree to watch the chaos as she rolled sideways on the street to avoid being hit by the car.
Laughter bubbled in his throat. She’d been working out. She looked as if she’d developed muscles beneath the sleeves of that boring suit jacket.
Of course, she’d look better in something more feminine.
His body hardened at the image that played through his head. Reese in a black satin teddy. Red lace panties.
A teddy and panties that wouldn’t stay on her long.
Chapter Four
Ginny froze as the car careened toward her. A second later, the screeching of the tires and someone screaming nearby jolted her back into motion, and she rolled sideways. The car swerved to avoid her and jumped the curb, brakes squealing.
Chaos erupted around her. Someone reached down to help her up. A man ordered people to back away from her. Ginny tried to push herself up to stand, but she was shaking all over. Her hands were scraped, bloody and raw. Her knee throbbed where she landed on the pavement.
“Come on, sweetie.” A middle-aged woman and her teenage son took her arm and helped her over the curb. Ginny’s legs felt weak, her mind racing. Voices rumbled around her. A small crowd had gathered.
The driver of the car, a young woman, leaped from inside and ran toward her. “Oh, my god, are you okay? I...thought you were at the crossing.”
She had been. But...someone had pushed her before the traffic light changed. A dizzy spell assaulted her, and she rubbed her temple.
“Someone call 9-1-1,” an older man said.
“No.” Ginny shook her head and blinked to clear her vision. “I’m fine. No need.”
She looked up into the panicked eyes of the driver. She looked shell shocked and terrified. “I hit the brakes when I saw you falling,” she said, her voice bordering on hysteria.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ginny murmured. “I tripped and fell right in front of you.”
“But I could have killed you.” The other woman burst into tears, and an elderly woman patted her back to comfort her.
Ginny threw up her hand to stop the chatter. “I’m really fine. It was just an accident, but I’m not hurt.” And she sure as hell didn’t want to deal with the police.
She rubbed the young driver’s arms to calm her. “Look at me, sweetie. You stopped in time. I’m fine now. Really. I was at fault, not you.”
Tears blurred the other woman’s eyes, and she accepted a handkerchief from a gentleman in a navy suit.
“Please, everyone, go back to your business,” Ginny said. “I’m going to my car and clean up now. I’ll be fine.”
Without waiting for a response, she forced herself to walk toward her car. She’d cross at the other end of the sidewalk. Right now, she wanted to escape the concerned bystanders. They stood talking and whispering for a minute, and Ginny scanned the street across from where she’d fallen. Her ankle throbbed, and she tasted blood. Must have bitten her lip in the fall. Her hands stung and her knee was aching. But she kept walking until she found the next crosswalk. It was practically deserted, and the sign blinked fo
r walkers to cross. She glanced around her, behind her, to the sides and across the street before she stepped into the crosswalk.
Wind ruffled her hair and sent a chill through her. Or maybe she was chilled from the fall. Except she hadn’t simply tripped and fallen.
She pressed the key fob to unlock her car, then slid inside and locked the door. Trembling all over, she dropped her forehead against the steering wheel and dragged in huge gulping breaths. Tears burned her eyes, fear pulsing through her.
She’d felt those hands shove her into the street. Felt someone watching her all day.
And right before she’d fallen, she’d detected the strong scent of a man’s cologne. Earthy and musky.
The same scent Robert had worn.
* * *
GRIFF AND JACOB drew in deep breaths of fresh air as they stepped outside.
“I’ll never get used to the smells in that morgue,” Jacob muttered.
Griff raked a hand through his hair. “Me neither.”
They paused on the steps, and Jacob turned to Griff. “You said Joy’s ex accused you of hurting her because she broke it off. What really happened, Griff?”
He’d been too ashamed that he’d slept with a married woman at the time to confide in his brothers when he discovered Joy’s betrayal. “When we met, she told me she was divorced. We dated a few times, nothing serious though. At least not on my part.”
“Was she serious?” Jacob asked.
Griff shrugged. “She hinted she wanted a future. But it was an act. One night on the phone, I heard her talking to one of her friends. She said the divorce wasn’t final, but she was going to teach Wayne a lesson because he’d cheated on her. She used me to do that.”
“That sucks,” Jacob said.
“But you’re thinking I had motive?”
“Someone else would say that.”
Griff’s pulse jumped. “Was I mad? Yes. So, I broke it off with her. That was over three months ago.”
“Do you have an alibi for last night?”
Anger shot through Griff. “You don’t seriously think I’d hurt a woman, do you?”
“Of course not,” Jacob said. “But you know I have to eliminate persons of interest and that means anyone involved with Joy or who had a personal beef with her. It’s just routine.”
The tension in Griff’s chest eased slightly. He understood, but he didn’t like it. “I was putting out those wildfires all afternoon and evening, up until the time we met for burgers and beer.”
Jacob shifted. “I need to bring Wayne in for questioning and find out if he has an alibi.”
“Anger at Joy over leaving him could be motive.” An idea occurred to Griff. “Or if Joy used me, maybe she used some other man as well.”
Jacob’s brows shot up. “You’re right. I’ll speak to her friends and coworkers, find out if she had any other love interests or enemies.”
* * *
GINNY HAD TO pull herself together. She’d come here looking for Robert.
Maybe she’d found him. Or rather, he’d found her.
The cloying scent of his cologne made her nauseated, stirring memories of him touching her. Hovering over her. Refusing to let her go.
Never again.
Renewing her resolve to make him pay, she lifted her head, inhaled and reached inside the console between the front seats. She removed a pack of sanitizing wipes and cleaned the bloody scrapes on her palms, wiping away streaks of blood and pavement debris.
She glanced at her face in the mirror and checked her appearance. A mess of tangled hair, and tear-streaked cheeks stared back. She dabbed at her face with another wipe, then pulled her compact from her purse and added a thin layer of powder to cover her dark circles and pale skin.
She started the engine and veered onto the street. Using the car’s GPS, she followed the directions to the morgue. Maybe she could meet Griff outside and persuade him to talk.
Traffic was slow as she maneuvered through town, checking the side streets and alleys at every turn, and peering at pedestrians and bystanders as she passed the park. A black sedan caught her eye, and she squinted to see through the windows, but the dark tinted glass made it impossible to distinguish the person inside.
Rain clouds gathered above, threatening a spring storm as she approached the morgue. She slowed as the facility came into view. Griff stood hunched in his jacket on the front steps with his brother the sheriff. She swung her car into the parking lot across the street, hoping they didn’t see her, and waited for the men to part ways.
They looked serious, deep in conversation, almost tense with one another. What had they learned from the ME? Had they recovered Joy’s computer or phone?
She wished she could search the woman’s apartment, but that had burned down in the fire. The sheriff shifted, then patted Griff on the shoulder, turned and walked to his squad car. Griff remained still for a moment, staring at the street, his brows furrowed.
Maybe he was more upset about her death than he’d admitted. If he was in love with Joy, and he discovered Robert had killed her, Griff might blame her if he knew the truth about her relationship with him.
All the more reason to keep quiet about her reason for being here until she knew for certain Robert was responsible for Joy’s death.
The wind ruffled Griff’s thick hair, giving him a rakish look that reminded her men were dangerous. Good looks didn’t matter and could be deceiving. What did she know about Griff Maverick anyway? Just that he was a fireman and ran into burning buildings on the job.
He could be a totally different person in his personal life.
Just like Robert had been.
Robert’s polished clothes, bulging wallet and slick smile had worked well for him as an investor. He’d certainly sold himself to her. Took her on expensive dates, to lavish dinners, showered her with romantic gifts.
Then he’d thought he owned her.
When she’d finally balked at his possessiveness, his true colors had surfaced.
Griff shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned the street, and she ducked low in the seat. Had he noticed her?
She held her breath for a minute, then raised her head just enough to glance through the window. He was gone.
Pulse hammering, she gripped the steering wheel and scanned the sidewalk. Where was he? Not in the road, not crossing to her.
A shadow of movement caught her eye, and she spotted him several hundred feet away.
His hands were jammed in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, his posture tense. When he reached a black pickup truck, he climbed in, started the engine and backed from the parking space.
Ginny started her car and veered from the parking lot, then drove slowly, remaining a car length behind, hoping he wouldn’t spot her on his tail.
* * *
GRIFF’S MIND REPLAYED his relationship with Joy as he headed back toward his place. She’d been sweet at first, had been friendly at the town council business meeting. She’d just moved to Whistler and was excited about opening her salon. Said she was divorced and starting fresh.
She’d seemed intelligent, independent and was easy on the eyes. He’d taken her to dinner one night and they’d had a few drinks, then she’d asked him back to her apartment. Coming off several days of work, and at the time frustrated with no leads in the hospital fire as he faced the impending anniversary of his father’s death, he’d been feeling down and...lonely. Having a pretty woman come on to him had been flattering, and he’d climbed in her bed.
They’d gotten together a couple more times, but soon he’d sensed she wasn’t the woman she pretended to be. Then he’d discovered she was still married, and he’d called it quits immediately.
He didn’t fool around with married women. And he didn’t tolerate lies.
She was both married and a liar.
He swung onto
the road leading toward the town square. Maybe he’d ask around town for word about Joy’s love life. Perhaps she’d used someone else as she had him, and that man hadn’t taken it well. He could always check the bar she frequented.
He glanced in his rearview mirror and frowned. Two cars back, he spotted Ginny Bagwell’s little black sedan. Was she following him?
Curious, he made a sharp right turn and sped up, checking the mirror again. She turned and accelerated. If she was following him, she was a damn amateur. Irritated that she thought he wouldn’t notice, he drove a couple more miles, then made another turn. She was close behind.
Why the hell was she so determined to talk to him? If she wanted information about Joy’s murder, she should go straight to Jacob instead of him.
That baffled him. So did the fact that she’d asked specifically about Joy’s death.
Deciding he’d had enough deception to last a lifetime, he swung into a parking spot in front of town hall. She parked two cars down.
Griff slid from his truck and stalked toward her. When he reached the sedan, he rapped on the window. She hit the automatic button to lower it, then looked up at him with a doe-like expression.
“Griff, funny we meet again,” she said feigning surprise as if this was a coincidence.
“It’s not funny at all,” he growled. “I made you way back there.” He folded his arms and glared down at her. “Now, why in the hell are you following me?”
She lifted her chin. “I told you I want a story. I texted you and asked about Joy Norris’s COD, but you didn’t answer. Was she strangled?”
The sense that she was hiding something intensified. “Why don’t you go to the sheriff? Why ask me?”
“Was she strangled?” A hint of desperation laced her tone that roused his curiosity even more.
“Yes,” Griff said. “How did you know?”
Her face paled, but she squared her shoulders. “I didn’t. It was just a guess.”
