Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming. Пола Грейвс

the only one who’s seen him.” Her voice softened even more. She moved away from them, toward the window, her arms wrapped around her as if she felt a sudden chill. The movement spread the back of her hospital gown even wider, baring more of the golden skin on her back and the sweet curve of her bottom beneath the cotton of her pale-blue panties.

      Riley felt a flutter low in his belly and clamped his teeth together, surprised by his body’s traitorous response. He cleared his throat and glanced at Joe and Jim Tanner. Both men were looking at him rather than Hannah’s pretty backside, which made him feel like even more of a slug.

      “Have you talked to her doctor?” Joe asked Tanner in a faint murmur. “What are the chances of her getting back more memories of the attack?”

      “Nobody knows,” Tanner admitted. “Head injuries are unpredictable. She might never remember anything more than she’s told us.”

      “There might not be anything more to remember,” Joe said grimly. “I hoped when we learned there was a living witness—”

      “We know a lot more than we did,” Riley pointed out, glancing at Hannah again. She’d turned and was watching them whisper among themselves, her eyes slightly narrowed.

      “I’m still here in the room,” she said aloud, making the other men look at her as well. “Since I’m pretty sure you’re talking about me, why don’t y’all tell me what’s on your minds?”

      Riley walked toward her slowly. “We were discussing what you do and don’t remember about the attack.”

      “Not much,” she admitted, her voice apologetic. “I’d hoped that I’d remember more once the symptoms of the concussion passed, but I come back to the same thing. I didn’t get a good look at him when he pulled me over. I remember jeans and a silver belt buckle. He seemed fit—muscular, or at least that’s the impression I got before he sprayed me in the face with pepper spray. It happened so fast.”

      Riley touched her shoulder again. “You told us he posed as a cop. That’s something we didn’t know before, and I think it could be important.” If nothing else, it suggested the man might have some law-enforcement experience, or at least more understanding of police work than the average citizen.

      “What if it’s not enough?” Hannah asked. “What if I fly out of here tomorrow and nothing changes? What if he goes on killing people?”

      Riley frowned, not following. “We keep looking for him anyway.”

      She looked up at him suddenly, her green eyes bright with an emotion he couldn’t identify. “I’m the only living witness. If I leave—”

      She didn’t finish the sentence, but Riley finally understood what she was getting at. “If you leave, it could hamper the investigation,” he admitted aloud.

      Her head lowered, her back slumping as if it suddenly bore a terrible weight. Riley felt a rush of pity for her, for he had some idea of what she was feeling. It was a horrible thing, carrying the burden of six unsolved murders, knowing that it fell on you to bring them justice and closure.

      “I can’t leave Wyoming, can I?” she asked softly.

      He didn’t answer, knowing it was a question she had to answer herself.

      Her tongue ran lightly over her lips and he saw her throat bob as she swallowed. When she looked up at him again, her gaze was solemn but direct. “I have five more days left of my vacation. I can’t stay forever, but I can give you those five days. Maybe it’ll be enough.”

      “We can put you in protective custody,” Jim Tanner offered.

      “She needs to go somewhere the killer doesn’t expect her to be.” Riley glanced at Joe.

      “Somewhere small and off the beaten path?” Joe asked, his voice faintly dry.

      Riley shrugged and turned back to Hannah. “Canyon Creek is about an hour and a half from here, in ranching country. I have a place there. Plenty of room. Great view.”

      Hannah’s brow creased. “You want me to stay alone with you? I don’t even know you.”

      “You don’t have to know me. You just have to trust me.”

      The room fell silent as Hannah considered his words. The walls seemed to close in around them, every molecule, every atom focused on her words.

      He wasn’t sure what he wanted her answer to be, now that he’d made the offer. He’d lived alone for three years, his home both a refuge and a prison since Emily’s death. He’d found a certain familiar comfort in his loneliness, Emily’s absence so powerful it became a tangible thing he could hold on to when the nights were dark and long. He hadn’t let anyone intrude on his solitude in a long time.

      Hannah would change that. How could she not?

      Hannah released a long, deep breath and looked up at them. “Okay.”

      Riley felt as if the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

      “Let’s do it,” she said, her chin high. “Let’s go to Canyon Creek.”