Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming. Paula Graves
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What if he couldn’t keep her safe on his ranch?
His hand lingered against her cheek, his touch warm and firm, full of strength tempered by gentle concern.
“It felt real,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. She’d felt the man’s anger. His hate.
“Nobody’s out there,” Riley assured her, pushing her wet hair out of her face.
Her breath hitched, catching somewhere in the middle of her chest.
She gazed up into his shadowed eyes, where something glittered, fierce and white-hot, stealing the air from her lungs. His fingers tangled in the hair at her temples, trapping her.
He was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him. Right now she needed comfort, she needed something good to wipe out what she’d been through, if only for a short time.
As she rose to meet him, his mouth descended, hard and hungry against hers.
She needed Riley.
Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming
Paula Graves
For my brother Dennis, who taught me how to fish, and whose wild imagination always sparked my own.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alabama native Paula Graves wrote her first book, a mystery starring herself and her neighborhood friends, at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When she’s not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. She is a member of Southern Magic Romance Writers, Heart of Dixie Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America.
Paula invites readers to visit her Web site, www.paulagraves.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Hannah Cooper—After barely escaping a roadside attack, the fishing camp guide puts her vacation on hold and her life on the line to help a driven Wyoming lawman catch an elusive killer. But will she risk her heart on the widowed cowboy, as well?
Riley Patterson—Since his wife, Emily, was murdered three years earlier, the Wyoming cop has been obsessed with finding her killer. Hannah could be the key to solving the case—and breaking down his barriers.
Jack Drummond—Riley’s brother-in-law is back in town for the first time since his sister’s funeral. Will his new friendship with Hannah get in the way of Riley’s investigation?
Jim Tanner—The Teton County sheriff wants Hannah to be the bait in a trap to catch the killer. Is he putting her in danger without calculating the risks?
Joe Garrison—Riley’s boss and best friend understands Riley’s driving need for justice. He needs to keep his friend from crossing the line in his hunt for the killer.
Ken Lassiter—Hannah’s fishing client seems like an ordinary guy. But should she trust anyone while a killer is on the loose?
Aaron Cooper—When a Wyoming cop shows up in Alabama, warning him that his little sister is in trouble, the deputy sheriff springs into action.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
The flashing blue light in the rearview mirror came out of nowhere, cutting through the cool shadows of the waning afternoon. Hannah Cooper glanced at the rental car’s speedometer needle, which hovered just under sixty. The speed limit was sixty-five on this stretch of Wyoming’s Highway 287, so she wasn’t speeding.
Maybe he just wanted her to move aside to make it easier to pass her on the two-lane highway. She edged the Pontiac toward the narrow shoulder, but the car behind her slowed as well, making no attempt to go around her. The driver waved out the window for her to pull all the way over.
Damn it. She released a slow breath and looked for somewhere to pull to the side. The highway shoulder barely existed on this stretch of winding road, the grassy edge rising quickly to meet the dense stand of pines lining the highway. Hannah spotted a widening of the shoulder a few yards ahead. She slowed and pulled over, cutting the engine.
Tamping down a nervous flutter in her belly, she lowered the window with one hand while pulling her wallet from her purse with the other. Outside the window, footsteps approached. She turned to face the lawman. “Is something wrong?”
She got a brief glimpse of weathered jeans and a shiny silver belt buckle before the man’s hand—snugly tucked into latex gloves—whipped up into the window and sprayed something wet and stinging in her face.
Her gasp of surprise drew a spray of fiery heat into her mouth and throat, and her eyes slammed closed, acid tears seeping from between her lids. Pepper spray, she realized, gagging as fire filled her lungs with every wheezing breath. Coughing, she tried to reorient herself in a world turned upside down.
She felt a rough hand on the back of her neck, pushing her forward toward the steering wheel with a sharp thrust. She threw herself sideways, avoiding all but a glancing blow of her cheekbone against the steering wheel. The shock of pain faded quickly compared to the lingering agony of the pepper spray. Panic rose as she felt the man’s hand groping for her again.
Don’t ever let them get you out of the car.
The warning that filled her foggy mind spoke in her brother Aaron’s voice. Aaron, the cop, who never let pass any opportunity to give her advice about personal safety.
If they get you out of your car, you’re dead.
The man’s hand tangled briefly in her hair then retreated. A soft snapping sound outside the car made her jerk her head toward the open window, and she forced her eyelids open, blinking hard to clear her blurry vision. Through a film of white-hot pain, she saw her assailant’s right hand sliding something black and metallic from a side holster.
Gun.
It snagged coming out of the holster, giving her the distraction she needed. Spotting his left hand resting on the car-door frame for balance, she rammed her elbow on to the back of his hand, crushing his fingers against the door. Something hard and metallic cracked against her elbow bone—a ring? It sent pain jarring up her arm, but she ignored it as he spat out a loud curse and pulled his hand free, just as she’d hoped.
She turned the key in the ignition. The rented Pontiac G6 roared to life and she jerked it into Drive, ramming the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The Pontiac shimmied across the sandy ground, the right back wheel teetering precariously along the edge of the dipping shoulder, but she muscled it back on to the highway and pointed its nose toward the long stretch of road ahead.
She groped on the seat next