Case File: Canyon Creek, Wyoming. Paula Graves
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me you two think this attack is connected to other murders in the state,” Sheriff Tanner said.
Riley glanced at Hannah. She could tell he didn’t want to talk about this in front of her. He hadn’t given her many details about the other cases he’d been investigating, though what he’d told her had been horrifying enough.
“I’ve made file folders full of notes,” he told Sheriff Tanner. “I don’t mind sharing. The more people looking for this guy, the better.”
The Teton County sheriff studied Riley, his eyes narrowed, then turned his gaze to the lanky, dark-haired man Riley had introduced as his boss, Joe Garrison. “You vouch for this, Garrison?”
Joe nodded. “Riley’s right. This guy has struck before, and he’ll do it again if we don’t stop him.”
Sheriff Tanner didn’t look happy to hear Joe’s affirmation. “Okay, send me copies of your notes, and I’ll put a detective on it. See if we can’t tie it to any open cases we’re working on.”
“Cold cases, too. I’ve only been keeping notes since three years ago, but I think it could go back further,” Riley said.
“Why three years ago?” Hannah asked.
Joe and Sheriff Tanner both turned to look at Riley, but Riley kept his eyes on Hannah, his expression mask-like.
When he didn’t answer, she rephrased the question. “You said you’ve been keeping notes for only three years. What happened to make you start?”
Riley held her gaze a long moment, then looked down at his hands. He flexed his left hand, the ring on the third finger glinting as it caught the light. He spoke in a soft, raspy voice. “Three years ago, the son of a bitch murdered my wife.”
Riley’s words felt like a punch to Hannah’s gut. No wonder he seemed personally involved in this case. “I’m sorry.”
He acknowledged her condolences with a short nod, his mouth tightening. “I want this guy caught even more than you do,” he added softly, as if the words were meant for her ears alone.
She swallowed hard, remembering how just a little while ago, she wanted nothing more than to catch the next plane home to Alabama. A part of her still did.
She’d done a lot of running home over the last four years.
But knowing what she now knew, could she really run away? She was possibly the only living witness who could identify a cold-blooded murderer.
A murderer who’d killed Riley Patterson’s wife.
“Excuse me?”
Hannah turned at the sound of a new voice. The doctor who’d treated her in the Emergency Room when she arrived at the hospital stood nearby, his expression concerned.
“I’d like to check on my patient,” he said firmly.
Riley stepped between the doctor and Hannah. “Mind if I see your ID?”
The look on the doctor’s face almost made Hannah laugh. “Mind if I see yours?”
Riley had his badge out before the request was finished. The doctor’s mouth quirked. Once he’d studied Riley’s credentials, he held out his name tag for Riley’s inspection. “James Andretti,” he said aloud. “I’ve been working here for ten years. Ask anyone.”
“He treated me in the E.R.” Hannah touched Riley’s arm. He retreated, though he didn’t look happy about it.
“I’d like to check on my patient,” Dr. Andretti repeated, giving Riley a pointed look. “Can you clear the room?”
“It’s a crime scene,” Riley said.
“It’s also a hospital room.”
Sheriff Tanner stepped in. “The techs have processed the areas around the bed. We’ll step out a few minutes and let the doctor do his business. When he’s done, I’ll be back in to talk to you, Ms. Cooper.”
Hannah gave a nod, darting a look at Riley. She found his gaze on her, his expression impossible to read. But when the other police personnel left her room, he followed, leaving her alone with the doctor.
Dr. Andretti pulled out his stethoscope and bent to listen to Hannah’s heart through her hospital gown. “Heart rate’s a little elevated, but I guess that’s to be expected. How’s your head feeling?”
“Better, actually,” Hannah admitted. The headache that had plagued her earlier in the evening had faded to nothing.
He had her follow his fingers as he moved them in front of her face. “No double vision, no more memory lapses?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Looks like we’ll spring you in the morning. But I think we should move you to another room so you can get some rest.”
“Do I really need to be here at all?” she asked.
“That’s how we usually handle a concussion.”
“But I’m not symptomatic anymore, right? You only kept me for observation and you just said I’m doing fine.”
The doctor shot her a questioning look.
“Somebody’s already gotten to me here tonight. I’m not that comfortable hanging around to let them have another shot.”
“I can have a security guard posted at your door.”
“You don’t know one of your guards isn’t behind this. Or even another doctor or nurse,” she pointed out.
Dr. Andretti bristled visibly. “That’s not likely.”
Hannah sighed. “Maybe not. I just want to get out of here. I don’t have to have your permission to check out, do I?”
“No—”
“Then arrange it. Please.”
“What are you going to do when you leave? It’s four in the morning. No motels worth staying in are going to let you check in at this hour. Assuming you can even find a room available.”
“I just want out of here.” A tingle of panic was beginning to build in the center of her chest. The thought of staying in this room until the next day was unbearable.
“Why don’t I go get the nice police officers to tell you why leaving right now would be a very big mistake?” Dr. Andretti suggested, making a final note in her chart and tucking it under his arm. “You stay put.”
He left her alone in the hospital room, which now looked like a war zone, thanks to the handiwork of the evidence technicians. She tucked her knees up to her chin and closed her eyes, feeling as tired as she could ever remember. But she couldn’t afford to fall asleep.
Not in this place, surrounded by people she didn’t know and couldn’t trust.
“SIX MURDERS DON’T SEEM like much over three years,” Jim Tanner said, passing Riley a cup of lukewarm coffee from the half-empty carafe on the break-room hotplate. “I thought serial murderers tend to escalate, but this guy’s pretty steady at two a year.”
“Well, Hannah would have been three this year.” Riley grimaced at the taste of the stale coffee.
“So he’s escalating…slowly?” Tanner looked skeptical.
“There may be others. These are the ones I’ve been able to glean from relatively public sources.”
“You’d think the feds would be all over this.”
“Some of the links are nebulous,” Joe said, refusing Tanner’s offer of coffee. “We’ve only linked three of the murders to pepper-spray attacks. Two years ago there were two instances, and one last year. And what happened to Hannah.”
“All six of the murder victims were wrapped