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.