Griff knelt in front of her. “I know it’s been a helluva day. You were attacked. And now it’s obvious someone was in your room. What’s going on, Ginny?”
She shook her head, too tried to pretend any longer.
“Do you know who was here?”
She released a shaky sigh then looked into Griff’s eyes. The kindness she saw reflected in the depths tore at her resolve to keep her secret. Damn Robert for putting her in this position. For changing her...
“Do you?” Griff asked in a low tone.
She nodded numbly.
“Who was it?”
She squeezed her eyes to stem tears, then shook her head. She didn’t want to share her story with Griff. It was too humiliating.
He lifted her wrist and rubbed slow circles across her palm, then traced the burn scar on her wrist. “Does whoever it was have something to do with this?”
She gave a small nod.
He rubbed his thumb across her chin and lifted it, so their gazes locked. Robert’s had been filled with seduction and lies.
Griff’s were more serious, somber, filled with a quiet, tender understanding and kindness that she’d never seen before in a man. He was strong. Tough. Dealt with life-and-death situations. Saved lives. He cared about others.
He could hurt her if he wanted. Not physically because he wasn’t that kind of man. A rarity.
But emotionally. Because she liked him. Was starting to trust him.
Shame filled her. Would he help her if he knew the truth? Or would he look at her the way she saw herself—as the woman who got her little sister murdered?
* * *
GRIFF DIDN’T LIKE the pieces of the puzzle shifting and connecting in his head. Pieces of hidden truths he suspected had brought Ginny to Whistler that were personal.
She wasn’t just chasing a story. At least not just any story.
He gently took the picture from her and studied it. The girl in the picture looked younger than Ginny. Hair a soft blond, hazel eyes, a slight pug nose. Similar, but different. A relative?
“Who is this?” he asked softly.
She ran her finger over the woman’s face. “My sister. Her name was Tess.”
Griff tamped down a reaction as the truth dawned. Tess Taggart, the woman from Raleigh who was murdered. “What happened to her?” he asked, desperate for her to explain.
“She’s gone.” She stood, wrapped her arms around her waist and walked over to the window. Rain began to patter the panes and fog blurred the view to the outside, cocooning them into the warmth of the room.
Although Ginny was shivering.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Maybe not, but he sensed she needed to. He tried to recall everything she’d told him, deciphering through it for the truth in her story. “The man who set all this up? Did he kill her?”
She closed her eyes, her lower lip quivering. “He did.”
“Was she dating him?”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t even know her.”
Griff twisted his mouth in thought. He hated guessing. She’d told him about an anonymous source, had said the woman escaped. Had she lied? Was there really a source?
Liam’s report echoed in his head. “How did she die, Ginny?”
Her eyes remained closed as if she was reliving the painful memories. Or maybe concocting another lie to tell him.
“She was strangled, wasn’t she?” The truth made his stomach knot. “Like Joy? That’s the reason you came to Whistler isn’t it?”
She didn’t have to answer. The gut-wrenching agony on her face told him everything.
He couldn’t help himself. She looked so vulnerable and broken that he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “You believe the same man who killed your sister killed Joy. And he was in your room. He knows you’re here looking for him?”
She nodded and leaned into him, her chest heaving up and down with emotions. “Yes. And it’s my fault they’re dead,” she murmured. “All my fault.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ginny’s chest eased slightly as she finally confided in Griff. Shame followed.
She’d carried the burden of guilt alone for so long that it was more than humbling to admit it out loud. Griff would look at her differently now just as she looked at herself differently. The contempt she felt for her actions was overwhelming.
But at least now he knew, he’d be repulsed and leave her alone.
He slowly released her and looked into her eyes, his jaw clenched. “What do you mean? It’s your fault?”
She folded her arms across her chest, bracing herself for his disgust. “Tess didn’t know the man who killed her. She wasn’t dating him. I was.”
Griff arched a brow. “You’re the anonymous source, aren’t you?”
She nodded. She might as well confess everything now. “I met him on a dating site. All my friends were doing it and said it was safe, as long as we met in public.”
His jaw tightened. “Go on.”
“He was nice and charming at first, showered me with compliments and gifts, wined and dined me, bought me expensive jewelry and designer clothes.”
“And then?”
“Then he became possessive.” She drummed her fingers over her arms. “He alienated me from Tess, from friends. All he cared about was how I looked on his arm and that I become the doting wife.” Her skin crawled at the memories of his voice as he tightened his fingers around her wrists and crawled on top of her.
“One day I’d had enough and told him I was leaving, but he...didn’t take it well.”
Griff’s lips curled into a frown. “He hit you?”
Shame reddened her cheeks. “He beat the hell out of me. But with the first blow, I knew I had to get away from him.”
“God, Ginny.” He reached for her, but she threw up her hands. She didn’t want to be touched right now. Didn’t want his pitying look. “Did you go to the police?” he asked.
She shifted from foot to foot. “I followed the rules and filed a protective order. But that only incensed him. He began stalking me. Following me everywhere I went. Showing up at the coffee shop and at school where I was enrolled in journalism classes. He left little gifts to remind me he was watching me. He was always watching.” A shudder coursed through her. “When his gifts and notes and romantic gestures didn’t work, he followed me to my apartment one night and broke in. That night I wound up in the ER. He told the doctors I fell down the staircase.”