Janes eyes narrowed. She looked back at the chief. I couldnt find my key, she answered smoothly.
She was a good liar, Joe thought. Believable. But then, he knew that already.
He pulled up a chair and sat by Chief Trent, who shot him a glare. Joe ignored it. He didnt have the time or inclination to play nice with the locals on this case. Your key was in your purse. Want to try again?
I didnt see it in my purse. Why does that matter? She didnt look so fragile anymore, vibrant color rising in her cheeks and her voice growing hard and tight. She looked more like the woman he remembered from almost a year ago. Images flitted through his mind, daring him to remember her as hed known her then.
He gritted his teeth and held her angry gaze, replacing the unwanted memories with the stark mental picture of Tommys lifeless body.
Jane Doe looked at Chief Trent. Who is this man?
She didnt say it like someone who wanted an answer, Joe realized. She knew who he was already.
So she did remember.
Anger burned in his gut, mingling with the black coffee hed drunk at the River Lodge Diner. He was beginning to regret skipping breakfast and lunch.
Chief Garrison is here in Trinity because of you, Ms. Doe. Says youre his prime suspect in a murder in Canyon Creek. Ever been to Canyon Creek?
When she turned her eyes to meet Joes gaze, a zing of energy caught him by surprise. Even pale and wary, as she was now, she still possessed the vibrancy hed noticed the first time he set eyes on her a year ago.
He hated himself for still feeling it.
Wheres Canyon Creek? she asked.
Wyoming, Joe answered.
I hear Wyomings pretty.
Hank Trent shot a glare at Joe. I hate to interrupt the travelogue-
You spent almost a year in Canyon Creek, Wyoming, Joe continued, ignoring Trent. You worked for a rancher there. Thomas Blake.
He watched closely for her reaction. Her gaze didnt drop, but he could see her mind working behind those soft green eyes. Was she remembering Tommys laughter-lined face? The way he could make people feel like family the second he met them?
Was she remembering his body, slumped and still on the stable floor, drenched in the river of crimson flowing from the three bullet holes in his chest?
Were getting off track here, Hank Trent said firmly. Chief, unless youd rather wait outside-
Joe sat back, knowing hed crossed a line. This was Trents territory, and Joe had just trampled all over it. That was no way to make allies of the locals.
And like it or not, he needed allies on this one. He had only the spottiest of evidence against Sandra Dorsey or Jane Doe or whatever the hell her name really was.
But he knew, gut-deep, she was involved with Tommys murder right down to her pretty little toes.
JANE TUCKED her knees up to her chest, trying to stop crying. Beneath her, the cot was wobbly and hard, but theyd finally let her shower and change into clean clothes. The jail-issued T-shirt and jeans were too large, but at least they werent covered with Angelas blood.
She closed her eyes tight against the fresh flood of despair. Angie. Why had he killed her? Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time?
My fault, she thought, rocking back and forth. The mustached man had been there looking for her, not Angie.
Its time to go home, sweetheart. Thats what hed said. Home. Was he her husband? Her brother?
No. Not a brother. His gaze had made her feel naked. Exposed. As if he knew everything there was to know about her, inside and out.
What kind of monster had she brought into this sleepy little town?
Footsteps approached her cramped holding cell and came to a stop. Jane forced herself to open her burning eyes, dashing away her tears with her knuckles. Joe Garrison stood just outside her cell, gazing through the bars at her with an expression as intense and knowing as that of the mustached man whod been waiting in her apartment.
When it became clear he had no intention of speaking first, she asked, Who are you?
You know exactly who I am.
She pushed off the cot and crossed to the bars. He was several inches taller than she was, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his hard gaze. I know your name. Now I know your job. But I dont know you.
Youre really good, you know? He raised his arms and gripped the bars over her head, leaning toward her. He seemed to fill all the space in the narrow cell, even though he remained outside. Even I cant tell if youre lying about not remembering.
Jane gripped the bars in front of her, trying not to let his imposing presence shake her. Even you?
His smile was an awful thing. We go back a ways, Jane. Or is it Sandra?
Sandra Dorsey, she thought, remembering the name on the papers in Joes hotel room. Maybe its Sandra. I dont know. I dont remember.
Thats convenient. His tight smile widened but grew no warmer. But unfortunately for you, I dont think itll be a convincing defense.
Defense for what? she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
Joe leaned forward, his face pressed between the bars. Eight months ago, in Canyon Creek, Wyoming, you killed my brother.
Chapter Three
Janes face blanched. She backed away from the bars, groping behind her for the cot, and sat with a graceless thud on the lumpy mattress. I didnt kill anyone.
How do you know? Joe asked, unsurprised by how guileless she sounded. The woman hed known as Sandra Dorsey had raised sincerity to an art form.
How do you know? Joe asked, unsurprised by how guileless she sounded. The woman hed known as Sandra Dorsey had raised sincerity to an art form.
I couldnt, she insisted, her voice ragged. I know I couldnt.
The uncertainty in her voice caught him flat-footed. He lowered his voice to a sympathetic murmur. You dont really know what you would or wouldnt do, do you? Since you dont remember who you are or what life youve lived.
She looked down at her hands, clasping them together to stop their nervous twisting. I just wouldnt, she muttered stubbornly.
Ive asked the Trinity police to transfer you to my custody for further questioning in Wyoming, but theyre not ready to let you out of their jurisdiction yet. Not while there are still questions about your roommates murder.
She put her hand to her mouth, her face growing even paler. Angie, she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. Its my fault, isnt it? He was after me.
Joe gripped the steel bars and watched in silence as she pressed her hands to her face, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. He hated the rush of sympathy burning a hole in his gut as he watched her obvious distress, hated that even now, he wanted to believe her.
She had a vulnerability about her that drew a mans interest, like a lost little lamb that needed protection. Its what had drawn Tommy to open his home to her and give her a job, no questions asked.
Its what drew you to her, too, he mocked himself, tightening his grip on the bars.
Has Chief Trent found anyone who saw the man in my apartment? Jane asked, her voice hoarse.
Not yet.
She looked up at him, biting her lower lip. You dont think there was a man at all, do you?
I didnt say that.
You didnt have to. She knuckled away her tears, a childlike gesture that made Joes chest tighten. You think I killed your brother. Whats one more murder?
He didnt answer, though his gut churned with the need to tell her exactly what he thought of her, what hed been thinking of her for months as he chased hundreds of dead ends searching for Sandra Dorsey.
Too bad it messes up your plans to haul me back to Wyoming, right? A thread of steel hardened her voice as she pushed herself up from the cot and stood to face him. Were you even going to take me back there? Or were you going to mete out a little frontier justice?
Im not the criminal, he answered tightly, angry at her for even suggesting hed do such a thing. She knew him better than that.
Or she had. Hell, what if she really wasnt faking the memory loss?
A door opened behind him, dragging his attention away from Janes hard gaze. Chief Hank Trent entered, a uniformed officer on his heels. He gestured with his head to Joe. Lets talk.
While Trent pulled Joe to one side, the officer unlocked the holding cell.
Whats going on? Joe asked.
Weve found a corroborating witness to Ms. Does account. Ill explain everything.
A corroborating witness? Joe watched Jane exit the holding cell. She met his gaze, her expression tinged with an odd mixture of relief and fear.
A neighbor saw a man matching the description Ms. Doe gave us. He exited the apartment building by the fire escape, Trent said. Becker, take Ms. Doe to room three. I need to speak with her further before shes released.
Joe waited until Becker and Jane were out of the room before turning to glare at Hank Trent. Released?
I dont have grounds to hold her.
Then release her to my custody and Ill take her back to Wyoming on the murder charge.
Theres no murder charge yet. You said that yourself.
So she just walks around Trinity, scot-free, while two people are dead?
She didnt kill Angela Carlyle.
She killed Thomas Blake.
You suspect she did.
She had the means and the opportunity. And she ran off the day he died.
What about motive?
I dont have to prove motive.
And I dont have to turn her over to you. Trents hard expression softened. Look, Im not playing hardball here just to yank your chain. I need her to stick around because shes our best witness in this towns first murder in decades. But I cant keep you from talking to her while youre both here in town.
Youre assuming shell stick around just because you tell her to.
Trent smiled. Well, Ive arranged a little something for Ms. Doe that just might interest you.
THE BUENA VISTA HOTEL? Jane stared at Hank Trent as if he were crazy. She glared at Joe. This is your idea, isnt it?
Joe shook his head. Youre a murder witness and the perpetrator is still at large. You need protection, and the Trinity police know the Buena Vista Hotel has the best security in town.
Jane shook her head, thinking how easily shed talked her way into Joe Garrisons room earlier that day. Thats not saying much.
Trent made an exaggerated huffing sound.
Chief Trent has arranged for your room to be next to mine, Joe said softly, drawing her gaze. His cool gray eyes held hers, full of challenge.