Ellie, entering notes at the computer, glances up in faint confusion. She shakes her head. “Never heard of him. We don’t get many billionaires up here.”
He laughs, but it’s the wrong kind of laugh—testing, probing. “Well, that’s why it’s such a good place to hide, isn’t it?”
I fold my arms. “Sir, I’ve lived here for years. I know every person who’s set foot in this town for more than a week. No Jackson Hale.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Maybe he’s using a different name.”
Ellie snorts. “Lotta people go by nicknames up here, but a billionaire trying to pass as a lumberjack? Sounds like a movie.”
His eyes cut back to me. “There was an avalanche. Someone was rescued.”
My pulse spikes. “We stabilize people before names. Privacy comes first here. This is a medical facility, not a tabloid.”
He smiles slowly—like a wolf who just learned where the herd sleeps.
“So youhavehad an unidentified patient recently.”
It wasn’t a statement. It was a trap.
I choose my lie carefully. “We’ve had multiple emergencies because of the storm. But no one who fits whatever conspiracy you’re hoping to uncover.”
His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine like a spotlight.
“Funny,” he says softly. “Because I heard the survivor was a man. Mid-thirties. Dark beard. Smart with his hands. Keeps to himself.”
My body goes cold. He might as well have saidJaxout loud.
I push the chart into his hands. “Raise your arm, please. Blood pressure cuff.”
He lifts it, amused. “You’re very calm.”
“I’ve dealt with far worse than altitude sickness and nosy questions.”
Ellie steps in again, smiling. “If you’re here for a checkup, let us do our job. If you’re here for gossip—you’ll be disappointed.”
He chuckles, like she’s a child who doesn’t realize she’s stumbled into a minefield. “I find gossip has a way of turning into fact. And facts into headlines.”
“I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” I say, tightening the cuff around his arm perhaps a little too firmly. “There is no Jackson Hale in Silver Ridge.”
He holds my stare, like he’s tasting the lie on the air.
“Well…” he says, “if you do happen to meet a man up here who looks just like him, you’ll give me a call, won’t you?”
“I don’t make promises to strangers,” I reply.
“Then consider this a polite suggestion,” he murmurs, leaning back with a lazy grin that doesn’t fool me for a second. “Burying the truth never ends well. Especially in places with so much snow.”
The cuff finishes inflating. I yank it off with professional efficiency.
“Storm’s picking up,” he says as he slides off the table. “Hope everyone you care about is somewhere safe.”
Every nerve in my body screams.
He tucks his badge away, shrugs on his coat, and strolls toward reception like he’s simply heading out for coffee.
I step into the hallway immediately—and only when he disappears around the corner do I let my back hit the wall. The building suddenly feels too small, like the walls know what I just heard and are closing in to keep the secret crushingly close.
Ellie touches my arm. “You okay? You went pale.”
