The ache in her chest flared. She couldn’t think about Noah. Not now. Not ever, preferably, though that was about as likely as Bonner developing actual investigative skills.
But she could do her job. The job she’d been doing long before Noah Colton whirled into her life and flipped everything over with his gale force winds. He’d even told her to expect Hurricane Noah to roar onshore at any moment.
And what had she done? Made huge assumptions that his admittedly thrilling personality meant they were a good match. All intensity, all the time, no apologies.
Gah, she had to stop thinking about this and go do something with a chance of distracting her.
Decision made, she grabbed her gear. Bonner might not care about suspicious activity in her canyon, but she did. And she had a partner who could help her investigate. One who wouldn’t complicate everything.
* * *
Ripley’s tail wagged the moment Sabrina collected her from the department’s K-9 kennel. The dog had adapted well to staying there during Sabrina’s shifts, though she missed having her around the way she did at home.
She missed a lot of things lately. Not that she’d admit that to anyone, especially not herself.
Dogs didn’t gossip, so she’d found her companion for the day. They also didn’t try to move you in with them or make grand declarations that turned your entire world inside out. They were happy with belly rubs and treats and the occasional game of fetch. No expectations. Exactly what she needed.
“Just us today, girl.” The words felt hollow as she loaded Ripley into her vehicle. “Think you can work without your boyfriend?”
The lab’s tail drooped slightly at the mention of Dancer. Great. Even her dog was going to make her feel guilty about this. Ironic. Ripley was her longest relationship and she was screwing it up too.
The drive to Peavine Canyon normally got her pumped to be out in the wilderness. This time, not so much.
Peavine was where she’d met Noah. All of this just reminded her of him, the way he jumped into absolutely everything, danger, love, rock climbing, kissing—ugh, she could have done herself a favor and not thought about that.
She’d done the right thing walking away. She had. Because the alternative was letting Noah catch up, and she’d never recover when it inevitably fell apart. And it would have fallen apart. Everything did. Men didn’t stay. They told you what to do, ignored your right to choose and then disappointed you.
The mantra felt emptier with each repetition, but she clung to it anyway. No man she’d ever met had been any different, starting with her father and ending with Noah.
The morning sun painted the red rock cliffs in shades of flame as she parked in the small turnout. Late January air bit through her jacket, sharp enough to steal her breath. Or maybe that was the memory of Noah’s face when she’d walked out—that devastating mix of hurt and confusion that haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
At least he’d looked surprised. As if he genuinely hadn’t seen it coming. Which just proved her point that he didn’t really know her at all. Anyone who truly loved her would have known she’d freak out.
Focus.She was here to work.
Ripley bounded ahead as they climbed toward where she’d found Annie’s body. The rockslide had changed the terrain, creating new patterns of shadow and stone that she cataloged with practiced efficiency. Recent footprints marked the sandy soil—Bonner’s cursory inspection, no doubt. He hadn’t even bothered to check the upper ledges where someone could easily observe the whole canyon.
Men like Bonner were exactly why she was better off alone. All of them thought they could handle her, talk to her like she was an idiot who couldn’t figure out her own mind. Even the good ones. Maybe especially the good ones, because they actually believed their own press.
Something caught her eye—a flash of white against the red rock. Paper?
She moved closer, careful of her footing on the loose scree. A torn piece of notebook paper fluttered from where it had snagged on a thorny bush. The edges were weathered but the writing remained legible.
Friday 8 p.m. Same place.
Her pulse quickened. The paper was relatively fresh—the ink hadn’t faded despite exposure to the elements. Someone had been here recently.
More signs jumped out at her from this new vantage point. Cigarette butts that hadn’t had time to weather. The remains of a small fire, carefully hidden behind an outcropping. Someone had been hanging out in this area.
Why? It wasn’t a designated camping site, and from this vantage point, you could see the trail easily, but anyone hiking it wouldn’t see you.
Better question, how did this connect to Annie Ross and that missing baby? Because there were no coincidences, not in Dark Canyon Wilderness in January.
Movement caught her attention—a figure picking his way down the opposite slope. Male, average height, wearing jeans and a heavy jacket. No backpack, no proper hiking boots. But definitely dressed for the cold.
Tourist who’d wandered off trail? Or something else?
The back of her neck prickled as he drew closer. There was something off about this guy, something that niggled at her. She didn’t recognize him, but she definitely recognized his kind.
