“I’m used to the heat.” Sweat soaked the back of her T-shirt.

A half smile tipped the edge of his mouth. “Then you’re a better man than I. I want out of the heat.”

She kept moving forward toward the building as if caught in a riptide. She could pull and fight, but Bragg like a riptide wouldn’t yield. And so she let herself be pulled inside. It wasn’t like she was in trouble. And she half believed her information wouldn’t be of use. She’d say her piece and then leave.

The lobby’s cool air chilled her skin and puckered her flesh. She chanced a glance at the guard who stared at her with more interest as Bragg flashed his badge and escorted her to the elevators. Neither spoke as they waited for the elevator. When the doors dinged open he guided her inside. He kept his hand on her elbow as if he expected her to bolt. Smart man. She could easily turn on her heel, slipping through the doors before they closed and scurrying out of here. It wouldn’t take much to convince her that her visit had been prompted by an active imagination.

They moved past cubicles, the hum of conversations buzzing around them. Some folks paused to look, as if wondering whom Bragg had snared. Just her luck she’d worn her Bonneville T-shirt. Smart. Imprint her business’s name in the minds of a dozen Texas Rangers.

Bragg flipped on his office lights and motioned for her to sit in a wooden chair in front of a large desk as he removed his hat and tossed it on a desk, piled high with neat stacks of papers. The office was filled with shelves, stocked with manuals and a handful of awards. No family pictures. Not even an image of Mitch.

She took her seat and rested her purse in her lap as he moved behind her and closed his door with a soft click. The exit now blocked, the room shrunk. Her feet tapped nervously on the floor.

He paused behind her, and she could feel him staring. Instead of sitting behind his desk as she’d hoped, he took the seat in the chair beside her. He settled back as if he didn’t have another worry in the world other than her.

“So you heard a news story?”

She steadied her feet, pretty sure Bragg, like most in law enforcement, could read body language. He’d no doubt guessed she was nervous, but she hoped he’d not read her as just shy of terrified. “I think I might have overreacted.”

He threaded his fingers together and rested them on his flat belly. “You’ve come all this way. Why don’t you run it past me and let me decide.”

Dark eyes bore into her. Was this what it felt like to stare into a gun barrel? “Like I said I heard the story about a woman who froze to death in East Austin.”

The faintest hint of tension tightened his shoulders. “And you said you knew someone who’d nearly died like that before.”

“It all made sense earlier, but now it feels like a stretch.”

“You ever contacted the police before about a death you read about in the paper?”

“No.” She fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist and the action caught his attention, making her stop. If he’d read her file, he’d know about the scars. She wanted to explain about the scars, explain about that regretful moment, as if needing him to understand she was not that person anymore.

Slowly he raised his gaze from her bracelets and wrists. “Then why are you here?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “You know my past pretty well.”

He didn’t speak, but the certainty in his gaze confirmed what she’d said.

“You know about the accident and my suicide attempt.”

The mention of suicide deepened his frown. “Yes.”

She’d never spoken to anyone outside of camp about the past except Lydia. “And I went to a camp for kids like me. Kids who’d tried to hurt themselves. It was called Shady Grove.”

He watched her closely, not missing a word or microexpression. Her gut tightened. Is this what prey experienced when caught in a hunter’s sights?

“Rory was there. There was also a girl there who’d tried to freeze herself to death.”

He leaned forward a fraction, and she was aware of a hint of that same soap mingling with his scent.

“We all had to talk about what we’d done as therapy. We were arranged in pods, and Rory and this other girl were in my pod. When she told her story she said she’d been waiting for the temperature to drop while she and her family were on vacation in Colorado. When the temperature dipped below zero, she snuck out in the middle of the night wearing sheer pajamas. No coat or shoes. She wanted to lie down in the snow and let the cold take her.”

“Why did she do this?”

“She’d had a boyfriend, and they were in love.” She couldn’t keep the cynicism from her voice. “Long story short she got pregnant. The boyfriend refused to see her, and the idea of telling her parents terrified her. They’d be furious. So she had an abortion, but she wasn’t counting on complications or her mother finding out. Her mother was furious. Called her all kinds of names. She said their relationship was never going to be the same again, and she went into the snow to die.”

“Who found her?”

“Ski patrol from what she said. They rushed her to a hospital barely in time to save her. Her parents were mortified. They sent her to Shady Grove to be fixed, in a manner of speaking.”

“Did the clinic help her?” The deep timbre of Bragg’s voice had her relaxing and lowering her guard.

“I think they did. She’d been at the clinic months when I arrived. She jokingly called herself ‘the official greeting committee.’ And she was a help to some of the other kids who were having a rough time. Hearing her story gave me courage to tell mine.”

“And when did she leave?”

“Days before me.”

“Do you remember her name?”

“Not all of the kids used real names. We called her Joan.”

“Joan.” He frowned. “What did she look like?”

“Tall. Blond. Freckles. Pretty smile.”

“That could be half of Austin.”

Greer shrugged, knowing he was right. “I do remember when they took her to the hospital she was in bad shape. The doctors salvaged the fingers on her right hand, but I know she lost toes on her left foot. She usually wore shoes, but I saw her coming out of the showers one day and saw the scars. The wound was still raw.” Given the same circumstance today, she’d never have done what she did next. “I asked her to show her foot at circle time.”

“Circle time?”

“Every night at seven we gathered around a fire and talked about our feelings. It could get pretty emotional sometimes.”

“Okay.”

“Color rushed Joan’s face, and I knew she was embarrassed. But she took off her shoe. I could see the deformity disgusted Rory.”

He stared at her, not speaking but not missing one word, or one inflection in her voice.

“I knew I hurt her feelings and even then I felt bad. I’d used our oath of honesty against her.” She shrugged. “Kids can be cruel.”

His brow knotted and for a moment he was silent. “Why’d you do it?”

She frowned, remembering the slight widening of Joan’s eyes and her pooling tears. “I was trying to punish her.”

“Why?”

“She was dating Rory, and I wanted him. The night before I’d seen her with him. I’d been jealous and angry. I wanted to make her feel bad. Wanted him to see I was the better choice. Anyway, she told the group she’d lost her toes to frostbite. It was a reminder every day to her how lucky she was.”

“Lucky?”

“Toes, she’d said, were a small price for a life.”

“Do you think she meant it?”

“She sounded convincing. I felt like a real creep for asking.”

“I’m assuming you saw her kissing Rory.”

“They were kissing, but Rory never made me any promises. And she’d wanted him before I’d even arrived at camp.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No. We weren’t really close. And with me pining for Rory, it didn’t make sense we’d end up friends.”

“When did Joan leave camp?”