“A couple of days after Rory. After he left she didn’t want to stay anymore.”

Bragg threaded his fingers together again, studying her.

She curled her fingers into fists and then relaxed them. She’d said her piece. “This information might not have to do with your case, but like I said the news story caught my attention and I needed to mention it. I could have missed the mark altogether but now you know.”

In no rush to stand or end this interview, he studied her. She didn’t budge or fidget as she waited for him to comment.

Finally, he rose and reached for a file on his desk. “Look at this picture. It’s of the woman we found frozen to death. Could she be Joan?”

She moistened her lips. “That was twelve years ago.”

“People don’t change that much.”

Maybe not on the outside. She rose. “Sure.”

He held up the color headshot of the woman. Eyes closed and slack-jawed, her blond hair was brushed off a pale face peppered with dark blotches. The woman was indeed older, but there was no mistaking.

“That’s Joan.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t remember the discoloring on her face but the shape of her jaw and the slant of her eyes is Joan’s. Yes. I’m sure.”

“The discoloration is part of the decomposition process.”

“Oh.” She lifted her gaze from the image to his face.

He tucked the picture inside the folder and placed it back on his desk. He hitched his hip on the edge of the desk and folded his arms over his chest. “When is the last time you saw her?”

“Twelve years ago.”

“You’re sure this is Joan?”

“Ranger Bragg, I’ve not seen a lot of people outside of the vineyard workers in the last decade. I’d have known if I’d seen her.”

“Did she and Rory have any contact over the years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would she have cared enough to find and kill him?”

Her stomach dropped. “Why do you say that?”

“He couldn’t have killed himself alone, but she could have killed herself without help. Murder and suicide happen.”

“I can’t imagine why she’d care after all this time.”

He was silent for a moment. “Her real name wasn’t Joan. It was Sara Wentworth.”

“I know the name. My mother knows the Wentworths. They made a fortune in real estate.”

“You ever have dealings with the family?”

“No. Though my aunt may have when she tried to sell farmland a couple of years ago.”

“To Louis?”

“Yes. It’s adjacent to the vineyard. Good land. Drains well, no trees, and lots of sun. Great for growing grapes.”

“Why sell?”

“We’d had a bad summer and the crop didn’t come in well plus Lydia’s medical bills were mounting. We agreed to sell the land to pay bills.”

“How’s Louis doing with his new purchase?”

“He’s built a house that’s stunning but only just shifted his focus to planting vines. I hear he had surveyors out there and plans to break ground in the fall. Still, it will be several years before he has grapes.”

“Were you disappointed to see the land go?”

“What does that land have to do with anything?”

His gaze darkened, and she sensed a veil dropping. This Ranger played his cards close to his vest. “Just asking. Were you disappointed?”

“As a matter of fact, I remember being relieved. We had enough on our plate at the vineyard, especially with Lydia getting sick.”

“How’d you get the money for the tasting room and the winery?”

“When I turned twenty-five, I was able to cash in my trust fund. We invested all of it in the buildings.”

He digested the information. “So now you have everything tied up in Bonneville.”

“That’s exactly right. If it goes under, I lose it all.” She’d said what she’d come to say. “I’ve overstayed my welcome. If you need anything else, let me know.”

He didn’t move, again in no rush to end the interview. “Who else were your friends at Shady Grove?”

“I don’t remember them all, but in our pod it was Rory, Joan, Sam, and Robin. I don’t know who used real names and who didn’t.”

“You and Rory used your real names.”

“At the time I didn’t think to make up a new name. My face had been plastered all over the news and everyone knew me at that point.” Hands sweating, she rubbed them over her jeans. “After I left I decided to break with the past and take my middle name. I wanted a clean start.”

“Understandable.”

“Rory used his real name because he wanted to embarrass his family. I think that’s why they were freaked out about my letters. The return address was Shady Grove.”

He straightened. “What about the other two people in your pod?”

“Sam and Robin.”

“Know anything about them?”

She hesitated. “Only what they said about themselves at camp.”

“What did they say?”

“We’d all promised we’d never tell on each other.”

He shook his head. “This is not the time for secrets, Greer.”

“We promised we’d never talk, and until now I’ve kept that secret.”

His gaze burrowed into her. “How did they try to kill themselves?”

On the defensive now, she rose. “Why do you need to know?”

He remained still. “Someone knew about Sara and Rory.”

“You just said you think she might have done it.”

“That’s one theory I’ve yet to prove. There could be someone else out there who wanted all of you dead.”

A crease furrowed her brow. “I can’t say.”

“Why did they try to kill themselves?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She fisted her fingers. “I won’t. I can’t. Not yet. I swore I’d never tell.”

His gaze grew so fierce it took her breath away. “There could be someone tracking you and the others.”

She shook her head. “And this could be about Sara and Rory. Until you know otherwise, I won’t say.”

Sara was dead, beyond hurt and pain, but the other two had lives and to dredge up the past would be cruel. She had no way of finding Sam, but Robin might be reachable. If she could track her, she could give her a heads-up. A warning. And then she’d send Robin to the Ranger.

A tightening in his jaw questioned her honesty, but after a long moment he said, “Thanks for coming in. You gave me a piece of the puzzle I didn’t have.”

“Sure.”

He walked her to the elevator and when the doors opened stepped inside with her. A long tanned finger pressed the lobby button and she found her gaze drawn to the watch on his wrist. His hands were those of a working man, lean and callused. When she’d been younger she’d never liked calluses. She’d loved the feel of Rory’s smooth hands over her skin.

But as she’d begun working in the fields and building emotional and physical strength, she’d come to admire hands like his. They spoke of hard work and dedication.

She thought about Bragg’s hands, not Rory’s, on her skin now. Touching her fingertips and sliding up her arm, making her forget the past. It had been a long time since a man had touched her, and she wondered how she’d react if Bragg did. Would she pull away or lean into his touch?

Her breathing grew shallow as tightness warmed her belly. If she’d had the courage to ask him to kiss her, she wasn’t sure what he’d say about reinitiating a naïve woman into the world of sex.

The doors opened. When she stepped into the lobby and away from him, sadness trailed her.

“You will be at the vineyard?” he said.

An order poised as a question. “I’m a fixture there.”

Bragg offered a nod and without another word she left, grateful to venture back into the heat and away from him and the troubling emotions chasing her.

Chapter Thirteen

Thursday, June 5, 4 P.M.

Bragg watched Greer drive away, not turning from the window until her truck vanished around the corner. It wasn’t lost on him she’d come to him with this information. She could have gone to the local police and avoided him altogether. But she hadn’t. She’d chosen him.