“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.
And yet, he had the sense she was holding back. Was she burdened with misplaced loyalty to an old friend or manipulating him? She knew both Rory and Sara had tried to commit suicide and the reasons behind the attempts. She wouldn’t be the first killer who’d pretended to help police.
He found his way back upstairs to Winchester’s office. On the phone, Winchester nodded for Bragg to enter as he scribbled details on a pad.
Plagued by restlessness, Bragg remained standing and did his best not to pace. His mind returned to his conversation with Greer and began to analyze it as if it had been a crime scene. He hated thinking of her as a killer, not only for Mitch’s sake, but his own.
When Winchester hung up, he rose, stretching the tight muscles of his back. “What do you have?”
Bragg never chatted idly and only stopped by to discuss business. “Just had a visit from Greer Templeton.”
“Really? Why’d she come into town?”
“She read about the woman that froze to death in the paper. She knew the woman. The victim, Rory, and Greer were all in the same camp for troubled teens.”
Winchester set his jaw. “Sara Wentworth’s parents said she never had any emotional problems.”
Awry smile lifted the edge of Bragg’s mouth. “They wouldn’t be the first people to lie to a Ranger.”
Winchester rested his hands on his hips. “They strike me as folks who put a lot of stock in appearance. A troubled daughter wouldn’t have done much for them in their social circ
les.”
Bragg rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He thought about his own reluctance to take Mitch to counseling because he’d worried for the boy’s reputation. If Mitch had killed himself, would he have kept the boy’s past hidden out of loyalty? “They’ll have lawyered up by now. It’ll be tough getting any more information out of them.”
“I feel for them, but if they’re lying I don’t mind squeezing.”
“Neither do I. But they’ve been hiding secrets for over a decade. They’re not likely to give ’em up easily.”
“Even to catch their daughter’s killer?”
“Maybe they’re worried that it was suicide. That she killed Rory and then herself.”
“So did Greer have anything more to say?” Winchester asked.
He summoned images of Greer’s face as she’d met his gaze and told her story. Regardless of her motives, she had backbone. Not many men faced him as she’d done today. “Greer said Sara, who called herself Joan at camp, had a crush on Rory at the camp.”
“You believe her?”
He really wanted to believe Greer. And that insight surprised and concerned him. “At this point no reason not to believe her.”
Winchester arched a brow. “Mighty convenient Greer connected two dots for us so neatly.”
“Could it be as simple as Sara killing Rory and then herself?”
“Sometimes the answer is simple and easy. Sometimes a case comes together. But it’s not happened often enough for me to expect it or trust it.”
“Meaning?” Bragg challenged.
“Greer’s making a play to reenter the world. She’s made a big financial bet with her vineyard, and she knows any bad press would endanger that.”
Bragg, the man, didn’t like Winchester’s thinking. Bragg, the Ranger, recognized the logic. “Greer had all her dirt dragged through the media a dozen years ago.”
“A dozen years is a long time and folks tend to like second-chance stories. I think the time lapse would be enough for folks to be more accepting. But if there is more dirt . . .”
“Like what?”
“Hell if I know. I want to believe Greer but right now I trust her about as far as I can throw her.”