Riley’s brow wrinkled. “What guy at the gas station?”
Hannah blinked, surprised by the question, until she realized she’d never mentioned the man she’d run into at the gas station on Highway 287. In fact, until this moment, she hadn’t remembered him at all. “He was at the other pump-at that station on 287. He was filling up his car, and he saw the rental-car plate. Said I was brave to drive around all by myself in a strange place. Only, I could tell he really meant I was stupid to be traveling alone.”
“Did he say anything else?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He finished by then and drove off.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“Not really-there was a pump between us, and he had a hat on, and sunglasses.” She frowned. “You think he might be the guy who pulled me over?”
“I don’t know. Was he in a car or a truck?”
“A car.” It had been a dark sedan, but beyond that, she couldn’t really remember anything. “I guess it could have been the same car. I really don’t remember much but the flashing blue light, to be honest.”
He laid his palm against her cheek. “It’s something new. Joe’s got someone going through the receipts from the gas station. If he paid with a credit or debit card, we’ll know who he is soon.” He dropped his hand and headed for the stable.
She followed, her mind reeling. Had she actually spoken to the killer that day at the gas station?
Had that one simple exchange marked her for death?
Chapter Thirteen
“We found Hannah’s credit-card receipt from the Lassiter station, and a few others sprinkled through the day, but nothing right around the same time.” Joe Garrison gave Riley an apologetic look. “Guy must’ve paid cash.”
“Damn it,” Riley growled, slanting a look at Hannah, who sat in one of the armchairs in front of Joe’s desk. She’d been so hopeful on the drive into town, but now she looked as if Joe had kicked her right in the teeth.
“What if it was him?” she asked faintly. “I can’t even tell you what color hair he had, or what shape his face was. Why didn’t I pay more attention?”
“Because you weren’t expecting some nosy guy at the gas station to track you and try to kill you,” Joe said sensibly.
“And we don’t even know if it’s the same guy,” Riley added, laying his hand on her shoulder. He soothed her tense muscles beneath his palm and turned back to Joe. “Has Jim Tanner held his press conference yet?”
Joe glanced at the wall clock. “It’s supposed to start in about twenty minutes.”
More waiting, Riley thought. Hannah’s growing impatience was contagious.
“What about security video?” Hannah asked suddenly. “Don’t most places like that have cameras trained on the gas islands to discourage gas theft?”
“The Lassiter station’s security video hasn’t worked in over a year,” Joe answered. “Population is so low in Wyoming, people here don’t take the same precautions you find in other states. It’s just not a big problem, most of the time.”
“I bet he knew it, too,” Hannah said glumly. “This guy seems to be a step or two ahead of us.”
“He’s clearly a local,” Riley agreed.
“He wore gloves, so no fingerprints. He moved fast before I even got a look at his face, so I can’t ID him. Even at the gas station, I never got a good look at him. Now that I think about it, he was careful not to turn his face toward me.” She looked up at Riley. “Maybe he was already in hunting mode.”
It was possible, he conceded. “Did anybody find out who was working that shift at the Lassiter station? Maybe he’d remember if our guy hung around longer than usual.”
“We’ve got the cashier’s name. I have Prentiss tracking the guy down to see if he remembers anything from the day of the attack.” Joe picked up the television remote and hit the power button. The small television on the credenza near the window flickered on, the volume low.
No press conference yet, just a syndicated talk show, Riley noted. He turned back to look at Hannah. Her green eyes met his, shining with a mix of excitement and dread.
He knew just how she felt. He’d never been as close to finding the killer as he was now, yet he wasn’t sure he was really prepared for the uncertainty that lay ahead. What if, despite all efforts to keep her safe, Hannah ended up hurt-or worse? How could he live with such an outcome?
And what if they actually found her attacker, and it turned out Emily hadn’t been one of his victims after all? Could he start from scratch, devoting more years of his life to nothing but cold, comfortless vengeance?
“Here we go,” Joe said suddenly, and he turned up the volume on the TV.
As Sheriff Tanner laid out the basic details of the pepper-spray attack, Riley found his gaze drawn to Hannah. Emotions played across her face as she listened, a battle of fear and hope. As much as he had riding on this case, she had more. It was her life in danger, and she’d stayed here to help in spite of that fact, when a lot of other people would have gone home.
She was one hell of a woman.
On television, Tanner had finished his statement and was taking questions. Most were utterly predictable. Did they have a suspect? Were other women at risk? Was Ms. Cooper going to make herself available for questions?
“What is he going to say when they ask if there’s a connection to the murder in Grand Teton State Park?” Riley asked Joe, knowing the question was coming.
Before Joe could answer, a reporter asked just that question. Joe nodded toward the television.
“We aren’t certain, but we’re proceeding as if there’s a possibility,” Tanner answered carefully. “That’s why it’s important for women traveling alone to be especially careful. Local and state agencies have agreed that no law- enforcement officer driving an unmarked vehicle will attempt a traffic stop in Wyoming. So if such a vehicle attempts to pull you over, do not stop. Call nine-one-one and drive to a public place. Do not stop in an isolated place for any reason.”
“What if you have car trouble?”
“Lock your doors, call for help if you have a phone. I know cell service doesn’t work in all areas, but the people of Wyoming are friendly, helpful people. The Wyoming Department of Safety and several corporate partners are making distress signs available for motorists. These can be placed in windows to alert other drivers to your need for assistance.”
He motioned to his right and a uniformed officer brought out a long banner with the words “Assistance Needed-Call 911” printed in block letters across the length.
“Please remember-if you see this sign, it is not a good idea to stop and give aid yourself. Please contact the local authorities and alert us to the problem.”
“They’re afraid the killer might use this to lure in unsuspecting good Samaritans,” Hannah murmured.
“It’s possible,” Riley agreed.
The rest of the questions were little more than rewording of previous questions. Tanner put an end to the questions and left the stage, and the station returned to the local news anchors in the studio.
Joe turned off the television and looked at Riley. “That went okay, don’t you think?”
It could have been a lot worse, Riley had to concede. God knew he was relieved to have information about the killer in front of the public.
Joe’s phone buzzed. “Boss?” Over the intercom came the tinny voice of Bill Handley, the day-shift desk sergeant. “Sheriff Tanner from the Teton County Sheriff’s Department on line one.”
Joe exchanged a quick look with Riley and picked up the phone. “Garrison.” He listened a moment, glancing at Hannah. “Yes, they’re both here. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
He pushed a button and Jim Tanner’s voice came over the line. “Good morning, Patterson. Ms. Cooper.”
“Hello, Sheriff Tanner,” Hannah murmured.
“Tanner,” Riley added gruffly, his stomach knotting up.
