Page 9 of River Wild

“Have you caught the person who did this?” he demanded.

Stuart sat down behind his desk again, motioning to a chair for his visitor, but Aaron Branson didn’t sit. “Maybe you can help me do that.”

“I don’t see how. My uncle called. I had to hear it from him. I don’t understand why no one called me. My number is in her phone as a contact.”

“Her phone hasn’t been found.”

Branson seemed to take that information like a blow. He stumbled to a chair and sat, dropping his elbows to his knees, then dropping his face into his hands as he cried silently, his body heaving.

“Your uncle was listed as next of kin at the hotel where your sister was employed.”

“He raised us.” Lifting his head and wiping away tears, he said, “How could this have happened to Willow?”

“Were you in contact with her since she moved to Powder Crossing and took the job at the hotel?” Stuart asked.

“We talked all the time.”

“Then you might know why she changed her hair color recently.”

Branson stared at him. “Seriously? That’s what you want to know?”

“We think the man who killed her was looking for a certain...type.”

“If you’re insinuating—”

“That’s not what I’m saying. He might not have even noticed her before she changed her hair color.”

Branson seemed to give that some thought for a moment. “A few weeks ago, she said some guy at the bar made a crack about her hair.”

The sheriff felt his pulse quicken. “What exactly did he say?”

“That he didn’t like her blonde. He said it wasn’t her natural color and he would love to see it natural.”

“Did she mention who this man was?” Stuart asked, his heart in his throat.

Branson shook his head. “I said the guy was a jerk, and she should have told him where to get off.”

“Did she?”

He sighed. “Doubtful since a few days later, she said he was right. She looked better with it closer to her natural color.”

“What else did she tell you about the man?

“Nothing, except... I know she changed it for him. The only reason she would do that was because she liked him. Are you telling me he’s the one who...” He broke down, his face in his hands again.

The sheriff gave him some time before he asked, “She said she met him in the hotel bar? I know she worked behind the hotel registration desk.”

“Sometimes she filled in for one of the bartenders, usually a young guy she called Luke.”

Willow wasn’t legally old enough to bartender, but this wasn’t the time to get into that. “Luke Graves?” Stuart said. He remembered the name from the list of employees that had been sent over from the hotel. “Was Willow dating anyone?”

Branson shook his head. “There was one guy, but they’d broken up.”

“Who—”

“It wasn’t serious—at least for him. A rancher. He broke it off. Said she was too young.”

“How long—”

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