Page 128 of Montana Manhunt

“I’m sure he has.” His attention returned to Violet. “I’ll see you later, Violet.”

“Wait.”

He paused, eyebrow raised.

“What happened to your leg?”

“My leg?”

“I noticed you’re limping.” She shrugged. “I’m a paramedic. Being observant is a hazard of the trade.”

“I strained a muscle while running yesterday morning. I’ll be fine in a day or two.” A minute later, he was gone.

“Interesting,” Noah murmured.

That was one word for it. She’d said more to Jeff Hanson in the past five minutes than she had the entire time she lived in Morrison. He also had a leg injury. Could he be the man who attacked her in the bathroom?

By the time the last of the visitors exited the viewing room, Violet almost sagged from exhaustion.

The funeral director came to her. “Ms. Trevelyan, do you want to change the funeral before tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “I’m happy with what we decided.”

He looked relieved. “I’m glad. Your aunt isn’t so accommodating.”

Of course she wasn’t. “My aunt isn’t paying the bill. If her requests are doable without too much difficulty for your staff, then do what she wants. Otherwise, stick to our plan.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll do what we can.”

Rayne motioned to Violet. “Look at this.”

Noah wrapped his arm around Violet’s waist and escorted her to the beautiful quilt draped over a stand. “That is gorgeous,” Violet said. “Who is it from?”

“Fortress.” She pointed to a large peace lily. “That’s from our teams.”

Violet trailed her fingers over a cool green leaf. “They didn’t have to do this,” she murmured.

“All of us love you, Violet,” Rayne said. “This is only a small way to show you how much we care.”

Violet hugged her teammate. “Thanks,” she whispered. After stepping back, Violet turned to Noah. “I’m ready.”

Threading their fingers together, he walked with her to the doorway.

“Violet.”

She paused and glanced back at her aunt. “Yes, ma’am?”

“What time tomorrow are you leaving town?”

Rayne gasped.

Noah’s fingers tightened around Violet’s. “In a hurry to get rid of us, Ms. Trevelyan?”

“You and your friends are nothing but overpriced thugs,” Hanson snapped. “The lot of you are trouble. This town has seen enough difficulty without you sticking around and adding to the misery of your sweet aunt.”

Sweet? Violet stared at him. His affection for Rosalie must blind the police chief. In all the years she and Cami had lived with her aunt, the one description they’d never used for Rosalie was sweet. Her tongue was sharp enough to cut deep.

“Do your job, Chief Hanson.” Without another word, Noah urged Violet from the room, with Grant and Rayne close behind them.

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