Page 22 of Cry Wolf

He didn’t want to tell her and go over another failure, but if it would help get her to open up and let him take her in, he was willing to share. “Colombia, where I was shot in the line of duty.”

She glanced at him. “Really?”

He motioned for her to pay attention to the road.

She turned back, driving in silence. The headlight beams flashed over the forest as the SUV traveled down the winding mountain road.

“I was out of it for a while, but as soon as I could, I got in touch with a couple of deputies to try to help you.” In a way, he was relieved he could finally tell her a little more of what he’d tried to do for her.

“You did?” Her voice held confusion.

“Yes. Since I was out of the country, I asked a couple of deputies to learn what they could about your case. They poked around but had to stop. See, your case was under the sheriff’s jurisdiction, and he got a little upset having a couple of deputy marshals checking his work. My boss wasn’t very happy either.” He fell quiet.

She said nothing.

“Why would you help me now?”

“Like I said, I don’t believe you killed Matthew. You loved him.” He stated the truth, plain and simple.

After a few miles, she crumpled up the empty pie wrapper and tossed it into the bag. “Explain again why you can help me now when you couldn’t before.”

“You’re a fugitive and under my jurisdiction. I can reopen the case and do it right. See if there were missed clues. I sure wish we knew what was in the file the murderer stole off Matt’s desk.”

“How do you know that?” She took a sip of his coffee and glanced at him in the back seat.

“Even after Gabe told me to not work on your case, I did on my own time. But then my grandmother died.” He didn’t like using Gran’s death as an excuse, but it was the truth.

“Your grandmother died?” Her tentative voice gave him hope.

“Yes. Gran’s dying, well, that laid me pretty low for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded sincere. “Matthew told me how much she meant to you and that she took care of you after your mother died and your father went to prison.”

He avoided talking about his folks and what had happened to them. But his grandmother, she was different. She was the light in his life. “Gran was pretty special. I was in sort of a fog for a while after her death.”

Dania said nothing.

At least she was listening to him. He added, “You know Matt would want me to help you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Good. Now, tell me what happened that morning when you found he’d been shot.” He wanted to show her that he was serious about looking into the case. Plus, her perspective on what had gone down from the beginning could be helpful.

She kept a tight hold on the steering wheel and her eyes on the road as she told her side of the story until she got to Matthew lying on the floor, and then she abruptly stopped.

Life had been so unfair to them. After years of Matt and Dania’s trying to have children, on the very morning she’d learned she was expecting, her life had collapsed. So far, she’d related everything he’d read in the report, but hearing her tell it brought it home.

Wanting her to continue, he said, “Then the guy threw you to the floor, and when you got up, you saw him steal a file, right?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. He didn’t have a couple of fingers on his right hand.”

Brett had read that, too, years ago. He made a mental note to double-check with Sheriff Kennard to see if he’d found anyone who fit that description. What would it hurt to follow up on the sheriff’s leads? “After the man left, you called the paramedics, right?”

“Yes.” She sniffed.

She must be crying, though she’d never admit it or let him see. He’d give her a tissue, but with his right hand—which had become numb—handcuffed and no tissues in sight, he couldn’t.

“Do you know if there was anything else missing other than the file that no one seemed to know about?”

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