Elizabeth Goddard - Deadly Evidence

She lifted her gaze as if just now realizing he was there, that he’d been the one to assist her to the hospital bed. “Ryan. What...what are you doing here?”

Really? He’d been told that she’d asked for him. Maybe someone had made a mistake.

“I need to run an errand.” Sheryl pursed her lips, still upset with her daughter. “I’ll be right back. Ryan, please keep her in this room until I get back, okay?”

He nodded, but he couldn’t promise anything. Sheryl disappeared and left Ryan and Tori alone in the room. It shouldn’t feel awkward but it did.

“What were you thinking, taking that waterfall?” he asked. “Kayaking alone and going over the falls?”

Was she so devastated from the news of her sister’s death that she had a death wish of her own? No. The Tori he’d known before would never take her own life—no matter what.

He fisted his hands, controlling the fury over her choices and fear for her safety that he had no right to feel. Swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of what could have happened.

He was over her. Had been for a long time. But apparently the emotional equivalent of muscle memory hadn’t gone away. When she was putting herself in danger, it was his instinct to worry.

Dumb instincts.

And he was done playing games or wasting time. “Why did you ask to see me, Tori?”

But he had a feeling he knew exactly why. Tori was here to find the person behind four murders, behind Sarah’s murder, and as lead detective on this investigation, Ryan was about to get swept up in Tori’s fast-moving current.

R yan Bradley. Detective Ryan Bradley is in my room...

Blood rushed to her head.

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, Tori squeezed her eyes shut and breathed steadily. She had to regain her composure and stop her head from spinning. Enduring the guy’s pensive gaze hadn’t been in her plans for the day. She’d asked to see him? She didn’t remember that part.

Tori focused on what had happened, mentally replaying images from her fight to survive the crushing falls. The helplessness as she tumbled through the air while water enveloped her. That suffocating, painful, drowning feeling of trying to catch enough air to live while unable to stop the force that could dash her against the rocks. All of it thrashed around in her thoughts even now.

Goose bumps rose on her arms.

Then she remembered... One of her last thoughts had been about Ryan. Her whole life—her decisions, mistakes and regrets—had flashed in her heart, and some of those biggest regrets revolved around him. No way could she tell him any of that here and now, if ever. She was embarrassed that she’d asked for him...but now that she thought of it, it was good that he was here. They did need to talk—not about her feelings, but about facts. But not here. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

He studied her, obviously trying to decide if she was coherent or was suffering, both physically and emotionally, too much to think clearly.

He crossed his arms. A sentinel complying with her mother’s demands to keep her here? “I don’t think they want you to leave yet,” he said.

Ah. He’d made his decision—the wrong one—and had sided with her mother. Tori didn’t want to waste time at the hospital. She needed to find out who had killed her sister and why.

Then he shifted his posture, shoving his hands in his pockets. The way his jacket bunched up, she could see his department-issue weapon at his belt. “We can talk here,” he said. “I’m assuming you want to talk about your sister’s murder.”

Amazing blue-green eyes stared down at her. His dark blond hair was slicked back and made him look far more serious than she remembered. He sported a Vandyke beard now, as was the style. In spite of herself, warmth flitted over her as she looked at him. How had he gotten more attractive since she’d seen him last?

Though maybe what really attracted her was that Ryan had that look of someone who knew what they were doing. The experiences of life shone on his face along with an intensity he hadn’t had before. Not really a hardening, but more the look of someone focused and determined, who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

Just being in the room with him was almost too much.

A shiver ran through her.

She steadied her nerves and pushed to stand. “Yes. What I have to say has to do with Sarah, though not in the way you might think. But first you should know that I’m leaving. I’ve asked for discharge papers. I’m waiting on those now. Mom was wrong about them keeping me—she’s the one who thinks I need more time here, not the doctor. So I’m leaving and I don’t want to talk about my sister here.”

His frown wasn’t unexpected. He had to know she wasn’t satisfied with his investigation into the four murders, including Sarah’s.

A social worker entered. “Ms. Peterson, I have your discharge papers and instructions. If you’ll just sign and initial here.” She laid out the yellow papers for Tori’s signature and went over the instructions for the care of her wound.

After the social worker left, Tori smiled up at Ryan. “See?” Her mother would be furious when she got back here to find Tori had gone, but at least this way, she couldn’t try to stop Tori from leaving. “But now I have a problem. I don’t have a way out of here.”

She thought to offer Ryan an innocent grin and blink as if to give him a hint—something she’d done in the past with him—but she had to steer away from giving him the wrong impression. No need to remind him of their past. Still, why wasn’t he offering her that needed ride?

Instead, Ryan watched her. She never liked being analyzed. She supposed that was hypocritical since she did that a lot to others in her role as an agent. But being on the other end of that wasn’t pleasant.

Finally he said, “I’ll give you a ride. We can talk on the way. Where would you like to go?”

“Thanks. I’ll text Mom and let her know that I’m with you and I’m okay.”

“Are you really okay?” His wary eyes showed just how worried he was. His concern went deeper than what he’d have felt for a fellow human being, or that of a detective who cared about people and bringing justice.

Ryan still cared about Tori.

Before panic could swell, she tore her gaze from him to text her mother. “I’ll survive,” she said.

At least, she hoped she would. And she would survive being in Ryan’s presence, too. As for surviving the attempt on her life—would there be more attempts? Would one of them succeed? Her sister hadn’t survived when someone had tried to kill her. Tori almost sagged under the weight of loss.

A tear trailed her cheek as she stared down at her cell. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do without her sister in her life, but the truth was they hadn’t exactly been in each other’s lives that much since Tori had moved across the country. She’d told herself that they’d make up for lost time later, with phone calls or visits. That chance no longer existed now.

The knowledge that Sarah was gone, taken from this world by a murderer, flayed her and left her raw and bleeding.

She finished the text and looked up at him again. Waves of remorse and a thousand conversations she wanted to have with him rushed through her. Tori tried not to shudder. She didn’t think he’d missed that, because Ryan had always been sharp and could read people even when they tried to hide something. Especially when they tried to hide something.

And years ago, he’d had an uncanny ability to read her. Had that changed?

Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a booth at a coffee shop. Tori had suggested they have their talk over coffee. Ryan had obliged. Coffee ordered, Tori resisted the need to take painkillers. Her shoulder had been wrapped, and she’d been given blood. She’d heal, with or without the painkillers, and she wanted her mind to stay clear. Somehow, she had to toughen up and see her way through this.