Liz Shoaf - Identity - Classified

He briefly wondered about Miss Bailey’s life. Most of the women he knew would be close to hysteria after being shot at, but that was something he could think about later. Right now, he had to protect her, whether she thought she needed it or not.

“Move back. I need to get to the front of the car to see what’s going on.”

She hesitated a second, then shrugged her shoulders and scooted behind him. Ethan took a quick peek around the hood of the car but didn’t see anything. Gun in hand, he dropped back behind the safety of the vehicle and leaned against the front fender.

“Did you see or hear anything, Sam?” He winced when she took a swipe at her ear with her coat sleeve, but the blood kept seeping out.

She squinted down the lane, lit only by streetlamps, then gave him a saucy grin. “We’ve been shot at together, so I guess we’re friends now.”

Her degree of calmness after getting shot at bothered him, but they were out in the open. Now wasn’t the time to delve into Sam’s life.

“Fine, we’re friends now. Did you see or hear anything before the shot?”

He could almost see her mind sifting through different answers. It was a yes or no question. The woman was wily as a cat. His temper got the best of him. “It’s a simple question. You shouldn’t have to think it to death.”

Her chin shot up and she wore a mulish expression. “Fine. Right before we walked away from the motel, I saw a shadow moving around the car in front of room 126.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me?” His voice echoed incredulous anger.

Her gaze shifted away. “I’m used to handling my own problems.” She thrust her sweetly pointed chin forward. He had to bite back a grin. In some ways, Sam reminded him of Penny with her stubbornness.

“I’m sure you are, but I’m the sheriff and we’ll do this my way. By now the shooter could have circled around us. We need to move.”

Her eyes shifted toward the motel before they settled back on him. “I’m sure the shooter is long gone, but if you want to accompany me back to the bed-and-breakfast, I’d appreciate it.”

He wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what the clever woman planned. “And after I drop you off, you’re going to sneak out and come right back to the motel.”

Her eyes widened and she dipped her chin. Jackpot!

“Admit it,” he said.

“Seems to me you already know everything, Sheriff.”

She smiled, but he didn’t trust the sassy upturn of her lips. He might as well let her tag along while he checked out room 126. Maybe it would keep her safe and out of trouble. Later the two of them would have a nice long talk. He wanted to know what she was doing standing outside the room of two men from New York so late at night.

He heaved a heavy sigh. “I know you have a knife and a gun. I want to see the permit later, but for now, stay behind me and do exactly as I say, or I’ll take you to Mrs. Denton’s and lock you in your room while I check this out.”

She flashed him a full-wattage smile, and her dimples made another appearance. She looked young and innocent, nothing close to the wily woman she had already proved herself to be.

“Sounds like a plan.” She tilted her head. “You’re a real by-the-book lawman, aren’t you? It’s all black-and-white for Sheriff Hoyt. No wiggle room for extenuating circumstances.”

He harbored the uneasy feeling that her whole life revolved around “extenuating circumstances.” “I told you to call me Ethan. We’re not very formal here in Jackson Hole. Come on. Let’s move quickly. We’ll make our way down the street, using the cars for cover, and check out room 126. Stay close behind me,” he added when she tried to slip past him.

She did as he asked and stayed behind him as they crouched behind cars and wound their way around the back of the motel. There was no sign of movement anywhere, so Ethan stepped in front of room 126. He raised his hand to knock, but Sam grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him.

“What now?” he muttered, pulling back his arm and facing her.

Exasperation covered her face. “You’re just going to knock on their door? In the middle of the night?”

He raised a brow. “I’m the sheriff, Miss Bailey, and we were shot at. I have every right to investigate the situation.”

She seemed to ponder that a moment. “Shouldn’t you call for backup or something?”

He ignored her and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. The room stayed quiet. He knocked louder this time. “This is Sheriff Hoyt. Open the door, please.”

Nothing. Sam tried to nudge him out of the way.

“What are you doing?” She was fiddling with something in her hand and approached the door lock. He couldn’t believe it. She was going to jimmy the lock. He grabbed the set of picklocks out of her hand.

“You can’t break into a motel room. It’s against the law.” And then it dawned on him. Earlier, when she’d been standing at the door to room 126, she’d planned to break in. But why? He’d get answers later. Right now he had his hands full.

Her face scrunched into a scowl. “You are the law, and I’m with you. That makes it legal, right? Besides, you got a better idea, hotshot?”

They struggled a moment for possession of the picklocks, but brute strength gave him the advantage. The woman snarled at him like a rabid dog when he jerked them out of her hands.

“Yes, I have a better idea. I’ll wake the manager and ask him to open the door.”

That took the wind out of her sails.

“Fine, but I want my hardware back.”

“I don’t think so.”

She scowled again. “Whatever. Let’s get this show on the road.”

It didn’t take long to rouse the sleepy manager, and soon they were again standing in front of room 126. Ethan stepped in front of everyone and inserted the key. “Stay back.” The manager had already moved away, but Sam was still breathing down his neck. The woman was like a barnacle.

Ethan turned the key and opened the door. The stench of blood assailed his nostrils. He pushed Sam backward. “This is a crime scene. I’m going in, but do not step past the threshold of this door.” He moved forward but glanced around to see if she was obeying his orders. He was taken aback to see a look of shock, mixed with a healthy dose of fear, on her face.

It was an indication that Sam was in this thing up to her cute little ears. He decided then and there that the woman wasn’t leaving his sight until he had some answers. He touched the wall until he felt the light switch. With a flick of his wrist, the room was bathed in light. Even without taking a pulse, there was no doubt. The two men he’d seen riding in the sedan were dead.

The sickly smell of death hit Chloe smack in the face and she took a step back.

She’d helped Stan’s FBI cyber unit on many cases, but computers were her area of expertise, not dead bodies. She’d never visited an actual crime scene.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of clear, crisp mountain air and centered herself. A picture of Peter Norris rose in her mind, and she wondered if the same odor had permeated his office by the time they discovered his body.

She could see through the open doorway, and the sight of two men lying separately on two double beds, blood seeping from tiny holes in the front of each of their foreheads, was enough to make her want to toss her cookies. She took another deep breath and swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Were the two men connected to the Peter Norris murder and her unidentified disc? She took another step back, away from the stench of death. She had to pick up Geordie and get out of Jackson Hole. She’d find a safe place to stay until she could figure this thing out. She turned to flee, but a strong grip on her arm stopped her.