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He hadn’t said her getting hurt, just someone else. A small burst of disappointment filled her chest. “But if we don’t investigate, what happens?”
“The polizei will continue, I guess, although they’re stuck on the heart attack theory.”
“Which means the person who did this will likely get away with it.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “but some things are more important than playing at solving crimes.”
Their gazes locked, and a small burst of electricity danced across her skin.
Greer severed the connection and took another sip of beer, then put the glass back down. “I do want to thank you, though. If you hadn’t grabbed me, I would have gotten hit, whether it was on purpose or not. I owe you one.”
He gave her a wolfish grin. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
A not-so-small zing of excitement sent a burst of warmth through her. His smile was killer when he used it. He could look at her with those stormy gray eyes and make her feel like she was the only woman in the world. And in the next instant look at her like she was a flea on a donkey’s butt, she reminded herself. Don’t go all soft on Dalton Hughes. It would not end well for either of them.
She focused on the food in front of her. “I still have to interview the widow. Do you want to come with me? I think she’s here at the hotel. I mean, that can’t hurt, can it?”
Dalton cocked an eyebrow at her. “I thought we just agreed it was too dangerous to continue.”
“We did, but…” She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to spend time like this with Dalton, and if they stopped the investigation, that would end. “It’s the widow. We might as well talk to her. She’s the last one left, I think.”
“Fine. I’ll go with you, but after this, we stop, agreed?”
Greer nodded with a smile. She needed him to trust her again, to like her, or at least see her as human. Not as the woman who destroyed everything. Letting him sit in on the interview would help build that trust. Just like making sure he could hear her question the doctor at the medical center. Now, if she could just convince herself that regaining his trust was the only reason she was doing these things.
“Let me call down and see if they’ll connect me to her.” She started to get up.
“No need.” Dalton picked up his phone and sent a text. “I’ll get Jordana to ask her. She was with her when she found out Moore died. They have a bond of sorts. It might be better coming from her.”
Greer tipped up her chin. “Just remember that I’m the investigator. Don’t start asking her a ton of questions. It won’t look good.”
“I hear you. You’re telling me to be seen and not heard.” He grinned.
“Exactly.”
“Fair enough.” His phone pinged. “The widow, Mrs. Moore, will be happy to speak with us now if we’re available. She is in her room. Number one.”
“You ready?” she asked.
He nodded. They stood and went to the door. He grabbed his key, and they left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Greer was glad she’d pulled on a wine-colored cashmere sweater over her dark jeans. It wasn’t the most professional of outfits, but it was a hell of a lot better than the sweats she’d almost worn. She’d also put on a bit of makeup and left her hair down around her shoulders. She’d spent a bit of time making sure she didn’t look like death warmed over since she was going to see Dalton. But there was no need to admit that, was there?
They walked down the open hallway, passed the elevator, and turned a corner. She hadn’t been here before. The hallway had rooms on either side, and it ended at the door marked with the number one. She knocked.
The door opened to reveal the woman who had almost been pushed down the stairs. Greer had forgotten all about the incident until just that minute.
“You,” Mrs. Moore said.
“Um, yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… Allow me to introduce myself. Greer Styger. I am so very sorry for your loss.”
“Claire.” The widow pointed to herself. “Come in, both of you.” She turned and walked away from the door.
Claire’s suite was worthy of a feature in some hoity-toity lifestyle magazine. Once they went through a short hallway, the room opened up. The opposite wall was made up of windows that gave an expansive view of the mountains. Flames danced in a stone-bound gas fireplace, throwing out heat. There was a cream-colored sofa in front of it and a matching overstuffed chair sat at the end to square off the coffee table.
A massive dining table that seated eight dominated the other end of the room, with another wall of windows behind it facing the trees. Beyond that was a set of stairs, presumably leading to the bedroom and a half bath off the hallway. This must be the best suite in the entire hotel.
