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“Did it ever occur to you how dangerous that was?” he said, more concerned than he thought he had a right to be.
“I didn’t run down until the person jumped in the boat and drove away. Then I debated about calling for help but decided the more important thing would be to lend aid if I could.”
“I can understand that, but it was terribly dangerous.”
He knew some might say what she’d done had been foolish, but he had a feeling that Lori hadn’t felt as though she had much choice. Deciding between being safe and offering someone what might be lifesaving help was never much of a choice for her. There was a part of him that deeply respected that, as well as finding it incredibly sexy.
“Trust me, if the guy had still been around or I hadn’t seen him speed away in the boat, I’d have opted for calling for help.”
“Why is it I have trouble believing that? But let me get this off my chest—you were alone, in a strange town. It was a foggy and stormy night. You’d just witnessed, as far as you could tell, what was a violent crime, and your instinct was to run toward danger, not away from it.”
“Said the guy who had a bounty put on his head because he refused to watch a bunch of schoolgirls burn to death because they didn’t have on the proper clothing to be seen in public?”
Chagrined, he said, “Yeah, well, the news services made a whole lot more of that than there was.”
“Really? The way I hear it, there were a lot of other people standing around, but you were the only one who ran back into the building, battered down a chained and locked door, and got those girls out.”
“Touché.”
“Besides, Cobain may have been an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered like that. No one does. And like I said, until I rolled him over, I didn’t know who it was.”
“Okay. So, let’s head down to the dock.” He led her down and could feel the tension beginning to enter her body. “It’s okay, Lori.”
“I’m being silly. It’s broad daylight, I’m with you, and Christie has made sure we can all handle ourselves both in hand-to-hand and with firearms.”
“Okay, I’m feeling a little better about you coming down here by yourself.”
They looked around and Ryker could see where a boat had been tied up, but then a lot of boats got moored to this pier.
“It’s weird. You’d think I’d be able to see some evidence of what happened here,” she said, looking around.
“Not necessarily. Strangling, unless done in a crowded room, mostly leaves evidence on the body. There’s very little, if any, blood involved, and on an empty dock like this, I wouldn’t think there’d be much evidence left behind.”
“The typewriter ribbon might tell us something.”
“It might, but I’m pretty sure Middleton isn’t going to hand that over.”
She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back, get all dolled up and go to this stupid thing.”
“Got room for a plus one?” he asked. He couldn’t decide if the look on her face was comical, sad, or frustrated. What she was thinking was anyone’s guess.
“Got anybody in mind?”
“I wasn’t asking for anyone else. So, what sexy thing will you be wearing?”
She pushed at him playfully. “It’s a formal thing. Lockwood is saying dinner jackets or tuxes, but I doubt he’d kick you out.”
“What makes you think I don’t own a tux?”
“You do?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“I have done more rubber chicken dinners in embassies than you can shake a stick at. What time should I be there?”
“Five-thirty.”
He led her back to the Range Rover and helped her in. They drove back to Bleak Ridge House, where he helped her out and escorted her to the door.
“I’ll see you in a little bit.”
