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“Because you’ve cried wolf one too many times.”
“Essentially.” She was nodding. “Yeah, that’s about it.”
“Let’s just tell it like it is. You’re a liar, Anne-Marie. You lied to your family, you lied to me, hell, you probably lied to your damn husband. Christ, I know you did. So now you’re on the run and you wind up here and you expect me . . . me . . . to believe you and do what? Take you in? Hide you out from some imagined threat? Start something up again.”
“No!”
Obviously, he wasn’t buying it. “Jesus H. Christ. You’re unbelievable. And you can take that literally.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“That’s the trouble with compulsive liars; they start believing their own shit.”
“Cade. Trust me, I’m not—”
“Trust you?” he threw back at her. “That’s a laugh. You expect me to trust you.” He was angry, his jaw hard, but it wasn’t the raw, passionate fury she’d witnessed in him before. No, this was cold and deep, the kind of wrath that has had time to burrow and fester. It was obvious he wasn’t buying her desperate pleas and she knew that he had good reason.
“I made a mistake coming here.”
“You got that right,” he said, his glare cutting through her. “I don’t know what you’re involved in and I don’t care. If you seriously believe someone is out to kill you, whether it’s your husband or someone else, then you need to go to the police. Immediately. No matter how wild a tale you spin, they’ll look into it.”
“I’d planned to, but then—”
“I know. Dan died. Jesus, don’t you know I’m painfully aware of that fact,” he said.
She shrank back. “I didn’t mean—”
He waved off her apology. “Whatever it is you think you’re involved in, it has nothing to do with me.” A muscle worked in his jaw as if he were trying and failing to rein in his anger. “Just go down to the station and tell your tale. They’ll ask you some questions and that’ll be it. Maybe they can sort out what’s real and what’s all in your head.”
“I’m not making this up.” She was on her feet. “You think I drove all the way from New Orleans to seek you out because of some convoluted, sick fantasy? Have you noticed women are being killed?”
“I don’t really see how they’re connected to you. Did you know them? The first girl’s been IDed, some woman from Utah, I think, and the second one”—he shrugged—“I haven’t heard.”
“You’re the only person I knew in Grizzly Falls before I came here. But I think he followed me somehow.”
“As I said, tell it to the police. I don’t know the new sheriff or much about him, but someone thought he was fit for the job, so go and tell him your tale.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anne-Marie said.
“Why not?”
She remembered the acting sheriff, how when she’d spilled coffee on him, he’d turned his attention on her like a laser.
“If you’re serious about this. If you really think that you being here in Montana has cost two women their lives, you have to go to the police. It’s your moral obligation.”
She felt her back go up. “Moral obligation? You’re a fine one to lecture me on morals.”
“I wasn’t the one who was married,” he said.
She saw in his eyes that he was daring her to tread farther, into dangerous emotional territory which, she knew, would be unwise. “Okay. I get it,” she said, deciding it was time to leave just as she heard the muted rumble of an engine. Shad was on his three feet in an instant, howling and barking and running into the kitchen.
She glanced through the window and saw a massive pickup had pulled into the empty bay of the garage. Zed’s truck. Her heart sank as she watched the Grayson brother climb out of his king cab.
“I should leave,” she said, reaching up to twist and pin her hair onto her head. Quickly she donned her wig again, uncaring that it wasn’t on perfectly. Then, she slid her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. She started for the front door but looked over her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to ask. And God knows you don’t owe me any favors, but please . . . don’t give me away until I talk to the police.”
“You’re going there?”
“I will . . . just not right now.” She drew in a long breath.
