Chapter Two
“I’ll try to keep this brief, Miss Dale. I know you’ve been through a lot already, today.”
Sheriff Garrett seemed not only thoughtful, but competent and articulate, qualities Lexie hadn’t expected to find in a small-town sheriff.
“Ready?” he asked.
She took a deep breath as he settled his tall, athletic frame into the winged chair opposite hers and she reminded herself that all she had to do was repeat what she’d told Deputy Ferguson. If she kept her answers short and to the point, perhaps she could get through this interview with her anonymity intact. Now was not the time to allow a case of simple chemistry to muddle her thinking.
With a bit a luck and just the right verbal maneuvering, she could keep the handsome lawman from delving too deeply into Hugh Miller’s murder, at least until the proper authorities arrived to take control of the situation.
“Just start at the beginning, Miss Dale,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened, all that you remember.”
“As I told your deputy, everything happened so quickly. One minute I was riding along, enjoying the afternoon and the next thing I knew Hugh had been shot. I was attacked by a man wearing a black ski mask.” She added, “I’m sorry. There isn’t much more to tell.”
His smile was understanding. “It isn’t unusual for the victim of a violent crime to want to forget the incident. But later, sometimes hours or even days afterward, important details come to mind. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, Miss Dale, but I need you to try to remember those details now.”
For some reason, she didn’t want him calling her by the name she’d assumed for her trip to Colorado. Her lie felt somehow more indicting coming from his lips. “It’s just Lexie,” she said.
He smiled again. “All right, Lexie it is. And please, feel free to call me Lucas.”
But at the moment, she couldn’t have said his name if she’d tried. Her mouth had gone too dry to speak. There was just something about the man, a compelling mix of gentleness and strength that affected her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain.
“Perhaps you remember more than you realize. Was there anything unusual about his clothing? Did he wear a wristwatch? Maybe you noticed a tattoo?”
“I think he was dressed all in black. There wasn’t anything odd, except for the ski mask.”
“Did you hear the gunfire?”
“There was only one shot,” she said.
“It must have echoed in the canyon.”
“No,” she said. “There was only a popping noise. He must have used a silencer.”
When he made a note, Lexie wondered if she was saying too much. Of course, she wanted the killer to be apprehended, but to encourage this investigation was futile.
“Maybe there was something unusual in the way he talked,” Lucas suggested. “You told Deputy Ferguson he spoke to you.”
Lexie shook her head. She didn’t want to think about the attack, the physical violation. She didn’t want to remember the hissing sound of her attacker’s voice in her ear.
“Do you have any idea why someone would want to harm you, Lexie?”
The sudden change in the direction of his questioning caught her off guard. Darn it! Why hadn’t she called her father when she’d had the chance? If she’d discussed the situation with him or one of his advisors she would have been better prepared to answer loaded questions.
When she realized he was still waiting for her reply, she pushed a hand through her hair self-consciously and swallowed the panicky feeling she knew would be her undoing. Giving her statement to Deputy Ferguson was one thing. Holding up under Lucas Garrett’s blue-eyed scrutiny was proving to be quite another.
“You know, on second thought, I’m not really sure I’m up to this, yet.” Her gaze shifted to Mo as she entered the room carrying a coffeepot and mugs on a tray.
“I promise, this won’t take long,” Lucas said before his sister could come to Lexie’s rescue for the second time today.
“But I didn’t see anything,” Lexie reiterated. “I told your deputy and now I’m telling you.”
“But you were there.”
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, recalling the sight of a stricken Hugh Miller falling from the saddle, remembering the feel of the attacker’s rough touch on her skin.
“I know it’s difficult. But it’s important. We need your help to catch this guy.”
Despite her resolve to stall and postpone, Lexie felt drawn to Lucas’s sympathetic coaxing. And once she started talking, it only took a few minutes to recount the events of the attack.
As she spoke, she relived the attack that had come out of nowhere, the arms grabbing her from behind, the smell of the chemical-soaked rag and her subsequent descent into oblivion. “I barely remember your sister helping me into the Jeep,” she finished.
“She was out cold when Tucker and I found her,” Mo put in. “And other than poor Mr. Miller, there wasn’t a sign of anyone else around.”
Lucas’s expression turned grim and Lexie guessed he was imagining how close his sister had come to becoming a third victim. “There must have been something,” he said. “The killer didn’t hike down that trail. He must have had a vehicle or a horse.”
“Or maybe he planned to use our horses to make his escape,” Lexie said. As soon as she spoke, she realized that she was taking a more active part in this investigation than she’d intended.
“But he left those horses behind.” Lucas considered for a moment. “Seems to me, Lexie, there was a reason for drugging you and tying your wrists. Can you think of why he might have done that?”
Abduction. Kidnapping. But that was a line of questioning she knew better than to pursue. “I wouldn’t even try to second-guess a motive.”
Something else occurred to her. “Your men have been on the trail investigating this afternoon. Surely you’ve found clues indicating whether the killer was on horseback or in a car.”
His eyebrows raised, acknowledging her intelligent assumption. “We found tire tracks.”
Her correct deduction pleased her, and she permitted herself another question. “Where?”
“Just around the bend in the trail. About a hundred yards from where we found Hugh Miller’s body.”
“I didn’t see a vehicle,” she said. “And I didn’t hear an engine starting up.”
“Let’s go back to last night, Lexie,” he said. “You spent the night on the mountain. On your way up the trail, did you see anyone else? Another rider? Hikers? Someone in a vehicle, maybe?”
Lexie shook her head. “No. No one.”
“What about this morning? Did you see anyone on your way down the trail?”
“No.”
“When did you realize Hugh Miller had been shot?”
Lexie hesitated. “I— I’m not sure.”
“Was it when you heard gunfire?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s talk about that muffled pop,” he said, consulting his notes. “How did you know it was a silenced gunshot?”
“I’m familiar with firearms,”