“So you heard a news story?”
She steadied her feet, pretty sure Bragg, like most in law enforcement, could read body language. He’d no doubt guessed she was nervous, but she hoped he’d not read her as just shy of terrified. “I think I might have overreacted.”
He threaded his fingers together and rested them on his flat belly. “You’ve come all this way. Why don’t you run it past me and let me decide.”
Dark eyes bore into her. Was this what it felt like to stare into a gun barrel? “Like I said I heard the story about a woman who froze to death in East Austin.”
The faintest hint of tension tightened his shoulders. “And you said you knew someone who’d nearly died like that before.”
“It all made sense earlier, but now it feels like a stretch.”
“You ever contacted the police before about a death you read about in the paper?”
“No.” She fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist and the action caught his attention, making her stop. If he’d read her file, he’d know about the scars. She wanted to explain about the scars, explain about that regretful moment, as if needing him to understand she was not that person anymore.
Slowly he raised his gaze from her bracelets and wrists. “Then why are you here?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “You know my past pretty well.”
He didn’t speak, but the certainty in his gaze confirmed what she’d said.
“You know about the accident and my suicide attempt.”
The mention of suicide deepened his frown. “Yes.”
She’d never spoken to anyone outside of camp about the past except Lydia. “And I went to a camp for kids like me. Kids who’d tried to hurt themselves. It was called Shady Grove.”
He watched her closely, not missing a word or microexpression. Her gut tightened. Is this what prey experienced when caught in a hunter’s sights?
“Rory was there. There was also a girl there who’d tried to freeze herself to death.”
He leaned forward a fraction, and she was aware of a hint of that same soap mingling with his scent.
“We all had to talk about what we’d done as therapy. We were arranged in pods, and Rory and this other girl were in my pod. When she told her story she said she’d been waiting for the temperature to drop while she and her family were on vacation in Colorado. When the temperature dipped below zero, she snuck out in the middle of the night wearing sheer pajamas. No coat or shoes. She wanted to lie down in the snow and let the cold take her.”
“Why did she do this?”
“She’d had a boyfriend, and they were in love.” She couldn’t keep the cynicism from her voice. “Long story short she got pregnant. The boyfriend refused to see her, and the idea of telling her parents terrified her. They’d be furious. So she had an abortion, but she wasn’t counting on complications or her mother finding out. Her mother was furious. Called her all kinds of names. She said their relationship was never going to be the same again, and she went into the snow to die.”
“Who found her?”
“Ski patrol from what she said. They rushed her to a hospital barely in time to save her. Her parents were mortified. They sent her to Shady Grove to be fixed, in a manner of speaking.”
“Did the clinic help her?” The deep timbre of Bragg’s voice had her relaxing and lowering her guard.
“I think they did. She’d been at the clinic months when I arrived. She jokingly called herself ‘the official greeting committee.’ And she was a help to some of the other kids who were having a rough time. Hearing her story gave me courage to tell mine.”
“And when did she leave?”
“Days before me.”
“Do you remember her name?”
“Not all of the kids used real names. We called her Joan.”
“Joan.” He frowned. “What did she look like?”
“Tall. Blond. Freckles. Pretty smile.”
“That could be half of Austin.”
Greer shrugged, knowing he was right. “I do remember when they took her to the hospital she was in bad shape. The doctors salvaged the fingers on her right hand, but I know she lost toes on her left foot. She usually wore shoes, but I saw her coming out of the showers one day and saw the scars. The wound was still raw.” Given the same circumstance today, she’d never have done what she did next. “I asked her to show her foot at circle time.”
“Circle time?”
“Every night at seven we gathered around a fire and talked about our feelings. It could get pretty emotional sometimes.”
“Okay.”
“Color rushed Joan’s face, and I knew she was embarrassed. But she took off her shoe. I could see the deformity disgusted Rory.”
He stared at her, not speaking but not missing one word, or one inflection in her voice.
“I knew I hurt her feelings and even then I felt bad. I’d used our oath of honesty against her.” She shrugged. “Kids can be cruel.”
His brow knotted and for a moment he was silent. “Why’d you do it?”
She frowned, remembering the slight widening of Joan’s eyes and her pooling tears. “I was trying to punish her.”
“Why?”
“She was dating Rory, and I wanted him. The night before I’d seen her with him. I’d been jealous and angry. I wanted to make her feel bad. Wanted him to see I was the better choice. Anyway, she told the group she’d lost her toes to frostbite. It was a reminder every day to her how lucky she was.”
“Lucky?”
“Toes, she’d said, were a small price for a life.”
“Do you think she meant it?”
“She sounded convincing. I felt like a real creep for asking.”
“I’m assuming you saw her kissing Rory.”
“They were kissing, but Rory never made me any promises. And she’d wanted him before I’d even arrived at camp.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No. We weren’t really close. And with me pining for Rory, it didn’t make sense we’d end up friends.”
“When did Joan leave camp?”
“A couple of days after Rory. After he left she didn’t want to stay anymore.”
Bragg threaded his fingers together again, studying her.
She curled her fingers into fists and then relaxed them. She’d said her piece. “This information might not have to do with your case, but like I said the news story caught my attention and I needed to mention it. I could have missed the mark altogether but now you know.”
In no rush to stand or end this interview, he studied her. She didn’t budge or fidget as she waited for him to comment.
Finally, he rose and reached for a file on his desk. “Look at this picture. It’s of the woman we found frozen to death. Could she be Joan?”
She moistened her lips. “That was twelve years ago.”
“People don’t change that much.”
Maybe not on the outside. She rose. “Sure.”
He held up the color headshot of the woman. Eyes closed and slack-jawed, her blond hair was brushed off a pale face peppered with dark blotches. The woman was indeed older, but there was no mistaking.
“That’s Joan.”
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t remember the discoloring on her face but the shape of her jaw and the slant of her eyes is Joan’s. Yes. I’m sure.”
“The discoloration is part of the decomposition process.”
“Oh.” She lifted her gaze from the image to his face.
He tucked the picture inside the folder and placed it back on his desk. He hitched his hip on the edge of the desk and folded his arms over his chest. “When is the last time you saw her?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“You’re sure this is Joan?”
“Ranger Bragg, I’ve not seen a lot of people outside of the vineyard workers in the last decade. I’d have known if I’d seen her.”
“Did she and Rory have any contact over the years?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would she have cared enough to find and kill him?”
Her stomach dropped. “Why do you say that?”
“He couldn’t have killed himself alone, but she could have killed herself without help. Murder and suicide happen.”
“I can’t imagine why she’d care after all this time.”
He was silent for a moment. “Her real name wasn’t Joan. It was Sara Wentworth.”
“I know the name. My mother knows the Wentworths. They made a fortune in real estate.”
“You ever have dealings with the family?”
“No. Though my aunt may have when she tried to sell farmland a couple of years ago.”
“To Louis?”
“Yes. It’s adjacent to the vineyard. Good land. Drains well, no trees, and lots of sun. Great for growing grapes.”