Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(84)

“Are you going to update the photo?”

“Yes. I’ve asked the woman, who had the most face time with Leath, to come down here tomorrow morning and work with our artist. Once she has something we can use, we’ll e-mail out the updated one on Leath. We still can’t be sure until and if we find fingerprints to prove it.”

“I understand,” Roan said. “Where did he go?”

“The owners said he was quiet and didn’t say much and that he had a black nylon gym bag with him. Leath went over to the Barton Gym on Sixth Street like clockwork every morning for an hour and a half. I guess Leath is in top physical shape. And I’ve got another deputy going over to talk with Mike Barton, the owner of the gym, to see if he can identify Leath with the present photo. So, we have a lot going on.”

“A lot of possibilities,” Roan agreed. “So where is Leath now?”

“Good question. He didn’t tell the B and B owners where he was going.”

“What about a vehicle?”

“He had a rental car from the Jackson Hole Airport. We’re chasing that lead down too.”

Some relief flowed through Roan. “I’m going to call Maud and Steve and fill them in shortly.”

“Good. If anything else breaks this evening, I’ll be calling you, Roan.”

“That will help.”

“How’s Shiloh doing?”

Roan looked over his shoulder, making sure she wasn’t in the living room or could hear his reply. “Rugged. Needs to cry and get it out of her system. She’s scared.”

“Understandable. This is enough pressure to kill a horse. I’m sure she’s replaying her mother being murdered by this bastard, thinking she’s next.”

Grimly, Roan said, “It’s not going to happen. Not while I’m around.”

“You got any security system installed in your cabin?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Okay, I’ve got another call coming in from my forensics team. I’ll be in touch.”

Roan hung up the phone. He could hear water running in the bathroom, Shiloh filling up that deep tub. Maybe a long, hot soak would help her relax. It wasn’t going to take away her worry or the threat of Leath being around, but it would be comforting.

He’d fixed a couple of pork chops, steamed some Brussels sprouts, and made a salad by the time Shiloh emerged from the bathroom. Hearing the door open, Roan looked up from setting the table in the dining room. Shiloh had chosen her white capris, a simple green tee with long sleeves, and was barefoot. Her hair was loose and free around her shoulders, the ends curled from the steam.

“Hey, you feel like eating a little something?” he asked.

Wrinkling her nose, Shiloh came over to him. “Not really, but I know I need to eat whether I feel like it or not.”

Roan could smell the light scent of oranges on her soft, moist-looking skin. He knew she loved citrus fragrance and had a body lotion she used regularly after taking a bath or shower. “I made a salad.”

“I think I could stomach that,” Shiloh said. She looked toward the kitchen. “It feels like a home now.”

“What does?” he wondered, walking with her to the kitchen.

“The smell of the different foods in the air. Like someone is living here full time,” she said, giving him a strained smile. “Sort of like bread baking in the oven and the odor permeates the house with that great smell.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Roan had in mind a stiff belt of whiskey but he doubted whether she’d go for that. Shiloh wasn’t a hard liquor drinker.

“No. I’m wigged out enough over everything,” she muttered. Opening the fridge, she said, “I think I’ll just have some tomato juice. How about you?”

Roan lifted the meat out of the skillet and placed them on a platter. “Sounds good. I’ll take a glass too.” He didn’t like the pallor in Shiloh’s face. The skin across her cheekbones was stretched and tight. Roan could feel the anxiety riffling around her, feeling damned helpless.

When she poured the tomato juice into the glasses, he saw a fine tremble of her fingers. Shiloh was trying to keep it together. What other choice did she have? As he put the food on the table and gave her a salad, Roan wondered if this was how she was those six months in her apartment. Most likely. It was a terrible way to live. To know you were being hunted daily.

“This is wonderful,” Shiloh told him as he seated her at the table, gesturing to the colorful salad. She forced a smile as he walked over and sat down at her right elbow. “Our first meal in your cabin.”

Roan pulled the dark blue linen napkin across his lap. “It is. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” How like Shiloh to note such things. They were emotional landmarks, he supposed, not something he was tied into. Maybe it was a woman’s prerogative? Roan tried to be circumspect about watching how much Shiloh ate. She picked at the salad, not really hungry. He decided to tell her about Sarah’s call. When he finished with the information, she looked a tad better. Probably because things were moving and people were actively involved in trying to prove Leath was around the town.

“When do you think Sarah will know about the fingerprints?”

Roan opened his mouth to speak when the phone rang. He excused himself and walked into the kitchen to answer it.