farther downstream by several hundred yards, but if the shooter had a good long-range rifle, he could still pick her off.
Using her hips and oar, she rolled the kayak back so she was above the water and sucked in a long breath. Her pulse raced.
Graveyard Falls roared in her ears and fear constricted her chest.
Too close. She was much too close to the falls. Had sending her over the falls been the shooter’s intention all along?
Idiot. She’d been such an idiot!
She paddled backward, but the strong current had seized the kayak in its grip and wouldn’t let go. The current was much too powerful for her—especially since she hadn’t practiced this water sport in a long time. Tori groaned with the effort as she fought the current, the violent rapids and rush of water that would soon take her over. She fought to steer clear of the outcroppings of boulders that caused the water to boil even more. The river ensnared her, leaving her gasping and choking as she fought to survive.
Had another report sounded? She couldn’t tell. Her chest swelled with fear. Good thing she hadn’t exited the kayak—at least it could offer a measure of protection against the buildup of boulders and rocks near the falls. She desperately hammered the water in an effort to free the kayak but it was no use. The river pushed her forward toward the deadly waterfall. Despite her best efforts, she was going over the falls.
This wasn’t called Graveyard Falls for nothing. Her breaths came fast, unable to keep up with the oxygen demand of her rapidly beating heart. Would these be her last breaths?
Graveyard Falls propelled the kayak, along with Tori, over the rapids, tossing her like she was a rag doll in a toy boat.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!”
Tori clung to her kayak as the waterfall took her over.
In those moments, every regret, every mistake she’d made, clung to her heart.
Ryan...
* * *
Detective Ryan Bradley’s footfalls echoed down the sterile white hallway of Rainey General Hospital. Ten minutes ago, while in the middle of questioning someone in an ongoing investigation, he’d been informed that Tori Peterson was here and had asked for him.
She’d been injured, pulled from the river after going over Graveyard Falls. That news shocked him, to say the least. He was still stunned. Beyond concerned. He’d finished his interrogation, but unfortunately, he doubted he’d remember much of what was said. That was what he had a recorder for. At this moment, nothing mattered to him but Tori.
As soon as he’d heard that Tori had gone over those falls and survived, he’d wanted to rush to her side as if the last four years—and the all-important FBI job that she’d chosen over him—hadn’t come between them. Ryan wanted to see for himself that she was all right. He wanted to hold her in his arms and feel her warm body against him and know deep in his soul that she was truly okay.
That was how he found himself rushing down the hallway toward her room—whoa there, boy—when what he really needed to do was slow his steps way down. That would give him time to decelerate his too-rapidly-beating heart and get a grip! Ryan had to find a way to redirect his mind away from his spiraling emotions that threatened to overtake him.
And most of all, he needed to focus on the facts. He didn’t even know why she wanted to speak with him. Had she asked for him as a detective, or was this much more personal? Ryan should hope for the former, but his heart wished for the latter.
Traitorous heart.
He knew Tori was in town because of her sister’s murder. Tori had attended the funeral last week, and she had obviously remained in town, perhaps to help her parents go through Sarah’s things, or maybe just to comfort her parents.
Those were probably the excuses she told her family. But honestly, he could guess the real reason why she remained. He ground his molars and fisted his hands as aggravation churned in his gut. He’d figured it was just a matter of time before she sought him out—after all, he was the major crimes detective investigating the multiple homicides that had occurred two weeks ago and that had unfortunately involved her sister. He still couldn’t believe it himself.
Tori’s sister. Sweet Sarah Peterson. Gone forever.
Still, it was strange that Tori had asked for him after being pulled from the river. He was grateful she’d survived the falls, but he wanted answers about what was going on.
Spotting a vending machine—his salvation—Ryan stopped to grab coffee. He should join Procrastinators Anonymous, or was it United? After inserting and reinserting the cash into the slot until it finally pleased the machine, he pressed the appropriate buttons.
Coffee. Give me coffee, black and strong, he mentally demanded as the vending machine took its sweet time, for which he should be grateful. He needed a few more minutes to compose himself and appear like the disinterested, detached and impartial detective he strove to be.
His efforts were failing because he was definitely anything but detached and impartial. He couldn’t believe how the mere thought of seeing Tori again affected him, especially knowing that she’d come so close to death. What was the matter with him? He let his thoughts sift through the last couple of weeks and focus on Tori and her family—their needs. Not his personal issues that had no bearing in the present.
Tori had lost her sister. She had to be a wreck. Ryan had been the one to give her parents the news, and it had been all he could do to keep his composure. Those were the moments when he hated this job.
A warm cup of coffee finally in hand, he downed the contents, then steeled himself. Enough procrastinating. He walked the rest of the way to room 225 and pressed his fingers against the partially open door. Voices drifted out. Tori’s mother sounded upset. He leaned against the wall, deciding he’d give them a few moments. He popped in a piece of gum and skimmed his emails on his cell, except his mind was far from his cell phone.
Tori Peterson.
Once upon a time in the past, he’d thought he and Tori were on the same path. The same life track. He’d let his heart hope for something long-term between them. Then, when a door opened offering her the job of her dreams, she’d chosen that over him. Good for her. Bad for him. At the time, he’d been furious and hurt, and they hadn’t parted on good terms.
Four years had changed his perspective. Now, he didn’t blame her or hold anything against her. Instead, he saw it as a cautionary lesson not to set his heart on anyone. Time could heal all wounds, the saying went, and with time and experience, he’d learned his limits.
Ryan couldn’t take that kind of heartache ever again.
The voices in the room died down and the room went quiet. Time for him to make his presence known. He knocked lightly on the door as he said, “Detective Bradley. Is it all right for me to come in?”
The door swung open to reveal Sheryl Peterson. She blinked up at him, relief in her face. “Come in, Ryan. I mean...Detective.”
She eyed him as if to ask if it was okay that she called him by his first name. He smiled and gave a slight nod as he entered the room. He had known the Petersons for years—there was no need for formality with them.
Sheryl
