Free Forgotten Secrets by Robin Perini Page A

from a DCI investigator.” At her questioning gaze, he added, “Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation. Among other things, they run the state crime lab.”
    Riley froze with realization. “Your grandmother is a witness? Why didn’t you tell me? What does she say?”
    “She doesn’t remember. Gram has Alzheimer’s disease.” He hated saying it out loud; somehow the words made it seem more real.
    “Oh, Thayne. I’m so sorry.” She reached for his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Gram doesn’t want anyone outside the family to know,” Thayne said, searching for the words to explain. “She doesn’t want anyone to look at her differently. I guess that’s why I don’t say anything unless I have to.”
    Hurt flashed in her eyes for a brief second before she straightened her shoulders. “I don’t know anyone with Alzheimer’s. She can’t recall any details of Cheyenne’s abduction?”
    “AD affects everyone differently, but we haven’t been able to dig out much understandable information. That could change if she has a good day, but we can’t count on it.”
    Riley let out a long sigh. “I’m so sorry. I met your grandmother when I was here. I couldn’t tell.”
    “She hid the memory loss well, but she’s worse now. She lives in the past half the time.”
    “I still want to talk to her,” Riley said. “The smallest insight could help.” She strode around the room. “Any hits on the fingerprints?”
    “So far nothing, but I don’t expect much. The place was full of patients.”
    “And the blood?”
    “The smears on the wall are Gram’s. On the floor . . .” Thayne clenched his jaw, reining in the compulsion to punch his fist through something—preferably the kidnapper’s face. “We think that blood is Cheyenne’s.”

    As far as crime scenes went, Riley had seen much worse. Oh, Cheyenne hadn’t gone down easily, but the mess in the reception area of her clinic wasn’t about destruction, it was about purpose.
    Thayne knelt beside the bloodstains on the floor; his eyes were deadly focused, his stance lethal. If those kidnappers could have seen the man in front of her, they’d have left Cheyenne Blackwood exactly where she was.
    “I don’t want to start in here,” she said. “Which room will tell me the most about Cheyenne and who she is?”
    “The lobby is where they kidnapped her, where they hurt my grandmother,” Thayne’s voice bit out.
    His frustration tugged at Riley’s heart. He might be a deputy, but he was family to the victim. “I’ll study the crime scene from every angle,” she said, “but it’s just as important that I study your sister. They chose her for a reason. I need to see her, feel her, before I can find her. It’s how I work. You have to trust me, Thayne.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, he gave her a sharp nod. “Cheyenne keeps this place professional. Except her personal office at the back of the building.” He led her down a hall and through a walnut door.
    Riley stopped just inside the entrance and let her gaze travel around the room. She breathed in deeply, lowering herself into the well that was Cheyenne Blackwood.
    Neat, efficient, orderly. The doctor’s priorities were clearly visible. The desk was a hand-me-down, probably used by the last physician and maybe even his predecessor, as was the rest of the furniture. Strangely enough, her medical degree hung in a small nondescript corner of the room, almost as an afterthought.
    Thayne’s sister cared about people, not things, not accomplishments. Not status.
    Family photos littered the wall. Not portraits, but candid shots framed with care—and love.
    “She’s the mad photographer of the family. She’s got enough blackmail material to own this town.”
    The affection in Thayne’s voice was clear. So was the worry.
    Riley crossed the thick carpet, her gaze searching inside the images of the relationships that had created Cheyenne Blackwood. One particular photo caught her