Connor shut the door of his room behind him, his expression one of anger and bewilderment. He'd been shocked to see the redness and bruising around her wrist as they shook hands. He was pretty sure that she was unaware of his seeing it. Whatever happened to her had to have occurred after he left the inn. He definitely would have noticed it at breakfast when she was standing right beside him at the table.
He stretched out his long frame on the unmade bed, his head on a pile of pillows, with his fingers clasped behind his neck. Connor stared at the ceiling and mentally went down the short list of people he had seen at the inn. He couldn't imagine any one of them having the inclination or strength to injure her in that way. The only man he'd seen around the place had been that young guy, sitting with his wife in the dining room that morning, and he didn't look strong enough to inflict that much damage.
The image of Allie suddenly flew into his brain...her dark, serious eyes, those lashes. He liked that she didn't wear make-up, that she seemed so natural and unpretentious. Most of the women he had dated wore their hair in a teased-up sort of hairdo that he just didn't care for - but that seemed to be the style these days. He wondered how Allie's hair looked long and loose, not tied back.
Stop the damn daydreaming and figure it out, he scolded himself as he sat up, reaching for his notebook on the table. Sitting on the side of the bed, he flipped the pages, re-reading his notes. It doesn't make any sense. There was no way her injury was an accident. Who the hell did that to her?
Connor grabbed the phone from the side table, balancing it on his knee. He dialed, and leaned back on the pillows, one arm behind his head, as he waited for someone to pick up on the other end.
"Mr. Garrison's office, how may I help you?" Edith answered absently, in the slightly nasal tone that sometimes irritated him. Connor imagined the young girl sitting at the front desk, reading Cosmopolitan, taking advantage of his absence.
"Edith, it's Connor. Is Bill around?" Connor felt a sense of urgency building in his chest.
"I believe he is, sir." She sounded surprised at his call. "I'll get him for you." Connor's bent knee bounced impatiently as he waited for his colleague to pick up.
"Here he is, Mr. Garrison," Edith said quickly, and he heard the click transferring him to the other man's office.
"Connor?" a friendly, male voice queried. "How's the vacation, man?" He laughed.
"Ha! What vacation?" Connor snorted, affably, then his voice turned serious, "Bill, I need you to check on something for me."
Fifteen minutes later, Connor pulled out of the parking lot, and headed toward the village.