by Aimée Thurlo
“I can’t be completely sure because I haven’t been able to get a clear look at his face, but I suspect it’s Bud Harrington, a man who keeps coming to my window at work. He wants to go out with me and won’t take no for an answer.”
“Have you told all that to the police?”
“Yeah, and to my boss, too.” Lori pointed to an old cream-colored sedan up ahead. “That’s my car. Thanks for helping me out, though I guess I didn’t really give you much of a choice, did I?” She sent him an apologetic smile as he pulled to the curb and parked.
“You were smart to look for help when you did instead of trying to deal with the guy on your own.” Though he liked fighting his own battles, the same rules didn’t apply in this woman’s case. Stalkers could become violent and she didn’t have the right build to fight a man. She was about five foot two and all rounded corners and softness.
“Thanks for the ride.” She looked around again as she opened the door, then froze. “He’s there! Can you see him?”
“The guy in the black hooded windbreaker?”
“That’s him, but without the ball cap this time. That hoodie covers part of his face, so I still can’t tell for sure if it’s Bud.”
“Lock the door and wait here. Let me go talk to him.”
As a former foster kid, he’d seen all the tough guys who liked to throw their weight around, the bullies who only picked on those who couldn’t fight back and the ones who thought the world owed them. Street hoods came in all shapes and sizes, but they had one thing in common. They needed to vent their pent-up rage on someone and weren’t interested in a fair fight.
Gene’s walk was slow and steady, his gaze never leaving the man standing by the car. Though he still couldn’t make out his face, Gene could see the name of the Hartley’s high school team—the Scorpions—on his windbreaker.
Gene was within thirty yards of him when the man suddenly pivoted and took off at an all-out run. Gene chased him down the block, but the guy suddenly cut left, racing out into the street just as the light changed. Tires screeched, horns honked, but the runner made it across.
Gene tried to follow, but as he stepped out, a city bus turned the corner and blared its horn, forcing him to jump back. The bus pulled up to the curb right in front of him.
By the time Gene ran the length of the bus to the rear end, cars were racing by in both directions and the guy had vanished.
Gene cursed, but there was nothing more he could do now. This would have to remain a police problem. As he returned to his truck he saw Lori sitting there, looking around, searching for him.
She climbed out to greet him. “Are you okay?” she asked, handing him the key. “The second I saw him run off and you going after him, I called the police. I told them it was an emergency.”
“Call them back. There’s no hope of catching the guy now and they’re stretched pretty tight. We may be taking them away from a real life-or-death situation, like a traffic accident.”
She nodded and dialed quickly. After a second, she looked back at him. “As soon as I told them that there was no emergency, they put me on hold,” she said with a grim smile. “It’s all part of that slowdown. Negotiations between the city and the police department reached an impasse a week ago and neither side is giving an inch. Personally I side with the cops. They aren’t getting paid enough, and if they end up having their benefits cut, too…” She shrugged and held her palms up. “Doesn’t make much sense to stay in a job where you have to risk your life every day but still have to choose between paying the rent or your health insurance.”
“True, but their situation sure doesn’t help you much right now.”
Someone finally answered the call, and Lori listened to the woman officer at the other end. “I’m sure this wasn’t an attempt to steal my car,” Lori told her. “I’ve got a sedan that’s older than dirt. No one in their right mind would want it. And a purse snatching doesn’t seem right, either. I do have my laptop inside, but you can’t see it. If you check your records, I reported seeing a man following me this morning. Heck, I even blogged about it on my webpage during a coffee break.”
A few seconds later, Lori hung up and focused on Gene. “In all the craziness, I don’t think I introduced myself to you properly. You know my first name, but my last name’s Baker,” she said, extending her hand. “And you’re Gene…”
He smiled. So she’d remembered his first name. This was turning out to be a good day, after all. “Gene Redhouse,” he answered. Like most Navajos, he generally disliked touching strangers, even in a handshake, but he’d adapted to the Anglo custom. As he shook her hand, it surprised him how soft and small it felt in his.
For the first time since they’d met she gave him a full smile. Her whole face lit up and the effect took his breath away. She was heart-stopping gorgeous.
“Did the police say what they wanted you to do next?” he asked.
“They asked me to write down the details of what happened as soon as possible. Since no officer will be available for at least two hours, they want to make sure I don’t forget anything. They’ll also want to talk to you.”
“Just to make sure I understand you, you gave the police the name of the man you think is stalking you?” he asked, verifying it. He remembered his brothers complaining about victims who protected their tormentors.
“Oh, sure, but Bud’s a real creep. When I first filed harassment charges, he told the investigating officer that I’d come on to him and he even accused me of stalking him.”
“So then it became your word against his?”
“Exactly,” she said, and expelled her breath in a whoosh. “Reporting him not only got me nowhere, it brought my credibility into question.”
“I don’t think the police necessarily doubt your word,” Gene said, “but their job requires them to rely solely on evidence. ‘He said, she said’ cases take a while to sort out.”
“Maybe so, but it still stung. I wanted to force this guy to back off, but all I really did was create new problems for myself. Now, because he can’t bother me at work without looking like a liar, I guess he’s decided to follow me before and after hours. What scares me is that I’m not sure how far he’s prepared to take this.”
“How did you happen to spot him tonight? Were you looking for him?”
“I was on my guard, mostly because I’d had to park a little farther from the restaurant than I’d intended. After dinner I was walking back to my car and caught a glimpse of someone following me. I thought it was Bud, so I called out and told him to get lost. That didn’t work, so I got scared. I ran out into the street to flag someone down.”
“Which turned out to be me. But what made you think you weren’t about to trade one problem for another?”
“Two sickos in a row? Not likely. As it was, I had no reason to think of you as a threat, but I knew the guy following me was trouble.”
Gene didn’t believe in coincidences. The universe had a pattern, and within that was order. Remembering Hosteen’s prediction, he suddenly wondered if Lori was somehow connected.
Hosteen Silver had mentioned circles, and Gene had been rounding a curve when she’d stepped out in front of his truck. Then again, Hosteen Silver had also written about a lost one who would show him the way, and neither Lori nor he had been lost. Maybe he was trying too hard to make sense of his foster father’s prophecy.
Lori looked around slowly, then, as if making up her mind, met his gaze. “I’m not going to stay out here at this time of night, not with Bud wanting to make trouble for me. If the police want to question me, they can come to my home,” she said. “They’ll want to talk to you, too, so how about following me there? I could fix you something to eat, or if you’ve already eaten, we can have something to drink and snacks. It’ll be my way of saying thanks. Then, after we talk to the police, you’ll be free to be on your way,” she said, and gave him one of her extraordinary smiles. “Or maybe you have a family to get home to.…” she said, and looked down at h
is left hand, probably checking for signs of a wedding ring.
He smiled. She was totally irresistible. He had no particular plans tonight besides watching the basketball game on that monstrous set of Preston’s. Staying at his brother’s, who was currently out of town, had its perks.
“I’m not married and a drink and snacks sounds great,” he said, accepting.
“Then follow me over to my place. I’ll lead the way.”
Her words sent a sudden chill up his spine. He wondered if this was the beginning of the change his foster father had predicted.
He walked with her to her car, then watched her fasten her seat belt, his gaze drifting over the graceful curve of her breasts. She probably had more than one secret admirer—not to mention her pick of men willing to keep her safe.
“I don’t usually bring strangers home, but I think we both need to get out of the open.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
Moments later, he was in his truck following her to the main thoroughfare, then into an old residential neighborhood across town. Houses were crowded together here, too much so for his tastes. He liked lots of open space and clear views of the sky.
As she pulled into the driveway of a small house halfway down a narrow street, he noticed that she wasn’t much for gardening. The outside was decorated with colored gravel and a few drought-resistant Southwest plants.
All things considered, he figured that whatever change was coming into his life wouldn’t be likely to include Lori Baker. From what he’d seen of her so far, she was a town girl. The things that made her happy—like the high heels she wore and living in this crowded urban neighborhood—didn’t fit in with the lifestyle of a hardworking rancher.
Still there was no harm in a quick drink. He was a single man with time on his hands, and a gorgeous woman had offered him a drink at her house. He would have been crazy to say no. He’d spend some time with her, no complications, no strings. It didn’t get better than that.
He was just stepping down from his pickup when a hard gust of wind came right out of nowhere. It caught the door like a sail, forcing him to hold on to it to keep from springing the hinges.
Gene tucked in his chin and shut the door. As the gust swirled around him, peppering his face with fine dust, he thought he heard Wind’s whispered warning—the danger had not yet passed.
Chapter Three
Gene went to meet Lori where she stood in front of her closed garage door. “We weren’t followed here. I’m good at spotting things like that,” he said, seeing her looking around, a frown on her face.
“Okay, then. Let me put my car inside the garage, then we can both go into the house and out of this wind.” She unlocked the single car garage’s door handle, gave it a twist, but nothing happened. “I got a door installed that I could pull open, but I think the springs are weak.”
Gene stepped over and pulled it up for her.
“Thanks,” she said.
Moments later her car was safely inside and the door closed and locked. Gene followed her through a side door.
He stepped inside what appeared to be a pantry, then into the kitchen.
“My house is a work in progress. This room’s already finished, so we can sit here without tripping over paintbrushes and cans.”
Gene followed her into the dining alcove that faced the front. “How long have you lived here?”
“I was born and raised in the Four Corners, but in this house, only about five months. I wanted to own, not rent, and I got a really good deal on this place. The important things like the heating and cooling and the plumbing all work fine, so I figured I’d add all the finishing touches as time and money allowed.”
Lori waved him to a chair by the table, but he shook his head. “Let’s find a place in the living room so I can have a better view of the front yard and street. I’d like to keep a lookout for a while longer.”
“You think he’ll come here?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.
“Even assuming he knows where you live, he probably wouldn’t push it right now. This guy has no way of knowing what the police will do next, like maybe set up a neighborhood patrol. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”
“Maybe I should turn on more lights,” she said, leading the way into the living room.
“Not necessary. The one in the kitchen is enough. Any more, and it’ll be harder to see outside because of the glare on the windows,” Gene said, walking past the ladder propped against the wall. The living room held more paint buckets, brushes, drop cloths and assorted tools than furniture.
She waved him to the sofa after removing a cardboard box containing paint rollers and a plastic tray. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “Why don’t you put one of the logs in the fireplace? I’ll bring us something to drink. I’ve got beer and colas.”
“Beer’s good.”
She went into the kitchen and came back a second later. “I should have told you. It’s not alcoholic beer.”
He stared at her. “There’s another kind?”
“Yes, and it tastes much better,” she said, laughing. “Want to give it a try?”
“Sure.” He watched her leave. Everything about this woman was just a little out of the ordinary. Even the firewood wasn’t firewood, but one of those artificial logs wrapped in paper. He placed it on the fireplace grate, found a matchbox on the mantel and lit the paper wrapping below the arrows.
Lori soon brought out two amber bottles and, seeing him sitting on the hearth, placed one bottle in front of him. “All my glasses were jelly jars at one time, so I figured you’d prefer to have it straight from the bottle.”
He laughed. He’d been right. Everything about Lori came with a qualifier. Yet despite that, or maybe because of it, he found himself liking her anyway. Except for those heels, there was a down-to-earth quality about her. She was who she was and made no apologies for it. That took confidence and it appealed to him.
Moments later they sat on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace with a huge paper bowl of popcorn between them. “I see you’re still using paper dinnerware,” he said with a quick half smile. “Is this left over from when the kitchen was being redone?”
She shook her head. “No, actually, since I don’t really know how long I’ll be staying here, I try not to weigh myself down with stuff. The only exception to that rule is shoes and purses. They’re my weakness.”
“So you’re planning on selling this place after you fix it up?”
“Hopefully, but as far as the timing goes, that’ll depend on the housing market. I consider this my starter home, something that will eventually allow me to buy up.”
He unscrewed the top off his bottle and did the same for hers. After taking a cautious sip, he smiled. “Hey, this is pretty good.”
“It’s low in calories and tastes better than regular beer. It’s brewed from barley and hops, but hasn’t been fermented. Think of it as nonalcoholic young beer, or wheat soda.”
“It’s smooth.” He went to the window and, standing to the side and out of view, looked toward the street. It was quiet and no one was lurking about outside. Satisfied, he returned to where they were sitting.
“Did you hear something?”
He noticed the way she gripped the bottle. Her knuckles were pearly-white. “No. Everything’s fine, just as it should be.”
“Good,” she said, relieved. Lori looked at her bottle, lost in thought, then spoke. “I really should take the plunge and buy at least two matching beer steins.”
“So your clothing budget trumps anything in the domesticity department?”
“Yeah, but there’s a reason for that.” Lori paused, as if trying to find the right words. “I can pack my clothes in several suitcases and be ready to go at a moment’s notice, but it’s different when it comes to household things. Some people equate filling every nook and cranny of their homes with security. I find that…constricting. Too many possessions can slow you down.”
“It sounds to me like you
’re in a hurry to get someplace, or maybe just restless.”
Lori shook her head, her expression serious. “Neither. My life is in transition, that’s all. I’m searching for something that’ll give me a sense of purpose, that’ll make me greet each morning with a smile, or maybe just renewed determination.” She sighed. “It’s hard to put into words, but until I figure things out, I want to make sure my options stay open.” She glanced over at him. “What about you?”
“I’m where I want to be,” he said. “I’m a rancher, and though the days are long and the work’s hard, it’s what I was meant to do.”
“I envy you. You have what I’m searching for,” she said.
“A ranch?”
“No, your life’s passion. You’ve found your place in life, so your work is the embodiment of who you are.”
As they talked, time slipped by. After about an hour, a patrolman came by and took their statements. Unfortunately, the officer couldn’t offer any hope that he’d be able to do much more than file the report. Without a positive ID, the department had no evidence to go on.
After the officer left, Gene could see how the interview had worn Lori down. He stayed with her until he was sure she’d be okay, then looked at his watch. It was shortly after ten. It surprised him to see how quickly the evening had gone.
Gene gave her his cell number. “Call me if you run into any more problems. I’m staying at my brother Preston’s apartment while I’m in town on business.”
“Then back to the ranch?”
He smiled and nodded. “Maybe you could visit me there someday. It’s a real special place.”
As they said good-night at the door, their eyes met. The power of that one look shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He was aware of everything about her. He heard the catch in her breath and saw her breathing quicken. When she used the tip of her tongue to moisten her lips, he nearly groaned.
He wasn’t an impulsive man. He tested the water before diving in, but the temptation was too great to resist. He reached out to pull her to him, but instead of yielding, she suddenly stood on tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
