Shiloh moved to the other side of the room and stood, mesmerized. The shower was large enough to easily fit two people. There were two round raindrop showerheads on opposite sides of it. The tile was light blue on the floor. Along the first three feet of it, the tiles were made of that rectangular glass she loved so much. This time, the glass tiles matched the variety of colors in the patchwork quilt drapes and rug. The rest of the one side where there was no glass was of the same ivory-colored tile as the floor.
She ran her fingers lightly across the thick glass at the front of the shower. It was frosted glass and it had an old-time pattern sandblasted into it, reminding her of a design from the era of the antique bathtub. “I just love this, Roan. All of it.” She turned, smiling up at him. “You’ve been really busy.”
Shrugging, he said, “Idle hands and all that.”
Shiloh could tell he was pleased with her reaction. “So when are you moving in?”
Lifting his hand, he brushed her cheek, holding her earnest gaze. “I was hoping you’d want to move in with me next week.”
Chapter Nineteen
Shiloh heard the sincerity, the hope, in Roan’s voice as he held her gaze. Her emotions were a mass of indecision within her. “I need time to feel my way through this, Roan.”
“I understand,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her elbow. “It’s a lot to digest.” Roan led her out of the master bedroom.
“What about the stalker?” she asked, her heart expanding with yearning for him. At the same time, the fear of the stalker never left her. It just went up and down in volume.
He pulled out a chair for her. “Just before I left the main ranch, I called Sheriff Sarah Carter over at the sheriff’s department,” he told her, sitting at her elbow. “We’ve got an appointment to see her at two P.M. today.”
Relief sizzled through Shiloh. “Thank God.”
“She will need you to tell her everything, Shiloh. From the moment this stalker started shadowing you.”
“Oh, she’ll get everything,” she promised him, raw emotion in her voice. She reached out, touching his arm, feeling the muscles tense where she slid her fingertips across the dark hair scattered on his lower arm. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from protecting you.”
It was true. She saw it in the glint of his gray eyes. Heard the steel behind the words as he spoke them. “Well,” she said, trying to smile and failing, “I’m grateful. At least out here”—she fondly looked around the quiet cabin—“I have people who believe me.”
Roan picked up her hand, squeezing it gently. “And you have people who have your back, Shiloh. Steve, Maud, and all the rest of the employees, man or woman, are going to be watching out for you too. The more educated, aware eyes we have on this situation, the better protected you are.”
“I hate what he’s done to me, Roan.” She rubbed the nape of her neck, giving him an apologetic look. “Every shadow became him waiting for me.”
“That’s a normal reaction, Shiloh,” he soothed.
“But you would have handled it differently.”
“There’s a gulf between you and me in that regard,” he told her. “I’m trained for close quarters combat. I know what I can do to defend myself. You’ve never been trained, Shiloh. Maybe what I should do is show you some moves that could render your attacker useless. I think if I show you those moves, you’ll feel better. Much of your fear is based on the fact you don’t have a way to defend yourself. Or am I wrong?”
Shiloh thought about it, her brows dropping. She glanced up at him. “You’re always the quiet voice of reason, Roan. You’re right. I don’t know how to defend myself. I’ve never had a reason to learn.”
“Let me show you the room at the rear of the cabin. Remember the big room that had a lot of windows and you wondered what I’d do with it?”
“Yes.” She smiled a little as he slowly unwound from the chair. There was no question that Roan had a lethality to him. Just now, she became more aware of his warrior side. It wasn’t something he had shown her before, but she suspected because of the topic, he was allowing her to see a part of him he kept well hidden. “Sure. Has every room in the cabin got stuff in it?”
“Well,” Roan hedged, pulling her chair back for her, “most . . . but there’s two rooms I’ve more or less left like an empty canvas to be painted on.”
“I love your analogy.” Shiloh rose and smoothed her jeans down her thighs. She followed Roan across the living room and down to the end of the hall. When he’d taken her through the rooms weeks ago, they had all been empty canvases. Now, they were thoughtfully and beautifully appointed.
Roan stepped aside and gestured to the brass doorknob. “Open it and go in. See what you think?”
Shiloh felt a little bit like a kid at Christmas, barely able to wait to tear off the wrapping on the packages. She pushed the heavy cedar door open. As she moved into the large, rectangular room, with a panel of windows on its southern wall, she halted. She felt Roan come to her side, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “Wow, this is a REAL workout room.” There was a small gym next to the dining room at the ranch headquarters and Shiloh knew Roan was over there every morning, working out. But here, she saw not only weight-lifting equipment, but also half of the room was empty with only a dark blue mat covering the floor.
“I think you might be more interested in this half of the room,” he said, leading her toward the mat.
Shiloh stood near the edge of it. “What’s this for?”
“I was thinking that you really didn’t know any defense moves so I decided to purchase a work mat and I might show you how to protect yourself once you went home.”
She heard a tinge of sadness in Roan’s voice. It wasn’t anything obvious, but as she got to know him, she could sense a slight change of tone, or a look in his eyes or facial expression. “This is wonderful. And thoughtful,” she said, and she gazed up at him, lifting her hand, touching his hard upper arm beneath the chambray shirt he wore. Shiloh saw that warmth in his eyes for her again and heat sheeted first to her heart, which expanded with a rush of joy, and then straight down to her lower body. She ached to love this man again.
“Well, if you want, we can always drive out here for an hour and do some practice moves. You just let me know.”
Turning, Shiloh followed him out. There were two doors on her left and she halted at the one next to the gym. “What’s in there? Have you decorated them, too?” Her curiosity was eating her alive. Everything else in Roan’s home was inspiring to her. The surprise was he knew color and design. She looked up at Roan halted. He seemed undecided.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Hesitating, Shiloh opened the door. It was an empty room, the large windows allowing in northern light. What caught her attention was the room was painted a soft, light lavender color. It was her favorite color. Roan came to her side and she looked up at him. Had he done this with her in mind? Her intuition told her yes. She wasn’t going there. At least, not yet. “It’s pretty,” she said. “Nice and roomy.”
“It’s one of the two rooms that are the blank canvas,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “The one next door is the same.”
“As I recall, it was going to be a second bedroom?”
“Yes, still will be. This is the office.”
Her heart beat a little faster. Roan had already invited her to come and live with him. It was such a huge step, the implications major in her life. And she waffled, feeling terrible because every particle of her being wanted to be with Roan. If only the stalker could be identified and found . . .
* * *
Shiloh could barely contain herself as Sarah Carter, commander of the Lincoln County sheriff’s department, invited them to sit down. She had a glass-enclosed office, a huge maple desk, and there were two comfortable chairs out in front of where she was sitting. The midafternoon sun was muted because her office was on the north side of the massive three-story red br
ick building.
Shiloh liked the woman’s red hair tamed into a bun at the base of her neck. Dressed in the khaki uniform, she was near Shiloh’s own height of five foot nine and had light green eyes, the color of spring leaves, her face heart-shaped and beautiful. She thought Sarah might be in her late twenties, although she looked more college-age to her. There was an intensity to the sheriff’s large eyes. Shiloh thought she missed little and that made her feel good. She introduced herself and shook Sarah’s long hand. There was nothing weak about the woman but she didn’t come off as tough and hard, either. That made her breathe easier.
“Roan was telling me earlier you have a story to tell me, Shiloh?”
She felt her palms grow damp and clasped them in her lap. “I do.” She handed her the list of people who had been at Wind River the morning she felt threatened. Sarah thanked her and set it next to her computer.
Sarah opened up her laptop. “Fire away. I’m all ears. Let’s see if we can help you.”
Shiloh felt relief because Sarah was open and warm. The woman was totally unlike the New York City policemen and the detective who had come to her apartment, and the forensics team who had dusted her door for fingerprints of her stalker. There was doubt from the very beginning and the detective, especially, seemed to question her sanity. Taking a deep breath, Shiloh launched into the story.
She felt shaky and unnerved by the time she finished, an hour later. Sarah was dutifully typing everything into the computer. And sometimes, she’d asked questions.
Glancing over at Roan, who had gone and gotten them some fresh coffee, she took the cup from him, grateful he was there with her. She felt his blanket of protection as surely as he’d wrapped a real blanket around her shoulders.
Sarah scowled. She went to her notes in the desktop computer. “Okay, so let’s look at Leath.”
“But, he’s in prison,” Shiloh protested. “He’s got five years before he can get out.” She sipped the coffee.
“Well . . . let me just take a look and make sure,” Sarah coaxed. “It’ll take a moment of my time to double-check. I like getting a factual base to work from.”
Shiloh couldn’t see what was on the huge screen facing the sheriff but she saw her arched red brows draw into a scowl, her eyes suddenly narrowing.
“What?” she demanded, her heartbeat starting to take off. “What’s wrong, Sheriff Carter?” Shiloh sat up, suddenly tense, gripping the paper cup in her hands.
Sarah looked over at her. “Anton Leath was given parole ten months ago. He was given five years off his original sentence for good behavior. He’s now on probation. Didn’t you know that?”
Gasping, Shiloh shot out of the chair, the coffee slopping over her and the floor. “No!” She flinched, hearing the cry of terror in her voice. It sounded like a wild animal that was trapped, screaming, knowing it was cornered and going to die. The scalding hot coffee burned her hand and lower arm, and she felt Roan’s hand on her shoulders to steady her. He took the half-emptied cup out of her hands, setting it on the desk.
Gasping, Shiloh cried brokenly, “No! No! That can’t be! They’d have told me! They were supposed to call me when they were going to release him!”
Sarah stood and went over to a file drawer and opened it. She pulled out a small towel and walked over, handing it to her so she could wipe the coffee off herself. “I’m sorry, but it appears from what I can see, you were not notified, Shiloh. I’m sorry.”
Tears burned hotly in her eyes and, blindly, Shiloh used the towel to dry herself off. Roan led her back to the chair, asking her to sit down. She barely heard him. Barely heard anything, a buzzing going on inside her head, her mind spinning and making connections. She sat and pressed her hands against her tear-splattered face, trying to get a hold of her wild, panicked emotions.
Roan sat down, sliding his arm around her shoulders. “Try to take some deep breaths, Shiloh. It will help settle the adrenaline surging through you.”
Roan’s low, quiet voice cut through her anxiety and terror. She felt the warm strength of his hand gently smoothing the fabric of her blouse against her hunched, tensed shoulders. Closing her eyes, hands gripped in her lap, she did as he asked, listening to him, his voice melting away a little of her terror. Finally, Shiloh lifted her head. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks and looked at Sarah.
“He’s my stalker, then.” The words came out hard and flat. Filled with palpable dread.
Sarah nodded. “Could well be. Hold on . . . let me get to his probation officer’s record on Leath’s whereabouts. . . .” she said, and she typed in some commands.
Shiloh looked over at Roan, so glad his hand remained on her shoulders. She saw he was upset, worried for her. Giving him a misery-laden look, she whispered, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it.”
Roan shook his head. “It’s okay, Shiloh. Did you burn yourself?” he asked, and he slid his hand beneath her tense fingers.
She looked down, her skin reddened here and there where the coffee had splashed upon her. “N-no, I’m okay. It stings a little is all. It’s nothing. I’ll be all right. . . .” But she felt so far from all right, she wanted to run. Shiloh wanted to run directly into Roan’s arms. She saw the glint in the recesses of his eyes, the hardness and determination and protection he wanted to give her. “God,” she whispered, “I don’t dare go back to Manhattan! That’s his hometown, too.”
Sarah looked over at them. “Okay, here’s something that’s probably going to prove that Leath is here in Wyoming, right now.” She tapped the screen with her index finger. “His probation officer has noted that in the last month, Leath has failed to show up for three of his weekly sessions.”
“That’s got to be a violation,” Roan growled.
“Yes, it is. They have a warrant out for his arrest,” Sarah added. She held up her hand. “Hold on while I try to get his probation officer on the phone. Maybe he can give me more intel.”
Shiloh felt as if the world had just collapsed in on her. Anton Leath was after her. She licked her lower lip and whispered unsteadily to Roan, “He promised to come after me.”
Roan scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I was sitting behind him in the courtroom and after the jury sentenced him, he turned around and said when he got out, he’d come after me and finish it off.” She saw Roan’s eyes become shards of ice.
“You need to tell that to Sarah,” he murmured, rubbing her shoulders gently.
“I will. . . .” she said, and she sniffed, feeling tears burning in her eyes again. Valiantly, Shiloh fought them away.
“You’re upset,” Roan said, giving her a small smile of encouragement, holding her shattered gaze. “There’s no way you’re going to remember everything the first time around. I’m sure Sarah will be asking you more questions as soon as she gets off the phone. Okay?”
Just his reassurance gave Shiloh purchase. “Y-yes.” Her gaze went to Sarah as she made connection with the probation officer. She sat quietly, listening to Sarah’s end of the conversation. When Sarah asked the officer to send her photos and the file on Leath, Shiloh started feeling a little relief. Sarah believed her. The sheriff’s department would help her.
Sarah hung up the phone, her face grim. She held Shiloh’s broken gaze. “You heard what I asked for. What we’ll do is distribute Leath’s photo to every deputy here in Lincoln County, as well as other law enforcement agencies in the surrounding counties, including the state of Idaho, which is less than fifty miles away from Jackson Hole.” She frowned and rustled her slender fingers through a pile of papers, studying a schedule. “And I’m assigning a detective to this investigation, Shiloh. He will go undercover. I’m going to instruct him to be nosing around Wind River, and several other smaller towns along Highway 89 that run through the center of the valley. Our man will be dressed as a tourist so Leath won’t be able to spot him that easily. I’ll get this detective, who is coming on for the next shift, and give him the intel and his orders.”
&nbs
p; “That sounds wonderful,” Shiloh whispered. She grimaced. “Sarah? Why didn’t the New York City police find this out? Why didn’t they check to see if Leath was already released?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes departments get overwhelmed and steps are missed or thought to be low importance at the station. I’m sure when you told the police and the detective that Leath was in federal prison, they didn’t bother to check your statement. They should have, but they didn’t.” She opened her hands. “They’re human too, Shiloh. It doesn’t excuse this mistake, however.”
“It sounds like they put Shiloh’s issue at the bottom rung of a lot of other investigations that were probably considered more high priority,” Roan said.
“Exactly.” Sarah nodded. “What ELSE can you tell me about Leath? Anything you can give me will help us to find him. Even if you don’t think it’s important, tell me anyway.”
Shiloh nodded and closed her eyes, going back to the time when her mother started dating Leath, and slowly moved forward from that time until he stabbed her to death. It took another hour and by the time she was finished, Shiloh felt gutted and emotionally exhausted. It was five P.M.
“This is very helpful,” Sarah congratulated her, giving her a look of sympathy. “All of this is valuable intel, Shiloh. I’m sorry we had to put you through it again.”
“I’d rather do it because you at least believe me.”
Roan pointed to the paper that Shiloh had given him earlier. “That’s the list of people who were on the Wind River the morning that Shiloh had that threat reaction. She didn’t know any of the people, but Leath could have put down a fake name, too.”
Sarah picked it up, rapidly perusing it. “I wouldn’t put anything past him, but I’ll have one of my deputies run these names through our system, see if we get a hit. If we don’t, then I’ll assign someone to call every B and B, motel, and hotel here in our county, as well as in Teton County where Jackson Hole is located, to see if he’s around and under the assumed name. If we get anything, I’ll let you know right away, Shiloh.”
Wind River Wrangler Page 25
