Chapter Eleven #2
He inhaled deeply with anticipation, then pushed the handle and slipped through the threshold. All heads turned as he passed by and murmurs halted. Killian, leaning against the wall, offered a curt nod. Encouraged, Rawley approached Dave’s office and tapped his knuckles on the glass.
Inside, Dave lifted his gaze from a stack of files. His brows shot up, eyes widening in surprise at Rawley’s sudden appearance. Then he exhaled slowly and waved him inside. Rawley pushed open the door and stepped into the room.
“I thought you were off duty today,” Dave said, eyebrow arched, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair.
Rawley kept his tone steady. “Mind if I sit?”
Dave gestured to the chair, its fabric worn at the arms. “Go ahead.”
Rawley perched on the edge, hands clasped. “I’m not wrong to suspect those men, Dave. They’re dangerous, not just because they trailed me and my date. But take a look at the tread pattern on their truck tires. I’m convinced they match the other tracks at the Mitchell ranch.”
Dave shook his head. “You’re convinced. If I had a dollar for every time my gut told me I was on the right trail, I’d be sipping margaritas in retirement by now.
Rawley, you’re sharp, your instincts have saved agents more than once.
But without probable cause, we can’t run those plates. And they’d probably give fake names.”
“I figured as much.”
Dave leaned forward, fingers steepled. “We have to have cause.” Dave held his hand up when Rawley opened his mouth. “You’re fixated on those tags to the exclusion of everything else. Did you ask for their IDs?”
“No, sir. We were in the diner, and I didn’t want to scare anyone.”
“If you’re right about them, we’ll find out and you can bring them in, but until we have probable cause, step back. We don’t need to scare them off if they are involved.”
Rawley tightened his jaw. “I need to speak with Sam.”
Dave’s gaze hardened. “Sam Garrett won’t run them, and you know it.”
“He doesn’t have to. He can alert his deputies to keep an eye out for that truck. I know what it looks like. If they spot it, they’ll have to have a valid reason to pull it over, but if they do, they can run the plates legitimately.”
Dave tapped a pen on his desk. Then he nodded once. “That could work. I’ll call Sam.” He lifted the phone, dialed, and exchanged a few low-toned words. Finally, he glanced up at Rawley. “Get to your desk and I’ll transfer Sam”
Rawley rose and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He left the office, the door clicking shut behind him, retraced his steps to his desk, and sank into his chair. He picked up the desk phone receiver and pressed the button.
“Sam?”
“Hey, Rawley. Give me a description of that truck and I’ll have my deputies keep an eye out. I don’t have to tell you that unless they do something wrong, we can’t pull them over without probable cause.”
“I understand that Sam. Please let me know.”
“Will do.”
After Rawley described the truck, he gave Sam the tag number. After a brief conversation, Sam disconnected and Rawley got back to work. Dave hadn’t told him to leave, so he scrolled through the tire tracks again.
****
Skylar sat at her desk, the golden late-afternoon light slanting through the blinds onto crisp sheets of printer paper.
The house was unnervingly quiet; the only sound was the soft rhythmic whir of the antique brass ceiling fan that cast spidery shadows across the eggshell walls.
She tapped her silver fountain pen against a leather-bound notepad, her stomach knotting as she hoped Rawley was alright.
He had left more than an hour ago; with every passing minute, her concern grew.
Had he headed home? Or did he go back to work, unable to return?
She stared at her phone, willing it to ring.
With a heavy sigh that seemed to deflate her entire frame, she lifted her phone from the polished desktop, manicured fingers scrolling through names until his handsome face and name appeared and sent him a quick text.
Are you alright? Her lips curved into a relieved smile when she saw the bubbles dancing across the screen.
Well, he didn’t throw me out of the building. I’m back at work. I’ll talk to you later, baby. Have a great day.
You too.
Now she had no idea what to do for the remaining hours of the sweltering summer day.
She had planned to write chapter twelve of her manuscript, but once Rawley showed up that plan vanished like morning mist. When her phone vibrated against the desk’s surface, she quickly snapped it up with trembling fingers, hoping to see him texting back, but it was Sydney Wright, so she pressed the green button to answer.
“Sydney, hello!”
“Hi, Skylar. I was thinking about the second Wednesday in the month for the signing. Will that be okay with you?” Sydney’s voice came through the speaker.
“Yes, it sounds perfect,” Skylar replied, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.
“You’ll be here from ten until noon. No need for a presentation, just a straight signing. Can you send me a photo that you use so I can have a poster made? There’s a place in Spring City that can do that in no time.”
“Sure. I’ll send you the one I use on the jackets of the books.”
“Perfect. Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem. I can’t wait. Talk soon.” Skylar hung up, her thumb lingering on the warm screen.
She was anxious about the signing and hoped to ask Rawley to stop in and see her. Maybe grab lunch or at least try.
Skylar stood in front of the thermostat on the wall. The digital display glowed at seventy-two degrees.
“Bullshit. It’s not. It’s hot outside and in here too.” She jabbed at the thermostat, as if her irritation alone could force cool air through the vents. She hoped by the time her signing rolled around, the weather would be cooler.
When the day of her book signing arrived, autumn had ambushed summer with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, plunging twenty degrees overnight.
It was barely fifty outside and her fingers felt like icicles.
She glanced down at the sensation of fur brushing her ankles, Cosmo weaving figure-eight patterns, his blue eyes staring up expectantly as he released a plaintive meow.
“I’ll get your food in a few minutes. Geesh, aren’t you cold?” She couldn’t help but laugh when the cat flopped dramatically onto his side, then rolled to expose his white belly to the supposedly frigid air. “I guess you’re not.”
After forcing down a breakfast of toast, she retreated to her bedroom and pulled out a pair of worn-in jeans and a pastel blue cashmere sweater.
This was small town, after all, and they didn’t need someone putting on airs.
She wanted them to know she was one of them now, just a local girl who happened to write books.
At five minutes to ten, Skylar’s stomach twisted into knots as she stood behind a row of mahogany shelves filled with colorful spines. Her clammy hands fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. She exhaled with relief when Sydney, her red hair bouncing with each step, came back to her.
“It’s lined up out the door and around the corner,” she said, green eyes sparkling.
“Really?”
“Yes! We’ve sold over fifty copies of your books just this morning. Now you just have to sign them all.”
“I was afraid no one would show up,” Skylar admitted, tugging at a loose strand of her hair.
“Are you kidding? Between you and Cassidy Marlowe, I barely need to stock other authors.”
“I love Cassidy’s work. I met her years ago at a signing in Chicago. I heard she got married.”
“She did. To Ash Beckett. I invited her today, but they went out of town.”
“Oh, that’s too bad, wait. Ash Beckett? With Beckett Feed?”
“Yes, that’s him. They’re wonderful people. Oh, we’d better get you out there. Ready?”
“No.” Skylar took a deep breath that filled her lungs completely, released it slowly through pursed lips, then nodded. “Yes.”
An hour later, her cheeks ached from smiling and laughing at the heartfelt stories readers shared.
As she reached for a book from a silver-haired woman in line, the brass bell above the door jingled.
Skylar glanced up and felt ice water replace the blood in her veins as the five men entered the store, their cold eyes locked on her.
The one in front grinned, revealing teeth that reminded her of a wolf on the prowl, and terror shot through her like lightning.
“Are you alright?” Sydney whispered, her warm breath tickling Skylar’s ear.
“Uh, no.” She looked at the puzzled faces in line. “If you all could just excuse me for a minute. I need to use the ladies room. Please stay in line and no cutting.” She stood on trembling legs and clutched Sydney’s wrist. “I’ll only be a minute. Please don’t let anyone follow me.”
“Skylar...”
“I’ll be fine. I need to call Rawley right now.”
“Alright.”
Skylar quickly made her way to the bathroom, entered, locked the door, and pulled her phone from her pocket, then sent a text to Rawley.
Those men are here at the bookstore. She sent it and waited, but there was no response.
Dear God, how could she go out there and act natural?
What were those men doing here and how did they know…
the poster on the window. She’d bet they saw it and decided to stop in and scare her.
Scare her? That was a damn understatement.
She’d been hoping they had left Clifton since it had been a while now since she saw them, and she didn’t ask Rawley about them. Afraid of what he’d tell her.
After another minute and still nothing. She had to go back out there. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door, then walked back out to the table. She smiled at the line of people, and the men still stood at the back. She sat down in the chair again, putting her hand out to the next person.
****