Stalked In Conard County. Rachel Lee

as if she had cut something off. Yeah, on the occasions when Haley’s dad came to visit, he’d taken an upstairs bedroom. Other than that, however, those rooms had remained untouched.

      Maybe as a result of heartbreak, Flora had narrowed her life down to one floor of this house and her church. Haley, who would have been too young to know this, had heard her father talking about it once with her mother. How they should insist Flora sell the house and come to live with them.

      Haley had no idea why her mother had opposed the idea. Maybe because her mother hadn’t been happy living in the oil fields. Or maybe whatever her mother had thought hadn’t mattered. Maybe Flora had just refused to give up her home.

      Shaking her head at the way her thoughts were wandering, realizing she was trying to avoid thinking about the fact that another night was approaching, she carried the boxes into the foyer. She needed to call around to find who might want them and would pick them up. Her little rental car wasn’t really designed to carry much beyond her and a couple of suitcases.

      Just then, much to her relief, the front door opened, revealing Roger with his arms full of ducting and a paper bag with handles hanging from his arm.

      “Need help?” she asked swiftly.

      “Grab the plastic bag?” he asked. “I thought salad would go well with our leftovers for dinner.”

      So he was planning to be here at least that long. Her heart lifted for the first time all afternoon. Smiling, she took the bag from him and carried it into the kitchen. Inside she found not only two containers holding chef salads, but two tall lattes, still piping hot.

      Roger was already clattering down the basement steps with his armload of galvanized steel, or whatever it was, and she hurried after him. “Do you want me to bring down the coffee?”

      “Nah. Thanks. I’ll be up just as soon as I unload.”

      She placed the coffee cups side by side on the table, unsure if he wanted both himself, and set the containers with salad beside them. She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was nearly five.

      Man, she must have gotten lost in memories, or even her fearful thoughts. It felt as if one second she had hours of the day ahead of her and the next the afternoon was gone.

      Roger emerged at the top of the basement stairs and closed the door behind him. “I didn’t expect to be gone so long,” he said. “I know I told you just a few minutes, but I always underestimate.” He flashed a grin. “Besides, I ran into one of my customers and he wants an adjustment to the saddle I made for him a couple of years ago.”

      He stepped to the table, passing her one of the coffees before pulling out a chair and sitting. She liked the way he settled into this house as if he belonged. After all these years, he probably belonged here more than she did. “What was wrong?”

      “That remains to be seen.” Again another grin. “He may have lost his own padding. The saddle sure shouldn’t have broken down, but as we get older…” He winked at her.

      Haley laughed. “I keep hearing that. My dad started carrying a pillow with him a few years ago. He swears they don’t make a chair soft enough.”

      “He might be right.” He snapped open the lid on his coffee and took a sip. “Ahh. Maude, when you learn to do something new, you learn to do it right.”

      She had to agree. “I’ve never had a better latte.”

      He leaned back in his chair, holding his cup. “You can tell me to skedaddle if you want some private time. I’m done with the basement for today.”

      Private time. No, she didn’t want any. At this moment she wondered how she was going to handle the evening and mostly the night. “You know,” she said slowly, “closed curtains have two purposes.”

      “Yes?”

      “They keep anyone from looking in, but they also keep me from looking out.”

      He sipped his coffee and she could tell he was thinking. “I understand,” he said after a minute or so. “You’re going to be wondering if that Peeping Tom is creeping around the house out there tonight.”

      Haley hated to admit it, but it was true, so she nodded. She couldn’t lie to herself and could see no reason to lie to him. “It’s stupid.”

      “I don’t think so. You’re alone here and that would scare the bejesus out of just about anyone, having someone peer through their window in the middle of the night. I know I wouldn’t like it.”

      She thought that was very generous of him. She somehow had the feeling that little would scare this man. Too big, too competent. She sipped more of the coffee he’d generously provided and wondered if she could change the subject to something that sounded more rational than she was feeling right then. Her next words told her she couldn’t.

      “Something happened to me today,” she offered honestly. “And I don’t like it. Today this house became less welcoming and warm. Just now, as I was packing things, I realized that the charm I’d always felt here in Conard City was evaporating. That’s what I mean by stupid. One creep shouldn’t be able to change my feelings about this whole town. I used to love to play out in front, you remember?”

      “I remember.”

      “The streets, in my memory at least, are always warm and friendly. Not so much this afternoon. And the house is full of some of my best childhood memories. I love it. But now I no longer feel comfortable here. A huge part of me just wants to call someone in to empty out the house while I go back to Baltimore.”

      He looked down at his lap, nodding slowly. “If that’s what you want to do, I can take care of the house. But I wish you wouldn’t, Haley.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I’d hate for you to leave here with a bad taste instead of those warm memories.”

      He had a point. She didn’t think of herself as someone who ran from things, but maybe some vestiges of that five-year-old kidnapping victim remained in her. Some deep-seated fear she didn’t often have to face, if ever. At work, she was fearless. Among her friends at home, she was fearless.

      Or so she had believed. She remembered how her mother had taken her to Michigan after the kidnapping, to get her away from reminders. Maybe she’d learned the wrong lesson from that: run.

      “A penny for your thoughts?” Roger asked. “Or has inflation raised it to a buck?”

      She had to laugh, disturbed as she felt. “I was just thinking. They teach you to do that in therapy, you know, and I had lots of therapy after I was kidnapped.”

      “I should hope so.”

      She half smiled. “I learned not to lie to myself, for one thing. Which doesn’t mean I never do. I’ve built quite a sense of my own strength and the belief in my ability to handle anything. Then I come here and discover I can’t handle a Peeping Tom because the child is still alive and well inside this adult, and she still remembers the stark terror of a man coming through her window and carrying her away. That child isn’t fearless.”

      Something in Roger’s face gentled. He had a man’s face, marked by sun and wind, with a square jaw and crinkles around his green eyes, but right then it looked less like granite and more like something far softer. “I’d be shocked if that child weren’t still with you.”

      “I thought she’d given up her grip.”

      “She probably has, mostly. Then this. How could it not stir things up?”

      She gave a wan, mirthless smile. “Resurrection?”

      “Not completely. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten all the things you learned and practiced over the years. But a whisper? A ghostly reminder? Hell, yeah. Who wouldn’t be disturbed?”

      She sipped more of the coffee, savoring its milky, bitter heat, and thought over what he’d said. She reached one