Stalked In Conard County. Rachel Lee

hardened her resolve. “Sure there is. That man soiled my memories of this house and this town. They were good memories, all of them. I don’t want to let him taint them.”

      He tipped his head back to drink more coffee, then he gave her a heart-melting smile. “You’re tough, Haley. Know that?”

      She blinked. “I don’t think so. I’ve been thinking about turning tail for hours now.”

      “That makes you all the tougher. You’re refusing to give ground to your past. As for this creep…” He shrugged. “I don’t know the stats, but I imagine Peeping Toms don’t often do more than look. Want me to check that out online?”

      She had to laugh. “Would you believe the first thing I really noticed when I got here was that Grandma didn’t have a computer and doesn’t have internet? I may start suffering withdrawal soon.”

      “Your smartphone can pick up some of the slack if you want. We have good reception here in town.”

      She shook her head a little. “I think it’ll do me good to break the habit.” Then her stomach rumbled, startling her. She glanced at the clock. “Has it really been that long since lunch?”

      “We ate early,” he reminded her.

      “Well, if you’re hungry, I’ll get out the leftovers.”

      She even went as far as to bring out the crockery. Flora would never have considered serving anything in containers, not even leftovers. A nice touch. Also another journey down memory lane.

      She skipped serving it in the dining room, however. Grandma considered the kitchen table to be for working on, not eating on, but Haley changed all that in just a few minutes. She’d never had a separate dining room in all her life except when she was here.

      Inevitably, though, night drew close and Roger, nice as he’d been all day, had to get home. He had stuff in his own life to take care of.

      He stayed long enough, however, to help her draw all the curtains once again and to check all the locks.

      Then she was alone with the ticking Regulator, the otherwise silent house, and memories she wished would return to their mausoleums.

      They were just memories now, she reminded herself. They’d lost the power to hurt her unless she let them.

      The guy at the window was another matter, but he wouldn’t even be able to peek in tonight, if he bothered to return.

      With that in mind, she determined she’d spend the night in Grandma’s room. It was where she wanted to be, and it even had a small television on the bureau, something that had surprised her. Maybe an addition when her grandmother had started to become ill.

      Soon she was settled in, wrapped comfortably in blankets and surrounded by good memories. The best memories.

      To hell with the creep.