Texas Prey. Barb Han

give the sheriff something to go on.

      Her best chance at seeing him behind bars, overdue justice for her brother, had just slipped away. If that was him, a little voice inside her head reminded.

      Did he have her cell phone? A cold chill ran down her back.

      Wait a minute. Couldn’t the sheriff track him using GPS?

      Anger balled inside her as she drove the couple of blocks to the sheriff’s office. What if they didn’t believe her?

      She hadn’t physically been there in years, and yet she could still recall the look of pity on Sheriff Randall Brine’s face the last time she’d visited. His gaze had fixed on her for a couple seconds, contemplating her. Then, he’d said, “Have you thought about getting away for a little while? Maybe take a long vacation?”

      “I’m fine,” she’d said, but they both knew she was lying.

      “I know,” he’d said too quickly. “I was just thinking how nice it’d be to walk through the surf. Eat fresh seafood for a change.” Deep circles cradled his dark blue eyes and he looked wrung out. She’d written it off as guilt, thinking she was probably the last person he wanted to see. Was she a reminder of his biggest failure? Then again, it seemed no one wanted to see her around. “We’ve done everything we can. I wish I had better news. I’ll let you know if we get any new information.”

      “But—”

      His tired stare had pinned her before he picked up his folder and refocused on what he’d been reading before she’d interrupted him.

      Rebecca had wanted to stomp her feet and make a scene to force him to listen to her. In her heart, she knew he was right. And she couldn’t depend on the sheriff to investigate every time something went bump in the night or a complete stranger reminded her of him.

      Somehow, life had to go on.

      Heaven knew her parents, overwrought with grief, had stopped talking to each other and to their friends. Instead of real conversation, there’d been organized searches, candlelight vigils and endless nights spent scouring fields.

      When search teams thinned and then disappeared altogether, there’d been nothing left but despair. They’d divorced a year following Shane’s disappearance. Her dad had eventually remarried and had two more children, both boys. And her mother never forgave him for it. She’d limited visitation, saying she was afraid Rebecca would feel awkward.

      After, both parents had focused too much attention on Rebecca, which had smothered her. There’d been two and a half years of endless counseling and medication until she’d finally stood up to them. No more, she’d said, wanting to be normal again, to feel ordinary. And even though she’d returned to a normal life after that, nothing was ever normal again.

      Although the monster hadn’t returned, he’d left panic, loneliness and the very real sense that nothing would ever be okay again.

      Since then, she’d had a hard time letting anyone get close to her, especially men. The one person who’d pushed past her walls in high school, Brody, had scared her more than her past. He’d been there that night. He’d stepped forward and said she was meeting him to give him back a shirt he had to have for camp so she wouldn’t have to betray her friends. Her mother had never forgiven him. He’d been the one person Rebecca could depend on, who hadn’t treated her differently, and he deserved so much more than she could give. Even as a teenager she’d known Brody deserved more.

      Separating herself from him in high school had been the right thing to do, she reminded herself. Because every time she’d closed her eyes at night, fear that the monster would return consumed her. Every dark room she’d stood in front of had made her heart pound painfully against her chest. Every strange sound had caused her pulse to race.

      And time hadn’t made it better.

      She often wondered if things would have turned out differently if she’d broken the pact and told authorities the real reason they’d been out.

      Probably not. She was just second-guessing herself again. None of the kids had been involved.

      Once Shane had been discovered following her, they’d broken up the game and gone home. Nothing would’ve changed.

      Rebecca refocused as she pulled into a parking spot at the sheriff’s office. By the time she walked up the steps to the glass doors, she’d regained some of her composure.

      The deputy at the front desk acknowledged her with a nod. She didn’t recognize him and figured that was good. He might not know her, either.

      “How can I help you?”

      “I need to speak to the sheriff.”

      “Sorry. He’s not in. I’m Deputy Adams.” The middle-aged man offered a handshake. “Can I help you?”

      “I need to report an assault. I believe it could be connected to a case he worked a few years ago.” She introduced herself as she shook his hand.

      The way his forehead bunched after he pulled her up in the database made her figure he was assessing her mental state. Her name must’ve been flagged. He asked a few routine-sounding questions, punched the information into the keyboard and then folded his hands and smiled. A sympathetic look crossed his features. “I’ll make sure the report is filed and on the sheriff’s desk as soon as he arrives.”

      Deputy Adams might be well intentioned, but he wasn’t exactly helpful. His response was similar as she reported her missing phone.

      Not ready to accept defeat, she thanked him, squared her shoulders and headed into the hot summer sun.

      Local law enforcement was no use, and she’d known that on some level. They’d let the man slip through their fingers all those years ago and hadn’t found him since. What would be different now?

      She thought about the fact that her little brother would be twenty-two years old now. That he’d be returning home from college this summer, probably fresh from an athletic scholarship. Even at seven, he’d been obsessed with sports. Maybe he still was. A part of her still refused to believe he was gone.

      Rebecca let out a frustrated hiss. I’m so sorry, Shane.

      What else could she do? She had to think. Wait a minute. What about her cell? If her attacker had picked it up, could she track him somehow? Her phone might be the key. She could go home and search the internet to find out how to locate it and possibly find him. And then do what? Confront him? Alone? Even in her desperate state she knew that would be a dangerous move.

      Could she take Alcorn up on his offer to help?

      And say what?

      Would he believe her when the sheriff’s office wouldn’t?

      She needed help. Someone she could trust.

      Brody? He was back from the military.

      Even though she hadn’t seen him in years, he might help.

      If she closed her eyes, she could remember his face perfectly. His honest, clear blue eyes and sandy-blond hair with dark streaks on a far-too-serious-for-his-age face punctuated a strong, squared jaw. By fifteen, he was already six foot one. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d look now that he was grown. The military had most likely filled out his muscles.

      When she’d returned to school after a year of being homeschooled, kids she’d known all her life had diverted their gazes from her in the hallway when she walked past. Conversations turned to whispers. Teachers gave her extra time to complete assignments and spoke to her slowly, as if she couldn’t hear all of a sudden. Even back then, the pain pierced through the numbness and hurt. She’d felt shunned. As the years passed, she realized no one knew what to say and she appreciated them for trying. She got used to being an outsider. Her tight-knit group of friends had split up. She’d figured they were afraid to be connected with her or just plain afraid of her.

      Not Brody. He’d stopped by her house every