Read Online Lone Star Legacy by Roxanne Rustand - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roxanne Rustand
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Western, Texas, Murderers, Fiction - Romance, Widows, American Light Romantic Fiction, Romance - Contemporary, Ex-police officers, Romance: Modern, Single mothers, Romance - Western, American Western Fiction
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on the counter and bowing her head.
Joel shook his head slowly. “So we’ve established that this guy called you even before you moved here. He has made threats. And, with a little work, he could trace you right to your door.”
A shiver ran down Beth’s spine.
“Which then brings up the big question—who is he, and why would anyone want to bother you?”
S HE MANAGED TO HEDGE with vague replies and nonchalance, and breathed a sigh of relief when Joel finally left. The dark look in his eyes promised that the subject was far from over, but what could she say? She didn’t know who her caller was. The big-city cops hadn’t been able to find him—and she’d seen the doubt in their eyes at any rate. Most of them probably figured the story was a weak cover for all the money Patrick had supposedly embezzled and hidden away.
And worse, her amateur investigation into Patrick’s activities had apparently triggered her stalker in the first place. So now, if the guy caught wind of someone asking too many questions of people back in Chicago, there might be a chance that he could panic. And until she found what he was after—if the items even existed—she just couldn’t risk it. Not for her sake, and especially not for Sophie’s. What would she do if he arrived at her door and forced his way inside?
Just a few months of work on the café and the sale of the property, then she and Sophie would be on their way to Montana. And with that move, she’d be smarter. She’d rent a post office box, get an unlisted phone number and figure out a way to avoid leaving any other sort of trail someone could follow.
Too tense to think of sleeping, she called Melanie to discuss her progress on the remodeling, then she quietly tackled the remaining wallpaper, soaking it with a sponge and trying to pry up the edges with a scraper. It came away in slimy, thumbnail-sized bits, a painstaking process that kept her hands busy but her mind free to dwell on all the troubles ahead.
By three o’clock in the morning her arms and fingers ached, and bed was a welcome thought. So much for that, she muttered to herself. Bracing her hands at the small of her back, she ambled to the windows facing the street and lifted one for a breath of fresh air.
A dark sedan idled on the street, the dim glow of its instrument panel just visible, though its headlights were turned off.
Across the street and to the north, there were only empty lots, and Canyon Street ended just a hundred feet past her house at a pasture fence. To the south, the vet clinic was closed. So why would anyone be out there at this time of night?
A minute later, the car eased away from the curb and disappeared into the darkness without ever turning its headlights on.
There was no basis for calling the cops—just a couple anonymous phone calls. An idling car that may have just held two lovers talking into the wee hours.
Beth sat at the window and kept watch until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and then she drifted off into a troubled sleep.
I N THE MORNING , Beth awoke bleary-eyed but with new resolve. While Sophie slept, she found her to do list, and rewrote every one of the twenty tasks in order of revised importance for opening the café as soon as possible.
With the kitchen cupboards done, Joel had promised to tackle the plumbing problems next, followed by the installation of a small, commercial dishwasher. After that, she’d paint the kitchen a bright off-white and he could put down the vinyl flooring.
And when she wasn’t working at the vet clinic or taking care of Sophie, she’d be scrubbing, painting and wallpapering the dining area itself. But first thing today, a local rubbish hauler was scheduled to stop by with his hulking son to finally clear out the junk in the yard.
Whistling, she opened the windows so she could hear if Sophie awakened and called her, then she hurried downstairs to survey the project one more time.
She opened the front
Joel shook his head slowly. “So we’ve established that this guy called you even before you moved here. He has made threats. And, with a little work, he could trace you right to your door.”
A shiver ran down Beth’s spine.
“Which then brings up the big question—who is he, and why would anyone want to bother you?”
S HE MANAGED TO HEDGE with vague replies and nonchalance, and breathed a sigh of relief when Joel finally left. The dark look in his eyes promised that the subject was far from over, but what could she say? She didn’t know who her caller was. The big-city cops hadn’t been able to find him—and she’d seen the doubt in their eyes at any rate. Most of them probably figured the story was a weak cover for all the money Patrick had supposedly embezzled and hidden away.
And worse, her amateur investigation into Patrick’s activities had apparently triggered her stalker in the first place. So now, if the guy caught wind of someone asking too many questions of people back in Chicago, there might be a chance that he could panic. And until she found what he was after—if the items even existed—she just couldn’t risk it. Not for her sake, and especially not for Sophie’s. What would she do if he arrived at her door and forced his way inside?
Just a few months of work on the café and the sale of the property, then she and Sophie would be on their way to Montana. And with that move, she’d be smarter. She’d rent a post office box, get an unlisted phone number and figure out a way to avoid leaving any other sort of trail someone could follow.
Too tense to think of sleeping, she called Melanie to discuss her progress on the remodeling, then she quietly tackled the remaining wallpaper, soaking it with a sponge and trying to pry up the edges with a scraper. It came away in slimy, thumbnail-sized bits, a painstaking process that kept her hands busy but her mind free to dwell on all the troubles ahead.
By three o’clock in the morning her arms and fingers ached, and bed was a welcome thought. So much for that, she muttered to herself. Bracing her hands at the small of her back, she ambled to the windows facing the street and lifted one for a breath of fresh air.
A dark sedan idled on the street, the dim glow of its instrument panel just visible, though its headlights were turned off.
Across the street and to the north, there were only empty lots, and Canyon Street ended just a hundred feet past her house at a pasture fence. To the south, the vet clinic was closed. So why would anyone be out there at this time of night?
A minute later, the car eased away from the curb and disappeared into the darkness without ever turning its headlights on.
There was no basis for calling the cops—just a couple anonymous phone calls. An idling car that may have just held two lovers talking into the wee hours.
Beth sat at the window and kept watch until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and then she drifted off into a troubled sleep.
I N THE MORNING , Beth awoke bleary-eyed but with new resolve. While Sophie slept, she found her to do list, and rewrote every one of the twenty tasks in order of revised importance for opening the café as soon as possible.
With the kitchen cupboards done, Joel had promised to tackle the plumbing problems next, followed by the installation of a small, commercial dishwasher. After that, she’d paint the kitchen a bright off-white and he could put down the vinyl flooring.
And when she wasn’t working at the vet clinic or taking care of Sophie, she’d be scrubbing, painting and wallpapering the dining area itself. But first thing today, a local rubbish hauler was scheduled to stop by with his hulking son to finally clear out the junk in the yard.
Whistling, she opened the windows so she could hear if Sophie awakened and called her, then she hurried downstairs to survey the project one more time.
She opened the front
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