Read Online Stranger in Cold Creek by Paula Graves - Free Book Online Page B

strange, having this big blank place in my memory. I know something happened. I remember the aftermath. But what happened before—”
    â€œThat’s not uncommon with concussions.”
    â€œThat’s what the doctor said. Knowing that doesn’t really help, though. I need to remember what happened. Why it happened. My roof lights were on—and apparently I made a call to the station to tell them what was happening.”
    â€œRight. I talked to the desk sergeant when I called for help. He said you’d said someone was following you.”
    â€œI don’t remember that at all. But obviously, someone was. Chambers—that was the sergeant at the desk when I called it in—said I gave a description of the vehicle. Dark blue Ford Taurus.”
    â€œSame as the car we saw parked out on the highway. And apparently the car that was driving around here last night, too.”
    â€œI must not have gotten the plate number, though. Someone would have told me.” She started to say something else, but the trill of her cell phone lying on the table beside her interrupted. She frowned at the display and picked up the phone, meeting John’s gaze with an upward flick of her eyebrows. “Hi, Dad.”
    Her mild amusement disappeared almost immediately, her gray eyes darkening with anger. “How bad?”
    Her father’s answer made her jaw clench tightly. “Stay put, I’m on my way. I’ll call the station.” She hung up the phone and pushed to her feet, already halfway out of the kitchen.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” John asked as he caught up with her in the living room.
    She grabbed her jacket and shrugged it on, turning to look at him, her eyes ablaze with fury. “Somebody tossed my house last night.”

Chapter Six
    Miranda came to a stop in the middle of the living room, her head aching and her stomach in knots at the sight of the mess intruders had made of her normally tidy living room. Sofa cushions had been removed from the frame and ripped apart, despite having zippered covers that could have been easily taken off. Books had been pulled from the built-in bookshelves that flanked the fireplace and left scattered on the floor beneath.
    In the kitchen, the cabinets had been emptied and any open containers had been poured into the sink, creating a mess that would be a nightmare to clean up. She’d probably have to have a plumber in to clean out the pipes.
    Her mattress had been stripped and cut open, just like the cushions from the sofa, and her closets emptied, the clothes left scattered on the gutted mattress and floor. The sheer level of cleanup that lay ahead of Miranda was enough to make her want to curl up in a corner and cry. Instead, she finished her circuit of the vandalized house and returned to the living room.
    â€œWhat the hell were they looking for?” she asked, lifting her gaze to meet the troubled eyes of her father.
    â€œI don’t know.” He made a helpless openhanded gesture toward her, and she crossed to where he stood, letting him wrap her up in a bear hug that made her feel both small and safe at the same time.
    Boots on the front porch announced the return of Miles Randall, giving her time to extricate herself from her father’s embrace and face the sheriff with her chin held high. Coy Taylor, who’d come on the call with the sheriff, gave her a sympathetic nod as he entered and closed out the cold behind him.
    â€œThe shed out back has been tossed, too,” Randall told her, his dark eyes apologetic. “Can you tell if anything’s been taken?”
    She shook her head. “Anything worth any money is still here—TV, stereo equipment, appliances. I don’t own any valuable jewelry, and my laptop was in my truck, locked in the chest. Was the lawn mower still in the shed? And the generator?”
    Taylor nodded.
    â€œThen they didn’t take anything worth anything out of there,