Stalking Season

TWO

Cheyenne stepped inside the building and stopped as Luke walked up beside her. A dispatcher at a desk in the entry looked up from her computer and smiled as they entered. The woman pushed a lock of gray hair out of her eyes as her gaze swept over Cheyenne and came to rest on Luke.

Her face lit up with a friendly smile. “Hi, Luke. You back for shift change?”

Cheyenne looked up at the deputy and frowned. “You didn’t tell me you were about to go off duty. I don’t want to delay you. I can give my statement to another officer, and you can go on home.

He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. We stay past our shift all the time if we’re trying to help someone in trouble.” He looked back at the woman behind the desk. “If Sheriff Whitman comes in, tell him I’m in the interrogation room taking a statement from Miss Cassidy. If he wants to join us, he can.”

The woman leaned forward with her arms folded on her desk as she smiled at Cheyenne. “Cassidy? Are you the trick rider who’s staying with Dean and Gwen Harwell out at the Little Pigeon Ranch?”

The question stunned Cheyenne, and her eyes widened. She’d been in town less than a week, and this woman already knew about her. Coming to the small resort town of Pigeon Forge had seemed like a good way to lose herself in all the tourists who poured through here each year, but perhaps she’d been wrong.

Cheyenne swallowed before she spoke. “Yes. How did you know?”

The woman waved her hand in dismissal. “This is really a small town, and all the locals know each other.”

Luke frowned and placed his hand on Cheyenne’s elbow. “And Clara knows everybody’s business.” He pointed down the hall. “Our interrogation room is down here. Let’s go in there so we can talk.”

Cheyenne looked over her shoulder as Luke guided her away from the desk. Clara had stood up and was watching them walk away. Her arms were crossed, and a smug smile pulled at her mouth. Cheyenne turned her attention back to Luke as he stopped and opened the door. “Here we are. Would you like something to drink before we begin? I can get you a soda from the vending machine or a cup of coffee, but I have to warn you that by this time of afternoon the coffee is strong enough to make a spoon stand up in it.”

Cheyenne smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Then go in and have a seat.”

She stepped into the small room and surveyed the space. It looked very much like the interrogation rooms she saw on the TV detective show she watched. A table with four chairs sat near one corner of the room and a mirror that appeared to be built into the Sheetrock covered most of the wall opposite.

Luke nudged her to the table and pulled out her chair, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror. “I suppose that’s a two-way mirror. Is there someone on the other side watching us?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can’t promise you there won’t be by the time we get through. If Sheriff Whitman comes in, he may go in there instead of disturbing us. I will tell you, however, that there is a camera in the corner, and it will be recording our conversation. Is that all right with you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. Once I make a statement, it will on record anyway. This isn’t my first time to talk to a police officer.”

Luke’s eyebrows arched. “Really? And when was the first time?”

She sighed, closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead. “I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning—two years ago.”

Luke opened a notepad and wrote something before he glanced back up at her. “Go on.”

Cheyenne took a deep breath. “Well, we’ve already established the facts that I am Cheyenne Cassidy, I moved here a few weeks ago to become a trick rider with the Wild West show and, as Clara has let you know, I’m living at Little Pigeon Ranch.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Clara is very good at her job, but she has a nose for news. She keeps up with everyone in town. Don’t take offense.”

“I won’t. It just surprised me that she knew.” She settled back in her chair. “I moved to Pigeon Forge from Wyoming. My family raised horses on a ranch there, and my father coached the rodeo team at a college nearby. Ever since I can remember, my parents competed in rodeos. My mother did barrel racing and my father was a bronc rider. I started doing trick riding when I was young and began performing on the circuit with them when I was still in elementary school. I’ve been doing it ever since, until recently, when I decided to give it up.”

“Why did you quit?”

Cheyenne closed her eyes and let the memories she tried to keep at bay enter her mind. “About two years ago I started getting anonymous messages and flowers, always white roses, from a secret admirer. Everywhere I went I felt like I was being followed. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of a man in the shadows, but he was smart enough not to let me ever see his face. At first his messages were filled with words of how much he loved me, but that all changed when I starting dating a cowboy on the rodeo circuit. Then they became threatening and filled with ultimatums.”

“What kind of ultimatums?”

“He’d write things telling me I was his and if I didn’t want something to happen to my boyfriend, I’d better break up with him.”

Luke quit writing and looked up at her. “So what did you do?”

Cheyenne’s shoulders sagged. “I broke up with him. I was about to have a nervous breakdown, but that didn’t stop him. He broke into our house several times when we were away. The last time he did, he completely destroyed my room. The only thing missing, however, was a music box my father had given me years before.”

Luke glanced up at her and pursed his lips. “It sounds like he was following a pattern.”

“What do you mean?” Cheyenne asked.

“There are stages that stalkers progress through when they become obsessed with someone. The early stages include things like uncomfortable contact, intimidation and then threatening messages. Things begin to get out of hand when the stalker starts to destroy personal property.”

Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed, and she nodded. “That’s exactly how it progressed over a period of two years, but the police could never catch him. Then six months ago my mother and father left for a rodeo, but I didn’t go. He’d sent me a note telling me that we were finally going to meet, and I was scared. I stayed with some friends. While my folks were at the rodeo, somebody broke into the trailer where they were sleeping and murdered both of them.”

Luke’s lips clamped together and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “They were murdered?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Yes.”

“Did they find out who did it?”

Cheyenne shook her head. “That’s still a subject for debate. The police suspected it was the man who’d been stalking me because the killer left a note saying that their deaths were my punishment because I’d been unfaithful to him and hadn’t come to meet him. There were white roses scattered over my parents’ bodies.”

“So your stalker killed your parents.”

“That’s what the police thought. A few days after the murder, they found the body of Clint Shelton, a rodeo worker, in his truck. He’d left a note saying he couldn’t live with himself any longer, that he’d killed my parents because I had rejected him.”

“You don’t sound like you’re convinced this Shelton guy did it.”

She shook her head. “It just never made sense to me. I barely knew Clint. He was one of the best hazers in the business, but we weren’t friends. He was engaged to be married, so I couldn’t understand why he would become fixated on me.”

“But the police disagreed?”

“Yes. The detective who was in charge of the case was eager to close it, and he took the suicide note as proof that Clint was the killer. There was no DNA or any physical evidence that put him at the scene, though.”

Luke sat back in his chair a moment and stared at her as he tapped the pen he held on the desk. “Wow, I can’t believe all this. You’ve been through a terrible time.”

Cheyenne nodded. “Yes, I have. I tried to stay on the rodeo circuit, but after a few months I knew it would never be the same without my parents. That’s when Bill Johnson, who owns the Wild West show, contacted me. He was a friend of my father’s. In fact, his son Trace was on the rodeo team my father coached, and he has always been a close friend of mine. They wanted to help me put all my bad memories behind, so they offered me a job. Trace got it arranged for me to live out at Dean and Gwen’s ranch.”

After a moment Luke leaned forward and tilted his head to one side. “So I suppose that brings us to today. What happened that made you run into traffic without looking at where you were going?”

A chill ran up Cheyenne’s back as she recalled the incident inside the store. Then she began to speak, and the words poured out of her. She told him of the video of the stolen music box, and the cryptic text messages and phone call that told her he was going to give her one more chance to be with him.

“He accused me of being the reason my parents were dead, that I had turned him into a killer. But he said that he’d forgiven me and was going to give me one more chance to be with him.” She blinked back tears. “The way he said it made me think that if I rejected him again I would pay for it. That sounds like a death threat to me.”

Luke nodded. “It does to me, too. I think you should take this warning seriously.”

She held up her hands in despair. “But what can I do? He’s eluded everybody for the last two years. I don’t want to move again to try and hide from him. I want this nightmare to be out of my life.”

“I understand,” Luke said, “and our department will do everything we can to make sure you’re protected. I think you should think about postponing your debut at the Wild West show until we know more about what’s going on.”

Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t do that. Bill has advertised that Cheyenne Cassidy, three-time women’s winner in the International Trick Riding Competition, will be making her debut appearance. He’s almost sold out for tonight’s performance, so I can’t let him down.”

“Still,” Luke began, “I think—”

She pushed to her feet and clasped her hands in front of her. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it. But I need to get through tonight and then decide what I’m going to do.”

He stared at her for a moment as if he was going to argue. Then he let out a deep breath and pushed to his feet. “Then let me suggest that you stay close to someone you know. Don’t be alone at any time, and as soon as the show is finished, go home.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Then I’ll come by Little Pigeon Ranch tomorrow and check on you.”

Neither one of them said anything for a few minutes as they stared at each other. Then Cheyenne stuck out her hand and tried to smile. “Thank you, Deputy Conrad, for being so nice to me today. I appreciate your concern, and I promise I’ll be very aware of my surroundings.”

His fingers wrapped around hers and he smiled. “I thought you were going to call me Luke.”

Her face grew warm and she tugged her hand loose. “Okay. Luke it is.”

“I’ll drop by the ranch tomorrow and see how things are going with you. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call if you need me.” He pulled his card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My number’s on there, and you can call me anytime.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Luke cleared his throat and held out his hand toward the door. “Now if you’re ready, I’ll drive you back to your truck.”

A slight frown pulled at her forehead. “Don’t you need to clock out of your shift? I can wait until you get done.”

“I’ll come back and do that after I deliver you to your truck,”

“Very well. Let’s go so you can get back. I’m afraid I’ve already delayed you long enough,” she said as she headed toward the door.

“It goes with the job, Cheyenne.” She gave a nod and turned toward the door, but his voice stopped her. “One more thing. Would you mind giving me your cell phone? I’ll have our tech guys check it to see if they can trace where today’s texts and calls came from.”

“Sure,” she said as she pulled it from her pocket and dropped it in his hand.

His fingers closed around it. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

“I’m glad for you to have it if it will help any.”

They didn’t speak again as they walked back to his squad car. The traffic wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier, and before she knew it they’d reached the parking lot where she’d left her truck. When the cruiser stopped, Luke swiveled in the seat, looped his arm over the steering wheel and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you even if I did almost kill you. I hope we meet under happier circumstances.”

Her heart gave a small lurch at the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “I hope so, too,” she said. She opened the door and stepped out of his car.

A few minutes later she was in her truck and driving down the main thoroughfare of town. She looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke trailing along behind her in his car. When she came to the turnoff to the road that would take her to the ranch, she glanced back again. He flipped the headlights on and then off, as if he was signaling goodbye, and then he drove away toward the police station.

For the first time in years she felt a small prick of something that might be called pleasure. It had been so long since she’d had anything to be happy about that she almost didn’t recognize it. Then she smiled. If Luke Conrad was any indication of the kind of people who lived in this area, then she was going to enjoy being here.

As suddenly as the thought struck her, she shook her head and gritted her teeth. There was never going to be happiness in her life until the monster who’d stalked her and killed her parents was behind bars. Maybe then she’d be able to live a normal life like other people. But until then she had to be on her guard every minute. She couldn’t let thoughts of handsome deputies or anything else blind her to the fact that she was never going to be safe until her mysterious stalker was caught.

* * *

Luke’s thoughts centered on Cheyenne Cassidy all the way back to the sheriff’s office. He couldn’t get the young woman with the flashing brown eyes and silky auburn hair out of his mind. With her jeans and boots she’d certainly looked like a cowgirl, but there was a fragile quality about her that made his breath catch in his throat.

He groaned and raked his hand through his hair. What was the matter with him? He would not let himself repeat the mistake he’d made when he’d first become a deputy. He’d been warned not to become personally involved with the people in his cases, but he hadn’t listened.

He’d let his heart rule his head when he’d taken a special interest in Jasmine after she’d been robbed at gunpoint at the convenience store where she worked.

She had seemed fragile, too, and she’d turned out to be about as delicate as an 18-wheeler. She’d leaned heavily on him for support in the weeks following the robbery, and he’d fallen head over heels for her. He’d thought she cared for him, too, until the day the owner of the convenience store called to say that Jasmine was missing along with a hefty sum of money from the cash register.

She and her male companion were arrested a few weeks later in South Carolina. They’d been stopped for a traffic violation and a bench warrant for Jasmine’s arrest showed up when they searched her name. It didn’t take long for her to confess that the man with her was the one who’d robbed the convenience store, and she’d been in on the robbery all along.

After that, Luke had decided he was going to be careful. His job was to offer professional help—and nothing more. There would be no other Jasmines for him. He liked his life too well the way it was now to put himself through something like that again.

There was no doubt, however, that Cheyenne needed help, but right now he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He pulled into the parking lot and sat there a moment recalling all the things Cheyenne had told him, then got out and walked inside. Clara still sat at her desk and looked up as he came in the door. When he walked inside, she looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hi, Luke. Are you ready to clock out?”

“Not yet. I have some reports to finish.”

“Okay,” she said as she leaned forward in her chair and glanced from side to side as if to see if anyone was listening. Then she spoke in a soft voice. “I noticed when I came in this morning that there had been a call about a domestic disturbance over at Bruce and Linda Carter’s house last night. Ben took the call, but he didn’t say much about it. Did you happen to hear anything today?”

Luke tried to keep from grinning. Clara had a reputation in town as the local gossip, and she was always on the lookout for more information. Ben Whitman, the sheriff, had warned her several times about questioning the officers about the calls they answered, but it did no good. Clara felt it was her duty to keep the good folks in town aware of what was going on around them.

“Sorry, Clara, I haven’t heard anything about that. I’m sure if it was anything serious Sheriff Whitman would have told you.”

She settled back in her chair and pursed her lips. “I suppose so, but I never have trusted that Bruce. He drinks a lot. I don’t know why Linda puts up with it. Now if that was my husband—”

“Excuse me, Clara,” he interrupted, “but I have some work to do before I leave. I’ll talk to you later.”

He took a step to leave but stopped when she spoke again. “Did you get Miss Cassidy back to her truck okay?”

He turned slowly to face her and nodded. “She’s on her way home right now.”

“That’s good. That poor child looked like she was scared to death when she walked in with you. I hope you were able to calm her down. After all she’s been through it would be a shame if she didn’t get to perform tonight.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “Now why doesn’t it surprise me that you know all about Cheyenne?”

Clara waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, I know all about her stalker, and about her parents being killed, and how she’s come here to forget the past and work at the Wild West show.”

Luke shook his head in amazement. He’d often said that the government should hire Clara as a spy. She could infiltrate a country and have all their secrets in no time at all. “How did you find all that out?”

Clara crossed her arms as a smug smile curved her lips. “Shorty, the cook out at Little Pigeon Ranch, told me.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Shorty probably didn’t stand a chance against you once you decided he needed to spill the beans about the new resident at the ranch. But tell me, Clara, did you happen to get her birth date and social security number while you were at it?”

Her mouth dropped open for a moment, and then she scowled at him. “Are you making fun of me, Luke Conrad?”

He held his hands up in a defensive move. “Not at all. I’m just in awe of all your interrogating skills. I think Ben needs to promote you to detective.”

She glared at him. “You are making fun of me.”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I’m just teasing. You know I love you like a sister. I just wish that Cheyenne had come to town under different circumstances.”

“Yeah,” Clara said. “I told Shorty the same thing. He said she’d been real private ever since she got here, acted like she didn’t want to make friends.”

“Maybe Dean and Gwen can help change that.”

Clara looked at him, and a sly grin spread across her face. “Are you thinking maybe you could help change that, too?”

Luke felt his face flush, and he shook his head. “I didn’t say that. The job of this department is to make her feel safe.”

Clara arched her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

He started to respond, but he just frowned and huffed out a breath as he turned and strode down the hallway toward his office. When he walked in, he headed straight to his desk and slumped down in the chair behind it. He sat there in thought for a moment before he straightened and prepared to fill out the reports he had to file. He needed to hurry or he’d be late getting home tonight, and that wouldn’t do if he was going to get to the Wild West show. He wasn’t going there to see Cheyenne ride. He would probably need to return her cell phone if the techs had finished with it.

At least that’s what he told himself as he began to fill out his reports.

THREE

Cheyenne drove the truck up the long driveway that led to the main house on Little Pigeon Ranch. She pulled to a stop in front, turned off the ignition and sat there a few moments letting her gaze drift over the rambling structure that now served as a lodge for guests who wanted to experience the adventure of being on a dude ranch.

She smiled as her eyes moved over the house and the cabins scattered across the fields nearby. After a few weeks this place was already beginning to feel like home, especially since Patches was with her and they had a place to train. It was hard enough leaving her family ranch behind and all the memories of her parents associated with the place. She didn’t think she could have endured it if she’d had to leave her horse, too.

When her father’s friend and his son had offered her the opportunity to ride in the Wild West show, she thought that would be the answer to getting on with her life and leaving the past behind. Now she wasn’t so sure. The texts and the phone call this afternoon had signaled that the terror she’d lived through wasn’t over after all.

Even though she’d had trouble believing her parents’ killer was really dead, she’d been comforted by the fact that he hadn’t contacted her in all these months. Now he was back, and this time it seemed worse than ever.

His threatening words had played over and over in her mind all the way home. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it might have been a copycat intent on scaring her, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. For one thing, he had her music box, and for another the guttural voice had sounded the same.

If he was alive, as she now believed him to be, he had not just murdered her parents, but probably Clint Shelton, too, in order to evade suspicion. If that was true, then Clint had been an unknowing victim in a vicious game that some crazed person had started two years before.

All the top steer wrestlers had wanted Clint as their hazer. His death had stunned the rodeo regulars, who found it hard to believe such evil could be buried inside a man who was so respected and well-liked. That’s why it had never made sense to her that he would have been her stalker and killed her parents.

She sighed and shook her head, then climbed from the truck and started toward the house. She stopped when she heard a shrill voice ring out across the yard.

“Cheyenne! Wait for me!”

Cheyenne turned to stare in the direction the voice had come from and spotted Maggie Harwell, Dean and Gwen’s six-year-old daughter, with a tan-and-white collie running alongside her from the direction of the barn. She barely had time to brace herself before the child plowed into her and wrapped her arms around Cheyenne’s waist. She looked down into Maggie’s smiling face and hugged her.