Stalking Season. Sandra Robbins
find out why she thought that. But first he needed to put her at ease and convince her she could trust him.
He cleared his throat. “So, you’re new to the Wild West show. I was there last night, but I don’t remember seeing you. Did you perform?”
She shook her head. “I was there, but I didn’t perform. I just helped out behind the scenes. Tonight is my debut. I’m a trick rider.”
Her words shocked him, and he glanced at her. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “When I was in college, my roommate’s girlfriend was a trick rider. We used to go watch her perform a lot, so I know it’s really dangerous.”
“It can be if you’re not careful and if you don’t have a well-trained horse. I’ve had my horse, Patches, ever since he was a colt, and we know each other well.” Then to his surprise she said, “Maybe you can come watch us perform sometime, Deputy Conrad.”
He smiled. “I’ll do that. Sometime.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she spoke in such a soft voice that he almost missed what she was saying. “Thank you, Deputy Conrad, for everything. I appreciate your help today.”
“Luke,” he said. “Call me Luke. And it was my pleasure, Cheyenne.”
“I was so scared when I ran out of that store. If I hadn’t literally run into you, I don’t know what I would have done.”
He started to ask what she meant, but she turned her head and stared out the window. The light turned green, and he moved forward in the line of traffic. Two blocks later he turned right and pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department.
When he’d pulled to a stop, she turned to stare at him. The way she bit down on her lip, and the way her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, made his heartbeat race. Something was terribly wrong. He didn’t know what it was yet, but there was one thing he did know: Cheyenne Cassidy was scared, and he had to find out why her face had the same terrified look as when he’d first seen her through the windshield of his car.
“This is the sheriff’s office,” he said, “and I promise you we’ll do everything we can to put you at ease.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Then it will be the first time I’ll feel that way in two years.”
He started to ask her what she meant, but she was already climbing from the car. He opened his door, jumped out and caught up to her when she rounded the front of the vehicle. “I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”
She looked up at him for a moment and then shook her head. “My parents did, too, and now they’re dead.”
Before he could respond, she walked past him and pulled open the door to the building. He didn’t move for a moment and then strode after her. His mind whirled with all the things she’d said since they’d met. Something told him he was about to hear a story that was different from anything he’d experienced since becoming a deputy in this small mountain community.
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