Stalking Season. Sandra Robbins
with his hands on his knees hovered over her.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” She could hear concern in the man’s voice, and his smooth Southern drawl had a comforting effect.
Unable to answer, she planted her palms on the pavement and succeeded in pushing up to a sitting position. “I—I think so,” she murmured.
She looked down at her jeans and saw a hole in the knee. The skin underneath the fabric burned, as did the palms of her hands. “Sit still,” the man’s voice said again. “I’ve called for paramedics. They should be here any minute.”
For the first time she looked into the face of the man bending over her, and her heart skipped a beat at the blue eyes staring down at her. She let her gaze drift lower, and she sucked in her breath at the fact that he was wearing a police uniform.
She raised a shaky hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I ran into the path of a police car.”
The man’s eyebrows arched. “Thank goodness? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so,” she said as she started to get up.
He laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Ma’am, you’ve just been hit by a police car. You may be all right, but I have to make out a report on this accident, and I have to know for sure. Please don’t move until the paramedics get here. I’m sorry I didn’t see you in time to stop, but you ran right out in front of my car. Can you tell me your name?”
She frowned and rubbed at her forehead, which was throbbing. She flinched when her fingers touched the spot, but the skin didn’t feel broken. Probably a scrape from sliding on the pavement. She swallowed and looked back up at the officer. “I’m Cheyenne Cassidy.”
“And do you know where you are?”
She nodded. “I’m sitting in the street in front of the Christmas store where I was shopping.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
A smile pulled at her mouth, and she looked up at him. “I know you’re trying to determine if I’ve been knocked senseless, Officer, but I assure you I know where I am and what has happened. Now may I ask who you are?”
“Deputy Luke Conrad, ma’am. Why were you in such a hurry?”
The question sent a wave of fear rushing through her as she recalled what had occurred before she ran onto the street, and she glanced back at the store. A crowd had gathered at the front door. They all seemed to be staring straight at her. She scanned the group but didn’t see a familiar face. But how could she tell who he was? In the two years she’d endured the terror of a stalker, she’d never seen his face.
How could he be alive? And if he was, how did he find her now?
“Ma’am...” The deputy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did something happen that frightened you? Is that why you ran in front of my car?”
She tried to speak, but her chest tightened so that she could barely breathe. Her body began to shake as tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months now, but she felt the beginnings of one and bit down on her lip.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
The deputy had been leaning over her, but at her reply he frowned and squatted down beside her. “What happened?”
Cheyenne took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “I think someone wants to kill me.”
* * *
Luke Conrad tried to hide his surprise at the woman’s words, but from the way she was staring at him, he wasn’t sure he was successful. He glanced back at the crowd gathered in front of the store and scanned the faces there. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he didn’t recognize anyone.
He waved a hand in their direction and called out in a loud voice. “Okay, folks. You can go on about your business now. Those Christmas gifts aren’t going to get bought if you keep standing around out here.”
The low rumble of voices drifted across the parking lot as the crowd dispersed and turned their attention away from the woman sitting in the middle of the street. She glanced at the departing onlookers before she looked back up at him, her lips quivering in a shaky smile. “Thank you. I was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed sitting here.”
“There’s no need for that, ma’am. They were just interested in what was going on.” He paused for a moment. “But suppose you tell me why someone is trying to kill you.”
“I didn’t say he was trying to kill me, I said I think he wants to kill me.”
Luke frowned. “And what makes you think that?”
She started to respond, but the ambulance arrived at that moment. Two EMTs jumped out when the vehicle came to a stop, and he stepped back to give them better access to examine her. After about fifteen minutes, they both stood and helped her to her feet.
“You seem to be fine, Miss Cassidy,” one of the paramedics said, then grinned. “Just watch where you’re going from now on.”
“I will. And thanks for checking me out, guys.”
“It was our pleasure,” the other said and glanced at Luke. “She seems to be fine, Luke. Just some abrasions that should heal on their own.”
“Thanks, Joe. Good to see you.”
“You, too,” he said as he and his partner headed back to the ambulance.
Luke watched the ambulance depart before he turned back to her. His squad car still sat in the middle of the street, and he nodded toward it. “Now suppose we sit down in my car and you tell me about this person who wants to kill you.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s a long story, and at the moment I don’t know where to start.”
“Then maybe we need to go to the sheriff’s office so you can take all the time you want. Do you mind doing that, ma’am?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips. “Would you please quit calling me ma’am? You’re making me feel like I’m a little old lady that a Boy Scout is trying to help across the street.”
His eyes grew wide for a moment, and then he threw back his head and laughed. When he’d quit shaking, he smiled at her. “I’ll try, but old habits are hard to break. Here in the South we use those terms out of respect a lot.” He studied her for a moment. “What part of the country are you visiting the Smokies from?”
“Actually, I’m not visiting. I just moved here.”
“You did? What brought you to this area?”
“I—I came to perform at the Smoky Mountain Wild West Show.”
His eyebrows arched. “You’re a cowgirl?”
She looked down at the jeans, Western-styled shirt and boots she was wearing, and a grin pulled at her lips. “Well,” she said, “dressed like this I doubt anybody would mistake me for a Southern belle.”
His face warmed, and he swallowed. “I guess you’re right, but I have to say you’re pretty enough to be one.” He bit down on his tongue and struggled to think of something to say that would ease his embarrassment. “I’m not saying that cowgirls aren’t pretty. I’m just saying...” He paused, and her grin grew larger. After a moment he smiled, too. “I guess you know what I’m saying,” he finally said.
“I do, and thank you for the compliment.”
He looked down at the information he’d written when he first talked to her. “So your name is Cheyenne Cassidy, you’ve just moved to this area and you think someone wants to kill you. Are you okay with going to the station to give me your statement?”
She nodded. “I am. My truck is parked over there. Should I follow you?”