Rustler's Moon (17 page)

Mrs. Butterfield, dressed in pink and bling, agreed. “Probably a hangover from too much coffee with Wilkes Wagner.” She winked. “Nothing gets past us.”

Mrs. Kirkland giggled. “We live in the center of town right across from the café. How could anything get past us?”

Angela relaxed and laughed. Why worry about a stalker? She didn’t need surveillance cameras; she had the Evening Shadows Retirement Community retirement home watching her.

“I was up talking to Wilkes and Yancy last night,” she said. “They’ve got some ideas for the old Stanley wagon.”

Both women rolled their eyes and Mrs. Butterfield’s took their time coming back around.

“Two good-looking single men at a time,” Mrs. Kirkland exclaimed. “And she hasn’t been here a month yet.”

“I don’t think I have to worry about Yancy or Wilkes. They both seem more interested in history. I’m going out to the Devil’s Fork to look at Vern’s old maps tonight.”

Mrs. Butterfield laughed again. “I did that once in my twenties. It was very entertaining.”

Angela had a feeling she wasn’t talking about maps at all.

Mrs. Kirkland shook her head. “Don’t worry about Wilkes. His great-uncle is the man to watch out for. Vern Wagner is walking, talking sex appeal in an aged bottle.”

Angie simply smiled but inside she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to look at Wilkes’s great-uncle without laughing tonight.

On her lunch break she rushed home and rambled through half her wardrobe, finally picking a pretty silk dress of rich, swirling fall colors along the shoulders and hem. It was V-necked with three-quarter sleeves and was the right length to show off her legs to best advantage. She told herself she didn’t care what Wilkes thought of her, but it seemed every time she saw him, she looked as if she’d borrowed someone else’s clothes. This one dress was all her. Angie had known it the moment she saw it. The warm hues slimmed her figure, and the rustic golds brought out the shine in her hair.

High heels completed the outfit, but she’d packed her flats in her purse just in case they got too uncomfortable at the museum during the afternoon.

* * *

W
HEN
SHE
PULLED
into the museum parking lot, she couldn’t stop smiling. A cool breeze greeted her with midday sun sparkling off the canyon walls. If this place was so beautiful in late fall, she couldn’t wait to see it in spring. This was her new life. There was nothing left for her back in Florida or up in New York. Here was where she’d have to start over. Here was where she wanted to start over.

The two afternoon volunteers were waiting for her. Angie couldn’t remember their first names, but both were O’Gradys by marriage. They spent their time talking about everyone else in their family while they were on duty. When she ran up the steps, they both told her how pretty she looked. They made such a fuss she almost believed it.

The afternoon was busy with work. No message light blinked on her phone. No black car hid in the trees. Angie was beginning to think maybe she’d made too big a deal of a car following her. After all, who would want to bother her?

Only, the words in her father’s note kept whispering in her mind.
Run. Disappear. Vanish.
Had he written it the night before he died, maybe as he feared for his life and hers? Was he so pressed for time that he couldn’t explain? But he had prepared.

His note behind the picture. The money he’d deposited into her account. The way he died. All were pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t make fit together. Almost from the day of her mother’s funeral, he’d talked about moving. He’d never said why, but she knew he wanted away from his brother. But the time was never right. Something held him in Florida with his brother.

That last night while he worked in his office, he’d taken a few minutes to move the money he’d loaned his brother to start the business. He’d put the note where only she would find it.

But he hadn’t even mentioned the priceless necklace that was rightfully his, and now hers. Obviously, her getting away was more important to him. She’d left the Greek coin circled in diamonds behind in the store’s display case. It hadn’t been important to her father. Her disappearing was. He must have thought her very life depended on her vanishing. But why?

She touched the replica Greek coin that now hung around her neck. The real one didn’t matter. She suspected it had always been a bone of contention between her father and Anthony, but for generations the coin had been passed down to the oldest child; otherwise, it would have been sold and the money split.

Now her uncle could have it for all she cared.

Maybe he’d written the note because he wanted her to move on with her life. Maybe he’d been afraid his brother’s family would try to run her life, or ruin it by having her work for the family. It seemed as if every time she saw her uncle after graduating college he’d complained that she should have gotten an accounting degree, and not studied museum management.

He’d frown and say, “I could have helped you then, Angela. I could have brought you into the business.”

Angie had never answered. How could she tell him she’d rather die than work for him? She’d seen how much her father hated it.

Whatever the reason why Uncle Anthony complained, he was right. There was nothing left in Florida for her. But here, in this little town, she could belong.

She forced her questions about her father’s death and home to the back of her mind. They were in her past now.

Midafternoon Angie decided to take the lunch she’d forgotten to eat outside and enjoy the warm sunshine on a rare, windless day. As she walked toward the seating area near the edge of the canyon viewing, she saw Carter Mayes climbing down out of his RV. His movements were slow as if forcing aching bones to function.

“Morning, Mr. Mayes,” she called.

He waved and walked over. “I know I’m meeting you for supper, but mind if I join you for a snack?”

“Not at all.” She offered him her extra bottle of water as he pulled out fruit from his pack.

“I usually eat down in the canyon. Take fruit so there’s no trash to have to carry up.” He laughed. “Every year I plant seeds down by the water, but I’ve yet to see a peach or apple tree growing, and I’m not even looking for an orange tree down there. Even if one sprouted it’d never make the winter.”

She smiled, but he was no longer looking at her. Following his gaze she saw something flapping against her van’s windshield.

“Looks like you got a ticket.” The old man pointed as if she might miss it.

“Probably just a suggestion on how to improve the museum. Everyone seems to have a few ideas for me.” Angie set her lunch aside and walked over to her van, then without opening the envelope, she hurried back to Carter.

She tore it open and unfolded the piece of paper. Words typed in all caps read simply: YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR, ANGELA HAROLD. WE NEED TO TALK SOON.

Angie stared at the words feeling her whole body turning cold. Whoever wrote the note wasn’t interested in talking. If he had been, he could have called or dropped by the museum. This note was left to frighten her, maybe make her run again. She could almost feel her blood freezing. If she ran, she’d be totally alone. No volunteers around all day. No sheriff watching over her at night. No senior citizens keeping an eye on whom she was with at the café. No Wilkes...

“What’s it say?” the old man beside her asked.

She couldn’t move. The words blinked in and out of her sight and a brooding darkness seemed to surround her as she fought not to pass out. She could no longer pretend that the voice mail had been a prank or the car hadn’t really been following her. It was time to see reality. She was in trouble, real trouble, and she had no idea why.

“Is it a ticket?” Carter asked.

“No. I have to go. Please excuse me.” Collecting her lunch, Angie hurried back into the building. Without speaking to the ladies at the desk, she rushed to her office.

There, silent and protected by the walls around her, she tried to control her breathing. The stalker wasn’t gone. He was still out there, watching her...waiting for her. Maybe he’d parked his car and walked over to plant the note, or maybe he’d driven in with one of the dozen cars that had stopped by this afternoon.

Standing, she stared out her huge window looking for answers. She decided that her father must have told her to run because he knew she was too much of a coward to face whatever trouble was out there. And she
was
a coward, hiding in her office.

Anger suddenly boiled inside her, keeping tears from falling. All her life her parents had protected and sheltered their only child, and now she wasn’t sure she’d ever be strong enough to face danger.

She tried to think of why someone was torturing her. Maybe it was a stranger in town who saw how frightened she seemed of the world and this was all a joke. Maybe her uncle was mad at her for taking the money her father had loaned him twenty years ago. She’d heard them arguing a few times, over money or store policy.

Her hands shook as she looked down at the note. Part of her wanted to run again. She’d be smarter this time. She’d leave in the middle of the night. Drive in circles. Change cars every other day until she knew it was safe to buy something she could keep.

Maybe she would ship her belongings and travel by train somewhere, then ship them again and again until she knew no one would be able to follow the trail. That might work next time. Whoever was bothering her might not be able to track her if she changed names, maybe dyed her hair. Or she could walk away from everything and hitchhike with truckers across the country.

Angie laughed at her own thoughts. She was hiding in a safe office in a safe building in a safe town. She’d never be able to go on the run.

Besides, she’d already spent a third of the money her father had deposited into her account, and if the Mercury found her again, she might not have enough to escape a third time.

A knock on the door made her jump.

She didn’t answer.

It came again. Harder, faster.

She didn’t breathe.

“Open the door, Angie.” Wilkes sounded worried. “I know you’re in there.”

She straightened, lifted her chin, opened the door and ran into his arms.

Wrapping her in a bear hug, Wilkes lifted her off the ground. For a long time he just stood there holding her. When he finally lowered her to the floor, he said, “Tell me all about it.”

Angie showed him the note and watched as he read. There was no reaction until he looked up at her. For a blink she saw anger in his blue eyes, then it was gone, as if he had been well trained to hide emotions. “Any idea who put this on your van?”

She shook her head.

“No old boyfriend or jilted lover? Some guy you forgot to give the ring back to when you broke up?”

“No.”

Wilkes looked frustrated. “Did you ever take anything that wasn’t yours?”

“No.”

“What about Jones’s name when he didn’t come along with you? Maybe he’s pissed.”

She didn’t meet his gaze when she answered, “No. He’s not the one stalking me.”

Wilkes stroked her arms as if warming her. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, letting his words brush gently into her hair. “You got your secrets, lady. I guess we all do, but I’m afraid this one might get you hurt, and for some crazy reason I’m not going to let that happen.”

She managed a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I’ll settle for a friend.”

“That’s a good place to start. I can be that. When the sheriff gets here, we’ll come up with a plan to find this nut. The easiest way to stop this guy is to have a talk with him. If you have no idea what he wants, maybe he’s got the wrong person.”

Angie didn’t think she’d get that lucky. “Wait a minute. How’d you know I was in trouble?”

“I told Carter to call me if he noticed anything. On my way over here, I called my uncle Vern and told him to call the sheriff and both to meet me at the museum.”

Angie shook her head. “It was just a note on my car. I’m causing too much of a fuss.” She’d spent her life being invisible, never the center of attention.

“You’re not alone now. I don’t like seeing you so afraid. None of us do.”

“Thanks.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “But I can take care of myself.” The lie was so obvious she wouldn’t have been surprised if he rolled his eyes.

He smiled at her. “Any chance you stole that old cat of yours from someone back home, Angie? People get real attached to their pets.”

“No. The old lady who gave him to me said she’d found him when she moved in and planned to leave him in the empty house when she left.”

Before Wilkes could ask any more questions, Dan Brigman appeared at her office door. This time the sheriff was all business. One call could have been a wrong number. A guy following them into the canyon might have simply been going the same way, but a note on her car had the markings of a crime about to happen.

Wilkes filled Dan in on all the facts, then offered to stay at the museum until closing time.

The sheriff said Uncle Vern had already stationed himself at the front door with the O’Grady women and the two volunteers for the next shift. When Dan passed by, he said the old cowboy was trying to talk them into playing Spin the Bottle and they were all acting as if they weren’t old enough to know what he meant.

All the attention made Angie uncomfortable. “This isn’t a siege on the museum. It was simply a note on my car.” She faced both men. Now that her panic was over, she felt embarrassed and just wanted to forget the whole thing. “I’ve decided that maybe you’re right, Wilkes. Maybe whoever this is has the wrong person. I haven’t stolen anything. No one is looking for me.”

Wilkes studied her. The caring in his gaze surprised her.

Dan didn’t look up from his notes. They might not know all the facts, but she had no doubt they were both taking this seriously.

If someone
was
following her. She knew it all the way to her bones. They must mean her harm.
Just like they had her father.
She could almost see them waiting for him out in the alley that night. Had they planned to kill him, or just beat him before the heart attack did the job for them.