Hank sat crouched low in the front seat of his black pickup truck. He’d parked it across the street and half a block down from Rachel’s house.
It was almost one o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t plan to go anywhere until he was sure she was safe. For all he knew, her stalker could be watching her from another parked car on the street or skulking in the bushes near her house.
Reaching for the can of soda on his console, he took a deep swig, hoping the caffeine would help keep him awake.
His head still hurt from that collision with the bull, although the pain was more of a heavy, dull ache now instead of a buzzsaw in his brain.
He’d expected Rachel to use a buzzsaw to dig into his innermost secrets, but instead of interrogating him at the diner, she’d talked more about her own life and asked him about his.
Now Hank realized how much he’d revealed to her over that third slice of peach pie. She knew about his childhood and the death of his parents—and way too much about his love life.
Which made finding her stalker even more urgent, because he didn’t like sharing his feelings. He didn’t see any point to it.
Feelings didn’t pay the bills or fix fences or solve problems. He was a man of action, which was why he’d kissed Rachel when she’d given him the opportunity.
And it made him feel amazing.
Kissing her was even better than he’d imagined, and he’d been imagining it from almost the moment they’d met. But he didn’t plan to ever share that with her. Rachel had made it very clear she had no romantic interest in him.
Although the way she’d kissed him back made him wonder. “No,” he told himself aloud. “Don’t go there, Holden.”
The last thing he wanted to do was bungle this job because Rachel got in his head. That’s what feelings did to a man—they made him weak and impulsive.
The best way to protect her was to ignore these feelings stirring inside him and concentrate on the job at hand. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out the list she’d made right before they’d left the diner.
The list contained the names of men she had interacted with in the past few months—especially the ones she’d had a conflict with or any type of unusual interaction, negative or positive.
Rachel hadn’t included any names of her male patients due to confidentiality issues. But she’d already ruled them out with the handwriting comparisons.
The first one on her list was her next door neighbor, Newt Beaufort. Apparently, he had his eye on her lot, hoping to buy her out so he could build on both lots. Hank wasn’t sure how stalking would help his cause.
Then he focused on the fifteen blind dates on the list. According to her, she’d never gone out more than once or twice with any of them. But a few hadn’t taken her rejection well.
He picked a pencil from his console and circled those names, deciding to check them out first. Maybe his brother Nick could run their names to see if any of them had been in trouble with the law before.
That made him wonder if stalkers were repeat offenders or if they just focused on one victim.
Maybe he’d ask Rachel since she seemed to be the expert in the human mind. He’d been impressed with some of her advice to the Lonely Hearts group, although he didn’t agree with all of it. Seemed to him like people wasted a lot of time trying to understand their feelings.
Bright headlights suddenly flashed on his front windshield, making him wince. He slid down even further in the seat, trying to fold his large body into the small space between the door and the console.
Peering through the lower half of the driver’s side window, he saw the car pass Rachel’s house and continue down the block.
It was an old red Buick, not a Taurus, and most likely not the stalker. He sat up higher and watched the car’s progress in the rearview mirror. It made a right turn at the corner of the block and disappeared.
False alarm.
A dog barked in the distance and he thought of Georgie waiting for him at home. She was used to him leaving at all hours to attend to difficult births or other animal emergencies.
He knew he’d find her sleeping comfortably on the sofa when he returned home, snuggled under her favorite blanket. He reclined against the car seat once more, his gaze moving to Rachel’s home.
She lived in a modest craftsman-style house constructed of wood and stone. A white porch swing hung from a white wooden beam on the covered front porch and red rose bushes twined around the white fence posts.
She had reluctantly agreed to let him follow her home so he could be sure she got safely inside her house. He’d almost suggested another kiss at her door, just in case the stalker was watching, but he didn’t want to push his luck.
Then, instead of heading home like he’d planned, Hank found himself circling the block and parking across the street to keep watch.
Maybe it his sense of duty. Or the fact that he didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be. Rachel needed him, whether she liked it or not. At least until they tracked down her stalker. Because he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her on his watch.
Headlights illuminated the cab of his pickup once more, only this time they were coming from the opposite direction. He hunched down, not wanting to draw the attention of neighbors who might question a stranger parked on their block in the middle of the night.
He watched the car through the rearview mirror, realizing as it drove past him that it was the same red Buick he’d seen before. Grabbing his pen, he quickly jotted down the license plate number. It was too dark to get a good look at the driver, but he was almost certain it was a man.
It took all his willpower to wait for the Buick to turn the corner and disappear before he switched on the ignition of his truck and shifted into drive. He hadn’t wanted to spook the Buick’s driver with the flash of headlights behind him.
In Hank’s mind, there was no good reason for a car to drive past Rachel’s house twice at this time of night—especially from two different directions. He wanted nothing more than to run the driver down, yank him out of the car, and shove his fist down the man’s throat.
But first he needed to be certain he had the right guy. So he held back, not wanting to spook the driver into a high speed chase. After turning the corner out of Rachel’s neighborhood, he caught sight of the tail end of the Buick making a left onto the main thoroughfare.
Hank made a left too, then followed at a distance, staying just close enough to keep the Buick in sight. He pictured himself showing up on Rachel’s doorstep tomorrow morning with the news that her stalker had been caught.
She’d flash that dazzling smile and throw herself into his arms. He knew too well how perfectly her body fit against his and the way her kiss had almost undone him.
“Get a grip, Holden,” he said aloud. This was no time to indulge in fantasies. And imagining that kind of reaction from Rachel was definitely a fantasy. Once her stalker was caught, he’d probably never see her again, unless she insisted on another deep dive into his psyche.
The driver of the Buick maintained a steady speed, apparently unaware or unconcerned that Hank was following him. As they approached the intersection, the light turned yellow and the Buick came to a stop. Hank pulled up behind him just as the light turned red. Then the Buick’s tires squealed as it sped into the intersection, just barely missing the cars crossing in the opposite directions.
Hank muttered an oath and hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. There were too many cars in the way for him to give chase and the Buick was well out of sight before the stoplight turned green again.
“You’d better run and hide,” he muttered, opening his hand to look at the license plate number he’d written on his palm. “Because I’m coming after you.”
The next morning, Hank walked into the Pine City Police Station and went in search of his brother, Nick, who worked as a detective on the force. The station was housed in a two-story brick building in the historic district of Pine City, and had served as police headquarters since the nineteenth century. Old horse stables located behind the station had been converted into a community center for neighborhood kids. Hank had even coached a youth basketball team there last year.
As he walked toward Nick’s office, a middle-aged K-9 officer waved to him from his desk. “Hey, Hank, how’s it going?”
“Good. How about you, Ron? Any more problems with Bruno’s scratching?” he asked, referring to the German shepherd the officer worked with on the K-9 unit.
“No, that medication you prescribed cleared it right up.”
“Glad to hear it.” Hank continued down the hallway, but when he reached Nick’s office, the door was locked and his brother was nowhere in sight. Cops bustled around him, a few nodding in recognition as they passed by.
Frustrated and exhausted from his all-night vigil watching Rachel’s house, Hank grabbed the nearest empty chair in the hallway and sat down. As a country vet, he was used to working all hours of the day and night, but he’d been feeling a little off since Saturday when that bull had kicked him in the head.
“Man up,” he muttered, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He typed a text to Nick: Where are you?
Hank hit the send button, then followed with a text to Charlie asking if he needed any help at the vet clinic. His third text went to his grandmother, asking her to stop by his place this morning and check on Georgie, because he wasn’t sure when he’d be home.
Then he typed out a text to Rachel: Everything okay?
Not even a minute passed before she replied: Everything’s good. I’m at work. See you tonight?
Hank typed out: Yes. Then he hit send. They had plans to go out for dinner at Rawlings Steak House, one of Pine City’s most popular restaurants. He wasn’t sure how busy it would be on a Tuesday night, but he’d be on the lookout for a red Buick in the parking lot.
Realizing he hadn’t told Rachel about the Buick yet, he started to text another message to her, then changed his mind. Better to tell her about the red Buick fiasco in person, when he could explain what happened. He still couldn’t believe he’d let the driver get away.
Hearing the sound of cowboy boots on the floor, Hank looked up to see Luke Rafferty moving toward him.
“Hey, Hank, what are you doing here?”
Luke was Nick’s partner on the force and always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His gray suit was as rumpled as his shaggy brown hair.
“I’m waiting for Nick,” Hank said, rising to his feet. “Have you seen him?”
“Not for a few days.” Luke switched his coffee cup to his left hand, then dug a key out of his right pants pocket, along with several pieces of lint. “Nick’s out on an undercover assignment this week.” Luke unlocked the door and opened it. “But come on in, maybe I can help you.”
“I hope so.” Hank followed him into the office. One side looked like it had been hit by a tornado, with folders scattered across the desk, two books lying open on the floor, and papers scattered everywhere.
The other side looked as tidy as Grandma Hattie’s chicken coop and he found himself wondering if she’d stopped by to organize Nick’s side of the office.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” he mused under his breath.
“What’s that?”
Hank smiled. “Nothing.” Then he handed him a piece of paper with the red Buick’s license number on it. “I need someone to run a plate check for me.”
“Interesting.” Luke took the paper from him, then pushed some file boxes aside on his desk to make room for his coffee cup. “Why does a country vet need a plate check?”
Hank gave him the short version about the stalker situation without revealing his role in it. “I saw this car driving past Dr. Grant’s house twice late last night. When I followed him, he sped through a red light and disappeared.”
Luke stared at him for a long moment. Then face broke into a wide grin. “You’re doing that Cowboy Confidential thing for Miss Hattie, aren’t you?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Because that’s how Nick snagged Lucy.” Luke laughed. “Or maybe it was the other way around. All I know is that he’s a man in love and it’s pretty disgusting.”
“Lucy’s great,” Hank said, remembering her quirky Christmas gifts. “Did you hear she’s going to be my sister-in-law?”
“Sure did. Nick and I even went ring shopping together.” Luke shivered as he picked up his coffee cup. “That was an experience I’ll never forget.”
Hank could just imagine. He liked Rafferty and understood his aversion to marriage and commitment, because he shared it as well. Hopefully, Nick and Lucy would fulfill Grandma’s Hattie’s wish for great-grandchildren, because Hank couldn’t see himself giving up his freedom anytime soon.
“Can you describe the driver of this car?” Luke sat down at his desk and opened his laptop computer. “Approximate age? Hair color? Beard? Anything?”
“No, it was too dark to see a face. All I got was the plate number. I hope it can lead me to her deranged stalker.”
Luke typed the plate number into his computer, then looked up at Hank. “How do you know he’s deranged?”
“He’d have to be, right? Mailing her creepy love quotes and getting close enough to slip one of them into her coat pocket.”
Luke shrugged. “People do crazy things when they’re in love—or think they are. But you’re right, stalking takes it to a dangerous level. It’s usually more about control than affection.”
“Rachel said the same thing, but I’ll stick with deranged.”
Luke grinned. “Rachel, is it?” Then he turned back, quickly typing on his computer. “Dr. Rachel Grant.” He whistled low. “Wow, I love redheads.”
Hank leaned over to look at the screen and saw the Craig Clinic’s website open to Rachel’s professional photo and biography. Then he punched Luke’s arm. “I thought you were looking up the plate number.”
“Oh, right,” Luke said, laughing as he closed the website and started typing.
Hank watched him work, relieved that Rafferty hadn’t questioned him any further about Cowboy Confidential. The more people who knew about it, the greater the chance that Rachel might find out he’d been hired to protect her. Then she’d know he’d been lying to her from the moment they’d met.
“I’ve got it,” Luke announced as the printer on his desk whirred into action. He handed the sheet of paper to Hank while it was still warm.
“Thanks,” he said, reading the name at the top of the page. “Lee Demby.”
“If you catch Dr. Grant’s stalker, give me a call before you confront the guy,” Luke said. “I don’t want to have to charge you with assault and battery. Just bring him in and we’ll try to make some charges stick.”
Hank frowned. “Try? Does that mean he could get away with it?”
Luke sighed. “The stalking laws have gotten tougher, but they can still be difficult to prove and prosecute. Sometimes our hands are tied if there’s not a specific law broken.”
That’s not what Hank wanted to hear, but he’d deal with that possibility later. Right now, he needed to mete out some Holden-style justice.
Later that day, Gina lay stretched across the gray carpet in Rachel’s office, her hands clasped behind her head as she stared up at the white tile ceiling. “So if I murdered Kurt, you don’t think I could get away with a temporary insanity plea?”
“No.” Rachel sat working at her desk. She’d cleared the entire afternoon to catch up on paperwork and eat lunch with Gina. “And I wouldn’t testify for you, if that’s your next question.”
She closed the file in front of her and placed it on top of a small stack of folders. “I think you should stop fantasizing about ways to kill Kurt. It’s not healthy.”
“Maybe not, but it’s fun. And it makes me feel better.” Gina looked over at her. “Don’t tell me you never had revenge fantasies about Russell when he left you.”
“No, not really.” Rachel let her mind wander back to that time in her life. “I cried a lot, from the shock as much as anything. I’d thought we’d been so compatible. He fit the profile of the perfect man: well-educated, a good conversationalist, passionate about his work…”
“And a know-it-all.” Gina rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but he was not the right man for you. We all knew it.”
“What?” Rachel shoved the file aside. “You all thought Russell was wrong for me? Why in the world didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry.” Gina sat up on her knees. “But we knew you were in love with him. We didn’t want you breaking up with Russell based on our opinion—or worse, not break up with him and then our friendship falls apart because you know how we feel about him.”
“I still wish you would have said something.” Rachel tried to hide her disappointment, wondering what else her friends were keeping from her. “I’ll admit that after he left me, I had mixed feelings. I was so hurt—and felt so abandoned—but at the same time, a small part of me wondered if I ever really knew him.”
Gina sighed. “You’re better off without him, Rach.”
“And maybe you’re better off without Kurt.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Maybe if you spent less time seeking revenge and more time focused on what you want your future to look like, you’d be happier.” She held up one finger. “And as a bonus, you wouldn’t be sent to prison for murder.”
“Ooh, that gives me an idea.” Gina stood up and approached the desk. “We could switch murders! Like in that Alfred Hitchcock movie, Strangers on a Train. You can kill Kurt while I have an alibi. And then I’ll fly to Africa and hunt down Russell while you have an alibi.” Her face brightened. “I think I even have enough frequent flyer points for the trip.”
“The only trip you might be going on is a seventy-two-hour psych hold if you keep talking like this.” Rachel closed the file she’d been reading and set it aside. “But seriously, Gina, if you think you’d like to talk to a professional, I can recommend any of my colleagues at the clinic. I believe Dr. Craig has openings in his schedule.”
“Ooh, is he the married therapist or the cute one who looks like sexy, young Sigmund Freud?”
Rachel laughed. “The married one. Sorry, but Sigmund, otherwise known as Noah Lopez, only works at the clinic part time. And Jenna Rifkin, the other therapist in our group, goes on maternity leave in another month. So I think Dr. Craig would be the best fit for you.”
“Can’t you just be my therapist?”
Rachel shook her head. “As your friend, I can’t be objective. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“But you’re my therapist in the Lonely Hearts group.”
“That’s more of a support group that I moderate,” she explained. “Although I admit the line is a little fuzzy. But since it’s the only group of its kind in Pine City, I didn’t want to exclude you from it.”
“I am kind of a mess,” Gina admitted. “Or maybe I’m just hungry.”
Rachel glanced at the wall clock. “Steven should be here with our lunch soon, although he’s picking up food for my partners too, so it might take him a little longer.”
“Are you all still happy with your new business partners?”
“It’s been great so far. The Craig Clinic has had a wonderful reputation for the past thirty years, so I’m thrilled Dr. Craig was open to taking on partners. All three of us partnered with Dr. Craig at the same time, so I feel like we’re on an equal footing. We share overhead expenses and staff. We’ve got Steven working at reception and our billing clerk works from her home.”
“It sounds like a nice setup.”
As if on cue, Steven tapped on the door, then walked inside her office carrying a pizza box and a large white bag. He looked younger than his twenty-five years, with short blond hair, green eyes and lots of freckles.
“I’ve got one pizza, half pepperoni and half veggie,” Steven announced. “And one large order of hot wings with extra sauce.”
“That sounds perfect,” Rachel said, her stomach rumbling. “Thank you, Steven,”
She’d overslept this morning and missed breakfast after staying out late with Hank. Rachel still couldn’t quite believe they were going to work together to find her stalker. Or did pretending to be in love qualify as work?
“Oh, that reminds me, Dr. Grant,” Steven said as he set the food on a small children’s table that she used for play therapy. “You’re wanted in Dr. Craig’s office for a quick meeting.”
She looked longingly at the food. “Right now?”
“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know what it’s about.”
Rachel grabbed a plate and slice of pizza to take with her. “Sorry, Gina. I’ll try to hurry back.”
“Take your time,” Gina called after her. “I have more murders to research.”
Certain that would keep her friend busy for a while, Rachel headed to Dr. Craig’s office. Along the way her cell phone vibrated, indicating a call. When she saw it was Hank calling, she let it go to voicemail, then walked into Dr. Craig’s office.
The other two therapists working at the Craig Clinic, Noah Lopez and Jenna Rifkin, were already seated with Dr. Craig at the small conference table in the center of the room. Dr. Craig’s office was the largest in the clinic and had a wall of books on one side, including a popular psychology book he’d written twenty years ago.
“Glad you could join us, Rachel,” Jenna said with one hand resting on her swollen belly. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Hope you don’t mind that I brought my lunch with me.”
Dr. Craig smiled up at her. “Not at all.”
Rachel sat down at the table, taking a chair next to Noah. He did look like a sexy, young Sigmund Freud, she thought to herself. Now that she had that image in her mind, she couldn’t shake it. Noah had asked her out when they’d first joined the clinic together, but she’d turned him down, aware that it wasn’t smart to mix business with romance.
He was certainly nothing like Hank. Then her mind drifted to that kiss last night and…
“Rachel?”
Dr. Craig’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked how you’re doing. We’re all very worried about you.”
She looked around the table, noting that Noah and Jenna looked more irritated than worried. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”
Dr. Craig cleared his throat. “I’ve asked all of you here because we have some decisions to make. I received a call earlier from a man named Hank Holden. I believe he’s a friend of yours?”
“Yes, sort of.” There was no way she was going to explain that Hank had started out as her patient, then tackled another patient in her office, and was now pretending to be her boyfriend. “What did he want?”
“Well, he told me that we needed to invest in a security system for your safety.” Dr. Craig folded his hands on the table. “He even took the liberty of contacting a security company to pay us a visit this afternoon and recommends not only security cameras and alarms, but also a guard at the door.”
She took a bite of her pizza to keep from screaming in frustration. How dare Hank intrude on her professional relationship with her business partners before checking with her?
Maybe she’d overdone it with the personal questions last night and he was in a hurry to catch her stalker and never see her again. She’d learned that he’d lost his parents when he was only eleven and then had taken on the responsibilities of an adult, despite his loving grandparents trying to give him the best childhood they could, considering the circumstance.
“Wait a minute,” Noah said. “I thought you were getting a few letters. What changed?”
After another bite of pizza, Rachel told them about the note in her pocket and the concern that her stalker might be escalating. “But I don’t want that to impact the clinic. This is a personal issue and Hank never should have contacted you about it.”
“I disagree,” Dr. Craig said. “We’re partners and that means we look out for each other. I don’t see anything wrong with investing in some security equipment. It can help keep all of us safe.”
“But can we afford it?” Noah asked. “We just started our partnership a few months ago and our budget is so tight.” He looked over at Rachel. “It’s not that I don’t care about what you’re going through, but there are confidentiality issues too.”
Jenna nodded. “I have to agree with Noah. I have patients who may be intimidated by security cameras or worried that their visits won’t be confidential.”
Rachel chewed thoughtfully on her pizza, irritated with Hank for starting this mess. She’d laid out a simple plan for him to follow, but he obviously wanted to take the lead. “Let’s just forget that Hank Holden ever called here,” she said at last. “He overstepped and I feel perfectly safe here.”
“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, rubbing her belly. “Stalkers, as we all know, can be unpredictable. Anyone would be scared.”
“I’m actually more frustrated than scared,” Rachel explained. “I don’t know who the stalker is yet or why he’s targeting me. But I won’t let him dictate my life. Then he really would have power over me.”
“Okay, I guess the decision is made.” Dr. Craig sighed. “But will you let us know if you change your mind?”
“Yes, of course.” She rose from her chair. “And I do appreciate your concern.”
He smiled. “That’s what partners are for.”
Rachel walked out of Dr. Craig’s office ready to confront Hank. But before she reached her office, her cell phone buzzed again and Hank’s name appeared on the screen. She moved to a secluded alcove in the lobby to answer it. “I can’t believe your nerve.”
“This Rachel?” demanded a woman’s voice with a heavy Texas drawl.
“Yes,” she said in surprise. “Who’s this?”
“The name’s Demby and I’m at 244 Dover Road. I don’t have time for anymore nonsense, so come get your man before I shoot him. I’m not gonna tell you twice.”
Then the connection was lost.