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“I know you don’t get along with your cousins, Brooke, but you’re starting to sound paranoid. You said yourself the man didn’t have Vincent’s build. Maybe the sheriff was on to something when he asked about your friends in Colorado Springs.”
She bit down on her bottom lip. The hooded man had been tall and lanky. Vincent was muscle-bound.
“Why would anyone from college follow me to Clayton to scare me?”
He pinned her with a stare. “You tell me. Didn’t you break up with a boyfriend not long ago?”
“Well, yes, but Marty?” She made a scoffing noise. “He’s going to be a missionary.”
“Some guys go off the deep end, Christian or not, when their plans are thwarted.”
“Not Marty,” she insisted.
“Who did the breaking up? You or him?”
Brooke gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking of that awful day of the breakup and the broken finger. Marty had said such mean things to her about Lucy. She sucked in a quick breath. Oh, my goodness. Marty knew about Lucy.
“The breakup was mutual. Sort of.” She stared toward the closed and locked door. Marty was tall and lanky.
No, no. It didn’t make sense.
“You broke the guy’s heart, embarrassed him in front of his buddies and now he’s stalking you.”
“I’m not the kind of girl that drives men off the deep end.” The idea of Marty as a stalker didn’t compute.
“You should consider the possibility. At least tell the sheriff so he can check into Marty’s whereabouts tonight.”
The only people who bore her any animosity were her own flesh and blood. She knew Marty. He would never do such a thing. He had plans, goals, dreams.
And she’d shot most of them down with the breakup.
She pressed a shaky hand to her forehead. One thought kept returning. Marty knew about Lucy. He knew about Brooke’s part in her sister’s death. He knew Lucy was her breaking point. And in the end, he’d mocked her fear of having children. He’d changed his stand against parenting and had expected her to go along with his decision. When she hadn’t, he’d been furious.
Maybe she hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought.
Too exhausted from the emotions of the day to argue, she bounced steepled fingers against her lips. “You’re right. I’ll call the sheriff tomorrow.”
She’d phone Zach, too. He’d be more interested in answers than the local sheriff. Though a decent enough man, Linden Diggers was set to retire and preferred his domino games and coffee at the Cowboy Café to investigating crimes.
“Good.” Gabe rubbed the back of his neck again. Fatigue sharpened the lines around his eyes.
Regretful for keeping him up until the wee hours when he’d traveled far and worked hard today with more on the agenda for tomorrow, Brooke said, “Thank you for coming over tonight, Gabe. Everything is locked up tight and we both need some rest.” Like she would actually sleep after this. “You don’t have to stay any longer. I’ll be fine.”
He glared at her, incredulous. “You think I’m leaving you here alone after what happened? No possibility. You can stay with me tonight, in the guest room.”
“And add fuel to the rumors?” She started to shake her head, then thought better of it. A pounding had started in her temples.
He stopped again, dark eyes searching hers. “Call Arabella. Stay with her. I’ll drive you over.”
“No. She’ll be asleep. And you should be, too. Someone wanted only to upset me, Gabe. If he’d wanted to hurt me, he could have.” She shivered, stunned by that ugly truth. “I’m not afraid to be here alone the rest of the night.” Regardless of Gabe’s questions about Marty, Brooke was convinced she knew the source of her tormenters. “My cousins want me to leave town. If I show fear now, they’ll think they’re winning and try something else.”
“What if it’s not your cousins?”
“It is.”
He sighed, unmoved by her stubborn stance. “If you won’t stay at my place, I’m staying here.”
Did the man not understand the power of gossip in a small town?
“I’ll call Jasmine and ask her to come over for the night. How’s that?” She wasn’t sure why Jasmine’s name popped into her head, but since their spa day, they’d gotten closer. Maybe she wouldn’t mind.
