Page 3 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

She didn’t want to leave her parents with any expectation that she’d straggle up to the gate at the last second. Almost immediately, her phone started ringing. Her mother’s name flashed across the screen. Mila ignored her call. There was no time to get into a shouting match over what her mom had just last week referred to as her unending string of poor life decisions.

This wasn’t one of them.

Tossing her phone and sketchpad into the passenger seat, she shifted into reverse and backed away from the gate. Her phone continued to ring as she drove away from the farm. Though it grated on her nerves, there was no point in answering it. Her mother was probably imagining dozens of ways to punish her daughter upon her return from the holiday cruise. Some of her favorite methods were the silent treatment andthe cold shoulder. When she thawed out, she’d add in a few mortally wounded looks and the renewed threat of moving to some tropical island, leaving her only child to fend for herself.Oh, please do!Though her mother had dutifully relocated to Heart Lake after getting remarried, she remained a city gal at heart.Mila was surprised she’d lasted ten years already in such a small town. It probably helped that her parents traveled a lot due to her stepdad’s job as a farm equipment salesman.

As usual, there wasn’t much traffic on the road. Mila passed two trucks pulling cattle trailers. Then a lone white utility truck gained on her from behind. She watched his approach in her rearview mirror, debating whether to speed up and get to her appointment quicker or slow down and let him go around her. He made the decision for her by closing in and tailing her so badly that it felt like he was trying to push her down the road. She immediately let her foot off the gas pedal.

No sooner did she reduce her speed than he whipped into the passing lane.

“What a drama king,” she muttered. There was no need for him to yank his truck around like that. She’d been going the posted speed limit. Okay, maybe a mile or two under, but only because she couldn’t afford a speeding ticket. Starving college students had to consider stuff like that, and she’d only graduated a few weeks ago.

Instead of passing her, he drove a zigzagging pattern in the passing lane, nearly bumping into the side of her vehicle.

“Whoa!” She hugged the right shoulder, wondering if he’d been drinking. Either that or he was trying to taunt her into a drag race.

“Not happening, mister!” She irritably pressed down harder on the gas pedal. If he wasn’t going to pass her like a sensible person, she might as well get back to driving at a normal speed.

He immediately increased his speed to match hers, driving in an even choppier zigzag.

“Really?” Her heartbeat raced sickeningly. Venturing aquick glance at the driver, she couldn’t see much. He had a sock hat pulled low over his forehead, and the collar of his jacket was pulled nearly up to his ears. It felt like he was deliberately hiding his reckless, law-breaking mugshot from view.

She silently prayed for another horse trailer to come along. Or any other vehicle, for that matter. It no longer felt safe being on the road alone with the joker beside her.

He violently swerved her way again, nearly running her off the road this time.

It was such a close call that she momentarily forgot how to breathe. Temper flaring, she did something she’d never done before. She gunned her motor. Enough was enough! “Eat my dust!” It was time to find out what her stepbrother’s armored SUV was capable of. To her astonishment, it shot ahead, quickly leaving the utility truck behind.

Yeah, baby!Her heart raced and her breathing turned choppy as she gripped the steering wheel. Speeding for the first time in her life was accompanied by a thrilling rush. No wonder so many people did it. It also felt dangerous. A collision at this break-neck pace wouldn’t end well.

The initial prickle of excitement faded as the other driver sped up to close the distance between them.Oh, no you don’t!Now that she’d seen what the SUV was capable of, Mila laid her pedal to the floor. The needle on her speedometer moved from seventy miles per hour to eighty miles per hour and higher.

Her pursuer remained in the left lane, flying down the highway at the edge of her blind spot. Another vehicle appeared on the horizon. Her stomach tightened with dread as she tried to anticipate what the daredevil beside her would do next. He continued to speed head on towardthe other vehicle, causing its driver to lay on his horn. At the last possible second, the white utility truck swerved back into the lane behind her. The driver then jammed on his brakes and hung a right at the next intersection. His tires screamed in protest as he raced away.

Mila’s entire body wilted in relief. She immediately slowed her speed, thankful that the ordeal hadn’t resulted in a speeding ticket or worse. By the time she rolled up to Lonestar Security’s parking garage, she had a bead of sweat forming on her upper lip. Her hand shook a little as she held out her driver’s license to the gate attendant.

He gave her a curious once-over before handing it back and waving her into the garage.

She parked and retrieved her phone from the passenger seat, only to discover she’d missed no less than six calls from her mother.Go figure.The woman was probably having a meltdown like she always did when something didn’t go her way. Mila almost felt sorry for her stepdad. Then again, he was the one who’d married her.Your problem. Not mine.Mila shook her head and turned her phone completely off, shoving it in her purse so it couldn’t make so much as a peep during her interview. Then she retrieved her sketchpad and exited the vehicle.

“Second door on the left. Second door on the left,” she chanted beneath her breath as she marched across the dimly lit lower-level parking lot and pulled open the glass entrance door. She was so busy mentally rehearsing her opening remarks to Rock Hefner that she nearly plowed into the man who was exiting the building.

Large hands closed around her shoulders to steady her, while an all-too familiar voice jangled her senses. “Mila! What are you doing here?”

Her heart sank. “De-e-eck,” she drew out her stepbrother’s name slowly. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she joked.

He didn’t look amused. His gaze narrowed on her as he dropped his hands from her shoulders. “No, really.” Even though he’d been leaving the building during their near collision, he followed her back inside. “What are you doing here?” He’d traded in the dusty jeans from his bull riding days for a navy pinstriped suit. It made him look every inch like the man who’d married up with Chanel Whoopty Do Remington.

She lifted her chin. “I’m paying someone a visit.” It was sort of true. Not an outright lie, at any rate.

His gaze dropped to the sketchpad tucked beneath her arm. “I’m gonna need a little more information than that.”

“Really, Deck? You don’t write. You don’t call.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And now you expect a play-by-play of everything you’ve missed in my life.” She teasingly spread her hands, entirely forgetting that she was holding her sketchpad. It slid to the floor with a papery thud.

She bent to pick it up, but he was quicker. Whisking it out from beneath her fingers, he quickly flipped through the first few pages. He paused over one. “Who drew these?” His gaze narrowed in suspicion on her.

“Somebody I know.” She made a swipe for the sketchpad.

He handed it back. “Somebody with the same initials as you, eh?”

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