Page 13 of Cowboy Stalker
His hands go to my shoulders. “It’s over, Missy. Daisy is safe now.”
His words penetrate my addled brain. It’s over. Daisy is safe.
I drop the baseball bat at the same time my knees give out. But I never hit the cold tile floor because Griffin is there. He wraps one arm around my waist as I begin sobbing.
I’m crying so hard I can barely breathe. I’m crying out all of the terror not only of today but of the past six months, of the grief and confusion and hurt I’ve felt since the day my best friend died.
I’m vaguely aware of him moving my body, of the sound of Daisy’s tears joining my own. That makes me sob even harder. I’ve never felt like a worse mom than I do in this moment. How can I keep doing this? How can I keep running? Will we ever be safe?
“It’s OK, my beautiful girls. Cry it out,” he murmurs, rocking the two of us. “Pour it all out. I’m here. I’m holding you. Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again.”
Somewhere in my brain, the sound of a door banging startles me, but he squeezes me tighter. “It’s Luke. He’s going to help you and Daisy. That’s what he’s here for.”
He calls out where we are, and Luke comes to hover in the bathroom doorway. I can only imagine what he’s seeing. I’m red-eyed, my face tear-streaked and beside me, Daisy is still wailing. I take her from Griffin’s arms, rubbing her back in a soothing circle.
“Whoever it was, they’re gone now,” he tells Luke.
The sheriff nods, and I swear in that one gesture they have an entire conversation. I guess when your life might one day be in someone else’s hands, you learn how to communicate wordlessly. “I’ll check around see what I can find.”
I hold Daisy. She’s still softly crying, but she seems to be calming. My body is wracked with hiccups and tremors. Griffin is holding onto both of us. I thought he would let us go when Luke appeared. The man is his boss, but he made no move to release us. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Either of you.”
I stay wrapped up with him on the cramped bathroom tile, borrowing from his strength and letting it become mine. I have to explain everything to him now. I have to hope he believes me. I don’t know what’s going to come next, but I can’t keep doing this. I have to find a way to keep Daisy safe forever.
“I’ll tell you everything. You have to help me protect Daisy. I can’t let anything happen to her.” I will away more tears. “She’s my whole world.”
“And you’re mine. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promises.
The sound of the back door opening has me freezing, but Luke immediately calls out to let me know he’s the one in the house.
Griffin gently squeezes my shoulder. “Tell both of us. Let us help you with this.”
I nod and get to my feet. “I’ll get her a bottle, then I’ll answer all of your questions.”
After Daisy is settled in my arms, I sit at the rickety kitchen table while Griffin sits across from me. Luke leans against a nearby wall, his curious gaze on me. But he lets his deputy take the lead, a small kindness I’m grateful for.
Griffin reaches for my free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “There were footprints in the mud. Two sets of them. Do you know who might be after you?”
“I’m not sure of their real names. The tall, lanky one goes by the name Roulette, and the other is Jagger. They’re involved with drugs.”
He swears under his breath then exchanges a look with Luke. “Where did you meet these people, honey?”
“Through my best friend. Former best friend. Late best friend,” I correct myself and pull the bottle from Daisy. I pat her back to burp her as Luke watches me.
“Do you have little ones?” I ask him over the sound of her crying. Maybe it’s what we’ve been through tonight, but she sounds extra pitiful.
He nods. “One already. A second on the way.”
“She’s the most important person in my world,” I tell him as she lets out a big, wet burp.
I settle her with the bottle again and start my story at the beginning. “I was a foster child. My parents passed before I was even old enough to remember them. I bounced around. Stayed with a lot of good families, but no one ever wanted me for long.”
Griffin squeezes my hand in a silent gesture of support.
“I did meet one girl, Shelley. She was in the system too. We sometimes ended up in the same placements or the same group home. The thing about is that we looked like sisters. Close enough to be twins even. Sometimes, we used that to our advantage, taking tests for each other or showing up at jobs as each other. It was funny. It was kid stuff. Nothing bad,” I say, glancing down at Daisy. She’s fighting sleep, her eyelids drifting closed only to pop back open every few seconds.
“But while I got placed with a lot of good people, Shelley didn’t. She, um, she struggled. She started using drugs. I didn’t know that. We’d always agreed that when we turned eighteen, we would rent an apartment together.”
I stop there and blow out a breath, relieved to see sleep claiming Daisy. She’s had more excitement in six months of living than most people do in six decades.
