Page 14 of Cowboy Stalker
“Shelley got clean while I was pregnant. I thought things were getting better. She even had those little patches on her arm that they give you at the clinics when you’re trying to get sober. Sub something.”
“But she didn’t stay sober,” Luke guesses.
“When I was eight months pregnant, she took all of the belongings in the apartment and pawned them. I thought it was because she was using again. I mean, she was. But it turns out, she owed money to the wrong people. About a week after I gave birth, she confessed to everything. She’d been pretending to be me around her friends. She stole my identity and opened credit cards in my name. Wrote checks in my name. It was awful, the things she’d done.”
“What made her break down and tell all of this to you?” Griffin asks.
“She stole drugs from the wrong people. Said the three of us should get out of town for a little while. But then…there was the car accident.” I pause there and swallow hard.
Griffin nods. “So, they don’t realize that you’re not the one that died. They must think you’re Shelley, and they want their drugs back.”
“That’s what I’m guessing. I don’t think they’ll believe anything I say.” I don’t tell Luke that I haven’t exactly tried to have a conversation with these men. I’m pretty sure their idea of a conversation about outstanding debt is very different from mine.
“What’s her name?” Luke asks, tapping on his phone.
I give the sheriff her full name and rattle off her birthday and other identifying information. Luke pulls up her picture and lets out a slow whistle. “You weren’t kidding. You could pass as twins.”
Something occurs to me, a question I hadn’t thought about asking before. “I don’t think it was them who caused the car accident. You don’t kill the person you’re trying to get money from, do you?”
The two exchange another look, and the sheriff says, “We’ll look into this. See what we can find out.”
Panic claws at me, making me cold and numb at the same time. “You can’t let anyone know that I’m here.”
“I think that ship has sailed,” Griffin says. “They know you’re here.”
Luke grimaces and looks at the cardboard taped over the window. While I was making Daisy’s bottle tonight, Griffin took pictures of the damage and swept up the glass. Then he taped a piece of cardboard over the broken pane.
“Hale is going to be so mad,” I mutter.
“I’ve already dealt with him. Don’t even worry about it,” Griffin reassures me.
“I’d give some serious thought to staying somewhere else tonight,” Luke says. “If you want, you could?—”
Griffin interrupts whatever Luke was about to suggest to tell him in a firm tone, “She’s staying with me.”
Chapter 6
Missy
Griffin stays with me while I pack an overnight bag for Daisy and one for myself. I dump almost everything we own into a beat-up duffel bag. It doesn’t take me long at all, but I’m too tired and too spent to wonder if he’s judging me.
Luke is still in the house. He’s on the phone, making calls. He’s talking, but all of his words are floating around me. There’s too much noise in my brain. I can’t take in one more thing.
The moment I’m done, Griffin throws the bag over his shoulder and grabs the car seat where Daisy is sleeping. I follow him outside, aware of Luke’s gaze on us the entire time. He doesn’t get in his truck until Griffin and I are pulling away from the drive.
I fight back a wave of tears when I see the rental fading in the distance behind me. Was it only an hour ago that I was giddily telling Audrey about my date with Griffin? I feel like I’ve aged a decade since then.
The two of us don’t say a word as he drives. I don’t even know where he lives, but I know that I can trust him. I’m not sure how long we’ve traveled when he turns the truck down a dirt road.
It’s too dark for me to see much. This far out in the country, there are no streetlights. The moon and the stars are the only illumination. I had a foster mom who used to call them God’s night lights, proof that he hasn’t forgotten us in the dead of night. I don’t know if that’s true. I know that since Shelley’s friends started searching for me, I wish I could be forgotten.
He parks in the long driveway next to a farmhouse that’s illuminated by large floodlights. It’s stunning and beautiful, the type of home that looks like it was built to a cowboy’s pride and joy.
On the porch there are white wicker chairs with throw pillows in a cheerful yellow color. Ferns hang from hooks, rustled in the breeze by the large paddle fans that are whirring quietly above us. Soft porch lamps illuminate the scene, making it feel as if the home itself is welcoming me and Daisy.
On the steps, a woman and man are sitting together and chuckling about something. Both of them are clutching rifles. They stop chatting when I come up the walk with Griffin. Daisy is nestled against his neck.
He took her out of the car seat so carefully, murmuring to her that she was safe when she stirred. She went back to sleep the moment she opened her eyes and saw Griffin. As if she knows she can trust him.
