Page 52 of Dust and Desire
Two words were scrawled across the back in familiar handwriting.
“I’m watching.”
My blood turned to ice.
Keith.
I looked around frantically, scanning the horizon, the trees, anywhere he might be hiding. But there was nothing. Just the endless Texas prairie and the sound of my own ragged breathing.
But it was Keith. I knew it was. Because this was his sign. I crumpled the postcard in my fist, trying to steady my breathing. This wasn’t the first time Keith had left mepresents. When I’d first tried to break things off after those wild nights in New Orleans, there had been flowers on my doorstep. Then notes. Then dead things.
I thought I’d lost him when I took this job. Sagebrush was supposed to be my fresh start, my escape from the suffocating feeling of being watched. It was so far away from anywhere else I’d ever been. How the hell did he find me?
“Fuck,” I whispered, glancing back at the tiny house where Dustin still slept peacefully. I couldn’t let him see this. I couldn’t drag him into this nightmare.
I set my coffee down and quickly gathered the dead bird in an old rag, tossing it and the postcard into the trash bin at the side of the house. My hands shook as I rinsed them under the outdoor spigot, watching the pinkish water spiral down into the dirt.
After scrubbing the blood from the porch boards with water and an old brush, I stood up and surveyed the area again. The perfect morning was ruined, tainted by Keith’s presence. How had he found me here? How long had he been watching?
I needed to tell someone, but not Dustin. Not yet. This thing with us was too new, too precious. The last thing I wanted was to see fear in those blue eyes when he looked at me.
I finished my coffee in quick gulps, no longer tastingit. By the time I’d showered and dressed, Dustin was still asleep, his face peaceful in the growing morning light. I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I whispered, though he couldn’t hear me. Then, I locked the front door tight behind me.
Instead of heading straight to the stables, I drove my truck into town. Sheriff Marcus would be at his office by now, drinking his morning coffee and probably reading the paper before the day got started. I’m sure he didn’t have much to worry about in this dusty little town. Until now.
The sheriff’s station was a small brick building just off Main Street. A bell jingled when I pushed open the door, and Sheriff Marcus looked up from behind his desk, his handsome face breaking into a smile.
“Morning, Alex. What brings you by so early?” Sheriff Marcus set down his paper, his green eyes assessing me with casual interest that quickly shifted to concern. “Everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I closed the door behind me, glancing around to make sure we were alone. The office was empty except for us, the coffee pot in the corner gurgling quietly.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said, my voice lower than I intended. “Something private.”
Marcus nodded, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”
I sank into the chair, suddenly unsure how to begin. He already knew I had a past, I’d explained that much to him when my apartment got broken into. But after he’d checked up on us, nothing seemed to happen again. As far as I knew, nobody had seen the red truck again either. Everything was fine until…
“I found something on Dustin’s porch this morning,” I finally said, meeting Marcus’s steady gaze. “A dead bird. Fresh kill. And a postcard that saidI’m watching.”
Marcus’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed his posture straighten. “It’s from your ex, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair, still damp from my shower. “He’s done this before. Other places. It usually started with flowers and got worse. But this time… well, he’s going straight to dead animals.”
“You told me about you and him back in Louisiana,” he nodded. “I haven’t had any reports of his truck anywhere in town.”
“He’s here,” I replied, my voice shaking. “I’m sure of it now. And I don’t… I don’t want anything to happen to Dustin because of me.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Tell me about this ex of yours. Everything you can remember.”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to organize my thoughts. “His name is Keith Bordeaux. From Louisiana originally. We met at Mardi Gras a few years back, spent some time together out on a farm. I thought it was just a summer fling, but he...” I paused, searching for the right words. “He got obsessed. When I tried to leave, he wouldn’t let it go.”
“What kind of obsessed?” Marcus’s voice was calm, professional, but I could see the concern in his green eyes.
“At first it was romantic stuff. Flowers, love letters, expensive gifts showing up wherever I was working. But when I kept rejecting him, it escalated. Dead roses, threatening notes, and yeah... dead animals left where I’d find them.” I swallowed hard. “He has this way of making it seem like coincidence, like he’s not actually threatening me directly. But the message is clear.”
Marcus pulled out a notepad, jotting down notes. “How long has this been going on?”
