Rachel Lee - Stalked In Conard County

She was still smiling when he left. He almost felt like whistling.

Across the street, the beefy man walking a white Yorkie watched Roger pull out of the driveway, then stared at the house for a few minutes before moving on. Edgar Metzler was a regular sight at this end of town, although usually he walked Puddles, his dog, in the early morning or evening, varying according to his schedule.

Haley McKinsey was still there. Maybe that McLeod guy was making her feel safe…

Edgar would give it another day or two, but if she didn’t leave town, he was going to have to do something stronger than look in her window.

He was almost positive she couldn’t identify him. She hadn’t been able to do that right after he’d kidnapped her, mostly because he’d taken care not to show his face, except once by accident when he’d returned her.

He didn’t really have a criminal nature, he assured himself. Yeah, he’d made a big mistake stealing six hundred bucks from her dad and getting himself fired. He’d known he’d been stupid, but the way Jack McKinsey had treated him—as if he were poop to be scraped off the bottom of his boot—that had rankled.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t found another job. Of course he had, up in Alberta, far away from the scene of his crimes. But McKinsey’s treatment of him had been like a constant irritation until he’d decided to teach the man a lesson.

So he’d stolen the guy’s daughter. Okay, he’d been young and stupid, and it had taken him only two days to realize just how stupid. Taking a man’s daughter and demanding a hundred thousand in ransom? Made him look like a pettier crook than he actually was and had walked him into deeper trouble than he’d even thought about until he’d done it and seen the reports on the news. Kidnapping. To this day he couldn’t figure out how he’d come to the conclusion that would be a good idea. It was like that ad he saw on TV about diamonds: kidnapping is forever.

But as soon as the light bulb had turned on, he’d dumped the evidence where he was sure she would be found and fled back to Alberta.

For a long time he’d felt safe. A quarter century safe. He’d retired from the oil fields and had been drawn here by a job teaching about drilling equipment for a vocational program at the community college. Less than two years ago.

Then he’d heard that Haley McKinsey was in town to take care of her grandmother’s house. All of a sudden he didn’t feel quite so safe. What if she remembered him even after all this time?

Going by the house last night to look in on her while she was sleeping had been a test as much as anything. Yeah, he’d wanted to scare her a bit if she woke, but mostly he’d wanted to know if he could remember her. She’d been a kid when he’d last seen her, but if he could recognize her …well, buried somewhere deep in that blond head there might be a memory of him. He’d recognized her. She was just an older version of the kid.

So she might recognize him. But apparently she hadn’t because if she had, she surely would’ve called the cops pronto. Still, that didn’t make him feel terribly safe because she hadn’t gotten a good look at him, what with it being dark, and how fast he had ducked when her eyes opened. But she’d get a really good look if she ran into him on any street in this town.

Obviously, he hadn’t learned to restrain his impulsiveness, though he’d been working on it for years. Looking in that window might have been royally stupid, might have dredged up memories. On the other hand, it might have told him that he needed to hightail it to some other part of the country.

He’d never been a settled man. Half-unpacked wherever he went, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Regardless, he had to hurry her back to wherever she’d come from so he could bury all that stuff in the grave where he’d been keeping it for a long time. He couldn’t live on the edge of fear for long. He’d figured that out when he’d kidnapped her.

He’d also learned over the years that he was capable of a lot worse than kidnapping if his blood got riled enough, so that woman better not recognize him. She might wind up dead, and while he assured himself he wasn’t a murderer, it wouldn’t be the first time if he got upset enough. Worse, whatever he told himself about everything being the fault of circumstances and his own impulsiveness, not some rooted evil, he couldn’t escape the shiver of pleasure than ran through him when thinking about killing Haley.

She’d been stalking his nightmares and dreams for a whole bunch of years. He didn’t deserve that. He’d returned her safe and sound, after all. He deserved some peace after all this time. He’d built a respectable life for the most part. Look at him now. He didn’t need that woman’s ghost sitting on his shoulder all the time.

Word making the rounds was that she’d be here only a few weeks. Sure, so what was she doing hanging out with that saddle-making dude?

But given the assumption that she was going to clean house, put the place on the market and leave, the local “welcomers” hadn’t tried to make an appearance yet. No casseroles arriving. No pies or plates of cookies. Just the saddler who was often at that house anyway, doing odd jobs from the look of it.

Maybe that was the only reason McLeod was there now.

That didn’t make Edgar feel a whole lot better, though. Now he had to waste time figuring out if he needed to do something else, like peep in a few more windows so the attention wouldn’t be drawn to Haley and create the impression someone was interested in her especially. Someone might well put two and two together if she was the only one visited.

Hell. He rubbed his face and looked down at Puddles. Small enough to fit in his tote when needed, and about the best companion he’d ever had. He wished the dog could give him some answers.

Because if there was one thing life had taught Edgar, it was that he wasn’t much of a thinker. Plotting, planning… Damn, what a waste of time and effort. And now he might be stuck needing to do it.

“Come on, Puddles,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

Puddles wagged her tail happily and continued to trot at Edgar’s side. Why couldn’t everything be as easy as this dog?

Ridiculously—or so Haley told herself—being alone in the house after Roger left really bothered her. She’d been alone here for most of the last two days, working her way through mementos, treasures and trash, and thinking almost constantly of her grandmother. She’d felt comforted then by being so close to the woman she had loved as only a child can love.

Now she was uncomfortable?

She shook herself and gathered some boxes she’d purchased two days ago, spending a few minutes to fold them into shape. Most of her grandmother’s clothes would have to be donated, at least the ones in good enough condition. It seemed she, like her granddaughter, occasionally like to wear a pair of pants or a shirt until it was just shy of falling apart.

Slowly she began to empty drawers, first from Grandma’s bedroom. Later she’d gather from upstairs, where a whole lot seemed to have accumulated. Proof, she supposed, that stuff filled the space available. Then she’d have to start on the books. Maybe she ought to call the local librarian—Miss Emma, she recalled—and ask if she wanted donations, possibly for a fund-raising sale. To judge by the creaking and overflowing bookcases upstairs, Flora had bought nearly as many books as she’d read.