ride here, working through how she’d tell him.
Calm. Cool. Controlled.
She’d imagined those words, then imagined what they’d feel like, willing her emotions to match.
So how mortifying to feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes.
“Come on, Lizzie.” He took her hand and pulled her to the couch. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever it is.”
She wanted to fight the delicious warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, but it felt so good. And so safe. The endless days of thinking herself in the throes of some pregnant mania had given way to a sobering reality, and it felt good to have some support, even if it would ultimately be fleeting.
So she kept her hand in his and launched into her story.
“I think you know I’m a loan officer for a bank, in their corporate office. We have responsibility for about thirty counties in Texas and a sister office in Austin that covers the southern portion of the state. It’s a sizable territory, and there are about eighty of us.”
“It sounds like a good job.”
Was a good job, Lizzie lamented to herself before she pressed on. “It is. I was well respected and getting more responsibility. I made it clear to my boss that this is my career and I’m committed to it.”
“And they got upset when you announced your pregnancy?”
“That’s what was odd. Not only was my boss excited, she wanted to throw me a shower. Said this was happy news and that I’d make a great mother.”
She saw the confusion stamped on Ethan’s face and knew it was a match for her own. The conversation she’d dreaded from the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy had instead confirmed she’d been working for the right employer. The office consistently preached work-life balance and family values, and their reaction had only confirmed that ethos.
They were happy for her.
“So what’s with the notes? It doesn’t sound like anyone has an ax to grind.”
“A few weeks after my pregnancy became office news, the notes started. I’d waited until I’d passed my first trimester, but you can only hide the proof for so long.” A small laugh bubbled up at that, the maternity clothes she’d purchased early on a giveaway of her condition, even to the few who hadn’t heard the news. “As I said, my boss was excited, and once I gave her the okay to mention it, all she could talk about was baby clothes and a shower and stuffed animals.”
“Is it possible someone at the office got jealous? Maybe someone who couldn’t have a child? Joy in others often makes what we can’t have even worse.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, we’re a relatively young staff and several other coworkers have had babies or the fathers have taken paternity leave. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in being pregnant.”
“Did you keep the notes?”
“Not right away. The first couple I threw away. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to give them any credence or an ounce of my time. But after I got a few more I took them to the police.”
“Did they put someone on your case? Someone who could watch out for you?”
“For a few days, but when nothing else manifested they had to prioritize something more important.”
“That’s a load of bull. You were obviously threatened.”
“And they tried. A detective came to work and asked questions, and several officers drove by my home. But what were they supposed to do, Ethan? The threats stopped for a while, but they can’t watch out for me indefinitely.”
“What about the flowers? Did the detective follow that lead?”
“Yes, and it was a dead end. The florist was questioned, but the payment was in cash and the name given for the sender ended up being fake.”
Ethan snorted at that, his disgust palpable. While she was inclined to agree with him—especially staring down a series of creepy notes—she also knew the police had to deal with real cases.
Real victims.
Until the last one.
“They’ve called several times since to check on me, but once the rattle came I’d had enough.”
“What did the good detective say about that one?”
“It was hard for him to say anything.”
“Why’s that? You had evidence. Something that likely had prints.”
“I’m sure it didn’t. The few notes they analyzed had no fingerprints. Whoever’s doing this has been careful. Besides, it didn’t matter.” A hard shiver gripped her despite the warmth of the room. “The rattle disappeared.”
“What? When?”
“Two nights ago. When I got home from work. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I left it on my kitchen counter, but when I got home it was gone.”
“Do you have a security system?”
His simple, direct questions calmed her, and she focused on his words. On answering each query instead of on the reality of what she was dealing with. A monster.
“I never saw the point. I don’t live in anything extravagant.”
“You’re a woman alone. You should have protection.”
“I realize that now. But I quit the next morning and packed up my stuff. I can’t afford to leave my job, but I can’t stay. I can’t, Ethan. I can’t.”
The panic she’d managed to hold at bay reached up to swamp her, the shivers turning into coarse waves of terror.
Someone wanted to harm her baby.
And they had no problem going through her to reach their goal.
* * *
Erica Morgan dug her keys out of her purse and hotfooted it through the crisp early morning air. Why did the parking lot of the Granite Gulch Saloon always look so forlorn and empty in the daylight?
Even with the vivid blue sky overhead, the gray gravel parking lot seemed to suck up Mother Nature’s attempts at brightening the day.
A wicked gust of wind kicked up and she ignored a hard shudder as she stuck the key into the lock of her old pickup. Wow, was it freaking cold. February had been a bitch so far, and the weather reports suggested they were in for at least another week of the bone-chilling cold. All she wanted was her bed and the thriller whose pages still beckoned from her bedside table.
She could have been wrapped up in her grandmother’s old quilt already if she hadn’t volunteered to do inventory after closing. But the owner paid well for the overtime, and besides the thriller, it wasn’t as if she had much else to do.
Of course, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep in
