was just giving the shiny surface a final swipe when the tinkle of the bell over the front door indicated another diner arriving.
She looked up and her blood froze. There were three of them, all wearing the khaki uniforms of law enforcement. Sheriff Brandon Sinclair led the way, swaggering in followed by two of his trusted deputies.
There were only two cafés in Sandstone, Oklahoma, and she’d chosen to work at Smiley’s because the other place, Lacy’s, was where Sinclair and his men usually ate their lunch.
Sheriff Sinclair surveyed the café like a king overseeing his domain, his ice-blue eyes narrowing just a touch as his gaze landed on Janette.
Take a table, she mentally begged. If they sat at the table, then Heidi, Janette’s coworker, would wait on them. Janette had spent the past year of her life doing everything possible to avoid contact with the sheriff.
As he and his deputies headed toward the counter, her stomach bucked with a touch of nausea and her heart began to beat the rhythm of panic.
She couldn’t lose it. Not here. Not now. She refused to let him know how he affected her, knowing that he would relish her fear.
He’s just another customer, she told herself as the three seated themselves at the counter. “Can I take your orders?” she asked, surprised to hear her voice cool and collected despite all the emotions that quivered inside her.
“Coffee,” Sinclair said. “What kind of pie is good today?”
“Apple,” Janette replied tersely, then added, “the apple is always good.”
“Then let’s make it coffee and pie for all of us,” Sinclair said.
Janette nodded and turned to get the coffeepot. She could do this. As long as she didn’t look at him too long, as long as she didn’t get close enough to smell his cologne. She had a feeling if she got a whiff of that cheap, cloying smell she might vomit.
She filled their cups, trying to ignore the way Sinclair’s eyes lingered on her breasts. Her throat tightened and her heart banged harder against her ribs.
“Never guess what I heard through the grapevine,” Sinclair said to his deputies.
“What’s that, Sheriff?” Deputy Jed Billet asked.
“I heard that Janette has a little baby boy. What is he, about five months old, Janette?” Sinclair gazed at her knowingly.
She turned to get their pie, her hands trembling as she opened the display case that held the desserts. He knew. Dear God, he knew.
“Gonna be tough, being a single parent,” Deputy Westin said.
As she placed the pie in front of Sinclair he reared back on the stool. “A boy. There’s something special about a boy, don’t you think so, Jed? I mean, I love my three little girls, but I always dreamed about how great it would be to have a son. Unfortunately, all my wife could pop was girls. Still, a boy needs a father, don’t you agree?”
A roar went off in Janette’s head. She had to escape. She had to take her son and leave Sandstone because she knew what evil Sheriff Brandon Sinclair was capable of, and as long as she remained in Sandstone he had the power to do whatever he wanted to do.
If he decided he wanted her baby boy, she knew he’d find a way to get him.
Chapter 1
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I just got word that the bus isn’t coming.”
Janette blinked and stared up at the man in charge of the Cotter Creek bus station. She straightened in her chair as she realized she must have dozed off. She wrapped her arms around her still sleeping son and gazed at the man with confusion.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“The bus. It’s not coming. It’s been held up by weather.”
“By weather?” Dulled by sleep, she stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language.
He nodded. “Ice.” He pointed out the window. Janette followed his finger and gasped in surprise as she saw the icy pellets falling from the sky. The ground was already covered with at least an inch.
Where had it come from? When she’d arrived at the bus station two hours ago the skies had been thick with gray clouds, but there hadn’t been a hint of snow. Of course the last thing on her mind when she’d left Sandstone had been the weather forecast.
She looked back at the man and tried to swallow against the sense of panic that had been with her since she’d packed her bags and left Sandstone that afternoon. A friend of her grandmother’s had driven her the thirty miles to Cotter Creek, where a bus to Kansas City ran every other day. It was supposed to run today.
“Will it be here tomorrow?” she asked.
“Depends if the weathermen are right or wrong. They say we’re in for a blizzard, but they’re wrong more often than they’re right.” He shrugged his skinny shoulders and pulled a stocking cap over his head. “You best get settled in someplace for the night. I’ve got to close down here. Check back in the morning and I’ll know more about the schedule.” He was obviously in a hurry, tapping his heel as he looked at her expectantly.
“Of course.” She stood, grateful that Sammy still slept in his sling against her chest. She didn’t want to show how scared she was, didn’t want to do anything that might draw unnecessary attention to herself.
She’d find a pay phone, call the nearest motel and get a room for the night. Hopefully she’d still have time to get as far away from Sandstone as possible before Brandon Sinclair even knew she’d left the small town.
She grabbed the handle of her large suitcase and draped the diaper bag over her shoulder, still groggy from the unexpected catnap.
She was barely out the door before the bus station, little more than a shack, was locked up behind her. The ice that fell had coated the sidewalk and created shiny surfaces on everything else in sight. Under different circumstances she might have found it beautiful.
With Sammy safely snuggled beneath her wool coat, she looked up and down the street. She didn’t know Cotter Creek well. Perhaps there was a bed-and-breakfast someplace nearby where she could spend the night.
A new disquiet soared through her as she eyed the deserted streets. It was just after six but it was as if the entire town had packed their bags and left. There wasn’t a person or a car on the street.
She should have asked to use the phone in the bus station. She should have asked the man where she could get a room for the night. But the nap had dulled her senses, and he’d hurried her out too fast for her to think clearly.
The sight of a phone booth in the distance rallied her spirits. Cotter Creek was near a major highway, and that meant there had to be a motel somewhere nearby.
Pulling the suitcase behind her, she hurried as fast as the slick concrete would allow toward the phone booth, feeling as if luck was on her side as she spied the small phone book hanging on a hook just inside the door.
She
