to look for help when you did instead of trying to deal with the guy on your own.” Though he liked fighting his own battles, the same rules didn’t apply in this woman’s case. Stalkers could become violent and she didn’t have the right build to fight a man. She was about five foot two and all rounded corners and softness.
“Thanks for the ride.” She looked around again as she opened the door, then froze. “He’s there! Can you see him?”
“The guy in the black hooded windbreaker?”
“That’s him, but without the ball cap this time. That hoodie covers part of his face, so I still can’t tell for sure if it’s Bud.”
“Lock the door and wait here. Let me go talk to him.”
As a former foster kid, he’d seen all the tough guys who liked to throw their weight around, the bullies who only picked on those who couldn’t fight back and the ones who thought the world owed them. Street hoods came in all shapes and sizes, but they had one thing in common. They needed to vent their pent-up rage on someone and weren’t interested in a fair fight.
Gene’s walk was slow and steady, his gaze never leaving the man standing by the car. Though he still couldn’t make out his face, Gene could see the name of the Hartley’s high school team—the Scorpions—on his windbreaker.
Gene was within thirty yards of him when the man suddenly pivoted and took off at an all-out run. Gene chased him down the block, but the guy suddenly cut left, racing out into the street just as the light changed. Tires screeched, horns honked, but the runner made it across.
Gene tried to follow, but as he stepped out, a city bus turned the corner and blared its horn, forcing him to jump back. The bus pulled up to the curb right in front of him.
By the time Gene ran the length of the bus to the rear end, cars were racing by in both directions and the guy had vanished.
Gene cursed, but there was nothing more he could do now. This would have to remain a police problem. As he returned to his truck he saw Lori sitting there, looking around, searching for him.
She climbed out to greet him. “Are you okay?” she asked, handing him the key. “The second I saw him run off and you going after him, I called the police. I told them it was an emergency.”
“Call them back. There’s no hope of catching the guy now and they’re stretched pretty tight. We may be taking them away from a real life-or-death situation, like a traffic accident.”
She nodded and dialed quickly. After a second, she looked back at him. “As soon as I told them that there was no emergency, they put me on hold,” she said with a grim smile. “It’s all part of that slowdown. Negotiations between the city and the police department reached an impasse a week ago and neither side is giving an inch. Personally I side with the cops. They aren’t getting paid enough, and if they end up having their benefits cut, too…” She shrugged and held her palms up. “Doesn’t make much sense to stay in a job where you have to risk your life every day but still have to choose between paying the rent or your health insurance.”
“True, but their situation sure doesn’t help you much right now.”
Someone finally answered the call, and Lori listened to the woman officer at the other end. “I’m sure this wasn’t an attempt to steal my car,” Lori told her. “I’ve got a sedan that’s older than dirt. No one in their right mind would want it. And a purse snatching doesn’t seem right, either. I do have my laptop inside, but you can’t see it. If you check your records, I reported seeing a man following me this morning. Heck, I even blogged about it on my webpage during a coffee break.”
A few seconds later, Lori hung up and focused on Gene. “In all the craziness, I don’t think I introduced myself to you properly. You know my first name, but my last name’s Baker,” she said, extending her hand. “And you’re Gene…”
He smiled. So she’d remembered his first name. This was turning out to be a good day, after all. “Gene Redhouse,” he answered. Like most Navajos, he generally disliked touching strangers, even in a handshake, but he’d adapted to the Anglo custom. As he shook her hand, it surprised him how soft and small it felt in his.
For the first time since they’d met she gave him a full smile. Her whole face lit up and the effect took his breath away. She was heart-stopping gorgeous.
“Did the police say what they wanted you to do next?” he asked.
“They asked me to write down the details of what happened as soon as possible. Since no officer will be available for at least two hours, they want to make sure I don’t forget anything. They’ll also want to talk to you.”
“Just to make sure I understand you, you gave the police the name of the man you think is stalking you?” he asked, verifying it. He remembered his brothers complaining about victims who protected their tormentors.
“Oh, sure, but Bud’s a real creep. When I first filed harassment charges, he told the investigating officer that I’d come on to him and he even accused me of stalking him.”
“So then it became your word against his?”
“Exactly,” she said, and expelled her breath in a whoosh. “Reporting him not only got me nowhere, it brought my credibility into question.”
“I don’t think the police necessarily doubt your word,” Gene said, “but their job requires them to rely solely on evidence. ‘He said, she said’ cases take a while to sort out.”
“Maybe so, but it still stung. I wanted to force this guy to back off, but all I really did was create new problems for myself. Now, because he can’t bother me at work without looking like a liar, I guess he’s decided to follow me before and after hours. What scares me is that I’m not sure how far he’s prepared to take this.”
“How did you happen to spot him tonight? Were you looking for him?”
“I was on my guard, mostly because I’d had to park a little farther from the restaurant than I’d intended. After dinner I was walking back to my car and caught a glimpse of someone following me. I thought it was Bud, so I called out and told him to get lost. That didn’t work, so I got scared. I ran out into the street to flag someone down.”
“Which turned out to be me. But what made you think you weren’t about to trade one problem for another?”
“Two sickos in a row? Not likely. As it was, I had no reason to think of you as a threat, but I knew the guy following me was trouble.”
Gene didn’t believe in coincidences. The universe had a pattern, and within that was order. Remembering Hosteen’s prediction, he suddenly wondered if Lori was somehow connected.
Hosteen Silver had mentioned circles, and Gene had been rounding a curve when she’d stepped out in front of his truck. Then again, Hosteen Silver had also written about a lost one who would show him the way, and neither Lori nor he had been lost. Maybe he was trying too hard to make sense of his foster father’s prophecy.
Lori looked around slowly, then, as if making up her mind, met his gaze. “I’m not going to stay out here at this time of night, not with Bud wanting to make trouble for me. If the police want to question me, they can come to my home,” she said. “They’ll want to talk to you, too, so how about following me there? I could
