Page 4 of Montana Heat

“I know, but?—”

“Let me call you back in a little while, okay?” I knew where this conversation was heading and needed to stop it while I could. “I have an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?”

I cringed. One with the police chief. Telling Mom that would not get her off the phone. “Just some settling-in stuff.”

“Okay. We’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Be safe.”

I disconnected the call.Safe. Something I had taken for granted my whole life and now was all I could think about.

Would Garnet Bend actually be the safe place Detective Watters implied? Surely I was going to stick out as a stranger. Obviously, all 2,518 people sat around and studied one another, so they’d know if an outsider was in their midst.

I let out a sigh at my own ridiculousness.

But still… I couldn’t work here. I’d spent the past five years building my reputation as a commercial real estate agent, then had found a particular talent for developing seminars teaching others the nuances of the business.

I regularly taught workshops with more people in attendance than lived in all of Garnet Bend.

Stopping at a red light, I looked more closely at the town. Old-fashioned streetlamps lined the sidewalks, trash receptacles had been placed in prime traffic areas, and the businesses were nicely spaced and seemed to be thriving. Everything looked inviting and clean. Honestly, a Realtor’s dream.

A brief friendly honk behind me—not the loud blare I would’ve gotten in Denver, so one point to Garnet Bend—jarred me out of my assessment. I looked up, noticing the light had turned green. Cringing, I lifted my hand in apology. “Sorry!”

Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I proceededahead to my destination, turning into a small parking lot as it came up on my right. This was the reason I was in Garnet Bend in the first place.

Trying to stay safe from the stalker who’d decided to make my life hell.

My fist made its way to my stomach, trying to rub away the ball of stress formed there. I knew firsthand if I didn’t get it to ease now, it would worsen and turn into nausea and blind panic.

It was already starting. My eyes darted around the parking lot. Looking for…what exactly, I didn’t know.

And that was the problem: the not knowing.

It was a terrifying thought—that someone even now might be watching me, learning my habits, and lying in wait. But what they were waiting for, I had no clue.

I tried my best to be aware of my surroundings, stay visible when I was out, and never be the last person to leave anywhere or walk alone.

But still, I jumped at every sound, tensed when a stranger came close, and I suspected everyone. Every time I walked to my door or opened my mailbox, the possibility of something ugly always lurked in the shadows.

Reallyugly. My stalker had made sure I knew that.

For weeks, anxiety had taken up residence in my stomach. It knotted now, spreading uneasiness through me even though I was safe in my vehicle. The toast and coffee I’d had for breakfast churned uncomfortably. I took a few deep breaths, hoping to keep it down.

I was not meeting the first people in my new hometown with vomit on me.

“Just get to the appointment.” I swallowed hard, my mouth dry from the tension and stress of seeing strangers nearby. “One step at a time.”

Detective Watters was friends with the police chief here inGarnet Bend, which was how we’d decided this was where I would lie low since things had…escalatedwith my stalker last week.

Escalated. Such a benign word for blood being splattered on your home’s walls.

But yes, a formal check-in with the police here was necessary, Watters said. Let them know who I was. It would make me feel more comfortable.

Comfort had been foreign to me for nearly four months. Somehow, I didn’t think showing up here was going to make me instantly warm and cozy.

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