Page 2 of River Wild

On the second-floor landing, she turned the corner, then moved fast down the stairs, eager to reach street level. If she’d been accidentally locked in, she would call the emergency number. Someone would come get her out before long. But with each step, she found herself getting more nervous.

At the first floor, she had started toward the front of the huge building when she heard a scuffling sound, shoe soles moving across the library floor. She’d been right. She wasn’t alone. She stopped again, listening even as her hand snaked into her bag for her pepper spray.

She’d been carrying the spray since being attacked outside the Wild Horse Bar in Powder Crossing. Her attacker had tried to take her bag with her computer in it. She’d fought him and gotten the bag away from him. Unfortunately, it had been too dark that night to see his face. He’d worn a hoodie and had run away when the female bartender had stuck her head out the door to see what was going on.

Bailey hadn’t realized that she’d been screaming before that. Maybe the attacker just wanted money from her purse, also in her bag. Our maybe he’d wanted her laptop with what she’d been working on. She’d told herself it had been random since no one knew what she’d been up to, but she feared she was wrong.

She heard the scuffling sound again as she moved cautiously toward the front of the library. Maybe she’d been wrong and they weren’t closed yet. Which meant the doors would still be open. Or maybe she was only hearing the janitor cleaning after hours.

Bailey rushed to the front door and hit it, expecting it to fly open. Instead, alarms began to go off. She leaned against the glass, clutching her can of pepper spray, expecting whoever she’d heard in the building to appear. If it had been the janitor or a librarian working late, they would come to see what was going on, right? But no one appeared from the darkness inside.

Instead, a police car roared up, siren and lights flashing. She stood, her back to the door, and stared into the darkness. It wasn’tHim. Not here, not like this. No, but someone knew. She was no longer safe anywhere.

AFTERSHE’DBEENQUESTIONED, scolded and made the subject of a police report—procedure, she was told—the young deputy offered to walk her to her car. Her answer surprised her.

“Please,” she said, a quaver in her voice. She felt vulnerable, something she hated. But she wasn’t sure at this moment that she was capable of taking care of herself. She’d had a scare tonight in the library. She hadn’t been alone. The library had closed, but hadn’t she heard someone else in the building? Where had they gone? Maybe more importantly, where were they now?

The back door opened onto the parking area—now empty except for her car. As she and the cop walked along the side of the building to the back, she saw her SUV sitting like an island in the middle of the blacktop sea. Beyond it were darkness and shadows that seemed to grow and fade with the passing traffic along 6th Street.

“You sure you’re all right?” the deputy asked as she slowed, her eyes darting around the parking area—and the night beyond. She could only nod, knowing whoever it was hadn’t left. They were somewhere in the dark, waiting for her. Her heart raced. What if it wasHim? What if he was through waiting? But why now?

She and the officer continued toward her car. Her ears were tuned for the sound of a heel scraping over blacktop. She wasn’t even sure the deputy would be able to protect her if the man attacked. Hurriedly she fumbled in her bag for her keys.

For a moment, she panicked. What if the cop left her before she found her keys? Her fingers trembled as she felt warm metal and pulled the keys from her bag—only to fumble and immediately drop them. They fell into the shadowy darkness at her feet, making a ringing sound as they struck the blacktop. For a moment she felt so helpless, so alone, so afraid that she thought she would start to cry and not be able to stop.

“Let me do that,” the deputy said, scooping up her keys and opening her SUV’s door. The overhead light came on inside it. She saw him look into the back before he handed over her keys.

She took them, fighting to pull herself together. This wasn’t her. She was a fighter; it was the only reason she was still alive.

But lately, she’d been feeling as if she was constantly being watched—like now. Watched and followed. If she was right,Hecould be here watching her. Which meant he’d followed her to the library. He’d wanted her to know he was there. He wanted her to be afraid so he could watch her fear grow until he made his move.

Clutching the keys in her fist, she tried not to stop searching the darkness at the edge of the parking lot as she slid behind the wheel.

“You sure you’re up to driving?” the deputy asked, studying her in the dim light spilling out of her vehicle.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, hoping it was true. “I’ll stop and get some coffee and a bite to eat. I haven’t had anything since breakfast. I’m a little shaky.”

He took her answer at face value. “All right then, drive safely.” For a moment, he studied her again as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he nodded and stepped back to close her door firmly. For a moment, their gazes met through the glass. She tried a smile as she reached to start the motor. “I’ll be fine,” she said as the engine throbbed to life. The deputy seemed to hesitate before he turned his back and walked away.

The moment she’d driven out of the semidarkness of the parking lot and caught her first stoplight, she saw it—something small and white stuck under her driver’s side windshield wiper.

Her pulse jumped, her gaze flying up to the rearview mirror. She expected to see a face, smell sweat, feel something close around her throat. But there was no one hiding in the back of her vehicle. The officer had checked. Still, she felt jumpy.

Bailey drove a few blocks before she found a busy fast-food restaurant with a well-lit parking lot. She pulled in and, leaving the engine running, jumped out to lift the wiper and free what she now saw was a piece of paper folded tightly.

She didn’t unfold it until she was back safely behind the wheel, the doors all locked. Logic argued that it could be an advertising flyer stuffed under the wiper at any time while she was in the library.

Or it could be what she knew in her heart. The note had been left for her by the person who’d been hiding in the library, watching her.

Carefully unfolding the paper, her hands began to shake as she held up the note to the light. The words were written in a hurried scrawl.You got lucky tonight. Won’t next time.

She balled it up and lowered her window, ready to throw it out. But she was a Montanan raised by Holden McKenna. You didn’t litter. She threw the note to the floorboard.

Cars pulled into the drive-through. Others sped past behind her on the street. There seemed to be people everywhere. Life going on around her,withouther. Her sudden desperation to get to Powder Crossing verged on panic. All she could think about was getting home. Home. Too bad she no longer felt safe on the ranch that had always been her home. Too bad she didn’t feel safe anywhere but one place—the last place she should go.

Pulling out on the street at the first break in the traffic, she checked her rearview mirror again but saw only dozens of headlights.Hecould be in any of the vehicles behind her. The stoplight changed. The driver behind her honked and she hit the gas, telling herself not to look back. But how could she do that? She’d been looking back for twelve years. She couldn’t stop now.

SHERIFFSTUARTLAYTONdidn’t hear about what had happened at the Billings Public Library until the next morning when the police report crossed his desk via computer. He’d been updated because the woman in question was a local.

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