Page 18 of Shadowing Her Stalker

“My officer on scene checked. Says it doesn’t look like your passenger took anything.”

Wyatt did his best to keep his expression impassive. She was searching his face for clues, and he didn’t have one to give. “So no theft,” he said, his tone flat.

“Other than the vehicle,” Masterson supplied.

“Which was found in the exact spot where Ms. Beckett found it,” Wyatt supplied.

“But I... He...” she spluttered. “This wasn’t some fantasy abduction I made up to scare people,” she insisted, voice rising in agitation. “The truck driver. Eustace. Mr. Stubbs. He saw us. He saw me jump out of the car. He saw a man take off with the rental car.”

“We do have Mr. Stubbs, the driver who picked you up. He gave a statement and as much of a description as he could,” Masterson said in a patronizingly soothing tone. “And we may get lucky with some hair or other fibers.”

But it didn’t sound like he was expecting much. And even if they did come up with forensic evidence, the perpetrator would have to be somewhere in the system for there to be a match.

“Okay,” Wyatt said, hoping to redirect the conversation. “Let me know what the forensics team finds. I have Emma Parker with the CCD working on some data tracking for us too. I’ll have her loop you in if she uncovers anything helpful to the case.”

“Appreciate it,” Masterson said gruffly. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Wyatt thanked the man, then ended the call.

A logging truck rumbled past. Two minivans and an SUV zipped along close behind it. All three of the drivers jockeyed to be in position to overtake the larger vehicle, all too aware once they got past Clinton and started climbing into the hills, the highway would narrow to a single lane in each direction. When they hit the switchbacks, there would only be the occasional passing lane made available for traffic relief. He’d be stuck behind them all.

He was already so far behind.

Who was hacking into Cara Beckett’s accounts? Who disliked a woman who swore by gratitude journals and daily meditation enough to terrorize her? Chase her from her home? Kidnap her in broad daylight?

“Why would he leave everything?”

Her tremulous question broke into his thoughts. He turned to face her, but when his eyes met hers, he could see she already knew the answer. Robbery was never the intent.

This time, she spoke in little more than a whisper. “Why does someone want to hurt me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I promise I’m going to do my best to figure out who it is and stop them.”

Understanding arced like an electric current between them. But she didn’t reach for his phone. Instead, she held his gaze so long he had to jerk his attention back to the road.

“Do you mind if we stop and get a coffee before we head for my parents’ house?” she asked. “I’d like a moment to...collect my thoughts.”

Wyatt nodded and checked their location against the GPS. “I know exactly the place.” Hitting his blinker, he craned his neck to check traffic. A rooster tail of grit and dust rose behind them as he steered the SUV back onto the highway.

Chapter Five

Cara clutched the paper cup holding her coffee close as a breeze with a biting edge to it whipped her hair from her forehead. The view from the scenic overlook touted on a billboard outside of Marshall did not disappoint. The valley stretched below them like a patchwork quilt sewn from scraps of vibrant autumn colors. Red, orange and gold specimens shone bright against a backdrop of dark evergreens and leaves already dried to crisp golden brown.

“The cemetery where my mother’s grandparents are buried sits on top of a hill covered in these huge red maple trees,” she murmured when Wyatt approached. “Every fall, they turn the most incredible red-gold color I’ve ever seen. I bet it’s spectacular about now.”

“We can go there if you like. It’s not like we’ll have to hide out in your parents’ basement.”

“Good to hear,” she said. He half turned and flashed a wry smile. “Because they don’t have a basement. Nothing but a nasty old storm cellar filled with ancient canning jars and spiders.” She glanced back at the SUV where he’d been making and taking calls while she ruminated. “Anything new?”

“We have an IP address from where the email was sent. It gave us a trail to follow. There’s a forum user from Hot Springs we suspect may have been your, uh, passenger.”

Cara whirled to face him. She swiped at her hair ineffectually. “Is it so easy to find people?”

“If you know how and where to look. Special Agent Parker has a talent for tracking these things down. Probably because when she was younger, she used the same talent to cover her own tracks.”

“What do you mean?”

He smirked. “A member of our team was once a teenage hacker.”

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