Page 13 of Shadowing Her Stalker

“How? I was barely on there for two minutes,” she cried, incredulous.

“Doesn’t take long if someone is tracking your every move. Did you do some kind of password recovery or two-step verification?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a long breath. Apparently, Wyatt Dawson knew a confession when he heard one, because he pressed on.

“We got a call from a sergeant with Company E this morning. A woman claiming to be Elizabeth Beckett contacted them about an email she received concerning her daughter,” he said, watching her closely.

“Elizabeth Beckett? My mom?”

His lips flattened into a thin line. “I suppose so.” Wyatt pulled out his phone and started tapping. Once he got what he was after, he turned his phone over to her. It was a photo of a computer screen. On the screen was an email from the account she’d used to contact Zarah the night before, but this one was addressed to her parents’ email address.

It was a ransom letter from a man who claimed to have taken her from the parking deck at Clinton National Airport in Little Rock. The amount he was asking for to secure her release was absurd. Her parents were ranchers. Even if they sold every head of cattle and every acre of land, they couldn’t have come up with the outrageous figure demanded.

She looked at the time stamp on the email. It was sent less than an hour after she emailed Zarah the list of contact names. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She swiped at the phone screen, desperate to make the message disappear. “I need to call them.”

“They know you’re okay,” Wyatt assured her, gently removing his phone from her grasp. “I spoke to your mother. Your father too. I gave them a brief rundown on what’s happening, but I think we should vacate in case this location is compromised.”

“Compromised?” she repeated, willing her brain to catch up.

“They obviously have a thumb on your correspondence. Probably phished your work email to identify your personal accounts. I’m going to need details on everything since you were first aware someone had your information.” He blew out a breath, his hands braced on his hips as he scanned the condo. “Gather your stuff. You can call your folks once we’re out of here.”

Her stuff? She looked down at the package he’d thrust at her. Pulling the tear strip, she peered into the envelope. An envelope she assumed held the cash Zarah had mentioned, two credit cards—though who knew if they’d be any good to her—and her passport.

“What do you meanwe?”

“Apparently, Mrs. Elizabeth Beckett knows people,” he said with a wry smile. “You related to Paul Stanton? An uncle or something?”

“Paul Stanton?” she repeated blankly. “I, uh, I don’t have an uncle. There’s my aunt CeCe, but she never married.”

“Nope. The name doesn’t ring any bells? Lieutenant Governor Paul Stanton,” he repeated.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to recall the bits and pieces of hometown news her mother relayed whenever they spoke. Finally, the light bulb came on. “Oh, Paul Stanton. He’s not actually my uncle. A family friend. Or friend of my mother’s, I should say. He and my mom went to prom together and kept in touch. My dad hates him, but I remember her telling me he’s some kind of big shot now.”

“Well, your mama called him, and good old Uncle Paul made a couple calls, and it looks like you’ve got yourself your very own special agent,” he said, holding his arms out wide.

“What?”

“Come on.” He made his way to the kitchen and began bagging the supplies she’d unpacked the night before. When she didn’t move, he motioned to the bedroom. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“On the way to where?” she asked, standing her ground.

He dropped a box of her favorite cheese crackers into the delivery bag and looked up at her, one dark brow raised. “I am to escort you home, Ms. Beckett.”

“Home?” Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach when she pictured poor Nancy bandaged up in her hospital bed. “To California?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I’m under strict instruction to deliver you into the hands of Mrs. Elizabeth Beckett ASAP.”

“My mama?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “We’re headin’ to Snowball. Hope you have a jacket. It can be chilly up in the hills this time of year.”

Chapter Four

Forty-five minutes later, he had Cara Beckett and her meager belongings packed into a state-issued SUV heading north on US 65. They were quiet as they exited the busy metro area north of Conway and headed up into the foothills of the Ozark Mountains. The moment she’d sat down in the car, she called her mother from his phone, having surrendered the new mobile to him by way of tossing it at the condo’s sofa.

Wyatt didn’t call her out on her decidedly less-than-Zen attitude. Her life had been ripped out from under her feet in the past week or so. And with the LYYF company’s public offering about to take off, things were only going to get more hectic.

He’d offered her coffee and a fast-food breakfast, but she’d refused, keeping her arms crossed tight over her chest. He ordered a bottle of water along with his morning dose of caffeine.

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