Page 14 of Shadowing Her Stalker

Caught by a red light in Greenbrier, Wyatt cast a sidelong glance at his passenger. She sat stoically staring through the windshield when he offered her the bottle of water. “Single-use containers are poisoning our air and killing our oceans,” she said stiffly.

He stared back at her, keeping his expression neutral though he could feel his ears heating. “How did you sleep last night?”

“I didn’t,” she retorted.

He waggled the evil water bottle in front of her. “A lack of proper rest can lead to dehydration. Right now, my mission is to keep you alive. We’ll worry about the planet tomorrow.”

“Exactly the sort of attitude responsible for our current climate change crisis.”

“I’m not covering the planet today. I’m tasked with taking care of you. Drink the water,” he ordered, tossing the bottle into her lap as the light changed.

He accelerated, trying to swallow back his exasperation. She wasn’t sulking, per se, but she was not thrilled about the arrangement. And she wasn’t drinking the water. He added stubborn to his mental list of things he knew about Cara Beckett. A list not nearly long enough if he was going to be any help in figuring out who was behind the cyber and real-world attacks against her.

“So, you grew up in Snowball?”

She shook her head. “Snowball is the closest dot on the map.”

“Your parents own a ranch?”

“A little over six hundred acres. My dad keeps anywhere between fifty and seventy-five head of Black Angus cattle.”

Her tone was flat, but he picked up a hint of pride in her delivery. “Wow. Sounds like a lot. Is it a lot?” he asked, glancing over at her for confirmation.

She shrugged. “I’d say about average for a family ranch.” Her monotone response faded into a faintly mocking tone. “Let me guess, you’re a city boy? Grew up in Little Rock?”

He shook his head, his lips twitching into a smirk meant to show her exactly how wrong she was about him. “Nope. Born and raised in Stuttgart, home of Ricebirds.”

He felt her appraising stare. “Were you a farm kid?”

Unable to keep up the ruse, he allowed the smirk to take over as he shook his head. “Nah. My dad sold insurance.”

“Ah.”

Awkward silence descended like a thick fog. Grasping for information and a conversational straw, he asked, “You get along with your parents?”

She shot him a sidelong glance. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation.

“I do too, but you know what they say...”

“What?”

This time, she couldn’t repress the smile. “You think you’re enlightened, spend a week with your family.”

He chuckled. “I get you.”

They drove in silence for a while. Finally, he prompted her to tell him her version of the story. “Start at the beginning. What was the first odd thing you noticed?”

Cara’s fingers curled around the edge of the console between them. She was quiet, and for a minute, he thought perhaps she would not answer. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to play things close to the chest. Her personal information had been scattered across multiple forums. He’d seen at least a half-dozen entries himself. And the threats came standard with this kind of cyberattack. People talked tough when tucked safely behind a keyboard. But somebody, or some people, had taken a giant step out of the shadow of internet anonymity.

Hopefully, it would make them easier to find.

“It’s hard to say,” she murmured, her face turned toward the scenery whizzing past.

The fall foliage was near peak color as October gave way to November. It seemed wrong to spoil such beautiful scenery with talk of ugliness.

“There have always been messages. Even before the app took off. You know, the usual online slime. People trying to slide into my inbox. Once LYYF started gaining traction, I got hit up for money more often than I was hit on,” she said, a wry smile twisting her lips. “Tom likes to say he knew we’d made it when guys starting fishing for my account numbers rather than my phone number.”

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