Page 57 of Shadowing Her Stalker

He laughed, amused by her use of a native’s shorthand for,Let’s change the subject, please.

“How about those Hogs?” He smiled and let off the gas as they wound through a series of curves. “I don’t know if they’ll make it to a bowl game this year or not.”

“You realize I have absolutely no idea how the Razorbacks are doing this year, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m willing to roll with it if you are.”

“Okay then. Give me the midseason highlights,” she invited. “It is midseason, right? I think I remember football going until Thanksgiving.”

“You aren’t far off,” he said encouragingly. “Okay, here’s where we are.”

He spent a good fifteen minutes giving her the rundown on how the University of Arkansas football team was performing, who their star players were, and a fairly in-depth analysis on the current coaching staff. For her part, Cara pretended to listen, interjecting the occasional hums and snorts where his commentary warranted response. He was about to launch into his views on the ongoing college athletic conference realignments when she held up a hand.

“Okay, uncle,” she cried.

He glanced over and found her smiling at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. He grinned back at her. “Bet you never pull the old ‘How ’bout them Hogs?’ on a guy again,” he teased.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been using that line to distract my father since I was trying to get around his no-dating-before-sixteen rule,” she said with a smug smile. “Turn left up here, then we’ll take a quick right on the farm road.”

He did as instructed. A quarter mile down the dirt road, they came to the section of missing fence Jim had pointed out to him on their tour of the property. The ATV Jim used was parked near the opening. He could see the coils of new wire to be stretched in the bed of the utility vehicle, but Jim and Betsy Beckett were nowhere in sight.

A set of deep ruts was cut into the ground from the edge of the road, the far side of the ditch and through the gap in the fence. Either one of the Becketts had driven the farm truck out to the pasture, or someone had come to call.

Slowing to a stop, he reached for his cell phone, but Cara had beaten him to it.

Her mother answered on the second ring. “Cara, honey, is that you?” Betsy asked, her voice tremulous.

“Mama? Where are you? Where’s Daddy?” Cara asked, panic rising in her voice.

“Why, we’re up at the house, sweetheart,” Betsy cooed, her tone a shade too bright. “Are you almost to Little Rock? You don’t want to miss your flight again, sugar. I know you think you have more money than God, but those tickets are expensive,” she added with a tittering laugh.

“Mama? What’s happening?” Cara demanded.

“Nothin’ happening here. Paul Stanton stopped by for a visit. You remember Mr. Stanton? I guess I should say Lieutenant Governor Stanton.” Her mother gave a high-pitched giggle and the hairs at Wyatt’s nape rippled. “He’s so sad he missed seeing you. But listen, I’m bein’ rude,” she said, her drawl thickening in her rush. “You get on now, and be sure to call us and tell us when you’ve landed safely. Love you, honey. Your daddy and I love you so very much.”

The call ended.

Cara turned to look at him wide-eyed. “She’s acting like we’re on our way to Little Rock to catch a flight.”

He shook his head. “She knows we’re not, but whoever is there with her doesn’t.” He scowled. “Paul Stanton is there? The lieutenant governor?”

She bobbed her head. “Mama went to prom with him back in the day, but Daddy hates the guy. Wyatt, something weird is going on.”

“I gathered as much,” he said gruffly. “But I have to get you away from here.”

“I can’t go off and leave them,” she argued, shrugging out of her seat belt.

“You can’t go in there. Not with whatever is happening,” he shot back.

“Those are my parents,” she said, agitation pitching her voice high and tight.

“I’m aware, but—”

The next thing he knew, the passenger door was hanging wide open and Cara was leaping across the ditch. He shouted after her, but she didn’t look back. He was still fumbling with the clip on his seat belt when he heard the engine on the ATV turn over.

She took off like a shot, careening over the bumpy hill at the edge of the property, headed straight for the house. Cursing under his breath, he lunged across the seat and grappled for the handle on the open door. The moment it was closed, he threw the car into gear and cranked the wheel. The SUV hit the bottom of the ditch so hard his head smacked the roof. He aimed for the opening in the fence, squeezing his eyes shut as he plowed through, a piece of the broken fencing scraping the length of the passenger door.

He couldn’t think about damage to the state-owned vehicle now.

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