Page 64 of Shadowing Her Stalker

A lump the size of a boulder rose in Cara’s throat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother demanded as he reached for the handle on the back door. “I have a house full of cops and robbers here, and the police are going to want to talk to you some more. If you think you’re going to slink off—”

“I’m goin’ to see to the feed. I’ll be right back,” he said, zipping the jacket up to his chin.

He was gone before either of them could say another word. Betsy exhaled an exasperated sigh. “I swear he breaks out in hives if he has to spend more than an hour of daylight indoors.”

“Probably,” Cara concurred. “Nothing new there.” A crime scene team bustled in, and it quickly became clear they were in the way. She caught her mother’s tired gaze. “Let’s go in the other room?”

“Sounds good,” Betsy replied.

But when they slipped into the living room, they found themselves caught in the cross fire between one of the sheriff’s men and an officious-looking state trooper. Betsy steered them toward the dining room, but there they found several men and a young woman dressed in dark suits setting up laptops and pulling legal pads from briefcases. Before they could be spotted, Cara took her mother’s hand and led her down the hall toward the bedrooms. She could hear the rumble of deep voices coming from the room Wyatt had been using, so they tiptoed down the hall into Cara’s room, closing the door silently behind them.

Betsy leaned against the closed door as if bracing against an approaching horde. “Good gracious, there’s a lot of people in my house,” Betsy said, patting her chest. “I hope they don’t look too close at my floors. I haven’t swept in days and Roscoe sheds enough for us to build a brand-new dog twice a week.”

“Poor Roscoe,” Cara said, peeking out her window at the front porch. Close to a dozen patrol cars and SUVs were parked haphazardly in the driveway and on the lawn, and the poor old dog had felt duty bound to greet every one of them. “I hope he’s—” She scanned the porch until she spotted a familiar lump parked next to the rail. “Good, he’s sleeping.” She let the blind fall back into place with a chortle. “Wouldn’t want him missing his middle-late-afternoon-pre-supper snooze.”

“Supper,” her mother groaned, stepping away from the door and dropping heavily onto the side of the single bed Cara had dutifully made before leaving the house.

Dropping down beside her mother, Cara patted her knee. “I think we’re going to open the fridge and call whatever falls out supper.”

Betsy tipped her head onto Cara’s shoulder, and the simple reversal of their usual roles made Cara feel more centered than she had in years.

“Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I am going to sell,” Cara said, the words coming out as the thought took hold.

Her mother didn’t move a muscle. For a moment, Cara wondered if Betsy had fallen asleep, or simply hadn’t heard her, but then she stirred. Sitting up, she took both of Cara’s hands in hers and held them tight as she gazed deep into her eyes.

“Don’t decide anything now. Whatever you do, you do it in your time and in your way. No matter what anyone says, you created something special. You created it. You are the one who gets to decide what’s right for you, and your creation.”

“Well, me and Chris and Tom,” Cara said with a self-deprecating little laugh.

“No, Cara,” her mother said, giving her hands a squeeze. “Only you. Partners can help and support each other, but they can’t dictate how we live our lives. You can walk with them, follow your own path or figure out a way to blaze a whole new trail. Make sure, in the end, you choose which it will be.” Her mother let go long enough to sweep Cara’s hair from her brow. “I imagine it’s like a marriage. You have to be your own person, but together. Every day, choosing to be together.”

Cara gave a snort of a laugh. “If my business partnership were a marriage, it would be illegal in most states.”

Betsy rolled her eyes. “You know what I am saying. I’m only saying not to make any big moves until after this whole stock thingamajig is done. I have no idea if those fellas you’re working with were actually involved in all of this mess or not, but I say let the truth come to light. You hang on and get everything you have coming to you, because it’s yours and you earned it. After, well, then you can make your choices and your daddy and I will support you. One hundred percent.”

Cara flung herself into her mother’s arms. “Thank you, Mama.”

They rocked as they held one another, Betsy alternately humming and shushing her. Cara was so happy to be assured of her parents’ approbation to worry about the mixed messages.

With a snuffle, Cara pulled back a bit. Her gaze landed on the boy-band poster. “Mama, why didn’t you ever take that poster down?”

Betsy spared the yellowing print a half glance, then pulled Cara close again. “As long as I kept it up, we’d both know this would always be your room. Whenever you came home, you’d feel...at home.”

Cara squeezed her mother tight again and they stayed locked together until someone rapped lightly on the door.

“Who’s there?” Cara said, dashing fingertips under her damp eyes.

“It’s Wyatt,” he replied without attempting to open the door. “Are all three of you hiding in there?”

Cara and Betsy laughed. “Jim has gone out to be with his cows,” Betsy called back.

When he still didn’t open the door, Cara asked, “You want to hide out in here too?”

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