Page 23 of Dying to Meet You

I gasp, a hand flying to cover my mouth.

“I’m not trying to scare you any more than you already may be. I believe you. A stalker moves in the shadows. But Matt did the right thing by getting protection for your family until he can sort things out.”

What if he isn’t able to? What happens if Matt and the agents working for him can’t find the person doing the killings, making the threats?

My heart feels twisted in my chest.

I can’t spend the rest of my life feeling like this.

Chapter Twelve

Cowboys vs. Ninjas

Caleb

MyThursdayafternoonsarespent at the clinic, but I’m distracted on my walk across the road when I see Weston talking to a man walking a dog a few feet past our driveway. When I call out the man picks the dog up and quickly walks away to a waiting white car. “Wes?! Wes!” Dropping the toy he’s whipping around, he runs my way.

“Daddy C, can I come to the animal clinic today?”

I squat down next to him, stilling him with a hand on his arm. “Weston, who were you talking to? Do you remember what we told you about talking to strangers without an adult with you?”

“To not to.” He scratches at a bug bite on his arm.

“Who was it?” The car is gone, disappearing while I was admonishing Weston.

He picks his truck back up. “I dunno know. He asked me if I knew how to get to…I don’t remember now.”

No adult asks a child for directions. Not without another purpose in mind. “If you see that car or him again, I want you to run away from it. Come find me, any of your other daddies or Agents Harrison or Bristow. Okay, buddy?”

He makes a face before saying, “Was that a bad guy? Like the ninja?” His current preoccupation with ninjas is cute, but I’m ready for his next fascination. This one is wearing thin.

“Wes. He could be. Just find one of us, alright?”

We’re in a rural area. There are no close businesses other than the vet clinic across the road, and an orchard two miles away. We don’t see random cars travel this back road often. This doesn’t sit right. “Ready to go check on our furry patients?” I ask him while pulling him onto my back. “As long as you don’t put suckers in their kennels again.” This kid is keeping us all on our toes. Hutton always knew he would. A ball of energy, spirit, and personality.

He’s my biggest smile each day. My heartiest laugh.

Once we’ve entered the clinic, I fire a text to our group chat about what happened with the stranger. Hutton responds first saying he is checking cameras. Keir calls me. “How long ago did that happen?” He snaps right into agent mode. “I’m on my way home.”

“The guy is gone. I didn’t get a good look at the car. It was a small, white four-door car.” I’m kicking myself for not being more observant.

“Plate number…any part of it?”

“Sorry, I panicked when I saw him talking to Wes.”

“What did he look like?” I hear the door of his vehicle shut and his engine start. “Anything?”

Shoot. No. I remember the dog more than him. “Hutton’s looking at the cameras.”

My exchange with Keir leaves me feeling useless. If this man wanted to hurt our child or gather information to hurt anyone else in our family, I failed in getting details about him or his car.

Cutting up strawberries for fruit salad, I hand one to Warner in his highchair. “Try this.”

He smacks his lips. “Mo..want mo.” For three years old he knows or can mimic most words. He even delights in singing and dancing along to music being played. It seems like his favorite to shout out when he’s getting crabby is “Daddy K.”

Blaine walks through the door, a look of exasperation on his face. Rolling his eyes he says, “I could be developing a big ole ulcer. I had a student ask me during a meeting with their probation officer if they had to pay attention the whole time. Then I had a whole ass conversation about skinny legends, predatory divas, and literal slay with two students who wouldn’t leave my office…fuck, don’t even ask. I’m still confused.”

He absently picks up a whole handful of the cut fruit, shoving it in his mouth.

---