Seventeen-year-old Chloe Matthews is done with guys, done with her ex, and done with the cowboys of the Grand Teton Mountains. She refuses to get hurt again.
All that matters now are the horses. Every horse Chloe helps is another piece of herself pu...
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That evening, I was wiping down tables, painfully and in a long-sleeve shirt, when Sheriff Peterson hurried into the café. He went straight for Mom. I turned away in case they were going to kiss or something, and pulled my right sleeve down a little further. But I overheard the sheriff when he lowered his voice. "There's been a development."
I spun around. "What?"
"I need to talk to your mom first." He held a hand out toward me as if he were stopping traffic.
"Just tell me." My legs went shaky. "She's going to tell me anyway." Mom nodded to him and motioned us toward a back table.
The sheriff glanced at the couple of customers in the café, and then lowered his voice. "Calderwood jumped parole. But we got a lead on him." I tilted toward the table. He pulled a chair out for me. "He was spotted on video surveillance."
"Where?" Mom said as she held my shoulders.
"At a convenience store outside of Vegas."
"Which side of Vegas?" I whispered.
The sheriff exhaled. "The north side."
All the hairs on my head stood up. "He's heading straight for us."
"That doesn't mean he's coming here," he said. "Or knows where you are."
I didn't believe that. This was worse than my worst nightmare. Because it was real.
The sheriff held my gaze. "Every law enforcement agency around has Calderwood's face on their computers. Even the park rangers. He won't get past all of us." Mom squeezed my shoulders. "We're on full alert," the sheriff said. "And the restraining order is in place."
"That's great." A cold sweat seeped through the back of my shirt. "But that's not going to stop him."
*
I got home that night before Mom and Tara, so I hurried inside and locked the deadbolt behind me. All the blinds and curtains were wide open, so I ran through the house closing them all, and made sure the back door was locked. It wasn't until I was in my bedroom that I remembered I had to feed Piper. The locked doors and windows might keep me safe, but what about her?
The last thing I wanted was to go outside, but I wouldn't let Piper go hungry. I grabbed a flashlight and a butcher knife from the kitchen, and headed out the back door. I locked the door behind me and shoved my keys into my pocket. For the first time ever, the barn looked spooky in the shimmer of the half-moon night. I hesitated on the silvery path from the house to the barn, feeling like a horror movie victim about to walk straight into the arms of her own self-inflicted death. Logic told me that he couldn't possibly be in Wyoming – yet. But logic had also said he wouldn't get out of prison.
I gripped the knife tighter and raced down the path. The light from the flashlight bobbed around showing exactly where I was, but not warning me if anyone was watching. When I reached the barn, I fumbled for the light switch. Something warm bumped my arm as I flipped the switch.
