Get a grip.
“You’ve uplifted my morning enough, thank you. If you’re not here to discuss city business, can we end this conversation?”
“Yeah. We can do that.” Now he was gruff, his face impassive. “Don’t go out by yourself. That’s an order.”
“And here I’d planned a hike in the woods all by myself on my lunch hour.”
His last look at her smoldered.
Left alone, she sank into her chair. Oh, God, why was she antagonizing the man who came to her rescue every time she needed him?
Because that scares me.
When had she turned into this pathetic creature who stumbled from one domineering man to another?
Fortunately, her day didn’t require any field trips. She concentrated on educating herself, studying tax records for a better understanding of how particular neighborhoods compared, how mixed-use the new development had been. Scrutinizing the building permits that had been issued in the past year, she found herself acquiring new sympathy for Michael Kalitovic’s point of view. No house she would call even remotely affordable was being built. Supposedly, central Oregon was appealing to new retirees who could take advantage of the natural beauty and abundant recreational opportunities while living more affordably than they could in the Portland area, say. If so, they wouldn’t be buying in Angel Butte. Most of the developments were aimed at people with real money or were intended to be vacation homes—again, for the wealthy who might spend only a few weeks or months there a year, for the skiing or fishing. Cait imagined Angel Butte as a giant ghost town for much of the year, with hundreds of huge empty houses while the people who clerked at Walmart and Safeway, cleaned the rooms at the increasing number of resorts, waitressed at Chandler’s Brew Pub, all had to commute from…who knew, La Pine or farther.
Of course she was getting carried away and knew it. The already existing homes in the older parts of town tended to be modest. Heaven knew the three-bedroom, one-bath rambler she and Colin had grown up in was.
She had so far been very careful not to turn down that street even when she was in the neighborhood. She’d have to ask Colin if he ever drove by out of curiosity.
Cait grimaced. Okay, maybe not such a good idea. Raising the subject of those tumultuous years wouldn’t exactly help smooth their existing relationship.
She ordered lunch in, relieved when Noah didn’t appear, although she hadn’t really expected him to. He’d looked pretty mad when he’d left that morning. Besides, there had to already be talk about the two of them. He’d spent more time with her than was wise. Plus, once yesterday’s police reports became common knowledge, city hall workers might speculate as to why he had followed her out to Bond Road.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t thought to ask why he had.
Did it matter? He’d been there when she’d needed him. He had been exactly what she needed.
Yes, I am officially pathetic, she decided.
At four-thirty, she dutifully placed a call to Colin and learned her poor car had now been towed to an auto body shop. It would be ready as soon as tomorrow afternoon. Aside from the windows, the only damage had been to the wheel, bent after the tire blew. She and Colin agreed on a time for him to pick her up.
Cait was aware of a sickening wash of fear when she realized it didn’t really matter whether she had her car back or not. She wouldn’t dare drive unless Colin was right behind her in his SUV.
But sooner or later, they’d find Blake. How good could he be at hiding? He was a water systems engineer, for Pete’s sake, a regular guy, except for his weird obsession for her. Once he was arrested, she’d have her life back. She could declare her independence again.
But, remembering the terrifying moments of crawling behind her car, imagining the gunman walking down the hill toward her, knowing there was nowhere she could run to, Cait had a feeling real confidence was going to be slow returning.
* * *
NOAH TRIED NOT to look at Cait when he didn’t have to. He hated seeing the strain on her face, those lines of tension growing more visible as days passed.
Finding the goddamn bullets had turned out to be the proverbial hunt through the haystack. Cait remembered four being fired. One had ripped through her left rear tire. One went straight through her car, leaving those two ugly holes. A third dissolved the glass in the driver’s-side door. The fourth had either also gone through that window or missed entirely. Colin had people out combing the woods with, by day four, no success.