Yeah, she’d gotten that. Just hadn’t processed it yet.
Clarke Colton spoke into the phone without introducing himself, reporting what he’d just seen happen to her, giving way more of a description of the car than she’d been able to make out, along with the fact that there’d been no license plate on it. His description of the driver followed but wasn’t nearly as detailed. With the bulky coat, big gloves and ski mask the person had been wearing, he hadn’t even been able to tell if it was male or female. Or any kind of hair color, skin color or body build.
So great, a phantom was after her now? She started to load her groceries with muscles weakened by shock. Fear hadn’t set in yet, but she knew it was on its way. She could feel it coming. As soon as she thawed out a bit more.
Why would anyone want to hurt her?
But...someone already had. The missing police-department forensic guy, something-or-other Bowe, who’d tampered with the evidence in her case to make her look guilty. She’d never even met the guy. Had no idea why he’d be out to get her.
But apparently, he still was and...
Clarke dropped his phone in his coat pocket and picked up a couple of her bags of groceries, depositing them in her slightly more dented trunk. The car sure didn’t show her in her best light, but from what she understood, Clarke already knew way more about her than she ever cared to know about him. He’d been the one to take another look at her case when Gram kidnapped his cousin.
He’d also been the one who’d found the discrepancy in evidence that had ultimately proved her innocence.
Everleigh might be from the wrong side of the tracks, but Gram had made certain she had her manners. “I owe you a debt of gratitude,” she told him. Just get the bags in the trunk.
Then she could lock herself in her car and cry. Or drive somewhere safe.
Somewhere she could hide until she could figure out what to do next.
No place that fit that description was coming to her.
She sure as heck wasn’t going to her parents’ house. They’d believed she was a murderer...
“You don’t owe me anything.” He loaded the last three bags.
“First you help find the evidence that gets me out of jail, and now this...” She nodded toward the dent in her trunk. “If you hadn’t moved when you did, I’d have been smashed between my car and the one...”
Her teeth chattered. She wanted it to be a result of the cold. But it wasn’t.
Oh, God. She’d almost been smashed to death!
Suddenly, standing out there on the pavement, in broad daylight, visible to anyone, didn’t seem prudent.
Ducking her head, she made her way to the driver’s door of her car. Thankfully didn’t have to bother unlocking it. The lock had busted a couple of months before. Once inside, she squinted up at her rescuer veiled in the sunshine. Standing between her and the door as he was, he’d left her little choice.
“I’m going to follow you home,” he told her. Didn’t ask. Told. “Just to make certain you get there safely.”
With a nod, she agreed to wait until he came around in his SUV before driving off. Only because he was fulfilling her goal. To get her somewhere safely.
And maybe because, after months of being afraid and alone, falsely accused and powerless, it felt good to have someone at her back.
Not that she’d trust a Colton. Or anyone but Gram. She’d learned that lesson hard and clear.
Just as she knew that the idea of being safe was only a mirage. Home, the scene of a murder two months before, definitely wasn’t it. But at the moment, it was all she had.
And...she had groceries to put away. No way could she afford to let all that food spoil.
Oh, God. Had she really almost been killed?
It just didn’t make sense.
Nor did the fact that she was a widow, not a divorcée. Fritz dead?
But then, since her husband had walked out on her, spreading rumors that she’d been unfaithful to him, nothing had made much sense.
&nbs