Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(80)
She heard a tinge of sadness in Roan’s voice. It wasn’t anything obvious, but as she got to know him, she could sense a slight change of tone, or a look in his eyes or facial expression. “This is wonderful. And thoughtful,” she said, and she gazed up at him, lifting her hand, touching his hard upper arm beneath the chambray shirt he wore. Shiloh saw that warmth in his eyes for her again and heat sheeted first to her heart, which expanded with a rush of joy, and then straight down to her lower body. She ached to love this man again.
“Well, if you want, we can always drive out here for an hour and do some practice moves. You just let me know.”
Turning, Shiloh followed him out. There were two doors on her left and she halted at the one next to the gym. “What’s in there? Have you decorated them, too?” Her curiosity was eating her alive. Everything else in Roan’s home was inspiring to her. The surprise was he knew color and design. She looked up at Roan halted. He seemed undecided.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Hesitating, Shiloh opened the door. It was an empty room, the large windows allowing in northern light. What caught her attention was the room was painted a soft, light lavender color. It was her favorite color. Roan came to her side and she looked up at him. Had he done this with her in mind? Her intuition told her yes. She wasn’t going there. At least, not yet. “It’s pretty,” she said. “Nice and roomy.”
“It’s one of the two rooms that are the blank canvas,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “The one next door is the same.”
“As I recall, it was going to be a second bedroom?”
“Yes, still will be. This is the office.”
Her heart beat a little faster. Roan had already invited her to come and live with him. It was such a huge step, the implications major in her life. And she waffled, feeling terrible because every particle of her being wanted to be with Roan. If only the stalker could be identified and found . . .
*
Shiloh could barely contain herself as Sarah Carter, commander of the Lincoln County sheriff’s department, invited them to sit down. She had a glass-enclosed office, a huge maple desk, and there were two comfortable chairs out in front of where she was sitting. The midafternoon sun was muted because her office was on the north side of the massive three-story red brick building.
Shiloh liked the woman’s red hair tamed into a bun at the base of her neck. Dressed in the khaki uniform, she was near Shiloh’s own height of five foot nine and had light green eyes, the color of spring leaves, her face heart-shaped and beautiful. She thought Sarah might be in her late twenties, although she looked more college-age to her. There was an intensity to the sheriff’s large eyes. Shiloh thought she missed little and that made her feel good. She introduced herself and shook Sarah’s long hand. There was nothing weak about the woman but she didn’t come off as tough and hard, either. That made her breathe easier.
“Roan was telling me earlier you have a story to tell me, Shiloh?”
She felt her palms grow damp and clasped them in her lap. “I do.” She handed her the list of people who had been at Wind River the morning she felt threatened. Sarah thanked her and set it next to her computer.
Sarah opened up her laptop. “Fire away. I’m all ears. Let’s see if we can help you.”
Shiloh felt relief because Sarah was open and warm. The woman was totally unlike the New York City policemen and the detective who had come to her apartment, and the forensics team who had dusted her door for fingerprints of her stalker. There was doubt from the very beginning and the detective, especially, seemed to question her sanity. Taking a deep breath, Shiloh launched into the story.
She felt shaky and unnerved by the time she finished, an hour later. Sarah was dutifully typing everything into the computer. And sometimes, she’d asked questions.
Glancing over at Roan, who had gone and gotten them some fresh coffee, she took the cup from him, grateful he was there with her. She felt his blanket of protection as surely as he’d wrapped a real blanket around her shoulders.
Sarah scowled. She went to her notes in the desktop computer. “Okay, so let’s look at Leath.”
“But, he’s in prison,” Shiloh protested. “He’s got five years before he can get out.” She sipped the coffee.
“Well . . . let me just take a look and make sure,” Sarah coaxed. “It’ll take a moment of my time to double-check. I like getting a factual base to work from.”
Shiloh couldn’t see what was on the huge screen facing the sheriff but she saw her arched red brows draw into a scowl, her eyes suddenly narrowing.
“What?” she demanded, her heartbeat starting to take off. “What’s wrong, Sheriff Carter?” Shiloh sat up, suddenly tense, gripping the paper cup in her hands.
Sarah looked over at her. “Anton Leath was given parole ten months ago. He was given five years off his original sentence for good behavior. He’s now on probation. Didn’t you know that?”
Gasping, Shiloh shot out of the chair, the coffee slopping over her and the floor. “No!” She flinched, hearing the cry of terror in her voice. It sounded like a wild animal that was trapped, screaming, knowing it was cornered and going to die. The scalding hot coffee burned her hand and lower arm, and she felt Roan’s hand on her shoulders to steady her. He took the half-emptied cup out of her hands, setting it on the desk.