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Stalking Season
Sandra Robbins
YULETIDE STALKINGMoving to the Smoky Mountains at Christmastime, Cheyenne Cassidy is ready for a fresh start—until danger from her past follows her to her new home. Cheyenne believed the stalker who killed her parents was dead, but somehow he’s back and determined to kill her. And her only hope for survival is relying on Deputy Sheriff Luke Conrad. The lawman wants to help Cheyenne face down the obsessive madman, but he can’t protect her if he doesn’t know the full story. And Cheyenne has no choice but to trust him with a secret she’s never revealed about her stalker. Armed with the knowledge of her tragic past, Luke will put his life on the line to keep her alive…but will that be enough to save her?
YULETIDE STALKING
After moving to the Smoky Mountains at Christmastime, Cheyenne Cassidy is ready for a fresh start—until danger from her past follows her to her new home. Cheyenne believed the stalker who killed her parents was dead, but somehow he’s back and determined to kill her. And her only hope for survival is relying on Deputy Sheriff Luke Conrad. The lawman wants to help Cheyenne face down the obsessive madman, but he can’t protect her if he doesn’t know the full story. And Cheyenne has no choice but to trust him with a secret she’s never revealed about her stalker. Armed with the knowledge of her tragic past, Luke will put his life on the line to keep her alive...but will that be enough to save her?
“Why were you in such a hurry?”
The question sent a wave of fear rushing through her as she recalled what had occurred before she ran into the street. A crowd had gathered. She scanned the group but didn’t see a familiar face. But how could she tell who he was? In the two years she’d endured the terror of a stalker, she’d never seen his face.
How could he be alive? And if he was, how had he found her now?
“Ma’am...” The deputy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did something happen that frightened you? Is that why you ran in front of my car?”
Cheyenne tried to speak, but her chest tightened so that she could barely breathe. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months now, but she felt the beginnings of one and bit down on her lip.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
The deputy had been leaning over her, but at her reply he frowned and squatted down beside her. “What happened?”
Cheyenne took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “I think someone wants to kill me.”
Dear Reader (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13),
I hope you enjoyed Stalking Season, the second book in my Smoky Mountain Secrets series. As I researched and wrote this book, I developed a deep heartache for the victims who endure the nightmare of being stalked. Not only did Cheyenne have to endure the fear of being watched, she also had to contend with guilt that her actions had brought about the deaths of her parents. She came to know, however, that just as God forgives the choices we make, we can learn to forgive ourselves. It is God’s intention that His children should live in peace. If you haven’t come to know the comfort He can bring to your life, I pray that you will seek what He offers.
Sandra Robbins
SANDRA ROBBINS is an award-winning, multipublished author of Christian fiction who lives with her husband in Tennessee. Without the support of her wonderful husband, four children and five grandchildren, it would be impossible for her to write. It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers so they may come to know the peace she draws from her life.
Stalking Season
Sandra Robbins
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.
—Hebrews 10:22
Dedicated to the 6.6 million people who,
according to The National Center for the Victims of Crime,
are stalked in one year in the United States.
Contents
Cover (#u97f574a0-7771-5339-9feb-0041788c5cdb)
Back Cover Text (#u1b1b9bcf-8eeb-59a1-9a3c-8dfb59beca87)
Introduction (#u0aa39871-9a96-5dac-b590-6f5345abaf7e)
Dear Reader (#u50e61e0a-dae0-574e-9050-178675e4c148)
About the Author (#u6149b91a-228f-5178-95c0-600753e75125)
Title Page (#u428b92f1-91f9-52e7-a219-90ed1760a19c)
Bible Verse (#ub463bd2a-d871-5247-b321-f6a0bf100c36)
Dedication (#ue6adfa2c-f92c-532d-bd67-0977bba7cafa)
ONE (#u29e04065-4c48-53f2-a252-652da4ccfc98)
TWO (#uace8cc5a-0c86-5ee9-a305-c6533b9f5f58)
THREE (#ua73d5a83-b963-5678-8fc9-6345af81854e)
FOUR (#uc67ffbef-08a3-550e-a425-2d20bc828a45)
FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13)
Cheyenne Cassidy ambled down the aisle of the Smoky Mountain Christmas Store and hummed along with the sound of Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” over the store’s intercom. With Christmas only a few weeks away, shoppers were out en masse today, and from what she’d been told by the locals the crowds would only get larger as more visitors came to the mountains in the next few weeks to see the decorations and take in all the Christmas festivities.
The smells of cinnamon, pine and peppermint drifted in the air from the different areas of the store. Cheyenne stopped and blinked back tears at the reminder of her childhood and how their house had always smelled during the holidays. Her mother loved Christmas and had always been determined that her family would make memories to last a lifetime. Unfortunately these days, she had many memories of happy times, but the people she loved were no longer present to share them with her.
The world as Cheyenne had known it had come to an abrupt halt six months ago with the deaths of her parents. Alone in the world and with her life in shreds, she’d done the only thing she could think to do—follow the rodeo circuit. Without her parents, though, it also had lost the allure it had once had. Now she was far away from the home she’d always known and starting a new life in a resort town in the Smoky Mountains. She’d wanted to settle somewhere, and the Smoky Mountains seemed the perfect place to do that.
She sighed and walked down the aisle of a row of tall showcases holding all kinds of stuffed animals and dolls in Christmas outfits. The shelves in the case were packed with toys, and the display reached higher than her head. She stopped to stare at a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its head, and she suddenly stilled as her cell phone chimed that she had an incoming text message. She stared at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen and frowned as she realized it was a video text.
With a frown she tapped the screen, and the recording began to play. For a moment all she could do was stand there, her mouth hanging open and her body shaking. Her knees wobbled, and she reached out to grab a shelf to keep from falling. She blinked, in the hope that what she was seeing and hearing wasn’t really there, but she knew that wasn’t the case.
Her eyes grew wide as the camera zoomed in on a tabletop, where a small, wooden music box sat. The top was lifted, and the tinkling melody of “Jack and Jill,” the nursery rhyme she and her father had sung together so many times, drifted out. The tune wasn’t what caused her breath to hitch in her throat, though. It was the fact that she knew right away that this wasn’t just any music box. It was the one her father had bought for her on her eighth birthday. The one that had disappeared from their house two years ago. The one she’d always known he took.
But it couldn’t be him. He was dead. The police said so.
With shaking fingers she stopped the video, but immediately the sound of another incoming text message from the same unknown number chimed. Swallowing the fear that gripped her, Cheyenne opened the text and stared at the words that seemed to wiggle on the screen. I’ve missed you. See you soon.
A scream rose in her throat, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep it from escaping. She didn’t need all the clerks and customers rushing to her side and demanding to know what was the matter. Only a few people in this town knew her story, and she wanted to keep it that way.
She took a deep breath and removed her hand from her mouth. With her gaze still fixed on the words on the screen, she bit down on her lip. Calm down, she told herself. This isn’t from him. It could be anybody who knew what had happened and was playing a sick joke.
Suddenly a feeling that she was being watched swept over her. She’d had this happen many times in the past when he was stalking her, but it hadn’t happened since her parents’ deaths. She shook her head in denial. No, he was dead. He had to be dead. She couldn’t go through this anymore.
At that moment her phone chimed again, and she looked down at it. Swallowing the fear that rose in her throat, she opened the text. I like that scarf you’re wearing. The blue color brings out the highlights in your hair.
Her hand began to shake, and panic gripped her heart. With a swift twist of her head she looked around to see if she could detect someone watching her. There was no one, but suddenly she heard footsteps on the other side of the tall display case beside her. The smart thing to do would be to go to the end of the aisle and face whoever was there, but she’d learned two years ago that when it came to him, she wasn’t smart. She was scared, and she had to protect herself.
She looked up and down the aisle to see if anyone else was nearby, but she seemed to be alone in this part of the store. She turned and hurried in the direction she’d come when entering the store. Before she could reach the exit, her phone rang with an incoming call. Against her better judgment, she connected the call.
“H-hello.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, Sunshine.”
Her skin prickled, and she stood frozen in place, unable to move. The sickening feeling she’d experienced so often in the past spread through her, and she knew with certainty this wasn’t someone just trying to scare her. It really was him. Only he knew that nickname. It was the one he’d given her. Sunshine, because he said she’d lit up his world. For her it had only brought darkness into her life.
“You’re not dead.” She meant it to be a question, but it came out as a statement.
“No. Disappointed?”
“Leave me alone,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do this again.”
“You have no choice in the matter,” the familiar voice whispered. “Just like I had no say when you decided to break up with me for someone else.”
Her heart pounded, and she wanted to run, but her body wouldn’t respond. “Why can’t you understand that we were never together?” she pleaded.
A long sigh echoed in her ear. “Keep telling yourself that but you and I know the truth. I know you left quite a bit out of your story when you talked to the police.”
A sob escaped her mouth. “Please, leave me alone.”
“You led me on, Cheyenne, and broke my heart. That’s what I told your parents right before I killed them.”
Tears began to roll down her face. “Please...”
“They’re dead because of what you did. You made me become a killer, but I’ve decided to forgive you. Because I love you, I’m going to give you one more chance to make it up to me for everything you’ve done to me. Don’t disappoint me this time.”
Her knees shook so hard that she thought she was going to collapse. “Don’t you come near me again, or I’ll go to the police.”
He laughed, and the sound sent chills down her back. “A lot of good that did you the last time. I’m back, and I’ll be watching you. Soon we will be together for always.”
“Leave me alone!” she yelled into the phone and then disconnected the call.
She stood there for a moment before she looked around and noticed the two young women at the checkout counter staring at her with their eyes wide. “Is something the matter?” one of them asked.
Without answering, Cheyenne bolted toward the exit, shoved past a customer who was just entering the store and ran out the door. Once on the sidewalk she cast a nervous glance at her truck at the far end of the parking lot. Her only thought was that she had to get there.
Without looking in either direction she dashed into the street and realized her mistake too late when the sounds of a honking horn and screeching brakes caused her to glance to her right. She barely had time to register the fact that she was in the path of an oncoming car before she felt the impact of the vehicle.
Her feet lifted off the street, and then she was hurtling through space. She landed in the other lane of traffic, facedown on the pavement. The next thing she knew she was staring at a man’s shoes beside her face. She turned her head so that she could look up. A man with his hands on his knees hovered over her.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” She could hear concern in the man’s voice, and his smooth Southern drawl had a comforting effect.
Unable to answer, she planted her palms on the pavement and succeeded in pushing up to a sitting position. “I—I think so,” she murmured.
She looked down at her jeans and saw a hole in the knee. The skin underneath the fabric burned, as did the palms of her hands. “Sit still,” the man’s voice said again. “I’ve called for paramedics. They should be here any minute.”
For the first time she looked into the face of the man bending over her, and her heart skipped a beat at the blue eyes staring down at her. She let her gaze drift lower, and she sucked in her breath at the fact that he was wearing a police uniform.
She raised a shaky hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I ran into the path of a police car.”
The man’s eyebrows arched. “Thank goodness? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so,” she said as she started to get up.
He laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Ma’am, you’ve just been hit by a police car. You may be all right, but I have to make out a report on this accident, and I have to know for sure. Please don’t move until the paramedics get here. I’m sorry I didn’t see you in time to stop, but you ran right out in front of my car. Can you tell me your name?”
She frowned and rubbed at her forehead, which was throbbing. She flinched when her fingers touched the spot, but the skin didn’t feel broken. Probably a scrape from sliding on the pavement. She swallowed and looked back up at the officer. “I’m Cheyenne Cassidy.”
“And do you know where you are?”
She nodded. “I’m sitting in the street in front of the Christmas store where I was shopping.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
A smile pulled at her mouth, and she looked up at him. “I know you’re trying to determine if I’ve been knocked senseless, Officer, but I assure you I know where I am and what has happened. Now may I ask who you are?”
“Deputy Luke Conrad, ma’am. Why were you in such a hurry?”
The question sent a wave of fear rushing through her as she recalled what had occurred before she ran onto the street, and she glanced back at the store. A crowd had gathered at the front door. They all seemed to be staring straight at her. She scanned the group but didn’t see a familiar face. But how could she tell who he was? In the two years she’d endured the terror of a stalker, she’d never seen his face.
