Page 18 of Trace of Doubt
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James Peterson’s warning kept me looking over my shoulder. He doubted the attacks against me were over. But what could I do when Hughes claimed a crime hadn’t occurred? The road to and from Valleysburg gave me the chills, especially in the mornings when it was pitch-black. I found a flashlight in a kitchen drawer and used it like a headlight. I pedaled past the site where the truck ran me off the road and worried what might happen next. I wanted to confront the person, see if the problem could be resolved.
I’d encountered enough bullies to risk whatever it took to stop my personal predator.
My second day on the job, I arrived home at three o’clock. So far, working for Amy-Jo had filled my hours with meeting new people and filling pastry orders. I’d forced myself out of cave mode into a new Shelby, who longed to make people smile. The waitstaff and cook were pleasant. I looked forward to the days ahead, anticipating free time at the cabin to create jewelry, explore my surroundings, and read. What more could I want?
I’d been home long enough to change my red T-shirt and wash it out. Nothing new to harm me had happened in two days, and my homemade alarm system of pine cones and sticks remained untouched.
A knock at the door ended my deliberations, and a quick peek showed my friendly neighbor was paying another call. My distrust level rose. The five-letter wordalonewas my best company. Except I’d vowed to find who—
Denton knocked again.
Be neighborly.I opened the door and allowed kindness to lace my voice. “Good afternoon.”
He held a border collie puppy in his arms. “I’ve come begging for a cup of coffee. The smell from the last time has lured me back.”
I stroked the puppy’s black-and-white head. Why had he brought this soft little creature? I learned a long time ago that people always had a reason for their behavior.
“Hope you don’t mind I brought a little girl with me.”
I took the sweet puppy’s face into my hands. “She’s adorable. What’s her name?”
“That’s up to you. She’s yours, Shelby. Once she’s a little bigger, her bark will alert you to anyone near the cabin.” He paused. “Or if you decide to raise sheep or cows, she’ll herd them.”
A gasp escaped me but also a hint of alarm. “I have no idea what to say.”
“Thank you?” He grinned and held out the puppy. “She still needs a name.”
I gathered her soft, fluffy body into my arms, and she licked my face. “I’m in love. Thank you, but border collies are expensive.”
“Not really. She’s the runt, and I got a good deal. She doesn’t have papers, but I understand it’s possible to buy them.”
“Why did you do this, Denton?”
“Not sure, but she’s yours. Cute too.” He cocked his head. “I had one like her when I was a boy. She needs a name.”
I traced the white streak between the puppy’s eyes and around her nose. The rest of her black coat glistened in the light. “What’s your name, my little ray of sunshine?” I met Denton’s gaze. “Joy.”
“I like it.”
A talkative and generous math-teacher cowboy? Perhaps if I got to know him, I’d not feel this grinding apprehension. “I have no need for her papers. But I think we should celebrate over a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll wait out here. It’s a beautiful day.”
I gave him a mental thumbs-up. “You’re a gentleman, and I appreciate it. Please, hold Joy and give me a couple of minutes. How do you drink your coffee?”
“Raven black.”
“Strong?”
“Yep. Oh, I have puppy food at my place, and she’s had her shots.”
Gratitude watered my eyes. “I’ll repay you.”
“You are with the coffee and possible friendship.”
Would he be this friendly if he knew my past?
