The Next Always - By Nora Roberts Page 0,92

truck. I thought I was just spooking myself.”

“Where else?” Beckett asked, his voice deadly calm. “Where else has he just shown up?”

“Oh.” Rocking a little, she rubbed her temples. “Oh God, when I think about it that way . . . Okay. I’ve run into him at the mall a few times, but I run into people I know there now and then, so I never thought much of it. Outside the bank, more than once.”

He watched her thinking it through, watched her go pale thinking it through.

“In the pharmacy parking lot, in the nursery where I buy my plants. Other places, too, I see that now. Just like I see he always seems to show up when it’s just me. Not when I have the kids along, or Avery or my mother, or anyone.”

She paused a moment. “That’s not coincidence.”

“No, it damn well isn’t. It’s stalking. Tell Charlie everything. And Clare, I’ll be coming by your house every day after work until this stops.”

“I’m not going to argue. The flowers.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “There’s something just not right about a man who’d send flowers after all this. It’s not just being a pest.”

“I don’t think it ever was. Make sure you tell Charlene and the others about this. And don’t work in the store alone.”

“God.” She rubbed her forehead. “No, you’re right. I just need to settle down and think this through. I’ll call Charlie now.”

“I’m right across the street. Keep your phone with you.”

“I will. Beckett? You be careful, too. He might try to do something, something more than damage your truck.”

“Don’t worry.”

But she did. Even after she’d talked to the town deputy, she worried. She called Avery, and at her friend’s insistence they went together to retrieve the box, the note, the flowers—all of which they took to the police station.

“Beckett’s right. Sam’s a gutless bastard, but it’s better if you’re not alone—at work, at home. Anywhere for now.”

“Avery, you don’t really think he’d try something?”

“I honestly don’t know, so we’re not taking any chances. You lock your car doors when you’re in it, when it’s parked—and your house, too. Not just when you leave or at night. Promise.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not ignoring it, but I’m going to let him think I am. The less he believes I’m affected, the sooner he’ll stop.”

Maybe, maybe not, Avery thought, and watched Clare walk back to the bookstore, waited until she was inside before crossing over to the inn.

She found all three Montgomery brothers in a conference in the half-finished kitchen. “Looks great,” she said briefly. “We have to talk.”

“We’re in the middle of something here,” Ryder began. “We’re going to head over to your place in about an hour. What the hell color are you wearing this week?”

Avery pushed a hand over her hair. “Cherry Cola, it’s a little intense.”

“What’s wrong with your regular hair?” Owen wanted to know.

“I’ve worn it nearly thirty years. Do you have anything you’ve worn almost thirty years? And that’s not why I’m here. We have to talk now. Clare and I took those damn flowers over to the police station, but I don’t know what the hell they can do about it.”

“I don’t know what the hell we can do about it.” Owen shoved his measuring tape back in his tool belt. “What we’d like to do at this point would get us five to ten.”

“Breaking his legs isn’t the answer anyway, which is too bad. Look, Sam gets these obsessions. He zeroed in on me a while back.”

“When?” Owen demanded. “What?”

“Back when I was just opening the shop—that was before Clare moved back. And it wasn’t as whacked as this. He used to come in while I was working on the setup. People were in and out all day back then. Telling him he was in the way or I was busy wasn’t enough to shake him off. He’s like a frigging blood leech.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged at Owen. “It didn’t last long, maybe a couple of weeks. Listen, Clare’s default is polite; my polite wears faster. I cured him one day when I told him if he didn’t leave me the hell alone Luther would brand his balls. Luther,” she said, speaking of the blacksmith, “was working on the vents at the time. Luther’s not going to brand anybody’s balls, but he looks like he could.”

“Pretty good thinking,” Owen decided.

“Yeah, and it worked. But this deal with Clare’s gone on a

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