Excerpt

Callie couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was lurking around. That she was being watched. Maybe even that someone was slipping into her home.

It had been small things. A missing loaf of bread. A book where she hadn’t thought she’d left it. The corner of a rug turned up. Things that felt innocent. Could have been done by her in her distracted state. But, Callie didn’t think it had been. And yesterday, when she’d returned home from tea and found one of her dresser drawers open and the clothes inside in disarray, she knew someone had been there. When she’d glanced out her window, she’d seen a man walking away.

Worse than that, he’d looked too much like George. That’s how she knew it couldn’t be real. George was dead. He couldn’t hurt her. But, foolish as it sounded, maybe he’d found a way. After all, he’d promised she couldn’t escape him, not ever.

Callie had considered returning to town, seeking help. But from who? And would they just laugh at her? A turned-up corner of a rug, a dress all balled up, those weren’t crimes. And they also weren’t evidence that someone had been in her home. Not to anyone but her, that was.

She sighed, and stoked the stove to warm the kettle. Some tea, bread, and jam would clear her mind, and help her focus on the day ahead. And, hopefully, not the other man who had been part of the reason she hadn’t slept well last night.

Ryan Lundy.

Just the thought of his name made Callie shiver. If she had allowed herself a bit of fancy and daydreamed—which she would not—he was just the sort of man she would consider—not that she was—falling in love with. Though he was of average build, there was a quiet strength that filled him. She’d felt safe near him, and that was ridiculous, because she hadn’t even spoken to him beyond a hello.

Yet, for that short moment, before her head had started to spin and Mirabelle had rescued her, she’d felt seen.

Which was foolish. As were these thoughts right now. The man was a stranger. For all she knew, he could be just like George. He’d been a stranger too, and fooled her completely.

The kettle was steaming, and Callie poured the water over the tea leaves waiting in the pot. As she reached for the loaf of bread, she paused. It looked smaller than it should have been. This was a freshly baked loaf. She’d only had a slice with her dinner last night. So, why was half of it missing?

Frowning, she opened the cupboard and pulled out the jam. That looked all right. So did the butter sitting in the middle of the table. But Callie filled with unease as her eyes drifted around the kitchen.

“I’m being silly,” she said.

But was she?

Callie slowly ate her breakfast, every inch of her body alert for anything different. She’d just started to relax, and thought about sitting outside to write for a time when a sudden noise outside sent her standing with a squeal, and she rushed for her shawl and handbag, and was out the door heading for town as fast as her legs could carry her.

On the way, she berated herself. She was being dramatic. Imaginative. Childish. All things George had called her when he’d discovered her love of reading and writing. Maybe she was all of that, but…a small thought kept echoing around in her mind. Maybe she wasn’t. After all, no one else had ever thought those things. Why had he?

It didn’t take long to get into the town proper, not at the speed her legs were going. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the sheriff’s office, peace washed over her. It didn’t matter if Gavin thought her silly. She was going to tell him anyway.

Callie pushed open the door. “Sheriff?” she called, her voice wobbling slightly. “Are you here?”

“He’s not,” a man’s voice said.

Callie flung herself backward, fear filling her at the unexpected figure.

“Hey, it’s all right,” the man said, stepping into the light where she could see him better. “We met yesterday, remember? I’m Ryan Lundy.”

“For-forgive me,” Callie said, nodding nervously. “Yes, we did. I’m sorry. It’s just…” She didn’t finish. Instead, she took a deep breath, stepping closer. “Do you know when Gavin will be back?”

“I’m here,” Gavin said, his voice behind her.

For some unexplained reason, it was all Callie could do not to burst into tears or grab him. What would he think if she did? But when his concerned look washed over her, she couldn’t help it, and buried her face into her hands. “I need help, I think,” she sniffled. “And I’m not crazy.”

About Author Sarah Lamb…