Against the Storm1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

she—could be using this odd style of writing so you won’t figure out who it is.”
    She frowned. “You don’t actually think this could be a woman?”
    “Unless your sexual preferences go both ways, probably not.”
    She smiled. “I’m boringly heterosexual.”
    His eyes seemed to darken. Maggie felt a warm, unwelcome stirring in the pit of her stomach, and inwardly cursed her bad luck. An attraction to Trace Rawlins was the last thing she wanted.
    “The handwriting looks masculine,” Trace continued, “but there definitely are women stalkers. Jealousy over a past relationship with a man, or your success as a photographer. That kind of thing.”
    He kept asking questions, moving her backward in time. Thinking about the incident with Josh Varner, she began to grow more and more uneasy.
    “Tell me about your family,” Trace said, making notes now and again.
    “My mom and dad divorced when I was four. Mom moved back to Florida where she was raised, remarried not long after and had another kid. I stayed here and lived with my dad.”
    “He still alive?”
    “He passed away a couple of years ago.”
    “I lost mine a while back. I still miss him.”
    Maggie made no comment. Her dad had been demanding and a tough disciplinarian, but she had loved him and still missed him.
    “How about high school? Anything stand out? Any old grudges that might blossom years later?”
    She forced her gaze to remain on his face. No way was she telling him about Josh Varner. Josh didn’t even live in Texas anymore. He had gone to UCLA on a scholarship and then taken a job in Seattle with Microsoft. She’d heard he made barrels of money.
    And if he wrote her a message, it wouldn’t sound anything like the words on the notes she had received.
    “I, um, can’t think of anything. Besides, if it was something from high school, why would the person wait all these years?”
    Trace’s pen stopped moving. “Usually something happens, an event of some kind. A stressor, it’s called. A trigger that digs up old memories, sometimes twists them around in a weird direction.”
    She shook her head. “I really can’t think of anything.” At least nothing that had recently occurred. Still, she was glad he looked down just then to write another note. She had always been an unconvincing liar.
    “It may well be that this guy has seen you somewhere but the two of you have never met. He could be fixated on you for no good reason other than the color of your hair, or that you look like someone he once knew.”
    A little chill ran through her. “I see.”
    Trace reached over and squeezed her hand. “Look, we’re going to catch this guy. There are very tough laws against stalking.”
    She nodded. Just his light touch reassured her. Maybe this was a man she could count on, a man who could make things turn out all right.
    They talked awhile longer, but he didn’t bring up her past again. If something happened that involved her Great Shame, as she thought of it, she would tell him. If she did, she knew the look she would see on his face. At the moment, she just couldn’t handle it.
    Trace rose effortlessly from his chair, to tower over her on his long legs. “On the way back to the office, you can show me where you lived when you got the first note.” He packed up his stuff, closed the briefcase, clamped on his cowboy hat. “I’d like to take the notes,” he said, “check them for prints.”
    “All right.”
    Trace bagged the notes and she led him to the entry. “You keep your doors and windows locked?”
    “I’m pretty good about it.”
    His glance was hard and direct. “You be better than pretty good. You be damned good.”
    She didn’t like his attitude. On the other hand, he was probably right. Even in a good neighborhood, the crime rate in Houston was high.
    “I’ll keep the doors locked.”
    “Good girl. Let’s go.”
    She felt his hand at the small of her back, big and warm as he guided her out of the house toward his Jeep,