To Love, Honor and Defend
Шрифт:
Her breakfast threatened to come up. Slowly, she pulled in air, filling her lungs to loosen the tightness in her chest.
Deep breaths. Don’t lose control.
“Wait, Libby, don’t touch it. They might be able to lift some prints—”
But she was already ripping the letter open, scanning the familiar script. “You can run, but you can’t hide. Next time, I will get you. I will have my revenge.”
Tremors raced through her. Revenge. She hated to think what form that revenge might take. Would she have known this man’s revenge if Cal hadn’t been waiting in the garage on Thursday night?
I can protect you. His presence had protected her in the parking garage. Was it possible that marrying him would prove a sufficient deterrent to the creep trying to terrorize her?
She’d purposely downplayed her concerns about her stalker to Cal, knowing how he’d overreact. If Cal knew the full extent of the stalker’s threats, he’d smother her, never leave her side, try to usurp control. Having him around the house at night for added protection was one thing. Letting Cal take over her life with his overprotectiveness was quite another.
But had she gone too far minimizing the situation with the stalker? She was still worried about Ally, even if Cal felt he was all the protection the girl needed.
Stan grabbed her phone and started jabbing the keypad.
A chilling new thought slid through her mind as she listened to Stan report the new letter to the police. Marrying Cal might not deter her stalker.
It could provoke him.
“Act 894, huh?” Cal’s parole officer flipped through the file on his desk and scribbled notes as he talked.
“That’s right.” Cal sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair opposite the officer and tried not to let the nerves dancing in his stomach show.
As he read, the heavyset parole officer stroked a bushy white mustache, which hid most of his mouth except when he smiled. Fortunately for Cal, Henry Boucheron seemed to smile often. The officer’s good humor boded well for Cal’s relationship with the man who’d play such a large part in his life for the next two years.
“Lucky guy.” Boucheron rocked back in his seat and folded his hands over his barrel chest. “Not too many fellas who come through my office get the chance to erase their record, start fresh.” He flashed Cal one of his ready smiles. “Keep your nose clean, toe the line for the next five years—” he waggled a finger at Cal “—and your record will be expunged.”
Cal simply nodded, not bothering to tell the man his lawyer had already been over the details with him of what Act 894 entailed—a second chance to get his life on track, possibly even be reinstated at the fire department.
God, he wanted that clean record so badly he could taste it. It would be sweet, so sweet, to have his life back, his name cleared. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“The job with the road crew workin’ out all right?”
Tamping the frustration that rolled through him, Cal nodded. “It’s not firefighting, but it’s a job. I’m grateful to have it.”
His P.O. cocked his head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “I know a guy who volunteers for the Clairmont Fire Department just down the road. I believe they’re a bit shorthanded.”
Now the man had his full attention. Cal leaned forward. “A volunteer department?”
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