Chapter 15

15

Sitting beside Officer Mulaney in his Blazer, Candace felt uncomfortable. He'd been polite as ever when he'd picked her up to take her to the shopping mall out near Johnson City, but he was acting distant. His responses to her comments and questions had been almost curt. Had she done something to upset him? Or was he feeling like she was a big pain in his backside because of all her appearances?

If that was the case, she didn't know what to do about that. Escorting her around the county and the surrounding areas had been the police department's idea, not hers. But maybe he was having second thoughts?

When she glanced at him for about the fifth time and noticed that his jaw was clenched, she knew she was going to have to say something. Give him a way out of his responsibilities. "Ryan, if you have other things to do today, you can just drop me off at the mall. I'll get someone else to take me home. It's no big deal."

Stopped at a traffic light, he eyed her curiously. "Who would you call?"

"I don't know. My mom or dad. Maybe a girlfriend," she added, though she wasn't exactly sure who would be available. Most of her girlfriends had jobs that kept them busy.

He shook his head. "Candace, don't worry about it. I told you I would take you and stay by your side. And I will."

The light turned to green, and he drove through the intersection.

"I just wanted you to know that I don't expect you to continue doing this," she said in a rush. "I mean, you've probably got other things to do."

"I do. But one of my jobs is to escort you to appearances."

"But maybe there's an intern or something?" She vaguely remembered a kid in one of her classes her junior year who had received some credit for shadowing a police officer. She hadn't thought much about it at the time, but if it was someone brawny with half a clue, that would be enough to deter most people.

Though he didn't smile, the lines around his eyes crinkled. "You're gonna give me a complex, Candace. Do you really think I'm no better than an intern?"

"No. I mean, of course not." When she saw a dimple appear in his cheek, she flushed. "You're messing with me."

"Only a little bit. It's hard not to, the way you are always trying to lose me."

"I'm not. It just seems like you're bothered today, and I'm afraid it's because of me."

Stopped at another light, he stared at her for a long moment. "I just have some things on my mind."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"What, are you starting to think you want to be a police intern too?"

Easing a bit, she chuckled. "No. But, ah, I'm a good listener." Liking the idea that she could help him with something, she added, "I could be your sounding board."

As they reached a stop sign, he glanced her way again. "If I do ask you something, can we keep it between us?"

"Sure."

"I'm serious." After a pause, he added, "It doesn't really have anything to do with a case, but I'm feeling at a disadvantage because I'm new in town."

"If I can help, I will. But I haven't paid a ton of attention to city things. I've never kept up too much with politics in Marion."

"It's nothing like that. It has to do with Bethanne."

"My cousin? What about her?"

"I want to know what she's like."

Candace went into protection mode. "What do you mean, what she's like? Bethanne is Amish, Ryan."

"That doesn't tell me anything. There are a lot of Amish around here."

Figuring he had a point, she said, "Well, let's see. She's kind and thoughtful. She likes to read a lot too."

He glanced her way. "That's it?"

"Well, no. Bethanne is a lot more than that. But most people are fairly complex, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

Ryan said nothing more, and Candace had to wonder why he would want to know about Bethanne. Surely he could look up the police reports from seven years ago if he wanted the whole story. But maybe he'd wanted to hear from someone who knew her well. Candance considered asking him why he wanted to know, but she really didn't feel like talking about Bethanne.

When he eventually pulled into the shopping mall parking lot, he spoke again. "It's 1:30. What time to do you need to be inside?"

"The meet and greet is at two. We've probably got ten minutes or so." She liked to get there a little early, but not too much.

"All right." After parking, he unbuckled his seat belt but didn't turn off the ignition. "Beyond Bethanne being sweet and Amish, what's her story?"

"Well, as you know, she's my cousin."

"Are you close?"

"Yes. We were born less than a year apart, and our mothers are sisters."

"But you must have very different lives."

"Or course. She's Amish and I'm not." She drew a breath and sighed. "You already know about Peter Miller. She's had a real tough time since what happened with him, although she's been doing better lately."

"How so?"

Ryan's digging made her uncomfortable. There was no way any cop's curiosity was more important than Bethanne's privacy. She might feel like Ryan was becoming a friend, but they had a long way to go before she was willing to share everything she knew about Bethy. "Well, she's leaving the house more often. She works from home as a book reviewer for a publishing company in Marion."

"What does she do for fun?"

Indignation boiled through her. "Fun?"

"Yeah." He now sounded a bit impatient. "Who is she dating?"

Candace's mom had said that an Amish guy named Jay had visited Bethanne at home earlier that week, but Candace hadn't heard anything more about that. "She's not dating anyone."

"You're sure?"

She resented how he was acting like she didn't even know Bethanne. Resented that he seemed to be playing her. Here she was, trying to help him out, but instead he'd turned the tables and wanted gossip about her cousin.

She opened her car door. "Look, time's up. I need to get inside."

"Hold up. I'll walk with you." Ryan got out and shut his door, then walked around the SUV to her. As if by habit, he slowed his stride as they headed for the mall doors, enabling Candace, in her three-inch heels and a form-fitting dress, to walk at a comfortable pace.

Memories of senior prom, when Candace's date seemed oblivious to the challenge of doing much at all in four-inch sandals, tumbled into her mind. By the end of the evening, she'd had two blisters and a cranky attitude from being on her feet all night. Her date had been annoyed with her too. He'd asked her to take the shoes off, but she'd been too afraid of them getting stolen or ruined. She'd worked three overtime shifts at the ice cream parlor to pay for them.

"Thanks," she said as he opened the door for her.

He met her gaze. "I appreciate how polite you are, but there's no need to keep thanking me."

"No, not for being here. I know it's part of your job. I'm just ... feeling gratitude for you not making me walk any faster."

He chuckled once they were inside. "First, I'd never make a woman run in high heels. I do have some manners. And secondly, feeling gratitude ?"

"What's wrong with that phrase?"

"Not a thing. It's just a new one for me."

"Well, it's how I feel."

"I'm aware. And ... here we are."

As they turned the corner, she gasped. A crowd of easily fifty people stood around a podium with a big banner proclaiming "CANDACE EVANS, MISS CRITTENDEN COUNTY." Would she ever get used to people being so interested in meeting her? "Wow."

He chuckled.

As the woman who organized the event approached them with a big smile on her face, Candace pressed her lips together. She hoped that would give them a little color, because she'd been so focused on her conversation with Ryan that she'd forgotten to look in the visor mirror to check her hair and lipstick.

"Do I look okay?" she whispered as she kind of bared her teeth. "Please tell me I don't have anything in my teeth."

"You have nothing in your teeth." Leaning closer, Ryan added, "You look as gorgeous as you always do. Go get 'em, tiger."

"Thanks."

"Hi, Candace, I'm Jennifer Martin," the woman introduced herself. "Community Relations Director for the mall."

Candace held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Martin. Thank you for having me."

"We're planning for you to speak for fifteen minutes. We'd like you to lightly discuss your platform about literacy and supporting victims of violence." Lowering her voice, she added, "Please keep in mind the wide age range of the crowd. Don't say anything too intense or alarming."

There were lots of little girls aged ten and under in the crowd. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, please share a couple of beauty tips."

"Of course."

Jennifer pointedly looked at the top of her head. "Where's your crown?"

"Oh." She hadn't put that on either. "My escort has it. Ryan, could you get something for me?"

He'd been looking at his phone, but his head popped up. "What do you need?"

"I need my crown."

"Oh, sorry." He opened the tote bag he'd carried in for her, pulled out the container holding the crown, and opened it for her.

Wishing she had a mirror, she smoothed back her hair, then placed the crown on her head, situating it so the two small combs at its base held it securely. "Does this look all right?" she asked Jennifer.

Jennifer stepped closer, adjusted the crown to the right, then arranged two of her curls. "I think you look great. What do you think, Ryan?"

"Perfect."

She chuckled. "He's a keeper, dear."

"I agree," Candace said with a smile. Yep, she could tell herself that they were only friends, but she felt something more for him than mere friendship.

"Are you ready, Candace?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, I'll step up and introduce you. Then, of course, after you speak, you'll need to pose for pictures and sign photographs."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good."

As Jennifer walked toward the podium, Candace assumed what she'd begun to think of as her beauty pageant pose. Straight back, stomach in, chin up, hands to her side, one leg slightly in front of the other. While Jennifer spoke about the pageant and Candace, some of the little girls smiled and waved in her direction. Just as Candace waved back, she caught sight of her stalker sitting at a table in the food court. He was glaring at Ryan as he held a worn paper bag in front of him.

Imagining all sorts of awful things, she looked Ryan's way. When their eyes met, she gave a brief nod of her head toward the food court.

Ryan turned his head, caught sight of her stalker, and then stood up.

"Please welcome Miss Crittenden County!" Jennifer called out.

As Candace stepped forward, her heel wobbled, but she quickly regained her balance. Please don't let him have a gun , she thought.

Just as she reached the microphone, a crash came from the food court. Her stalker was gone, but his chair had been overturned and the paper bag lay on the ground.

She sucked in her breath, reminding herself to keep calm. All these people were watching her.

Ryan, who'd been scanning the area, focused on her. He clearly hadn't understood what she was trying to convey. "You okay?" he mouthed.

She nodded even though she wasn't. But what else could she do with all these people looking at her? Panicking would only make the situation worse. She needed to give her speech like nothing had happened. So she forced herself to focus and did just that.

Afterward, she invited questions from the audience. A bunch of little girls' hands went up, and she pointed to one girl. "Yes?"

"Where does your crown sleep at night?"

In spite of the way her nerves were strung tight, Candace smiled. "When I'm not wearing this pretty crown, it sleeps in a wooden box on my dresser."

Up went five more small hands. "How about you?" she asked a dark-haired girl sitting with her father near the back.

As the child asked her question and then Candace answered in as cheerful of a tone as she could manage, she watched Ryan out of the corner of her eye. He was moving toward her. By the time she called on the next child, he was slipping through the small crowd, apologizing to a couple of the mothers holding their little girls' hands.

"Excuse me, please," he said to a teenage girl with glasses.

When Ryan finally reached her side, she sighed in relief. He was strong and solid and familiar. Unable to help herself, she leaned a little closer to him. His aftershave—a woodsy, dark scent—further calmed her nerves. Centered her.

"Candace, what's going on?" he whispered to her.

"I think that was my stalker."

His posture changed. "Yeah, I thought that guy might be him." He grimaced. "Unfortunately, after seeing him, I scanned the area to make sure he was alone. By the time I started toward him, he was gone."

"I have no idea where he went. One minute he was there, the next minute, all I saw was that chair clattering on the ground."

"Did you see him when we walked in?"

"No." Or had she? She was feeling flustered now. "I mean, I don't think so."

The look Ryan gave her let her know that they were going to be having a long conversation on the way back to town. She deserved it too. She shouldn't have told Ryan she was okay. "He was at the nearest table in the food court. See the sack on the floor? He was holding it."

His eyes searched the food court. "I see it. Five minutes."

Five more minutes. She could do that. "Sorry about that, everyone. Are there any more questions?"

Up went a few hands. Choosing an older girl who looked nervous, Candace tried to smile as naturally as possible. "How about you in the red T-shirt?"

"You said you got a lot of scholarships. How did you do that?"

"First, I studied hard in school and made the best grades I could. Then, I asked the counselor at the high school about applying. She helped a lot. The scholarship was the main reason I entered the Miss Crittenden County pageant. It's a good one."

After another two questions about her dress, Ryan signaled that it was time for them to go. He was holding the bag in his hands and texting on his phone.

"Last question," she said brightly. Choosing a girl who looked to be about twelve who wore glasses, she said, "How about you, honey?"

"Is he your boyfriend?" The girl smirked mischievously.

When the crowd turned to look at Ryan, she gave the answer that would end the moment as quickly as possible. If she hesitated, or tried to describe their burgeoning relationship, Candace knew she'd become flustered. All she wanted to do was get out of there. "Yes, he is." She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't tell the whole group that she was lying through her teeth.

A crowd of girls clapped, making Ryan's eyes widen.

"I knew it!" the smirking girl said.

Jennifer stepped up to the microphone. "Everyone, let's thank Miss Crittenden County for visiting us today."

Dutifully, they clapped. And then, obviously ready to do some shopping, the crowd dissipated.

"You did such a nice job, Candace," Jennifer said. "In addition to being lovely, you're a fantastic speaker."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Shaking her hand, Jennifer added, "I wish you the best of luck this year. And with your future endeavors. And now I'll let your guy have you back." She winked. "He's very devoted. I swear, I thought he was going to stand by your side the whole time."

"Yes," she said weakly.

"You two have a good day now."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Ryan moved to her side, holding the paper bag in one hand and her duffle bag in the other. "Let's go."

Oh no. He was mad at her—probably for saying he was her boyfriend. And who could blame him? She reached for her crown. "All right. I'll just—"

"You can take that off in my vehicle," he interrupted. "We're leaving now."

This was even worse than she'd imagined. He was angry and was probably going to tell her in no uncertain terms that he had no desire to accompany her ever again. She was going to have to do all her future appearances by herself.

Feeling like a recalcitrant child, she walked by his side, looking straight ahead in her struggle to keep up. He seemed to have forgotten about her heels and dress.

When they got outside, Ryan took hold of her arm. "Stay with me," he bit out.

In her effort to keep up, she almost tripped.

Muttering something under his breath, he slowed down. "My apologies. I..." He shook his head. "Here I just told you I would take care walking with you and now I'm practically making you run. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just—"

"Trying to keep up?" he asked in a far gentler tone. "I'm sorry for acting like a jerk."

When they got to his vehicle, he helped her inside. She buckled up as he got into the driver's side.

Moments later, as Ryan pulled out of the parking lot, Candace couldn't hold back what she needed to say. "You're in a big hurry—what has you looking so rattled?"

"That paper bag was filled with gifts for you." He sounded serious. Deadly serious.

"What kind of gifts?" She almost didn't want to know.

"The kind no man should be leaving on a table in the mall. We're making a police report, Candace."

Her mind was going toward crazy ideas. She needed more information, not what he was giving her—which was close to nothing at all. "Why?"

He looked away as if he didn't want to say anything, then pursed his lips. "The bag is full. Clothing. And pictures of you—lots of pictures. Most clearly taken without your knowledge. This man ... he's obsessed, Candace."

Pictures of her. He'd been spying on her. "I just don't understand. I'm not anything special. Why me?"

Ryan's voice softened. "I don't know, but we'll figure it out. I promise you that."

Candace paused. "I'm so sorry I told that girl we were a couple. I was rattled and I didn't want to tell everyone you were a cop. It would bring up too many questions."

"It's fine. I understood."

"I promise, I won't get weird on you. I won't—"

"Candace, I'm not mad." As he stopped at a left-hand turn signal, he scanned her face. "Honestly, I think it might be a good idea if we kept up the ruse. If you don't mind. Until we find this guy, let's just say I'm your new boyfriend. It's a good reason to keep us close."

"I understand." But she didn't understand. Didn't understand this man's obsession or the reason he'd left pictures of her in a paper sack.

What she did understand was she wasn't the least bit sorry about everyone thinking that she and the newest cop in Marion were a couple.

What was it about him that she found so different than any other man she'd met before? Was it because he made her feel safe? Or because there seemed to be a pull between them that couldn't be denied—one that she was beginning to think she didn't want to deny at all?