Page 22 of High Country Escape

“I said I’ll handle it.” He spoke through clenched teeth. The trouble with families was that sometimes they cared too much. But his love life—or lack of it—was something he needed to figure out for himself.

Chapter Six

Roxanne kept an eye out for any sign of William Ledger, or anyone else suspicious, but saw nothing over the next week. She finished unpacking and settled into a routine of work and getting the house arranged the way she wanted. She planted chrysanthemums and flowering kale in the beds out front, and bought a pumpkin at the farmer’s market to decorate the front porch. She saw her new neighbor, Kara, a few times and they talked briefly about nothing in particular. Roxanne began to relax. Maybe the sheriff’s deputies had scared away whoever had run her off the road. It hadn’t been Ledger—that was just her imagination conjuring up a familiar devil.

She made a point to take a break after lunch each day to walk around her little house, tending to the flowers and soaking in the peacefulness. This was home now. She was going to be happy here.

Ten days had passed since her accident when she was stooping to examine the developing chrysanthemum buds—and froze. There, in the freshly dug soil beneath her front window—was that a footprint? Heart hammering, she glanced around, as if expecting to see someone lurking. But all was still, the only sound a birdcall in the distance. She forced herself to look at the print again—to really study it. It was small—too small for a man? It was rounded at the toe—like a tennis shoe?

Moving around the house, she found three more of the same impression, none complete or particularly distinct, but definitelyshoe prints. Kara crossed the driveway to join Roxanne. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You look upset.”

“Does that look like a footprint to you?” Roxanne asked. She pointed to the impressions in the flower bed.

Kara studied the imprints. “Who would be walking in your flower bed?” she asked. She looked down at Roxanne’s feet. “Are they yours? Maybe you were weeding or something?”

Roxanne shook her head. “They aren’t yours, are they?” she asked.

Kara laughed. “Why would I be creeping around your house?”

“I’m sorry,” Roxanne said. “Of course it wasn’t you.”

Kara hugged her arms across her stomach. “It’s spooky, isn’t it? I’m already nervous about being out here so far from town, but the rent is so reasonable and I really like the tiny house. It’s so cozy.”

“I think this is as safe as anywhere,” Roxanne said. She turned away from the mysterious footprints. Looking at them was too upsetting. “Where did you live before?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve lived all over,” Kara said. “I guess I’m the restless type. I live one place for a while, then move someplace else. I was in Houston before this. This is much nicer. What about you? Where did you live before?”

“I was in San Antonio for a long time. But I wanted to make a fresh start.”

“Do you work from home? I see you over here all day.”

“Yes. I work for a software company.” She didn’t elaborate—most people weren’t that interested. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I work from home, too. Project management.” She glanced back at the flower bed. “What are you going to do about those footprints?”

Roxanne pulled out her phone and took a few pictures, then dialed a number. “Mr. Lusk?” she asked when her landlord answered.

“Roxanne, how are you doing?” The old rancher had a gravelly voice. Roxanne thought she heard the growl of the ATV he frequently rode around the ranch.

“I’ve come upon something strange around my house.” She stared down at the footprints next to her newly planted flowers.

“Strange how? What is it?”

“There are footprints in the flower beds. As if someone had been looking in the window.”

“I saw you planted flowers,” Lusk said. “They look really nice. Are you sure those aren’t your footprints?”

“I’m sure. Would you mind coming down and taking a look and telling me what you think?”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

She ended the call and continued to study the prints. “Mr. Lusk is coming down to take a look,” she told Kara.

“That’s good. Let me know what he says. I need to get back to work.”

Kara moved away, but Roxanne scarcely noticed. She was trying to remember what size shoe William Ledger wore. Her impression had always been that he was a big man, but she had been a ten-year-old girl. All men looked big to her back then.

A few minutes later, the roar of the ATV’s unmuffled motor heralded her landlord’s arrival. Robbie Lusk was a third-generation rancher in his sixties, lean and weathered, dressed in worn denim jeans, a chambray shirt faded almost white and a leather vest blackened in the creases by age. He stopped the ATV a few feet from Roxanne and stiffly dismounted. “Let’s have a look here,” he said and peered down into the flower bed.