He'd insisted on telling the local sheriff her concerns. He'd phoned and asked for a deputy to come out to the house to talk to them, but the sheriff's office was stretched thin, and they wouldn't send someone.
So she'd shored up all her courage and told him she'd go to the station if he'd go with her.
And here they were. She'd told the deputy about the restraining order and the Mustang. He'd listened to her story and then excused himself to make a call. Presumably to the Austin precincts where she'd made the first report on Toby.
Cord was tense but trying to hide it. He'd been terse and quiet as they'd spoken to the deputy.
No doubt being inside this cold, sterile building was bringing back bad memories for him. Had he been arrested after what'd happened that night? She could imagine his awful grandmother leaving him in jail to prove a point.
Maybe they shouldn't have come.
She'd slept terribly last night. Nightmares had plagued her, but when she'd woken in the early hours, wrapped around Hound Dog, she couldn't remember any of them.
She was terrified, being away from the No Name. So much more than the day they'd attended the Winter Festival. What was wrong with her? There'd been a moment in Cord's truck as they'd turned onto the state highway that she'd felt so violently ill, she thought she'd lose what little breakfast she'd been able to manage.
And then, Cord had taken her hand. He'd laced their fingers together and held on the entire ride to the station.
And once inside, he'd known how much she needed his arm around her.
The deputy hung up the phone at the desk further back in the station. With the distance between them, she hadn't been able to make out his conversation.
He approached the desk, and her jiggling foot went into overdrive.
"I spoke to Officer Jimenez at the University precinct. He confirmed what you've told me and was able to give me a plate number for the suspect's vehicle."
The deputy settled one hip against the desk. She couldn't take her eyes off the handgun holstered at his waist. "I can tell you that there are a couple of kids in this county with red Mustangs. It's possible the car you saw belonged to one of the high schoolers out on a joyride, ditching classes."
A teenager skipping school. Could the answer be that simple?
She exhaled shakily. Raised one hand to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "So Iwasjust imagining that it was Toby I saw?"
She didn't know if that made it better or worse.
He tapped a pen against the desk. "Maybe. Maybe not. We don't take too kindly to someone threatening one of our own." His gaze fell on Cord.
Molly felt the flex of his fingers against her shoulder, the way his breath went shallow and tight.
"Are there any surveillance cameras near the grocery store?" Cord asked. "Maybe somebody in town got a shot of the license plate."
The deputy frowned, like he didn't want Cord telling him how to do his job. "This isn't the big city, Coulter. Couple of the businesses in town have cameras inside. The bank's the only place that has cameras outside."
She swallowed hard. "So there's no way to know whether it was Toby or not."
The deputy's turned his cool gaze on her. "We're a long way from Austin."
That wasn't an answer.
Cord stood, so Molly followed on shaky legs. Even without touching him, she could feel that his tension hadn’t lessened.
"We'll circulate the vehicle's plate number," the deputy said. "If somebody in town sees it, we'll let you know."
That didn't sound promising.
Cord didn't thank him or say good-bye before he ushered her back out to the truck.
He tucked her into the passenger seat, and she shivered in her coat until he'd gotten in the driver's side and cranked up the heat. A cold front had come in overnight.
"If your stalker has been hanging around town, chances are someone's seen him," Cord said slowly. "We can stop in at the diner. Maybe the motel. Ask around."
