One deputy had walked out to the road, and Cord could see him using his boot to scrape the ground. What was he looking for? Tire tracks?
"I didn't see a gun," Molly said to the officer's line of questioning.
"Doesn't mean he wasn't packing," Cord muttered.
The sheriff shot him a quelling look. He scratched something on a small notepad before stuffing it in one of the pockets of his vest.
"I'm real sorry, miss, but there's not a lot we can do."
Cord stopped watching the deputy out by the road and whirled to the room. "What're you talking about? She's got a protective order against this guy."
The sheriff was stone-faced. "It looks like he didn't break the order. From here to the road is what... four or five hundred yards?"
"You've got to be kidding me!" Cord burst out.
On the couch, Molly'd gone pale, her eyes huge in her face. He couldn't forget how she'd told him the police in Austin had let the guy get close enough to hurt her.
How could she not feel like it was happening all over again?
"What about trespassing?" Cord demanded.
The sheriff was already shaking his head.
He'd known it was a long shot as the words left his mouth. Somebody who would be careful enough to stay out of the protective order's radius would be careful enough to stay on the state-owned side of the culvert.
"Look, son—"
"You're telling me that he can sit on the road and intimidate her as much and as long as he wants, and your hands are tied?” Cord slapped his hands on both thighs. “That's not good enough."
What if the jerk decided to come onto the No Name? Come after her? The sheriff had taken his sweet time to arrive—too long. Cord could only imagine the damage someone could do with his fists in five minutes. And what if Toby had a weapon?
Molly stood. Even from here, Cord could see her hands trembling. "Thank you for coming," she whispered. To Cord, "I'm going to lie down. I need…" She didn't finish, just left her words hanging.
She was terrified, and with good reason.
The sheriff headed for the door. As he opened it, Cord could hear an engine coming up the drive.
"Looks like you got company, son."
Rick. He recognized the logo of the hardware store painted onto the side of the truck.
The truck slowed, and the window rolled down as Rick spoke to the deputy who was hoofing it back toward the patrol car.
The sheriff and his deputy loaded up, heading out without a good-bye.
He stood on the porch, hatless, cold air swirling around him. The law was going to let Molly down.
How was he supposed to help her?
Rick got out of his truck and approached. "Problems?"
Cord shifted his feet. He wished the guy hadn't even shown up. "My… girlfriend"—he didn't know what to call her—"is in trouble.Somebody'smaking trouble for her," he amended. No need for vicious rumors to get started around town.
"Sorry to hear that." Rick rounded the back of his pickup and hefted a cardboard box. Another one waited, and Cord went after it. They put the boxes on the porch.
When Rick stood straight, he said, "Anything I can do?"
His offer of help was unexpected, and, after the nothing he'd gotten from the sheriff's department, Cord felt a rush of unexpected emotion.
This was what Sutter's Hollow could have been, if he hadn't ruined everything all those years ago.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. He was worried about Molly, so he shook Rick’s hand and sent him off with a quick reassurance that he’d let him know if they needed anything.
