after watching her for weeks?
She shuddered inwardly and took a shaky breath. No, no longer could she let what-ifs control her life. Besides, this was her father's ranch, her home. If she couldn't regain a sense of safety here, where could she?
Her father reached for his jacket and pulled a folded newspaper from the pocket. He handed it to Olivia. "Melinda Holcomb's story is in this week's paper."
Olivia stared at the newspaper. With a shaking hand, she reached for it but didn't attempt to unroll it. "How bad is it?" she asked hoarsely, her gaze aimed at the paper.
"Read it." Picking up his suit coat, he said, "It's been a long day. I'm going to lock up, then go to bed." He kissed her brow. "Good night, Liv."
"Night," she replied. Faintly aware of her father's leaving, Olivia lowered herself to the sofa. Light-headed with trepidation, she unfolded the newspaper, and the headline on the front page leapt out at her.
Olivia sank back into the cushion. Her mouth was bone dry, but morbid curiosity kept her from going into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The article taunted her with the same gory fascination as a traffic accident.
As Olivia perused the cold, hard facts, she separated herself from the woman described in Melinda's story. The litany of her injuries could've been a grocery list, and the charges against the assailant only brought to mind the customary sentences for each crime. Olivia had read countless reports about victims like this one as an assistant district attorney.
Only this victim was herself.
Olivia crushed the paper between her hands and threw her head back against the couch. Closing her eyes, she tried to erase the words from her mind, but the final sentence refused to be obliterated.
"Ms. Kincaid is currently in seclusion at her father's ranch, and hoping to someday overcome the horrors of that tragic night to return to a normal life."
Melinda basically stated that Olivia was a nutcase. But then, hadn't Olivia called herself that a thousand times since the "tragic night"? However, she hadn't announced it to the world. She'd hidden from it instead. She'd gone into "seclusion."
Melinda had laid out the black-and-white facts, but the way she'd spun them together left too many shades of gray. People would add their own hues and tints to the unanswered questions and come up with their own Technicolor version. Perhaps if Olivia had been more forthright with Melinda concerning the details, there'd be less for folks to speculate about. Or not.
People tended to believe what they wanted to believe, and anything more Olivia might have added would've only further fueled their imaginations. Besides, Melinda would've put a spin on those other details, too.
Damn the woman for turning her into Jackson County's most pitiful victim.
I silently come up behind her, looping the leather around her neck and twisting. I can smell her terror and cheap perfume and foul muskiness. Leaning closer, I close my eyes, breathing in the purity of leather. I hold on for another minute, ensuring she is gone. The innocent are now safe from her evil.
Chapter Six
The following morning, Olivia, with her father's and Hank's assistance, served the men a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Hank was stiffly polite, and she was grateful her father was there to act as a buffer between them.
After the men went to work, the sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway drew Olivia out of the dining hall. She shaded her eyes against the morning sun and recognized the county sheriff's SUV. Limping to the house, she arrived there at the same time as the sheriff. Her father came out of the house to join Olivia.
Sheriff Caleb Jordan stepped out of the four-by-four and strode over to greet them. He had stopped by the house a month ago to visit, and Olivia wasn't surprised the county sheriff she remembered from several years ago had long since retired. Sheriff Jordan didn't have a potbelly hanging over his belt like