There was no telling how long the creep had been stalking other women or when his sick fantasy about Ms. Parrish had started. She’d been traveling the circuit for a number of years. He could have seen her anywhere at any time. But he’d approached her for the first time in Oregon only four weeks ago. Cy would start there.
In case this man was a serial stalker or worse, he wanted a list of every known stalking incident in the Pendleton area in the past year. While he waited for the Parrish family to arrive at headquarters, he put through a call to the Pendleton police department. He asked them to fax him the names of stalking victims and their descriptions of the men menacing them, whether their cases had been solved or were still open. One of those descriptions might match up with the man Kellie Parrish had described.
Restless, Cy went to the cubbyhole down the hall they called a lunchroom and poured himself a cup of coffee while he waited. He had dozens of questions to ask. Vic walked in on him. Their eyes met.
“Guess who’s in the boss’s office.”
His pulse raced for no good reason. She’s here. Kellie Parrish had made an impact on all the guys. “I already know. A stalker’s after her.”
His friend’s black brows shot up. “You got the case?” Cy smiled. “How come that never happens to me?” Vic poured himself some coffee. “If you need help...”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.” Cy took his mug back to his office.
Before long, TJ appeared at the door with her. She was probably five foot seven without her cowboy boots. “I believe you two have already met. Ms. Parrish? Meet one of our agents, Cyril Vance.”
Cy got to his feet and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Ms. Parrish, even if it is under harrowing circumstances.”
Fear had darkened the blue of her eyes. “I hope you forgive me for bumping into one of the Sons of the Forty. I’m the one who’s honored.” TJ had disappeared.
“Please sit down.”
“Thank you.” She’d dressed in jeans and a creamy-colored Western shirt. Beneath the overhead light, her neck-length wavy hair had that silvery-gold metallic sheen he found stunning. So were her face and the rest of her curvaceous figure. Absolutely stunning.
“Can I get you coffee or a soft drink?”
“Neither, thanks.”
“I’m going to record our conversation if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course.”
“I have the notes taken by the police. It says here this stalker last contacted you by phoning in the middle of the night.”
“Yes. That was Friday,” she said, tight-lipped. “I don’t know how he knew my cell number.”
“How many people have you given it to?”
“My parents, closest friends, my cousin Heidi and of course my horse handler, Cody.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He’s been my closest horse friend since middle school. We’ve both had our dreams. I was going to win the PRO Finals Rodeo this year and teach barrel racing. He was going to help me and then run a stud farm. Cody is engaged and plans to get married after Finals.”
He nodded. “When you fill out forms of any kind, do you list it as your contact number?”
“No. It’s not written anywhere. I always give out my parents’ number. No...wait. I did give my cell phone number to a friend, Olivia Brown, who works at the Women’s Pro Rodeo Association in Colorado Springs, Colorado. She used to ride with our Blue Bonnet Posse, but her husband was transferred to Colorado Springs, so she got a job with the rodeo association there.”
“I’ll want to talk to her. Now I’ll need a list of your friends and cousin, and their phone numbers. Here’s some paper.”
“All right.” She got right to work. When she’d finished, she looked up.
He took the list from her. “Thank you. What did the stalker say on the phone?”
She bit her lip. “‘You lied about having a husband. Don’t you know it’s not nice to lie?’ Then he hung up.”
“Was there just the one call that night?” She nodded. “Now let’s talk about everything that happened the first time this man made contact with you.”
She shuddered visibly. “It was right after the barrel-racing event and awards. I was in the process of removing the saddle from Trixie when I heard an unfamiliar male voice from behind call me by my first name. I turned around to discover a total stranger invading my space. A lot of guys have approached me over the years wanting a date, so it wasn’t unusual.”
Cy could believe it.
“I don’t mean to sound full of myself. It’s just part of what goes on during the racing circuit, and I’ve always taken it in good fun before turning them down. But this was different. He came too close. After telling him no, he just stood there with a smile that made my stomach churn. Something about him wasn’t right.”
“Could you tell if he’d been drinking?”
“No. I couldn’t smell alcohol. I was holding the saddle in front of me with both hands and I told him I was married, hoping he’d get the message and go away. When he calmly told me to prove it, I would have thrown the saddle at him and called security, but a couple of friends happened to walk over and he disappeared. I didn’t see him again until I drove to Utah for the next rodeo at Eagle Mountain a week later.”
“You drive a truck and horse trailer?”
“Yes. I live in the trailer while I’m on the road. My horse handler drives his own truck and trailer carrying one of my other horses.”
“Do you own a car?”
She nodded. “A four-door white Toyota sedan. I keep it at the condo when I’m gone.”
“Do you own or rent?”
“Rent. After I leave the rodeo circuit, I’ll be buying my own place.”
“Where’s the parking?”
“The double-car garage is in back, but there’s parking in front.”
“Is it in a complex?”
“It’s a two-story town house with neighbors on either side of me.”
Cy paused long enough to buzz the artist to come to his office, and then he turned to her. “We need a picture of this man. Without a photograph we’ll have to rely on your eyes. Our department artist has a singular gift.”
She clasped her hands together. “All right.”
“While we wait for him, I want you to think back. Before Pendleton, have you ever had the slightest suspicion that someone had targeted you?”
“No. Never.”
That sounded final. Jim showed up at the door with a sketch pad and electric eraser pencil. “Come on in, Jim. Ms. Parrish, our state’s reigning barrel-racing champion, is being stalked. Let’s see what you can work up.”
“Sure.” He sat in the chair next to Kellie, eyeing her in male appreciation. “It’s a privilege to meet you, Ms. Parrish. We’ll start with a sketch. I could use the computer, but a sketch can tell you things the computer can’t. Don’t get nervous or frustrated. You may think this won’t work, but in three out of ten cases a culprit has been caught through a sketch. I’ll work from the eyes on out. Shall we get started?”
She nodded and answered one question after another while he sketched. They worked together while he refined his drawing.
Cy asked her for a more thorough description while Jim was working.
“He