“You mean you never saw your mother after that? Even now?”

“That’s right.” Ryder squinted into the sun and reached for his sunglasses on the truck’s console, squeezing them so tightly, they looked ready to snap.

“That’s not your fault, Ryder.”

“Oh no?” He lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter now. You’d think I’d be Pam’s favorite stepson, but Rod is the golden boy for staying at the ranch. The McClintock Ranch means more to Pam than most of the McClintocks.”

Julia wanted to erase the tightness from Ryder’s face, ease the pain edging his voice. “Yeah, I’m afraid I disappointed my mother by becoming a tour guide instead of going into fashion design.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Ryder jerked his head around. “You remember that, huh?”

“It just came to me, the feeling, the emotion, everything.” She pressed her hands to her belly to still the butterfly wings.

“I suppose that’s going to start happening more frequently now.” Ryder gripped the steering wheel and drilled the road ahead with narrowed eyes.

“If it does, I have you to thank.”

“Yeah, you have me to thank.”

Ryder seemed lost in his own thoughts, so for the rest of the ride home Julia stared out the window as snatches of scenery flew by. Every once in a while, her gaze caught on a house or a horse or another car, and the detail sprang to life for her.

Just like her mind.

Ever since her session with Dr. Jim, a kaleidoscope of images and scenes had been shifting through her brain and occasionally, one would come into focus with sharp clarity. But her memories of Ryder remained cloudy.

“Doesn’t look like Sheriff Ballard is here yet.” Ryder pulled a U-turn at the end of the block and eased his truck in front of Julia’s house.

Before getting out of the car, Julia pressed her nose against the cool glass of the window. Her heart skipped a beat. Someone had left her front gate ajar. She wiped her sticky palms on her jeans. Probably the mailman.

She shoved the car door open and tripped toward the swinging gate, with Ryder calling out behind her. If her secret admirer had left another bunch of scraggly flowers, she’d rip them to pieces.

Charging up the walkway, she frowned. Something on her porch. Her gait faltered and she swallowed. Not flowers. She stumbled on the first step. Something wet. Her breath hitched in her throat. Something red. She ground her fist against her mouth.

Blood.

The oozing, thick metallic smell gagged her, causing her knees to buckle. Strong arms caught her from behind.

“What the hell?” Ryder pulled her against his chest, and she sank against his tensed muscles.

His heart thundered against her shoulder blade, giving her strength, shoring her up. She straightened her spine and took a deep breath of cleansing mountain air.

Squeezing her shoulders, he nudged her off the step. “Wait here.”

He crept up to the porch, avoiding drops of red liquid seeping into the wood. Hunching forward, he dabbed his finger at the streaks smeared across her front door and brought his finger to his nose.

“It’s blood all right,” he called over his left shoulder.

She figured that, but from what source? Her gaze darted around her small, fenced-in yard. Relief swept through her, knowing Shelby was safe with the McClintocks.

Ryder jogged down the steps, pulling a handkerchief from his jeans pocket. He wiped the blood from his fingers and grabbed Julia’s arm with his other hand. “Let’s wait outside the gate for Ballard.”

“D-do you think there might be someone in my house?”

“I don’t think so, but we don’t want to touch anything else until the sheriff gets here.”

He steered her onto the road in front of her house just as the sheriff wheeled up in his squad car.

“Are you waiting for me?” He waved a CD above his head. “I got it right here.”

Julia’s stomach clenched. She’d forgotten about that other nightmare looming in the shadows-her ex-husband’s clandestine activities.

Ryder held out his hand. “Yeah, but we’ve got another problem. Looks like Julia’s stalker paid another visit.”

Sheriff Ballard shoved the CD into Ryder’s hand as if anxious to get rid of it. “More flowers?”

“Worse.”

“Not another break-in?” Ballard scowled. “We don’t need an uptick in the crime statistics during the height of the summer season.”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff.” Ryder waved his hand toward the blood-splattered porch. “This is a one-man crime wave.”

“Hell and damnation.” Ballard hitched up his pants and gingerly walked a semicircle in front of Julia’s porch. “Looks like blood.”

“It is blood.” Ryder held up his right index finger. “I sampled a little from the lower-left corner of the door.”

“Anything dead around here?” Ballard twisted his head over his shoulder to scan the front yard.

Julia cleared her throat. “Not that we noticed.”

Ballard blew out a breath. “Too bad you don’t have any neighbors, Julia. I suppose there aren’t any witnesses. Are the Fourniers your closest neighbors?”

“Closer than Gracie and Charlie, but don’t you think they would’ve called you if they’d seen somebody on my porch spreading blood all over my front door?”

“You have a point, but I’ll drive up the road to see if they noticed anything unusual. We’ll dust for prints here and take a sample of that blood, and then you can clean up this mess.”

“Seems I have a lot of messes to clean up lately.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked her toe at the ground. She wanted to catch this maniac red-handed, literally. Her memories and her old life hovered within her grasp and she wanted to take hold with both hands and banish the fear and uncertainty that had dogged her since the accident. She didn’t need another complication.

Another patrol car pulled in front of Sheriff Ballard’s, and Zack Ballard popped his head up over the open door. “Have you been looking for me…Sheriff?”

“Yeah, I wanted you to run something over here to Julia, but I couldn’t bring you up on the radio.”

Zack hunched over the car door, leaning on his folded arms. “I had it on. Just heard a little static earlier, but no call.”

“Doesn’t matter now. We have another problem. Julia’s secret admirer left her another gift, a gory one.”

“Stalker.” Julia clenched her jaw.

“Excuse me, honey?”

Why did the men in this town always use sweet little endearments for her? Bet nobody ever called Julia Rousseau of Paris honey. “Secret admirers don’t leave gifts of blood. This guy’s a stalker, and I think he’s dangerous.”

“Blood?” And all of the same drained from Zack’s face. “Someone left blood? From what?”

“I’m presuming an animal, but we haven’t found anything yet.” Ballard jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll take a sample and prints, if we find any.”

Ryder had been slowly moving toward Zack’s squad car, and now he bent over, pointing at the front right bumper. “Is this blood?”

Zack’s head jerked up. “On my bumper?”

“Take a look.”

Julia followed Sheriff Ballard out to the road and leaned over Ryder’s shoulder. A red smear with brown fur sticking to it clung to the chrome bumper.

“What is that, boy?” Sheriff Ballard straightened up and drilled Zack with a steely gaze.

“I must’ve hit that animal.” Zack’s eyes shifted between the three faces turned toward him. “I came down this way earlier on my way to Gracie Malone’s B and B. Some small animal ran into the road in front of my car. I thought I missed him, but I guess not. Must’ve grazed him at least.”

“Where was this?”

Ryder’s lips formed a thin line, and Julia’s heart skittered in her chest. He didn’t really think Zack had a hand in this, did he?

“I don’t know. Somewhere back toward Gracie’s.” Zack waved an ineffectual arm behind him.