Against the Storm1 Read Free Page B

invaluable education in the field and also time to shoot the outdoor scenes that had become her trademark.
    Weller helped her get her first gallery exhibition, which was surprisingly well received. Several more shows followed and her clientele grew. Now her photos hung in some of the most prestigious galleries in Houston, Dallas and Austin.
    Her mind on her upcoming show at the Twin Oaks Gallery and the photos she intended to shoot that afternoon, Maggie had almost reached her car when she jerked to a shuddering halt. Setting her camera bag at her feet, she reached a shaking hand toward the scrap of paper pinned beneath the windshield wiper. Very carefully pulling it free, she began to read the message.
    My precious Maggie,
    How long before our destinies are fulfilled? When will you understand that your fate is entwined with mine and I am the only one who can give you the peace you need?
    Maggie glanced frantically around. Only two other cars were parked in front of the six recently completed town house units where she lived, a Toyota Camry and a Chevy Camaro. Both vehicles were empty. The breeze ruffled the leaves on the freshly planted shrubs in the flower beds out front, and a couple of teenagers rolled by on their bicycles. No one who looked like he might have left the note.
    She stared down at the torn slip of rough brown paper, which matched the two others she had already received. She had hoped, after moving into the condo two weeks ago, that whoever had been leaving the creepy messages would stop.
    She hoisted her camera bag over her shoulder, holding the note with just two fingers in case the man had left prints. She scanned the lot once more for anyone who seemed out of place, but no one was there.
    Maggie hurried back inside her town house, the paper fluttering in her hand, her stomach a little queasy. Easing her camera bag to the floor, she closed the frontdoor and leaned against it. After couple of steadying breaths, she opened her purse and dug out her cell phone and pulled up her best friend’s name.
    She hit the send button, and with every unanswered ring, her anxiety grew.
    Roxanne finally picked up.
    “Roxy? Rox, it’s Maggie. I—I got another note. It was under the wiper blade on my car.”
    Her friend softly cursed. “Where are you?”
    “I’m back inside my house. I looked around the parking lot. No one was there.”
    “Listen to me, Maggie. You need to take that note to the police. What was the name of that police lieutenant you talked to before?”
    “Bryson. But he isn’t going to help me. He doesn’t believe me. That isn’t going to change.”
    “It might. You have this note and the two you got before.”
    “I didn’t keep the first one. I thought it was just a prank.”
    But it wasn’t really a matter of having the notes as proof. It wasn’t a matter of the police believing her. The cops were punishing her for a crime she had committed years ago.
    A crime she was indeed guilty of committing.
    “I won’t go back there,” she said. “I won’t be humiliated that way again.”
    A long pause ensued. Roxanne was one of the few people who knew that as a teenager, Maggie had falsely accused the high school quarterback of rape.
    At sixteen, she’d been stupid and irresponsible. The truth of it was she’d had sex that night with Josh Varner, though it certainly wasn’t rape. She had encouraged the handsome football player, not fought him, but she’d been frightened of her dad’s reaction when he found out.
    “All right,” Roxanne finally said, “if you won’t go to the police, go see that private detective, the guy who runs Atlas Security.”
    “Who, Rawlins?”
    “You have to do something to protect yourself, Maggie. You don’t know how far this guy might be willing to go. Maybe Trace Rawlins can help.”
    Maggie didn’t like it. The cowboy seemed cocky and far too self-assured. Worse yet, she didn’t like the jolt of attraction she’d felt when he looked at her.
    But she