secrets I might find out about them.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone who knows Gracie, anyone who works with her, would want to harm her,” Libby replied.
“Spoken like a true mother,” he stated. His eyes narrowed slightly. “If you’re smart, you’ll view everyone as a potential suspect.”
His words troubled her. “What I can’t understand is why anyone would want to harm her.” She stroked a strand of Gracie’s pale blond hair.
“If we knew the why, we’d probably have a better idea of the who,” he replied. “Of course, in a case like this it’s a little more difficult because there might not be a rational why. If what you believe is true, then some wacko has just focused in on Gracie in some sort of obsessed delusion.”
“In which case we might never know who’s writing those letters.”
Clay frowned, creating a deep etch across his broad forehead. His gaze slid from Libby to the sleeping girl in her lap. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling whoever wrote those letters isn’t just going to go away.”
His words shot a wave of disquiet through Libby. At that moment, the car pulled up in front of the house.
“Gracie, honey. We’re home. It’s time to wake up.” Libby shook her daughter’s shoulder lightly and tried to forget the knot that had formed in her stomach at Clay’s words.
“I don’t wanna wake up,” Gracie said sleepily.
“Come on, honey. We need to go inside.”
“I’ll get her,” Clay said. He got out of the car, then reached in and scooped Gracie up in his arms. Gracie curled her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, obviously perfectly at ease in his strong arms.
Libby got out of the car and watched as the big cowboy carried her daughter into the house. For just a brief, surprising moment she was struck with a wave of intense longing.
She frowned and consciously willed the strange emotion away. He’d just made her feel crazy vulnerable with his thoughts about whoever was after Gracie.
After all, she had a life most envied. She and Gracie were a Hollywood success story. What else could she possibly want?
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