It was going to be a long drive, he thought. But Halley was with him. Everything was perfect as long as she was near. "Talk to me, honey. Tell me how you started dancing like that."
Halley felt the rough pads of his hands and loved him. She couldn't believe how much she loved him. As they drove down the dark, lonely highway, she felt cocooned in the SUV with Mike, feeling excited, thrilled, and so many other emotions. So she told him about her dreams, her desires as a small girl to take ballet lessons, and how, as an adult, she traveled to Billings several times a week to rehearse.
And when he pulled up outside of his beautiful house, she went straight into his arms, showing him how much she loved him.
Chapter 11
Mike walked into the sheriff's office the following morning, tossing the plastic evidence bag to his deputy. "Run the prints on this bottle, will you? Compare them to the prints we found at Halley's house."
By lunchtime, Mike leaned back in his chair, triumph making him smile. "I knew it," he said and looked across the desk at Halley who was working on her computer, doing something with spreadsheets.
She looked up with those words, blinking as she refocused on him instead of the numbers. "What did you find?"
"Was Carl ever in your house?" he asked.
Halley snorted. "No way. I would never have invited him to my place."
That was an interesting reaction, he thought, still amazed when he thought back to her performance of the previous night. It was still hard to believe that Halley was the woman up there on the stage, gliding so perfectly to the music. "Why not?"
She closed her laptop, giving him her whole focus. "Because he's my ballet connection."
When she stopped speaking, just looked back at him as if that comment made sense, Mike shook his head. "I don't understand."
She tilted her head. "First of all, Carl is gay, so he's not the man doing this to me. Forget that. But I wouldn't have brought him here because he's in the ballet world. His whole life is about ballet. He moved here from New York City so that he could dance. He admitted that he wasn't good enough for the troupes there, but he was good enough to be the lead dancer here in Montana. So he was happy here."
Mike accepted the second part. "Carl isn't gay."
Halley laughed. "Yes, he is."
Mike shook his head. "Not only is he straight, but he's in love with you. Or at least, he thinks he's in love with you."
Halley didn't believe it. "No. Carl is gay. He's about as gay as they come."
Mike smiled. "Honey, as someone who just recently figured out that I'm in love with you and have been for months, you're not the best person to judge a man."
He had a point, she thought. "Okay, so why do you want to know if he's ever come to my place? It isn't like I have dinner parties at my house or anything like that."
Mike didn't want to tell her this, but he knew that he'd have to. Carl's prints had been all over her kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and family room. Even her door! The stupid man hadn't thought to use gloves! "He was in your house. He's the guy breaking in and doing all the weird stuff."
Halley sat there, her eyes wide with horror. But then she shook her head, rejecting the possibility. "No. I don't believe it."
Mike shrugged and stood up, taking her hand and pulling her up as well. "You don't have to believe it. The police in Billings are executing a search warrant now on his apartment. He's under arrest and we," he said, kissing the top of her head, "are going to your parent's house to announce our engagement!"
Halley clutched her laptop to her chest, not sure which statement she should tackle first. "Carl was in my house?" The stalker seemed like a safer subject. But then again, she didn't really want to think about her dance partner inside of her precious house. It was too creepy.
Mike was all business now. He'd resolved the major issue, which was keeping Halley safe, and she'd agreed to marry him. Life was perfect. "Yep. I have the fingerprints to prove it. He isn't in the system, which is why we weren't able to figure out all of the owners of the various prints I found at your place."
He led her out of the station and lifted her back up into his truck. "You should also tell your parents about your dancing."
He slammed the door on her protests.
When he stepped into the drivers' seat, he got an earful. "Mike, you promised not to say a word to anyone."
"I won't," he said as he backed up. "I wouldn't ever betray your trust like that. But you should tell them. You have a performance this evening. They should be there. And I bought tickets for them, along with another one for me."