BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game (8 page)

Kris blushed. “Quite a bit. Trace and I are ‘an item’ according to his sister Carrie. She teases us about it all the time and swears that if he doesn’t propose by the end of the year, she’ll eat her best boots—and she’ll also disown him.”

“I’m so happy for you. He seems like a great guy.”

“Do you have time for dinner? Carrie invited Trace and me over to her place at two, for her incredible coconut cake and fried chicken. Even if it isn’t exactly heart-healthy, we’re celebrating his birthday today and it’s Trace’s favorite meal.”

Megan glanced at her watch. “Sounds fantastic, but I need to get back to Copper Cliff. I…wonder if I could see some of your dogs.”

“Absolutely. Are you looking for anything in particular?” Her eyes sparkled. “Something small and fluffy?”

“You know me so well,” Megan said with a dry laugh. “How about something like that, times three?”

“We’re actually really full right now, so you’ll have a lot to choose from.” Kris led her down to the kennels, opened the door and ushered her inside. “You might wish you had earplugs.”

The inmates burst into a deafening chorus of barking, some of the dogs launching themselves at the wire mesh doors of their runs, while others cowered at the back.

“Let’s start at one end and work our way down,” Kris said, raising her voice to be heard above the din. “Some of them are quite new, so I don’t know as much about them yet. They aren’t available until I can assess their behavior and personality for being a safe pet.”

“What are the adoption arrangements here?”

“A seven-day waiting period after your decision. A signed contract, promising the animal won’t be given away or sold. The dogs are vaccinated and spayed or neutered before leaving.”

Megan’s heart fell. “Seven days?”

“I can make rare exceptions. For you, as an example. You live a long ways from here. And I know you’d give an animal a wonderful home.”

Megan followed her to the end of the building, then walked slowly, surveying the runs on both sides of the aisle. “You sure have a lot of puppies.”

“Are you looking for something young?”

“Grown. Something with a good bark and protective tendencies, but not a breed I’d have to worry about with visitors—especially children.”

Kris tapped her lips with a forefinger. “I know you like bigger dogs. We’ve got a couple of labs—both are older animals, though. Several larger mixed breeds.”

“Sounds good.”

She paused in front of one of the cages and hunkered down to entice the golden retriever closer. “This one is a sad case. He was found with a collar practically embedded in his neck, and he was so undernourished that I figure he was dumped and on his own for a long time. He’s still so, so thin. We try to feed him a lot, but he just isn’t thriving in this environment.”

“It’s unbelievable, how selfish and cruel people can be.”

“And he probably saw some of the worst. But unfortunately, even now he won’t have a chance to finish his life in a loving home. He’s at least eight, maybe nine, so adoptive families will be leery of looming geriatric issues.”

Megan nodded. “That’s so sad.”

“It sounds like you need a young, vigorous dog, at any rate, so you wouldn’t want to deal with his problems. Someone will have to work at gaining his trust, and that could take a long time. He was already neutered when he came in, but I don’t even know if he’s housebroken.”

“Poor guy. Goldens are such sweet dogs.” Megan moved on to the next pen, where a German shepherd whined and pawed at the door of his run. He was massive, clearly in his prime. “This one looks like a good possibility.” When she started to pass by, he erupted into a frenzy of deafening barks. “A definite possibility.”

But even with all of the German shepherd’s ideal qualities, her gaze strayed back to the golden. He was staring at her with such a look of hopelessness and heartbreak in his eyes, that she felt her own heart melt into a puddle at her feet.

She studied him, taking in the abuse he’d suffered. The quiet dignity in the way he sat still, his eyes fixed on hers, while most of the others were going crazy for attention.

“I wonder if he’d even have the spirit left to be a good watchdog, or if he’d just be afraid and cower.”

“He’s terrified of men, but after surviving on his own, I think he’d be even more protective of his home than most. But he’d also be patient with children and any visitors he saw you welcome. Goldens are like that. My old Bailey has the fiercest bark you can imagine, and you know what a lamb he is otherwise.”

Megan moved back to stand in front of his cage, flipped the latch and opened the door. She hunkered down. “Here, buddy.”

He studied her as if searching her very soul, before he finally rose and limped toward her, slowly closing the distance between them. After a long moment, he solemnly sat down and lifted a paw to rest it on her knee, never taking his eyes from hers.

It was like a promise.

A promise that if she’d only love him back, he’d love her forever, with all his heart. That he’d give his life for hers and never think twice.

And in that moment, she knew that no other dog would do.

She cradled his head in her hands. “You’re it, buddy. You just found yourself a home.”

Scott hefted a quarter-bale of hay, judged the distance, and launched it over the fence. It landed dead center in the hay bunk in Attila’s corral.

The donkey waggled his good ear. Moved forward to sniff his dinner. Then he sidestepped around it to hang his head over the fence and stare longingly at the cabin.

After his first assault on the roses, he’d managed to escape almost every day, even after Scott had added a high set of planks on the fence.

One by one, the roses bloomed—and within twenty-four hours they each disappeared.

He was the most single-minded creature Scott had ever met.

“You and Officer Peters are a lot alike,” Scott muttered as he double-checked the chain on the gate.

The way his blood had chilled at seeing her in that seedy tavern still made him shiver. He hadn’t asked why she was there. It hadn’t been hard to guess. She was searching for leads in that murder case.

But to go into that place without backup within shouting distance was flat-out reckless.

Before he’d been in there five minutes he’d seen cowboys too drunk to know what they were doing—too drunk to remember anything the next day.

And he’d seen prison tats on a couple of guys with cold, hard eyes and six-inch knives on their belts. Maybe they were just passing through. Maybe they were lying low, working in the back of beyond on some ranch. But a pretty woman alone could be bait enough for them to take chances. No matter what she thought, Megan would have been in a vulnerable position if she’d caught their eye.

And the man she’d sat with in that booth had looked like pure trouble.

She’d made it clear that she didn’t want Scott’s help, and he’d left the world of law enforcement behind for good. So why did he feel this persistent compulsion to check up on her, just to make sure she was safe?

“Not my business,” he reminded himself aloud.

Attila looked at him and flapped his lips, making a whuffling noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Thanks, pal.”

The donkey lifted his head to look over Scott’s shoulder toward the lane, his good ear swiveled in that direction. A moment later, a patrol car came into view.

Scott felt his pulse pick up a faster beat that he tried to ignore. “She really,
really
isn’t my business.”

The vehicle crept past Jasper, who lifted his head in casual greeting before flopping back down in the dust. Megan pulled to a stop by the barn and stepped out, her khaki uniform sharply pressed, her service belt looking too heavy, too bulky for her slender waist. Dark aviator sunglasses masked her eyes, and she wasn’t smiling.

“You back to checking out your number one suspect?” he drawled. “I’m beginning to think I’m the only one who’s convenient.”

“Thanks. My boss would be really pleased at that assessment. Convenience over accuracy—and it saves gas mileage, too.” She slipped off her glasses and studied the donkey. “Had him long?”

“Does he need an alibi?”

Her lovely mouth twitched. “That depends. Has he been in any trouble?”

“His named is Attila, if that’s any clue. And I didn’t name him that, so he probably has a rap sheet a mile long.”

“Did you bring him from Chicago?”

“He was…a spur of the moment decision. I went to a sale in February, wanting to buy a tractor. He was going for twenty-five bucks, and I was afraid he might end up in a semitrailer, headed for the glue factory.” Scott gave a rueful laugh. “Now I’ve got a donkey, no tractor and a rapidly disappearing rose garden. But I’m sure you would never make an emotional decision like mine.”

“Nope.” She cast a guilty glance over her shoulder at something moving on the front seat of the cruiser. “Never.”

He squinted against the bright morning sunshine. “Did they give you a police dog to match the K-9 logo on your car?”

“Uh…no.”

Curious, he strolled over and peered inside. A gaunt, white-muzzled golden retriever stared back at him and tentatively waved his tail. “Stray?”

“He was.” She blushed a little. “I think he’s now my new best friend. I wanted one who could also listen for intruders.”

Scott frowned and turned around.
“Intruders?
Did you get him because you had trouble last night?”

“Someone may have followed me. I thought it could be you, just making sure I got home, but the car took off in a hurry. I would’ve called to ask you, but Information doesn’t have you listed.”

“It wasn’t me. Jasper and I had our supper in my truck before we hit the road, so I was probably ten minutes behind you. And I went straight home because you made it clear that you didn’t want any interference.”

“Maybe it was just someone who got lost and turned around in my driveway.”

“I hope so. Do you live alone?”

She nodded. “Now I wish I’d gone after him. If I’d moved faster, maybe I could’ve pulled him over, or at least gotten close enough so I could run his license plates.”

And then maybe you’d be dead.

She was independent. She was armed. She was a sworn deputy with years of experience. But he still couldn’t set aside his uneasy feelings about her safety. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

She frowned at him, and he could feel a cool wall rising up between them. “Then I’m glad you’re not a partner of mine. You’d probably have me sitting back at the sheriff’s office, out of harm’s way.”

“That’s a great idea.”

A faint twinkle glinted in her eyes. “Then remind me to never suggest that you look for a job with the county sheriff’s department.”

“You’re safe. I can promise it will never be on my agenda.” Though the thought of being able to keep an eye on her—in a purely professional way—did have some appeal. A host of grisly images crowded into his mind from the myriad cases he’d been involved with over the years. Killers without remorse. Those who took pleasure in orchestrating a terrifying death for their victims. “Just don’t take any chances. As isolated as you are out here, you have no idea how truly evil men could be.”

She snorted. “Don’t kid yourself.”

“Well…just in case you need backup sometime—” He grinned at her. “Or you want to check up on my latest nefarious pursuits, here’s my cell number.” He pulled a pen and scrap of paper from the breast pocket of his denim jacket, and wrote down his phone number. “I don’t use a landline here.”

She took it and punched it into her Contacts directory, then pocketed the slip of paper. “Thanks.”

“So we’re making some progress, I take it?”

She looked up. “What?”

“This is the first time you’ve actually suspected me of something
good
.”

She laughed, a soft, silvery sound, as she slipped her sunglasses back into place and opened her car door. “My mistake. Make sure you toe the line, mister—because I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

S
cott paced the floor, then growled in frustration and settled down in front of his computer monitor, staring at the blank screen that had been mocking him since five in the morning.

Last night he’d tried staying up late, forcing himself to sit at his desk with his hands poised over the keyboard until he’d finally dredged up enough words to fill a page.

This morning he’d gotten up early to get the article done…but the words from the night before had all looked like drivel, and he’d erased the lot…only to discover that looking at a page of nonsense meant there was something to fix, but a blank page was worse—especially with a deadline of five o’clock on Monday and an auction he needed to attend this afternoon.

Back home in Chicago he’d written a couple of salable articles each month despite his fourteen-hour days on the job, his cramped home office and the high drama Olivia had brought into his life.

Here, he had a perfect office looking out at the mountains, all the time in the world, and the words just wouldn’t come, even though rainy Sunday mornings had always seemed liked an ideal time for writing. His gaze settled on the barn, where just the tip of Attila’s good ear was visible over the corral fence.