Body of Evidence (5 page)

Jacob perked up at that. “I get to feed the gators?”

“Only if you promise to stay behind the fence and be very careful. I mean it. Don't go inside. Just throw the meat over the gate, okay?”

“But what about the drop pole?”

“No drop pole unless we're both here. And one of the volunteers will be monitoring you, just in case.”

“Okay.” He finished up with Abe, leaving the big avian to stare after him as he left the cage.

“Seems like a good kid,” Anderson said after helping her put away the rest of the feed buckets. “How long's he worked for you?”

“Almost since the beginning,” Jennifer said. “I needed someone and a friend told me about Jacob. He wanted after school work and he'd just turned fourteen. So I hired him one summer and it worked out great. He'll be gone in another year, though.”

They walked back down the path behind the house toward the stable. “So you like to go out on the town sometimes.”

She gave him a wide-eyed stare. “And?”

“And…nothing. I'm glad to know you take a break now and then.”

“Well, I haven't in a while. All my friends keep calling to check on me. But I want to get that pen finished and then I can relax.” Then she stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, wait, I can relax after the pen is built and after the drug runners are taken away and you're no longer in my hair. Then I'll be able to have fun again.”

Anderson went into the stables with her, the smell of fresh hay and horses making him homesick for his own family ranch. Thinking he sure didn't mind being around her all the time, he said, “Maybe that will be sooner than later.” Then he turned to face her. “And after this is over—”

“We'll both have to get back to work,” she finished.

Leaving no room for dinner out or anything else as far as Anderson could see.

“Y
ou have some prime horses,” Anderson said, trotting Chestnut down the long lane toward the unfinished alligator pond. “This is one hard-working quarter horse. Did your daddy teach you about horses, too?”

Jennifer patted the mare she called Sadie, then shook her head. “No, my mother is the horse expert. Suzanne Myers Rodgers. You might have heard of her, or rather, your parents might remember her. She used to compete in shows on both the state and national levels. She was poised for a shot at the Olympics when she met my daddy.”

“And?”

“And she fell in love and gave it all up, much to the disgust of her old-money-Texas-born-and-raised parents.”

Anderson sat up on his horse. “Myers. As in Houston oil Myers?”

“The very ones,” Jennifer replied, galloping along beside him. “My maternal grandparents, although I've never met them. They disowned my mother when she left behind college, dressage and the cotillion to marry my father.”

Anderson whistled low. “You're kidding me, right? You don't even know your own grandparents?”

“Not on my mother's side. And my father's parents died when I was in grade school, first my grandmother, then my grandfather a year or so later.”

No wonder she didn't trust anyone. No wonder she'd fallen away from her faith. The woman was pretty much on her own here. She'd tried to tell him that. She'd probably tried to explain that to God, too.

Now we're both here and listening,
he thought. He prayed that God would hear Jennifer's cynical appeals.

“So you don't know your grandparents and you never hear much from your mother. That's not right, Jennifer.”

She slanted him a harsh look. “Seriously, Ranger-man, I agree it's not right. But it's just a way of life for me. I'm used to it, so don't feel sorry for me, okay?”

“I feel sorry that your uppity grandparents don't have the sense of a goose or the grace that God grants all of us. I feel sorry that your mother is so self-centered and—whatever she is—that she isn't here supporting her daughter. I just don't get any of this.”

Jennifer's expression changed from relaxed to perplexed in seconds. Her anger came through loud and clear in her next words. “That's because you have a tight-knit family, Anderson. You've never been through the stuff I've had to endure. But hey, I'm okay. I'm doing just fine on my own. I don't need advice or sympathy from a man who's pretty much said he won't ever give up
his
job to be a family man.”

“I never said that. I said I love my job—”

“Yeah, well, my dad said that every time he headed out the door. I think you're the same way.”

He didn't want to tell her she was in serious denial, about her dad, about him and about her own need to be loved. She wouldn't listen to that right now.

“I'm sorry,” he replied. “I didn't mean to be so down on you or your family. It's none of my business, anyway.”

“You're right, it's not.” She motioned toward the clearing ahead of them. “The new pen area is around that bend. We've dug a pond and cemented the sides. Part of the chain-link fencing is up—or it was until someone messed with it. The landscaper should be out this week to place the sunning rocks and shade trees as well as the rest of the landscaping.”

And just like that, she shifted gears away from her personal life to her work, showing Anderson that she depended on her work here to help her hide the pain of being abandoned by everyone she loved.

While he couldn't grasp the cruelty of that twist of fate, he could continue to help her and protect her. And he began to understand that while this case had brought him here, God had sent him here for more than just busting up a drug ring. He needed to help Jennifer Rodgers find her faith again. He prayed to the good Lord he could complete that task.

“Impressive setup,” Anderson said, turning to Jennifer with a nod after they'd tethered the horses on some nearby bramble. He tried to avoid looking at her, but she saw the apology in his eyes.

Jennifer managed a smile, her regret at snapping at him making her think she was a lot like that tricky
gator Bobby Wayne. She'd been nervous on the ride out here and then she'd gotten mad over Anderson's shock at her dysfunctional family history. It was something she didn't like to talk about, not even with her closest friends. And especially not with such a strong upstanding family man like Anderson Michaels. She envied him even while she wanted to hear all of his growing-up stories.

But Jennifer hid all of those conflicting needs behind a long sigh, taking her time to glance over the golden and mauve woods around them. The fall leaves were brilliant with colors that even her numb, shocked mind couldn't miss.

“It's supposed to be impressive and safe and secure,” she replied. “I want to protect my alligators and also teach children about protecting wildlife. We'll put a few water turtles in here, too, but in another fenced area away from the gators. That's what that pile of rocks is for, to secure the fence line so the turtles won't escape. And I expect some of the native animals to wander in—at their own peril, of course.”

She ventured a glance toward him. “I'm sorry I lost it back there. I get kind of touchy when it comes to my parents.”

He shrugged, his boot hitting at a clump of clay. “I'm the one who should apologize. It's not my place to judge you, Jennifer. I'm just here to fight the bad guys and keep you safe.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “And I have to remember you're still grieving for your father. This is a lot for you to take in—me being in your life all of a sudden like this.”

“I can handle you, Ranger-man.” She let it go at that
for now, since she didn't have a choice and since she was pretty sure she couldn't really handle him. “Okay, then. Truce. Let's look at the damaged fence.”

He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “I saw lots of tracks when I went over it last night, but I'm guessing that's from construction workers coming and going.”

“Yes, they've been bringing in backhoes and bulldozers for weeks now. And the big trucks bring in rocks and lumber for the feed house and the walls around the pond. We'll have plants delivered this week, probably. We have to work around the weather but we really need to get this done before winter sets in.”

“Do alligators hibernate in winter?”

Glad to be back on a subject she could discuss, Jennifer bobbed her head. “They do if the temperatures go down too low. They're cold-blooded so they can't tolerate frigid temperatures. If they eat something and go into hibernation it can actually go bad inside their stomachs—not so good.”

“How do you manage them?” he asked, his gaze moving around the muddy beginnings of the pond. “You don't actually go in the water with them, right?”

Jennifer laughed at that. “Of course not. But when I was little, my daddy taught me how to wrestle small alligators and crocodiles. It's not that hard if you stay calm and stay on their back side. But they are very sensitive to any type of vibration or movement on or near the water. And they can move quickly when provoked or surprised.”

“I don't intend to find out,” he retorted. He surveyed the lot again. “Looks like a definite trail through here. And it runs right toward where the new pond begins.”

She moved around the oval-shaped pond, walking toward the spot where the old trail ended. “Yeah. Jacob commented on that last time the boys came back here with the four-wheelers.” She pointed to the jagged tears in the tall chain-link fence. “They cut it down right there near the back part of the pond.”

Anderson went to the torn fence and looked it over, then kicked at the ground and bent to pick up rocks and broken twigs. “It's hard to say who's been here. What with the construction people and the joyriders, it'll be nearly impossible to pinpoint exactly where the cartel has been doing the drops.” He stood up and surveyed the nearby woods. “Why would they mess with your fence?”

“Maybe they don't even come on to my land,” Jennifer replied, hoping against hope that would turn out to be the case. “It could have been Mr. Chason, like you said.”

Anderson pointed toward the trailhead a few yards away. “Let's investigate over there near the tree line. I didn't go that far last night in case someone was lurking back there.”

She followed him to where the worn path turned toward a curve. “Anderson, look.”

Anderson hurried over to where an obvious campsite had been set up. “Those ashes look fresh. So that means someone was here after the last rain.” Then he bent down and pointed to an object in the fire. “What's that?”

Jennifer stared down at the silver panel box. “That's the circuit board we ordered for the equipment house.” She whirled to where a small shed sat off from the pond,
outside of the protective fence. “They must have messed with the electrical system.”

Anderson got up and rushed to the little house, then looked inside. “They've cut all the wiring.”

“That means they've been back since we found the cut fence,” Jennifer replied, a look of dismay on her face. “And you didn't see anything last night?”

“No, but it was dark and I stayed hidden out away from the site. I didn't want to shine any lights up here in case they were back. I didn't hear anything, either. They must have set this fire before I arrived on your property yesterday.”

Jennifer gasped. “The construction crew had a controlled burn day before yesterday, late in the afternoon. Some trees and shrubs. But they made sure they'd put it out before they left for the day.”

“The cartel could have come in later that night and used the original fire for a cover.” He jotted notes. “So we have a fresh campfire and a damaged circuit breaker and cut wiring. They've sent a message and now they're laying low, which is why I didn't see anything last night. This place is too hot for them to have much activity. But since you have stirred things up, they could be gunning for you now. Which means I'm gunning for them. If they come back tonight, I'll be ready for them.”

“Did you bring a tent to sleep in?”

“In my truck. But I'll use a bedroll. And I won't sleep.”

Jennifer thought about that. “We could both hang out back here.” At his inquisitive look, she added, “I'd bring my own tent, of course. And my Remington.”

He shook his head, frowning at her. “You don't need
to do that. But I don't like leaving you all alone at your house, either.”

“Anderson, I've been alone there off and on for years. My mother would come and go, then take off at a moment's notice and stay gone for months. Just like she did after my daddy died. I'm used to being alone.”

“Things have changed, remember.”

She pointed at the ruined circuit board, then stared at the open shed. “How can I forget?”

“Maybe I can rig some sort of security system back here, one that we can turn on at night that would alert both of us.”

“You can do that?”

“I'll figure out something. Might be wise for you to have one anyway until the pen's security system is up and running. We'd keep it turned off during the day so the construction workers could come and go. But once they're gone for the day, we'd activate it.”

Throwing up her hands, she said, “So what now? I mean what do we do until I get all that figured out?”

“I told you, I'll continue my stakeout back here. Sooner or later, they'll make another move.”

She didn't want to think about that. But the man knew his job and she couldn't stop him from doing that job. Missing the old days when she was as free as a bird and glad to get home to a good movie or have a night out every now and then with her friends, she stared over at Anderson. The man was easy on the eyes and easy to get used to, even if he was so thorough and intense, he got on her nerves at times. But right now, she was just glad he was here.

Shaken by the damage and the cost of replacing her
fence and her electrical circuit, she stalked toward the campfire, then whirled to stare at him.

“What?” he asked, lifting his head toward her. “You find something else?”

“No.” She glanced around again and spotted what looked like a cigarette butt on the ground a few feet from the ashes. Walking over the crusty dirt and grass, she leaned down to stare at it. “Anderson, I think I've found a…cigarette or something.”

Anderson came over and bent to stare at the dirty white butt. “Yep. Looks like what's left of a joint. Not your average smoke.”

“Marijuana? Pot on my property? I guess the drug runners stood around and got high while they watched my costly equipment burning to a crisp.”

He pulled a set of plastic gloves out of his jacket pocket. “I don't doubt that. Unless this was left by Jacob and his friends or your rowdy neighbor.”

“You really do suspect everyone, don't you?”

“Yep.” He stood up and told her he'd be right back. She watched as he walked to Chestnut and dug into his saddle bag. When he returned with a saddle blanket and a black canvas bag, she guessed it was an evidence kit since he pulled out a tiny envelope and opened it wide. Reaching down with a pair of tweezers, he picked up the cigarette butt and dropped it in the bag, then sealed it and wrote on the outside. Then he pulled the circuit board out of the fire and carefully wrapped the blanket around the damaged board.

“Until I figure this thing out, everyone could be a suspect. Jacob mentioned your neighbor had run them off from here. He either wasn't at home earlier or he's
avoiding people for some reason. I intend to pin him down, however.”

“Good luck with that. The man
is
mean. He won't talk to me at all. I've tried calling him to explain why I need this new pond, but he hangs up on me.”