by Janet Dailey
“Not right now. Who is that inside your car?”
Kerry sat straight up. “I don’t know.”
Marshall reached down and touched a fingerprint to a hidden biometric lock. He took a gun out of the custom-made compartment next to his seat. “Want me to find out?”
“Not worth the risk. There’s nothing in my car worth stealing, either.”
He killed the headlights and stayed where he was. The man in the car clambered out of the passenger side and stood, catching his breath. For a second his jowly face showed clearly as he turned to look up at the fine snow drifting down under the streetlight.
“Shep Connally,” Marshall muttered. “How about that.”
“I suggest we let him go,” Kerry offered. “I mean, get the plates, call them in to the county sheriff and the division office in Denver, and make sure he’s followed when he’s out of your area. But that’s it.”
“I know, I know. Shep is low level. But he’s all we have to get to the others.”
Stone didn’t release the safety on the gun. They both watched Connally get into a car parked close to Kerry’s and drive away—but not before Stone pushed another button to take an infrared photo with the microcamera hidden in the truck’s grille.
“Did you get it?” Kerry asked.
He pushed another button and a small laptop lifted up out of the dash, ready to use. Kerry tapped the screen to zoom in. “There you go. Arizona plates.”
“That’s where he got his start as a con man.” Stone put the gun away and locked the compartment with his fingerprint. “He was a take-the-money-and-run type. An expert at fleecing little old ladies who hid cash in their mattresses.”
“Anyone like that in Velde?”
“Every town has old folks.” He thought of the town meeting that Kerry hadn’t attended. “But our intel had him moving up to bigger and better scams. I’ve been concentrating on greedy guys looking to cut shady property deals.”
“Like the new development with imaginary houses. Discounts for first buyers, lots of promises, and nothing gets built.”
“That area is the most obvious,” Marshall admitted. “But Connally could have decided to work his former hustle in the meantime. You know, my landlady could help me out with the old folks. She knows everyone in town.”
“So check it out. She doesn’t know me from Adam. Even though one of my new best friends tried to rent the cabin before you nabbed it.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Jill’s credit rating was crap. I guess yours was solid gold. Does Nell think you’re a surveyor or does she know who you really are?”
“She likes me,” he answered flatly. “Not sure why. I know she ran a background check, but the agency ID wouldn’t come up for that.”
“Whatever. Back we go. I’m not getting in that car and I’m not sleeping here,” Kerry said firmly. “Thanks in advance for inviting me to stay at the cabin, by the way. You’re the best.”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Listen up, kid. Because I said so.”
Kerry stopped by the next day with several bulging plastic bags stuffed with new clothes. Stone opened the cabin door she had just kicked to let him know she was there.
“Hello,” he said. “The answer is still no.”
“I figured.” She hoisted the bags and studied his at-home attire. His holey football jersey and baggy sweatpants didn’t seem to impress her. “Are you alone?”
“Yes. And don’t give me grief about it.”
Kerry peered past him all the same.
“Practicing your investigative skills?” he asked. Stone hated to be rude, but he wasn’t going to invite her in for coffee.
“Just checking. Can you at least keep most of this until I find someplace else to stay?”
“You bet.” He relieved her of the biggest bags.
Rowdy, who’d been treated to a long, late run last night, lifted his head from inside his padded dog bed and thumped his tail. Then he went back to sleep.
“Hi, pooch. Thanks so much, Stone. You’re all heart. See you around. Maybe. I requested a transfer last night to a town in the next county. I’m supposed to hear by tomorrow. Seems like the investigation is widening its scope.”
She seemed excited by the prospect. He felt a professional interest. That was about it. She didn’t have to know that he’d been informed of her request and given his approval. If it really did get rough, he didn’t want her there. And after all these months he wanted nothing more than to be done with crooks and sneaks once and for all.
“Sounds like a real opportunity, Kerry. Go for it.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Let me know where you bunk down until then.”
“I will.”
He watched her get back into her rental car and drive off in the direction of Velde’s main street. Then he tossed the bags on the bed and tied them closed with double-knotted surveyor’s tags, stashing them quickly in the cabin’s one small closet. For good measure, he pulled down the extra blankets from the top shelf and set them over the bags.
He’d made a stupid mistake once by offering up an alias for Kerry instead of her real name. With luck and a little patience on Annie’s part, he could probably explain it well enough to get her to forgive. He wasn’t going to make a second mistake by being careless with those bags.
He made himself a cup of black coffee and headed for the love seat, which was still turned toward the woodstove in the corner. It was a little early in the day for manly brooding and staring into the flames, but he might as well get it over with.
Stone stretched out as best he could, propping his socked feet on the armrest and wrangling a pillow behind his head. The antique love seat had been built when men were shorter and women were tiny.
But it had been cozy squeezing onto it with Annie. She’d stayed on his mind from the day he’d first seen her face.
He knew it was crazy, thinking about her so much. He had come to Colorado to get a job done. Romancing a girl who was as skittish as a wild horse wasn’t in his job description. But when it came right down to it, he didn’t plan to walk away from this town without her.
But she had her folks, and that ranch, and a life of her own he knew almost nothing about. What exactly did he have to offer her?
Stone sipped his coffee, lost in thought. He loved it here. The area around Velde had a wide-open feel that was timeless. The rugged land looked a lot like where he’d grown up in Wyoming.
His family’s ranch was much smaller than the Bennetts’ spread, though. And it had long since been sold to pay the bank and other creditors. He’d never really had a place he could call home.
Kerry was right. Jumping from state to state on random assignments was getting old. He’d spent too much of his life on endless stakeouts, staring through dark-tinted windows, waiting for something to happen.
It made a man only see the worst in people.
Something had to change.
He knew Annie was the reason he wanted to. Marshall set his cold coffee aside and folded his arms across his chest. He had to figure out a way to tell her the truth. And soon.
Chapter 16
Tyrell Bennett unfolded the note his wife had left for him on the kitchen table before he started in on the late breakfast his daughter had prepared for both of them. He read the note aloud.
“ ‘Gone to Cilla’s. Baking cookies with her and the little girls.’ ”
“Sounds like fun,” Annie said, buttering her toast.
Her father did the same, adding jam. “Now why on earth would Lou want to have fun when she can stay right here and wait on me hand and foot?”
“I know you’re kidding.”
“Of course I am. She knows you’ll take care of me.”
Annie gave him a mock glare and Tyrell laughed.
When they were done eating, he glanced through the local newspaper, then spread it out to show her the photos in the middle. “Bet you she w
ent to see the Christmas decorations on Main Street. It’s twinkle time.”
“The Chamber of Commerce went all out. The lights are best at night, though.” She poured herself a cup of coffee.
Tyrell nodded. “So how was the Snow Ball? Weren’t you the emcee?”
“Yes, I was. After a while Nell took over.” Annie didn’t want to get into the details. “It was fun.”
Her terse answer didn’t keep Tyrell from being a dad. “You came back sooner than we expected. Not that we were waiting up for you,” he added hastily.
“Yes, I did. I was feeling kinda tired. Guess that’s why I slept late.”
Annie usually got up just after her mom did and they shared an early breakfast, a habit they’d acquired in the last months. Now that her brothers didn’t live on the ranch, Lou didn’t have as much to do and they both welcomed the chance to spend time together without the men.
“Well then, you must be nice and rested,” her dad said.
Annie gave him a sideways look. She still wasn’t inclined to discuss Stone with her father. Although anyone who knew Tyrell and who’d seen her dancing with the surveyor would probably mention it eventually.
“Is that a hint? Nothing needs painting,” she said. “And the barn isn’t going to fall down. I checked.”
Her dad folded the paper and put it to one side. “I was thinking you and me could walk the lines.”
“Really?”
“Since that surveyor fella started poking around, I thought it’d be a good idea to check the boundary markers, make sure there’s no weak spots in the fence—especially the part where the cow got through that one time. One of the hands fixed it. I’d like to see how it’s holding up.”
That surveyor fella was a step up from that trespassing son-of-a-gun who tagged my fences. Annie wondered why her dad had changed his tune. Maybe he’d already heard about her dancing with Stone last night and didn’t want to give her a hard time about it.
“All right,” she said with a smile. She would actually enjoy being out in the open on a cold, bright day. The memory of being in Stone’s arms had been too sweet a dream to wake up from. She rose from the kitchen table and poured herself a cup of coffee, drinking it quickly.
They took her truck and Annie drove, jolting over tracks in the land that couldn’t really be called roads. Tyrell braced himself against the dashboard.
“Take it easy, girl. When did the ruts get this deep, anyway?”
“Dunno. The snow will fill them in soon enough.”
“Don’t remind me.” He gestured to a nearby section offence. “Stop here. Let’s walk a while.”
She put the gearshift into park, and they both got out. Tyrell tugged at the brim of his Stetson to keep the sun out of his eyes and turned up his collar. Annie had a knit cap stuffed into her pocket, but she didn’t bother with it. The wind coming down from the mountains was exhilarating.
Tyrell gave a nod. “Let’s start over there. That’s probably the oldest section of fence on the ranch. Still holding up.”
She slipped her arm through his. “Like you.”
Tyrell made a scoffing sound. “More or less.”
From where they were, the old split rails and wood posts looked sturdy enough, but she knew there was a second, much more recent fence of metal and wire directly behind them. Her dad was sentimental about this stretch, the last remnant of her great-grandfather’s hard work on the land he’d claimed.
“Now then. Bet you forgot why split rails are eleven feet long,” he began.
She let go of his arm, amused by his teaching tone, a familiar echo of her childhood. “Tell me again.”
“Eleven feet minus the ends that go in the post holes means each rail is actually ten feet. Helps you measure acres real quick, especially on horseback.”
“Right. And an acre was how much an ox could plow in a day.”
“You get a gold star for remembering that. Hell, I can remember my dad plowing with oxen. Did I ever tell you about that? We had to save gas, what with the shortages right after the war. He taught me how, just so I’d know it. He never did want to give up the team.”
“They were something.”
She’d only seen pictures. Annie couldn’t recollect much of anything about her grandfather, who’d died when she was just a baby.
“Before your time,” Tyrell mused. “Long before. You have a real feeling for the land, though.”
She was touched to hear him say it.
“Different when you’re on foot, isn’t it?” he said. “You get to know its secrets and hidden places.”
“Yes.” They had almost reached a corner of the property, judging by the right angle of the fence only yards away. It had been left in its natural state. Annie’s roping boots crunched over stubbly brown grass. Beneath the thin crust of snow, its tough roots sank deep into the dry soil, dormant until spring.
The subdued hues of the winter landscape were brightened by evergreen juniper. By it was a low thicket of rabbitbrush, its yellow blossoms turned into fluffy seedpods long since picked over by migrating birds.
They reached the corner. Annie rested a hand on a top rail for a few moments while her father had a look-see.
“Still standing,” he said with satisfaction. “You could knock a fence like this down and reset it in a day if you had to. Of course, sometimes a tornado did the knocking down for you.”
“When was the last one?”
“Couldn’t say.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Not in my lifetime.”
Nestled in the foothills of the mountains, the ranch was spared some of the wild weather that hit the plains to the east. And they’d made out all right during the recent floods. But when it came to snow, they generally got the brunt of it.
Tyrell turned away from the fence and looked out over the rolling ranch land toward dark blue mountains dashed and streaked with snow.
He didn’t quite smile, but the way his eyes crinkled up conveyed deep contentment. “Your great-grandfather picked good land.”
“He sure did,” Annie said softly. “I don’t want the ranch to ever change. I love it the way it is. Wide open. You can breathe.”
He looked at her fondly. “You’re a true Bennett.”
“Sam and Zach love it here too.”
Her father jammed his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. “I know. But they have lives of their own now.”
“They’ll be back.”
His expression was pensive. “Maybe.”
“Don’t say that. They will.”
“You know, I should have brought you along back in the day when I took the boys to walk the lines,” Tyrell said. “Don’t know why I never did. Tradition, I guess. It was more of a father-son thing to do.”
“We’re doing it now. That’s good enough for me.”
“All right then.” He smiled down at her. “Let’s keep on.”
His long strides kept him slightly ahead of her. “Now where is that monument?”
“What?”
“Surveyor’s term. All it means is a marker on the land. Could be a stone post or an old pipe.”
He seemed to have regained his energy. She had trouble keeping up. “So which is it?”
Tyrell chuckled. “My money’s on an old pipe. Bennetts wouldn’t waste good money on a fancy cut stone.”
“Is that it?”
Her father squatted down and cleared away a few handfuls of frozen brush to reveal a length of rusted pipe set into the earth. “Yep. Good eye.” He straightened up and eyed the corner angle of the fence. “But if it’s here, then it means the fence isn’t on the property line. Dagnabbit. I may have to get a professional to do a real survey.”
Annie held her breath.
“Not that guy who was working for Chuck Pfeffer either. I heard in town he’s still around.”
“I guess so. He was at the dance. His name is Stone, by the way. Marshall Stone. Nell introduced us.”
That was true. Just not at the dance. Annie’s
comment was meant to deflect suspicion if her dad heard more about the Snow Ball. She couldn’t very well pretend that she knew absolutely nothing about the surveyor.
“Oh?” Her father seemed more interested in the fence, although she could be wrong about that. The line of the newer fence extended ahead. Tyrell frowned when he saw several small neon tags tied to the wire, fluttering in the wind.
“Hmph. So he got out this way too.” He tugged at one.
“Don’t take them off.”
“Why not?”
“Surveyors have to review their measurements, don’t they?”
“Yes, but—” He looked at her quizzically. “Sounds like you’ve been learning a little about the subject.”
Annie cleared her throat. “Um, I looked some things up online after you and Stone got into it.”
“Wasn’t an argument.”
“It wasn’t a friendly chat either. Look on the bright side. Maybe he won’t have to come back more than once if he can still find those tags.”
Tyrell left off fooling with them. “All right. Let’s see what he comes up with then. He has to file his survey with the town. If he’s honest.”
“And what if he’s crooked?” Annie actually did want to know.
“We’ll find out. Of course, I’d have to pay someone else to prove him wrong.”
There was exasperation in Annie’s faint sigh. “Dad, with all the new development being planned, you should get a survey done.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he muttered. “Which reminds me. I pulled over by the lookout at the top of the ridge and I saw that so-called development. Nothing but plots. No one working on anything. No lumber. No construction trailer.”
“I know what you mean. I wondered about it myself.”
“The candy canes on the street lamps were a nice touch. There goes the neighborhood, I guess,” Tyrell said wryly. “It’s hard to stop progress. If it is progress.”
Annie was grateful for the change of subject. “Hey, I don’t know if Mom told you, but I went to talk to the town clerk. I was kinda concerned about some of the old people after that town meeting.”
“Anyone specific?”