“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“So boring is better?”
He slowly lifted his head, studying her with a brooding gaze.
“There’s nothing boring about you, Jaci,” he assured her. “In fact, you’re the most dangerous woman I’ve ever known.”
Her brows snapped together. “Very funny.”
He swallowed a sigh. Of course she didn’t believe him. He’d devoted a lot of energy to convincing her that he would never see her as anything but the girl next door.
“It’s true,” he insisted.
“What’s so dangerous about me?”
He held her gaze, his expression somber. “You make a man think about putting down roots.”
She stiffened, instantly wary. “Rylan.”
Too smart to press, Rylan lowered his arms and stepped back. If nothing else, he at least knew that she was still physically attracted to him.
It was a start.
He brushed a light finger over her flushed cheek. “Make sure the dogs are in the house and the doors are locked before you take your nap.”
“Yes, sir.”
His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her lips. “Or I could stay.”
Need darkened her eyes before she was pointing toward the back door.
“Go.”
“I’ll be back this afternoon.”
She shook her head. “I have work to do.”
He planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back.”
Before she could decide if she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck or knee him in the ’nads, Rylan was heading into the mudroom. Pulling on his boots, he let himself out the back door.
Intending to head around the house to his truck, he was halted by the distant sound of a chain saw. It had to be Andrew Porter.
Angling toward the barn, Rylan followed a narrow trail down a sloping hill that Jaci’s grandfather had used as pasture for his cattle. He reached the muddy field that was closest to the river and followed the buzz of the chain saw toward a large pile of logs. It looked as if Andrew had collected the debris that had been swept over the levee by the floodwaters and piled the rubbish together. No doubt he intended to burn it once the rain stopped.
For now, he was busy cutting up driftwood and placing it in a separate pile.
Rylan frowned, recalling the frames that Jaci had created from the wood Andrew brought to her. It was obvious the two of them were close.
The question was, how close?
Rylan squashed the fierce blast of anger at the mere thought the two might be dating. Right now all that mattered was getting information from the man that could help to protect Jaci.
Slogging through the field that was a muddy mess, Rylan studied the younger man. He’d been a couple years behind Rylan in school, and rarely involved in any extra activities. Not unusual for children of farmers. They were expected to be up at the crack of dawn to help with the animals and then to return home as soon as classes were out to help in the fields.
What he did remember about Andrew was that he was always quiet, and seemed to prefer melting into the background. It would be easy for him to move around the area without attracting attention.
Belatedly realizing he was no longer alone, Andrew turned off the saw and reached up to remove the headphones protecting his ears.
He was nearly as tall as Rylan, with the thick muscles of a man who did physical work. His face was long and ruddy from years in the sun. And his short, dark hair was covered by a worn seed hat. At the moment he was wearing a pair of heavy coveralls and rubber boots to protect him from the mud.
“Hey, man,” Andrew said, stepping forward. “Long time no see.”
Shaking hands, Rylan covertly studied the man’s wide, welcoming smile and guileless brown eyes.
It was difficult to imagine him sneaking around, planting bloody lockets. Or worse, killing young women and dumping them in the river.
Still, Rylan wasn’t about to let a man’s jovial nature scratch him off his mental list of suspects. He’d been around law enforcement long enough to know that a face of an angel quite often hid the soul of a devil.
Rylan nodded toward the pile of debris. “Looks like you’re keeping busy.”
“You know how it is. A farmer’s work is never done,” Andrew said, his smile fading as he glanced toward the stagnant water that covered the bottom half of the field. “’Course, if the rain doesn’t stop, there won’t be any crops this year.”
Rylan grimaced. Few people understood the stress of having their livelihood be at the mercy of the weather.
“A shame.”
“Yep.” With a shake of his head, he returned his attention to Rylan, his eyes narrowing. “Are you going to tell me what’s up?”
“What makes you think something is up?” Rylan demanded, studying the man’s jaw as it hardened.
“I was here yesterday when the cops arrived,” he said. “I could see they were taking pictures, looking around. Then you came later and put up the cameras. I assume someone must have broken into Jaci’s house.”
Rylan folded his arms over his chest. “There was some trouble.”
Andrew’s face flushed with instant anger. “Is she okay? If she was hurt I’ll—”
“She’s fine,” Rylan assured him, trying not to bristle at the man’s belief he should be protecting Jaci. “She wasn’t home when someone trespassed on her land.”
Andrew studied him, clearly sensing there was a lot more going on than a trespasser.
“Did the intruders cause any damage?” His beefy hands clenched at his side. “I can get my toolbox and return later today to help fix it.”
“There wasn’t any damage.”
Andrew’s frown deepened. “What was taken?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why was the sheriff here?”
Rylan hesitated. The young man’s reaction seemed completely natural. He’d have to be a hell of an actor to maintain his air of confused anger.
“There was a locket left on her door,” he at last admitted.
“Locket?” Andrew blinked. “Like one of them heart things?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t seem like a reason to call nine-one-one,” Andrew said.
“We believe it was left by a stalker,” Rylan said.
“Some weirdo is harassing Jaci?” The anger returned to Andrew’s long face. He might not fully understand what was going on, but he knew how to deal with a jerk who harassed women. You kicked the shit out of them.
“Yep.”
“Do you have any idea who it is?”
“Not yet.” Rylan’s words were clipped, his tone making it clear that it was only a matter of time until he tracked down the creep.
Andrew gave a shake of his head, glancing at the white farmhouse on top of the hill.
“I never did like the idea of her living out here by herself,” he said.
“Neither do I, but she’s determined to stay,” Rylan said.
“Stubborn.”
Rylan’s lips twisted. Andrew was obviously a master of understatement. “No crap.”
“How can I help?” Andrew demanded.
“What time did you get here yesterday?” he asked.
“Six thirty.” Andrew paused, then gave a shake of his head. “You know, it was probably closer to seven,” he said. “I stopped by Frank’s after I heard about the body.”
Rylan tucked the information in his brain, trying to determine a time line for when the stalker had placed the locket on Jaci’s porch.
“Did you notice anyone around?”
Andrew shook his head. “No.”
“What about the road?” Rylan pressed. “Did you notice any tracks?”
The younger man thought back, his brow furrowed. “I could see where Jaci pulled out of her driveway and headed south before she had to turn around and take the long way to town.”
Rylan’s lips twisted. For once the sloppy, loaths
ome mud might be of use.
“So whoever brought the locket did it after seven,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Unless he walked,” Andrew offered.
Well, hell. He glanced around. No one could have approached from the east. Not unless they had a boat. And it seemed unlikely they would have passed through his father’s land. There was a clear view of the back fields from the house.
But it would have been easy for someone to come from the south. The thick brush that had been allowed to grow wild on the old Johnson place meant that a person could approach without being seen until they were close to Jaci’s garage.
“Possible,” he agreed. “What about later? Did you see anyone hanging around the house?”
Andrew grimaced. “When I get back here working I really don’t notice anything that’s going on.”
Rylan couldn’t argue. He’d been nearly on top of Andrew before the younger man realized he was approaching. Of course, Andrew’s isolation in this area meant he could easily have walked up to Jaci’s house without anyone being the wiser.
Something that Rylan intended to keep in mind even as he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. Andrew could be a valuable ally, as long as Rylan could double-check his claims.
“Thanks, Andrew,” he said, handing the man his business card. “Here’s my number. Give me a call if you happen to notice anything strange.”
The man scowled. “Trust me, if anyone tries to bother Jaci, they’ll be sorry.”
With a nod, Rylan turned to retrace his path up the hill and around Jaci’s house to his truck. Then, starting the engine, he flicked a button to blast the heater. Christ. He’d been in California for too long. The damp, chilled weather felt as if it was settling into his bones.
Or maybe he was just getting old, he wryly acknowledged, backing out of the drive and turning to head toward Jaci’s mysterious neighbors.
It was bound to happen.
Bumping down the road, he nearly missed the old turnoff to the Johnson place. There were branches hanging low and a number of rusting barrels that were dumped along the edge of the road.
A deliberate attempt to keep the driveway hidden?
Turning between two barrels, Rylan allowed the truck to crawl forward, his gaze darting from side to side as he drove between the line of trees. A few minutes later, he was in the front yard, which had been allowed to become a nasty mess.
Rylan grimaced as he took stock of the abandoned cars that were rusting in the clumps of weeds, and the piles of scrap metal that he’d bet had been stolen from neighboring farms. The house itself was in dire need of a new coat of paint, with a small front porch that was blocked by a stack of bulging garbage bags. Two of the front windows were covered by slabs of plywood, and the brick chimney had fallen across the roof, which sagged beneath the weight.
Only the front door looked new. It was made of heavy steel and bolted into the frame. There was also a sign nailed to the porch with a warning that trespassers would be shot.
Nice. Clearly the current residents didn’t encourage drop-in visitors.
He shifted his attention to scrubs and tangled bushes that hadn’t been trimmed in years. The undergrowth ran along the edge of a deep culvert that Rylan had forgotten about that ran along the north side of the property.
It would be hard for anyone to cross from the house to Jaci’s place. Not unless they used the road.
Hmm.
There was the sudden sound of angry barking and Rylan glanced toward the back of the house where a large dog was straining at his leash.
Time to go.
Not in the mood to press his luck, Rylan backed his way out of the yard and along the private road. He wasn’t going to risk getting stuck in the mud in an effort to turn around.
Once he was back on the gravel road, he hesitated.
He needed to run by home. His father would no doubt have lunch waiting for him. But then again, he wanted to track down the sheriff and discuss what he’d learned from Griff.
In the end, his decision was made for him when he heard the crack of gunfire, quickly followed by the sound of shattering glass.
Ducking low, Rylan reached over the seat to grab the shotgun his father kept in the narrow storage space. Then, peeking into the side mirror, he checked to see if anyone was approaching.
From his angle the road looked empty, and blowing out a shaky breath, he pushed open the door and slid out of the truck. Keeping low, he moved to the tailgate, his gaze searching his surroundings for any sign of the shooter.
Nothing.
Whoever had shot at him had disappeared in the thick line of trees that framed the road.
Rylan cursed, moving to crawl back into the truck. He wasn’t idiotic enough to crash through the woods in search of a trigger-happy enemy. Not without backup.
Turning in his seat, he studied the hole that had been blown into the center of the window. Just a few inches to the left and the blast would have hit him in the back of the head.
He shuddered, his gaze moving to the bits of glass that had sprayed across the leather seat. His eyes narrowed, his hand reaching out to gather the tiny balls sprinkled among the slivers of window.
Shit.
Chapter Twelve
Sheriff Mike O’Brien returned to his office with a tight ball of frustration lodged in his gut.
It’d been an impulsive decision to travel to Quincy and speak with Anne Dixon’s sister. The older woman was fiercely concerned for Anne, reinforcing Payton’s insistence that Anne was a creature of habit who would never, ever take off without telling people where she was going.
She’d also been a font of information. Finding relatives who were close to their missing loved one was always an asset to law enforcement.
It was those people who cut off all ties to friends and family who were the most difficult to track down.
The morning away from his office, however, meant that he was far behind on his routine duties. And it didn’t help to discover that Sid hadn’t returned from the short field trip Mike had sent him on.
Closing his door, he moved to settle in his chair and reached for the phone on his desk. Punching in the numbers, he waited for the call to be transferred to the appropriate department.
“Hey, Jenkins,” he said when a male voice at last answered. “Did you have time to look at the locket I sent you?” Mike grimaced as the man released a string of swear words that were remarkably inventive. Waiting until the forensic analyst was forced to halt and take a breath, Mike jumped in. “I know the DNA hasn’t been processed, but can you give me a blood type?” There was another angry burst, but without the swear words. “Just let me know as soon as possible,” Mike said, replacing the receiver with a click.
Yeesh. The lab rats could always be grumpy when he was trying to urge them to work faster, but Jenkins was downright pissy.
Taking off his hat, Mike was running his fingers through his hair when the intercom buzzed. Swiveling in his chair, he turned to look at the monitor that showed Rylan Cooper standing on the other side of the connecting door.
For a long minute Mike considered ignoring the unwelcomed visitor. Finally, he gave a shake of his head. If he didn’t open the door, Carol would be calling to make sure everything was okay.
Pressing a button on his desk, Mike heard the lock click open, and Rylan stepped into the office.
“And now my day is perfect,” Mike said, watching Rylan cross the floor to stand directly in front of the desk.
“I’m glad one of us is happy,” Rylan growled.
Mike resisted the urge to rise to his feet. He didn’t like the feeling that Rylan was looming over him, but he’d be damned if he revealed his unease.
This was his office, by God.
“I’m really not,” he said. “What do you want?”
Rylan’s jaw tightened. He looked like his mood was about as good as Mike’s.
“Did you manage to get the locket examined?” he demanded.
Mike leaned back in his seat. Suddenly he understood why Jenkins had gone a little nuts on him.
“This is Heron, not Hollywood. Testing takes time,” he said. “And even if I did have any information, I wouldn’t share it with a civilian.”
Rylan planted his fists on his hips. “I’m not exactly a civilian.”
“Unless you carry a badge, you’re a civilian.”
“Fine.” Rylan’s lips stretched with a humorless smile. “I’d hoped that we could work together to protect Jaci, but I can call in my private associates.”
“This is my investigation, Cooper,” he warned.
“And we both know that I have the technology, not to mention the direct contacts that can fast-track any forensic evidence,” Rylan said.
Mike’s hands clenched with anger. He’d already done some snooping last night. Rylan and his partner, Griffin Archer, had created a company that had revolutionized hunting down cyber-criminals, and then continued on with programs that were used by federal agencies around the world. Hell, he’d been publicly praised by the director of the FBI.
Mike didn’t need to be told that this man had the sort of connections and resources any lawman would envy.
“I may be a small-town hick, but I’m capable of doing my job without your fancy equipment or bigwig contacts,” he snapped.
Rylan narrowed his gaze. “Why are you making this into a pissing match?”
Mike had a dozen different answers for that particular question, but he stuck with the only one that mattered.
“I don’t want you screwing with my investigation,” he said. “When we catch whoever is responsible, I have to take my evidence to trial. Something that’s not going to be possible if you screw with it.”
Rylan drew in a slow, deep breath. No doubt silently counting to ten.
“Then I’m here to report a crime,” he at last said.
Mike rolled his eyes. The day already felt too long. Having to deal with Rylan Cooper wasn’t making it any shorter.
“Now what?”
“Someone took a shot at me.”
Mike studied him, waiting for the punch line. “Are you serious?”
The light brown eyes flared with anger. “I don’t joke about near-death experiences.”
Pretend You’re Safe Page 12
