Later that evening, Zeph leaned back in his chair and considered the company. Mentrine sure knew how to throw a stag dinner. Butter-tender steaks, twice-baked potatoes, and a soufflé that would have Emeril begging for the recipe, followed by brandy and cigars. Zeph had met the two biggest builders—besides Mentrine—in the area, and both of them had been more than happy to talk about malls and office buildings they’d be happy to construct for him. Fueled by a constant stream of alcohol before and during dinner, and some excellent brandy afterward, they’d even joked about undercutting each other’s bids.
“I thought Mayor Hunnewill was coming,” Zeph said over the second brandy. Everyone laughed, and he looked at Mentrine to see what was so funny.
“Clark doesn’t do this kind of investment,” Mentrine said. “He saves his energies for politics.”
Something for Zeph to check out as soon as he got back to Stone’s Crossing. He wasn’t taking any chances on doing it while he was still on Mentrine’s home turf.
“I’ve been visiting in Stone’s Crossing,” Zeph said. “Not much going on in a place like that, but there used to be a builder there. Maybe he made a bid for some bigger jobs. Blanton, I mean.”
“Never heard of him,” said Crandall.
Anderville shook his head. “Lots of wanna-be’s in this business.” He shrugged. “Guess he’s not anyone important.”
“Derek Blanton,” Mentrine said. “I knew him. Slightly. Came to a bad end, I heard.”
Too uninterested to be true? Zeph made a mental note to look for any link between Mentrine and Blanton. And to ask Frank to run financials on the other two men. Also, he needed to identify the man in the picture with Mentrine.
When—if—he proved one of them guilty, he’d be back on track with Allie.
Chapter 5
He didn’t get back to Stone’s Crossing until the middle of the next day. The need to make peace with Allie lent urgency to each mile. He should have gotten her flowers. No, he shouldn’t. Yes. No. He hated waffling like this. Generally, he knew how to soothe irritated women, but Allie wouldn’t go for the usual flowers/apology/fancy evening. She was—different. He ignored the thought that tried to form.
When he reached the clinic, the waiting room overflowed with dogs and cats and little furry things he couldn’t identify. One kid clutched a cardboard box like the contents might escape. It might hold anything. He backed away and headed for the rear entrance, much better than getting involved in that melee. In the kitchen, he smacked into Allie.
“Thank goodness,” she said. “Can you get out to the desk and answer the phone for me? Take messages unless it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, but—”
“The answering machine’s not working.”
“But—”
She rushed into one of the examination rooms without waiting for an answer.
Two minutes ago, he thought he’d do anything to stay out of that room full of animals. Now, all he could think was, God, could it be this easy? Probably not, but helping couldn’t hurt his chances with Allie. He headed for the front of the clinic.
Three hours later, the waiting room had emptied and he pushed away from the desk and stood, stretching the kinks out of his back.
Allie came into the room, drying her hands. “Thank you.” After an awkward pause, she added, “It was nice of you to help after the way I acted yesterday. I apologize.”
“Don’t worry about it. The situation has to be hard for you.”
She nodded.
“Does it help that I don’t think your father’s guilty?”
“Then why—? Never mind. I understand about evidence that can stand up in court. It’s just that I know Dad would never—don’t raise your eyebrow at me like that.”
“How many times do I have to say I don’t think he’s guilty? And you’re right. I have to have hard facts. It’s all about eliminating suspects one by one. And if you help me, it’ll get done sooner.”
She eyed him, suspicion clear on her face. “Help you how? I’m your cover for being here. What more do you want?”
Searching Wentworth’s files would be a lot easier with her help. Too soon to say that, though. “I want to be able to count on you, whatever comes up.”
She was going to say no. He could see it in her eyes. “Allie, work with me here. Your father’s the first person the police will look at if they get involved. And they will, if I can’t find the guilty party soon.”
Her face paled and she shut her eyes. After a moment she opened them and looked at him. “All right. You can count on me.”
****
Two days later, Zeph tucked his phone into a pocket and climbed into Allie’s truck. “Where to this time?”
“Davenport’s,” she snapped. He recognized her grim expression. The one she got when her patient might not survive.
“Because?”
“Because one of his mares had a close encounter with a bovine horn.”
He must have looked puzzled, because in a hard, angry voice she added, “Harley’s spread is next to Tim Josten’s, and Josten doesn’t seem to be able to keep his prize bull penned up. The damned thing is loose half the time, and it’s a killer. Even if it does follow him around like a dog when he offers it a bucket of oats.” She jerked the truck around a turn and scowled at him. “I heard you on the phone.”
“Yeah. I called my boss. Is that a problem?”
“You told him my father is on your suspect list.”
“He is. Along with Santos Rodriguez. And Bill Bartelett. And Chaz Mentrine. And two other men you don’t know. And maybe Hunnewill. I thought we got this straightened out.”
“We did. But ever since we got back from Sacramento, you’ve stuck to me like glue and you haven’t done anything for five days except talk to people,” Allie said, braking for a pothole. “Nice people. My friends. You’ve treated them like your friends, and now you’re saying they’re suspects.”
“That’s how I find out things, Allie. Talking to people.” He shifted in his seat and looked across the truck at her. “Keep in mind that most people on suspect lists are innocent. It’s as much my job to prove that as it is to prove guilt.”
She snorted. “Right.”
“It’s not like I had people pinned up against a wall, threatening them with a rubber hose. Allie, I’m investigating a crime. What do you expect me to do? I can’t tie everyone down and shoot them full of truth serum.”
She shifted into second for a steep hill. “Yes, but you—you—damn it, I know you’re right, but my father is not involved. What is it going to take to get you to accept that?”
“Proof. I’m going to hold you to your promise to help me. Even if it means doing something you don’t want to do.”
“Like what?”
“Whatever it takes.”
Allie skidded the truck to a stop at a gate and waited stone-faced for him to get out and open it.
He hopped out and did the drill he’d learned the first day following her around. The passenger opened the gates. And always left gates the way they were, which meant the passenger closed gates, too. When he got back in, she started up without waiting for him to fasten his seat belt.
He looked across at her set face and unhappy expression. She must be expecting the injured horse to die, or she wouldn’t be so edgy. Wouldn’t be bringing up old business that they’d settled once before. Losing an animal would tear at her. Her dedication to saving everything furry had baffled him when he first arrived. He almost understood now.
The mare stood by herself in a field, legs spraddled and head down, the picture of misery. Zeph swallowed hard and glanced at Allie. Her stone-like face told him more than he wanted to know, and she lifted a small case out of the truck. “Carry this, please.”
A short, bow-legged man turned away from the horse and walked toward them. “Thanks for coming so fast, Allie. I don’t think—” His voice broke and he turned back toward the field.
Allie gestured Zeph and he followed them reluctantly. He didn’t know this man, but the guy looked like he ate nails for breakfast, making the tear tracks on that wrinkled face doubly surprising. Zeph swallowed the dread rising in his throat.
The man stopped at the horse’s head and he put a hand on its neck. It didn’t respond.
Allie walked around the horse, looking closely, not touching.
Zeph started to follow but jolted to a stop when he realized that most—he turned away and concentrated on keeping his lunch where it belonged—what looked like most of the inside of the horse wasn’t where it belonged, and one funny-angled leg didn’t touch the ground.
“I’m sorry, Harley,” Allie said softly.
“I figured,” Harley said in a choked voice. “Do it then, so she’s not suffering.” His hand tightened on the horse’s mane.
Allie turned to Zeph and held out her hand.
He stared at her.
“The case, Zeph.”
He held it out.
“Humane killer?” Harley asked.
“If you want me to do it that way. She’s still got enough circulation for me to use ace and pentobarb. That would be easier on her.”
He gave a short nod as he turned his face to the horse. He didn’t watch Allie’s swift motions, didn’t see the misery on her face.
Zeph wished he could do the same.
Allie worked quickly.
The horse slumped to the ground.
Harley stood for a moment, head bowed, before turning to Allie. He slung an arm over her shoulders and walked her toward the barn. “Thanks, doc. I’ve had that mare for almost twenty years. She shouldn’t have had such a hard end. Appreciate what you did to make it easier.” He glanced down at her. “Aw, Allie. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Just don’t tell anyone, Harley.” Allie gave him a watery smile. “They might take back my degree.”
Harley snorted through his own tears.
Zeph could see that this whole thing had torn up the guy—and Allie—badly. How the hell could they do the chit-chat? He didn’t want to admit the whole thing had left a lump in his own throat, a big enough one that he didn’t feel any temptation to talk.
How did Allie do it? She strode across the uneven ground, subtly guiding the tough old rancher. Steel and sympathy, humor and competence—somewhere inside the strong, curvy little body that made him hotter than a Thai chili lay both the sweetness that had first attracted him and more strength than he’d suspected.
****
“Hello, Dad. Zeph here yet?” Allie asked a few hours later as she came in the door and kissed her father’s cheek.
“He got here about half an hour ago. Sounds like you had quite a day.” Worry lines creased his forehead.
She shuddered. “Bad enough. He’s really getting a look at the downside of the profession. Guess he couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“Didn’t say a word. I got it from Martha.”
“Of course,” she said with a wry grin. “News Central, that’s our Martha.” When Zeph came into the room, she added, “I thought I’d find you packed and on your way out the door when I got here.”
He gave her the smile that made her toes want to curl along with a narrow-eyed look of warning. “Not a chance, honey. It would take more than tossing my lunch to make me leave you.”
Right. The pretense. She forced a smile and accepted a glass of pinot grigio from her father.
“Scotch?” he asked Zeph.
Zeph nodded and sat on the arm of Allie’s chair. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“You all right?”
She nodded. “I stopped on the way over and walked by the river.” The peaceful forest, the stream burbling over its rocks always helped when she was feeling down. Leaning against him helped, too. His warm, hard bulk couldn’t wipe out the horror of putting down that beautiful mare, but it did help. Whether she wanted it to or not.
“Josten ought to be shot,” her father grumbled.
Zeph grimaced. “You heard?”
Allie smiled. “Still not used to the Stone’s Crossing grapevine?”
“Not in a million years.” He turned to Allie’s father. “Is there anything that can be done about that bull? Allie showed me where Josten’s place is. It’s practically in town. If that thing headed this way when it got loose…”
Allie looked at him in surprise.
“I’m not that heartless,” Zeph said.
No, he wasn’t. He’d been more upset about Harley’s mare than she’d expected.
“I might not understand much about animals,” he said, “but I’m thinking it’s a little bit like people. Even in the big, wicked city we tend to take a dim view of people who kill other people. So maybe an animal that kills other animals…see what I mean?”
“And you aren’t always able to do much about it,” her dad said.
“True. Regrettably true. But we try.”
Maybe she’d been too unfair to him. The more she learned about him, the more she had to respect him.
“You have a background in law enforcement,” her dad said. “Why did you quit?”
“I didn’t know that,” Allie said.
“Bakersfield police department,” Zeph told her. “After the military. You had me checked out, of course,” he said to her father.
“I asked Frank a few questions last summer when you and Allie started corresponding.” Her father glanced at her.
“No surprise there,” she muttered.
“I wanted to work the private sector. A little more freedom to pick and choose clients. And a bigger city. San Francisco would have been my first pick, but I didn’t like the weather. An old friend of mine had an agency in L. A. So that’s where I ended up.”