Page 23 of The Undercover Cowboy

“I could try and get to know him,” she said. “I could say I’m doing a reel on Donnan’s home ranch.”

“Maybe,” Nash said. “I want to be with you, though, when you approach him.”

Dolly wanted to be annoyed, because she could handle herself, but she understood that he needed to do his job too. Shewatched as he manipulated the lock using two long metal picks. “They teach you that in the FBI?”

Nash gave her a grim smile. “Dad taught Shelby and me that when we were kids.”

Closing her eyes, Dolly wished that the earth would open up and swallow her. “Sorry.”

He popped the lock open. “It has its uses. The bureau taught me how to bypass the electronic locks.”

The storage door opened with a loud creak that had them wincing and looking around. It was early enough that anyone who would be sleeping on site to watch over the animals would still be out and about. But luckily, it was late enough that the only people around were her and Nash.

“What are we looking for?” Dolly said as she walked in.

Nash closed the door behind them.

For a moment, they were in pitch-blackness with only their cell phone lights to see. But then he pulled on a dangling string and a bare bulb dimly lit up the area.

“Anything out of the ordinary,” he said, going over to the shelving units.

“How about this?” She gestured toward a stack of hay bales that weren’t in a tidy stack like the rest of them.

“Could be something. Could be nothing,” he said.

But as they approached, she noticed that the floor around the askew bales was cleaner than the rest of the area.

“Looks like someone swept up a mess.” Nash hauled the heavy bales aside with a grunt while she held the light steady on the floor to get a better look.

“There’s something there.” She crouched down and wiped her hand across the floor until a latch was revealed. “This looks like a secret compartment.”

“It’s definitely a compartment,” he said. “But I’m not getting my hopes up that it’s secret. It could just be storage.”

“Or Rocky Ridge is smuggling things in from Canada and leaving them here for Blevins to pick up,” she said, feeling a prick of eagerness shake through her.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” he said.

“Have you seen anything like this in the other sheds at the other rodeos?” she challenged.

“No, but I haven’t been moving hale bales around either. It’s your find. You can open the compartment.”

This time, he held the light while Dolly pulled up on the latch. They both peered into the space. There was enough room there to store a few shoe boxes of stuff, but at the moment, it was empty.

“Well, shit,” she said.

“Looks like whatever was here is gone now,” Nash said. “But it’s been recently used, based on how clean it is. That’s what we would call a clue in the FBI.”

“Hidden compartments are probable cause, right?”

“Not exactly,” he said, obviously amused by her television cop lingo.

“I wonder if they have a hidey-hole in all the rodeo sheds.” Dolly stood, brushing her hands against her jeans, a determined glint in her eye. “Are we going to stake them out?”

“There is nowein this,” he said. “I’ll see about setting up some discreet surveillance cameras in here and in Laredo’s storage areas for next week’s rodeo. I’ll wire this one up for any action tomorrow, just in case. But I think we missed our opportunity to find out what this is being used for.”

Dolly snapped a few photographs. “For evidence.”

“Keep it off social media and don’t tell anyone about this.”

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