Page 36 of Deadly Evidence
“So now we’ve got a total of twenty foals on the ground,” she continued as she tucked a lap blanket over his bony legs. “The new ones are out of our good cutting mares. Three bay fillies anda big, rangy buckskin colt. Want to go out to see them? I can get your chair—”
He gave a sharp shake of his head at that. He had a wheelchair now but despised it and the weakness it represented. She’d seen the anger and frustration simmering in his eyes whenever he had to use it while in town for a doctor’s appointment.
“Please, Gramps—wouldn’t it feel good to be outside? It’s seventy degrees out, and the sun is still shining.”
He didn’t so much as look at her.
With a sigh, she reached for the bell kept at his bedside and placed it on the table by his chair. “I’ve got to clean up the kitchen. I’ll check on you in about twenty minutes. Okay?”
Knowing he wouldn’t answer, she turned to go and came almost face-to-chest with Brady, who stood at the open door. Her pulse stumbled, then picked up a faster beat. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Sorry. Just wanted you to know that I’ll be riding out soon.”
His voice was all business, but something else flickered in his eyes—something dark and compelling—that had nothing at all to do with the investigation and everything to do with the brief, unexpected kiss they’d just shared.
“I might not be back until morning,” he added. “If you have any trouble, use Luis Mendoza’s personal cell phone number. He’ll get someone out here right away.”
With Buck still healing, Brady saddled Copper at dusk and headed out over the hill above the ranch, thankful for the clouds in the sky and the sliver of moon behind them.
Last Monday night, a drone with FLIR video technology had tracked the ghost-white heat images of human movement acrosseight miles of the Triple R—from the Rio Grande to the rocky, rugged northeast section of the ranch.
At that point, the travelers had swung wide, then headed toward Saguaro Springs.
The nearly impassable terrain in that area made the route treacherous during the night.
But even the relatively gentle, rolling grassland through the center of her property didn’t make foot travel much easier. Wiry sagebrush, cacti, and rocky outcroppings still made the going treacherous.
Tonight, a couple of special agents and several border patrol officers were posted along the river and ready to radio ahead with any sightings, though the rough terrain and darkness could easily mask the movement of experienced drug runners.
The Rio Grande was shallow through this area—easily fordable on foot—and a few makeshift carriers made of old inner tubes would keep packages dry while blending nicely into the darkness.
Two other special agents were posted along the highway, with their car well out of sight but ready to follow any suspicious vehicle if given a signal.
All Brady needed to do was watch, wait, and try to take some decent photos of the suspects, then radio the other agents.
Only that,he thought wryly.
The terrain offered little cover. And with a 300-millimeter telescopic lens and the highest ISO setting on his digital camera, the photos might be too grainy to see clearly.
He shook some slack into the reins and alternately loped Copper for a half mile, then jogged, swinging wide to the south from the expected route of the suspects.
The solitude gave him entirely too much time to think about his mistake back at the house. The kiss that shouldn’t have happened.
Not with someone involved in this operation—and especially not with her, because their brief kiss had stunned him more than if he’d taken a hit by a Taser.
Even now, he could smell the lemony scent of her shampoo and feel the inviting warmth of her lips beneath his own. How was he going to keep his professional distance and objectivity now?
He forced his thoughts back to the plan for tonight.
With perseverance and a touch of luck, this operation would ultimately bring down the man responsible for the deaths of Chuck and the other two agents.
And that was what was at stake here. He couldn’t let anything—or anyone—jeopardize the chance to see justice done.
Not even a woman who could fill his thoughts with just a touch.
An hour later, Brady stopped at the top of a low rise, where he could make out the faint, dark line of the highway a mile or so ahead.
He settled Copper into a walk as he turned to the east and let the horse cool down. At the bottom of a ravine, he dismounted and tied the horse to a scrubby pinion pine.
