Page 37 of Deadly Evidence
“I’ll be back, buddy,” he said, giving Copper a pat on the neck. “Don’t leave without me.”
The rest of the way he moved on foot, traveling low to the ground where thorny mesquite, scrub live oak, and dark mounds of sagebrush camouflaged his progress, walking tall where profuse stands of giant yuccas towered above him.
This stage of the operation sent memories from two years ago flooding into his thoughts as he made his way to his vantage point.
The tip they’d received about a multimillion-dollar shipment of cocaine by the Garcia gang.
The stress of quickly pulling together a top-notch team.
The waiting...and waiting...and waiting at a predetermined spot.
The ambush that he’d failed to stop had allowed a hail of bullets to cut down three good agents. Three good friends.
If he’d only arrived sooner, he might have been able to stop Agent Vickers from insisting that she and the other two agents proceed before backup arrived—and all of them would still be alive.
His failure was never far from his thoughts.
Since then, he’d lost endless nights of sleep, reliving every moment of that night.
Putting on his badge for this current operation had sharpened his pain and guilt and remorse, because this one might finally give him a sense of resolution.
Once he made sure Garcia’s organization was destroyed and those vicious killers were in custody, he would end his career.
Finding the rocky outcropping he’d discovered earlier, he settled in and got his camera ready, welcoming the cold and rocky ground as just one more act of penance.
And he waited.
At a gentle touch on her shoulder, Anna sat bolt upright and swung around, her heart in her throat.
Dante stood by her chair, clearly just as startled as she was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were asleep.”
She reached over to switch on the table lamp and blinked at the burst of light in the dark living room. “What’s wrong?”
Guilt flooded his face. “I turned in—then I suddenly remembered that I forgot to tell you about that paint broodmare—out in the north pasture. I...guess I was in a hurry to get cleaned up to take Mia into town...then I didn’t get back until late.”
“What mare? What’s wrong with her?”
“The bay-and-white overo. She looked really close. She looked sort of soft and sunken in around her tailhead, and her teats were waxed. I think one was dripping, but she was so cranky that I couldn’t get real close on my gelding.”
“Sounds like Santana, but she isn’t due for another couple of weeks. I was planning to bring her up to the barn on Monday because she had problems foaling last year. Maybe Mother Nature beat us to it.”
Anna quickly considered and discarded Brady’s warning about staying home. She had no intention of prowling the remote areas of the ranch—she only had to reach the mare.
Santana was worth a good ten grand in any sales ring right now, and the stud fee for that foal had been fifteen hundred. But beyond that was concern for the life of a good mare.
She threw aside her afghan and stood up. “I’d better get out there and check on her.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve let you know earlier.”
“That’s all right—we’ve all been distracted lately, and it’s my fault for not going after her sooner. Stay here at the house and keep the doors locked, okay? I’ll go tell Mia I’m leaving in case Lacey or one of the guys needs something.”
Within thirty minutes, Anna had her saddlebag loaded with vet supplies, her horse saddled, and was well on her way into the north pasture.
From the long slope behind her came the sound of hoofbeats. She turned and found Dante coming at a lope, his black horse nearly invisible in the deep shadows. He slowed Rowdy to a walk beside her.
“I thought I told you to stay at the house and keep the doors locked.”
His smile died. “I made sure all the doors were locked and woke up Mia so she’d know what’s going on. I figured I should come along in case anything happened.”
