Page 3 of Steers and Stowaways
“Here.” Tucker’s brusque voice made her jolt.
She yanked her gaze to him and discovered he was holding out a wadded-up piece of black cloth. It took her an extra second or two to realize it was his neck gaiter.
“No thanks.” As cold as she was, it was as natural as breathing to refuse his offer. Any favor from him was sure to come with strings attached. She hunched her shoulders forward to ward off the relentless blast of wind coming from behind her.
“Suit yourself.” He stuffed the gaiter in one of his coat pockets instead of putting it back on.
“I always do,” she muttered, not sure why he was being nice to her all of a sudden. It was unsettling. “I do have a few questions foryoubefore you take off.”
He raised a single eyebrow at her. “Questions you couldn’t ask the sheriff?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“If he had the answers I wanted, I wouldn’t have had to hire you,” she reminded sharply.
His jaw tightened, but all he did was incline his head to her.
“What progress have you made on my case?” It was a blunt question that came just shy of challenging his expertise as a private investigator. The implication was clearly there, though.
“I just this morning found out Martina and Dexter Silva were seasonal workers at a commercial farm near Ft. Bliss.” He paused to let that sink in. “Right up to the point when you hired them.”
His caustic tone of voice set her teeth on edge. “How many times have I told you I’m not paying you to give mybookkeeper andranch foremanthe stink eye?” She stressedthe Silvas’ job titles to make it clear she wasn’t buying what Tucker was insinuating. She already knew about Martina’s past—about how she and Dexter (who preferred to be called Dex) had worked every odd job they could to pay for her online degree in accounting. Their resumes more than qualified them to serve in their current roles.
Martina and Dex Silva were pure gold. In the few months they’d worked for her, she’d come to think of them as family. Martina was fifteen years older than Mallory’s own twenty-six years, an age gap that made her feel motherly. The presence of Martina and Dex’s quiet and nerdy eighteen-year-old son added to the fun. Despite the beautiful relationship they shared, the Silva family never took advantage of it to cut corners. They put in long hours at Evans Ranch, completing every task Mallory assigned to them and then some. It honestly felt like they were never off duty. She was going to have to force them to take a vacation soon. Hopefully not a permanent one.
Tucker’s face settled into stony lines. “I go where the evidence takes me.”
What evidence?As with Luke, she was worried Tucker was simply trying to make it look like he was doing something. It had been obvious from the start that he had no actual interest in her or her case. “No doubt your bull in a china shop approach worked great in whatever big-city police department you came from?—”
“El Paso,” he supplied smoothly. “Narcotics division.”
Whatever.She gave him a frosty look of reproach. “Heart Lake is a lot smaller than El Paso.”
“By about 600,000 people.” His voice held little inflection, not that any inflection was needed for robotically spouting off numbers.
“Small enough,” her voice grew harder, “for people toknow each other and care about each other, which we make a habit of doing.” She wasn’t about to apologize for the warm hospitality she extended to her employees.
Tucker propped his gloved hands loosely on his hips. “The Silva family isn’t from here,” he pointed out in a reasonable voice. “It only made sense to start off my investigation by looking into the background of those closest to you.”
“I’m not the only one losing cattle in this town,” she reminded, slapping her hands down on her hips to imitate his stance.
“No, but everyone else losing cattle has only been losing them since the Silvas showed up.”
Though Mallory didn’t doubt for a second that Tucker had done his homework with his timeline, she couldn’t believe what he was implying. “Youdoknow the meaning of the wordcoincidence?” She imagined there were plenty of other people who’d visited or moved to town around the same time. Was he viewing everyone who met that criteria with the same amount of suspicion?
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
A muffled whimper of alarm alerted her that Martina Silva must have noticed the activity outside the living room window her desk was pushed against.
She glanced up and found her bookkeeper flying their way in a beige sweater jacket with the hood pulled up. “What’s up, Martina?”
“I saw the police lights and my heart hit the floor.” Several strands of Martina’s long, salt-and-pepper hair were fluttering in the breeze. “What’s going on?”
“The sheriff left a few minutes ago,” Tucker pointed out in a mildly accusing voice. “The flashing lights from his cruiser have been gone for the same amountof time.”
Mallory gasped in outrage, but before she could say anything, Martina rushed to explain. “I was on the phone with a prospective client. Goodness knows you can’t have too many of those.” She ducked her head respectfully at Tucker. “But I respect your reasons for asking, sir.” As Mallory’s bookkeeper, she was well aware of what Tucker did for a living and why Mallory had contracted his services. “If you’d like to look at my call history…” She faced him, fumbling in her coat pocket for her cell phone.
“That won’t be necessary.” Mallory rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “The sheriff paid us a visit because Tank is missing.”
“Oh, no!” Martina, who’d just finished digging out her cell phone, swung back in Mallory’s direction. Her cell phone flew from her grasp and landed in a pile of frosty grass, narrowly missing one of Tank’s smelly deposits. “Say it isn’t so,” she panted as she bent over to retrieve her phone.
