Page 1 of Texas Scandal

Chapter One

Tiernan Hayes stood on the steps of his back porch and whistled. Loki, his black Lab mix who was all heart and every kind of trouble, had chased after a squirrel and disappeared into the scrub brush. Since the one-year-old rescue had given chase to a rabbit yesterday and come home reeking of skunk spray, Tiernan didn’t have time for a repeat performance.Not two days in a row.

“Loki,” he shouted as he jogged across the small yard toward the wooded area on his property. He owned as far as the eye could see and then some. His decade on the rodeo circuit might’ve given his body every crick and groan, but it had also made him enough money to start a custom saddle business and buy his own four-acre piece of the Lone Star State. Not too bad if anyone asked him.

He listened for Loki’s heavy breathing or the sound of twigs breaking as he bolted across the scrub. Something moved deeper into the trees and to the clearing. The back of his property backed up to a farm road. Even though there was little traffic, he still worried Loki would run in front of a truck. The animal was bright. That wasn’t the problem. He was curious and had way too much puppy inside him to make good decisions. Any Lab owner would agree that it took about five years for them to settle down enough to become the best dog anyone could hope to own.

One down. Four to go. But who was counting?

Tiernan had a busy day ahead. Orders were stacking up. His brothers had reached out to tell him to come home to the family cattle ranch his grandfather had built from scratch. Duncan Hayes was the reason Tiernan had left Cider Creek after high school graduation. The man had been a bear. His grandfather’s recent death from heat exhaustion had weighed heavy on Tiernan’s heart, since his mother was left to work the multimillion-dollar operation on her own. She had requested everyone come home for an announcement. A couple of Tiernan’s brothers made the trip and deemed it necessary for everyone to follow suit. If Tiernan could get ahead of his orders, he would make the trip. At this rate, he was looking at the New Year before he could wrap up all the Christmas presents on order. He didn’t have it in his heart for a young rider to be disappointed at the holidays.

In fact, he’d taken on too much after a few parents begged. The money would come in handy, too. He never took for granted the fact he was building his business—a business based on his success on the circuit. He was developing a reputation by delivering high-quality custom saddles on time.

Since there was still no sign of Loki, Tiernan headed deeper into the thicket. He whistled again without any luck. This dog was determined to make Tiernan work for it today. Hells bells. The clock was ticking, and he was already pulling eighteen-hour days in the small shop he’d built behind his log-cabin-style home. Everyone had told him that he could set his own hours as an entrepreneur, and yet he worked all of them anyway.

Growing up working a cattle ranch had given him the right skills to survive. Calving season, which ran from January to March at Hayes Cattle, had taught him how to go days without sleep.

His boot caught on a vine. He narrowly escaped a face-plant by grabbing hold of the closest tree trunk, a mesquite. Pain shot through his right shoulder with contact. When he brought his gaze up, he saw movement ahead in a small clearing. Wind gusted, sending a stench that hit Tiernan so hard it nearly doubled him over. Bile burned the back of his throat at the smell of rotting meat with a tinge of sweetness to it. He was familiar with the scent.

Loki was digging where Tiernan guessed was the source of the smell. A dead animal shouldn’t be buried.

“Loki,” he said in more of a commanding than casual tone. “Come.”

Loki’s ears perked up. He craned his neck around, locked on to Tiernan and then bolted toward him. The dog had two speeds—full-on assault as he gunned toward Tiernan and passed-out-on-the-floor mode, usually belly up.

Tiernan fished his cell phone out of his back pocket. He checked the bars to make sure he had service before calling 911.

“Fire, sheriff or ambulance?” the female voice asked on the other end of the line.

“Sheriff,” he confirmed.

“What’s the nature of this call?” the dispatcher asked after introducing herself as Helen.

“Based on the smell and the fact there’s a fresh grave, I suspect there’s a dead body buried on my property,” Tiernan said. He knew better than to tamper with a site that might be considered a crime scene. He’d tracked enough dangerous poachers in his younger years and worked with enough law enforcement to know how important preserving a crime scene could be to an investigation.

Of course, he hoped like hell he was wrong about the dead body. Years of experience said he wasn’t.

“What’s your location, sir?” Helen asked.

A twig snapped to the left. Loki caught sight of something moving, so naturally he took off toward it.

“Loki,” Tiernan scolded. It was too late. The dog had selective hearing when he locked on to a target, and he’d already disappeared into the thicket. Tiernan bit back a curse.

“Sir?” Helen said.

“Sorry.” Tiernan turned to follow Loki as it occurred to him a murderer might still be on his land. Since he hadn’t been expecting anything in the neighborhood of chasing down a cold-blooded killer, his Colt 45 was inside his workshop. It came in handy when there were coyotes around.

He gave his location and told Helen where a deputy could find him. Then, he stayed on the line with her until Deputy Calhoun arrived on the scene.

“I’m Tiernan Hayes,” he said to the deputy before extending a hand. Calhoun gave a firm shake. “My dog caught a scent and ended up here.” He motioned toward the site, wondering if he’d ever get the putrid smell out of his nose.

Calhoun walked over to the fresh grave after tying a bandana around his face to cover his nose. A small shovel extended from his left hand. Digging lasted less than two minutes before he glanced over and then nodded, confirming there was a dead body inside.

ASFARASthick gray clouds went, the ones slowly rolling across the Austin sky hinted at a gloom and doom kind of day. Melody Cantor walked to her sedan, light in her step despite Mother Nature’s somber mood. The job interview had gone well, and an offer was promised, meaning she would be able to put in her notice at the soul-sucking job where she presently worked for one of the wealthiest men in Texas. At thirty-three, she was starting to realize how fast time flew. Wasting another day as the right hand of real estate tycoon Byron Hunter, with his endless demands and sparse compensation by comparison, wasn’t worth it. Melody had drawn the line when he’d looked the other way while his firstborn son made an inappropriate pass at a Give Thanks–themed open house two weeks ago. There was nothing to be grateful for while she was trying to fight off Spence Hunter, who’d seemed determined to keep her from climbing down from the ladder she’d been on.

If luck was on her side, the offer from Community Planners would be waiting in her email inbox by the time she arrived home. The company was much larger than the family-owned operation where she currently worked.

A white slip of paper fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage on the windshield of her Camry. A parking ticket? Melody bit back a curse and denied this could be an omen.

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