Red Sole Clues (18 page)

He tipped his head back and laughed. “It’s not the kind of camping I’m used to, that’s for sure.” Carter and his brothers had been raised in Evers by a father who believed in teaching his sons to live off the land. Before he was ten years old, Carter could follow almost any animal track, catch fish from a river with his bare hands or a rod he’d made himself out of whatever he could find in the woods, and hunt with either a rifle or a bow. If forced to, he could live in the woods, relying on nothing but the land for food and shelter.

He continued on, answering Bea’s question. “It’s glamorous camping—oversized tents with queen-sized beds and satin sheets. Cabins with outdoor showers built into the side of a mountain. That kind of thing.”

Bea shook her head. “Then why camp at all?” There was laughter but also a little bewilderment in her tone.

“You got me,” he answered with a shake of his own head, but a little part of him thought if a gorgeous woman had fallen for him the way Katelyn had fallen for John, he’d probably happily sleep in any cabin she suggested.

“Well, now, I suppose with John off on his honeymoon, you’ll be taking over for him?”

Carter nodded, and answered with a “yes, ma’am,” but no more. He was still a bit uncomfortable with his recent promotion to Chief Deputy Sheriff. He was prouder than hell, but it somehow seemed a little too much like bragging to speak of it.

“Then you’re just who I need to speak to.”

Carter’s head whipped around at the sound of a voice he’d recognize anywhere, only it sounded different right now. Lily Winn’s usual melodious, kind tone—the one that always seemed warm and gentle, even as it seemed to effortlessly heat his blood—was missing. In its place was anger. An anger that matched the hands-on-hips posture she’d just taken in the hallway behind Bea. She looked less put together than she usually did. Not that she was one of those women who needed to doll herself up with fancy clothes and a protective layer of crap on her face. Lily always looked fresh-faced and casual, like she was ready for a hard day’s work. He liked that about her. But right now, she looked like she’d just run a marathon. She had one of those little surgical caps on her head—images of puppies played along its edge, because she never seemed to wear anything that was plain and boring—but there were a few tendrils of hair slipping out.

“That was a long surgery, Doc,” Bea said, using the same nickname for Lily that she’d used for Lily’s grandfather over the years. Carter had to bury images of him and Lily playing doctor anytime Bea said it.

“It was,” Lily said, eyes still glittering with anger. Those eyes were pinned to him as though the anger were aimed his way.

“Surgery?” he asked, figuring he might as well try to figure out why he was in the hot seat. She’d said something about needing to speak to him as the Chief Deputy Sheriff. He kept his face open and neutral, waiting for her to let him know what was going on.

“Yes. Emergency amputation. I just had to take the leg of a dog that was shot by scum who were using her for underground racing. She was the lucky one. There were four others who didn’t make it. My guess is they weren’t running as fast as their dirtbag owners would like them to anymore, or maybe they were trying to breed them and they weren’t producing. Who knows? It doesn’t matter why. What matters is they were thrown out like trash in the bottom of a ditch.”

Carter could see the emotion brimming beneath the mask of anger on her face. She was quickly shifting from anger to despair and he had a feeling she might be crying if she weren’t so furious. He didn’t blame her. What she was describing was horrific. He glanced over his shoulder at the waiting room, happy to see it empty, and nodded toward her office door down the hall.

“Why don’t we go somewhere quiet and you can tell me what’s going on?”

As Carter listened to Lily tell him about searching for evidence of underground dog racing, he had to clench his teeth against the urge to reach out and shake the woman. What was she thinking, going off on her own like that? Underground dog racing wasn’t illegal in Texas, but the gambling that went with it was. They also often used a live animal lure, which
was
illegal in Texas. It was hard to prove, though, so unfortunately it wasn’t something that was prosecuted very often.

“Lily,” he said as calmly as he could under the circumstances. “What were you thinking? You could have been hurt. Or worse. These aren’t exactly the nicest people. Rabbit running is a nasty business. You can’t just run off half-cocked and take matters into your own hands.”

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said the words, but there wasn’t any taking them back. Her eyes flashed at him again, as fury coursed through her little frame. Well, she could rage at him all she wanted. He was right. She was wrong. There was no denying it.

He was shocked when she stood, shoving herself up from her desk abruptly. “Follow me.”

She was halfway out the door before he followed, shaking his head. Didn’t she get it? This wasn’t a game she could just stop playing when things got too hot.

Lily stopped in front of a wall made up of four small cages across the top, three medium ones in the center, and two large on the bottom. The bottom right-hand cage held a medium-sized dog, clearly still groggy from surgery. Layers of colorful bandages covered her hind end where Lily had had to remove the leg, and he could see that an area much larger had been shaved. He couldn’t imagine the size of the wound left beneath the wraps. The dog opened her eyes and gave a very soft flap of the end of her tail, but other than that showed no acknowledgement that they were there.

“This is what’s happening to these dogs, Deputy Jenkins. If I hadn’t gone out there today, Honey would have died a horrible drawn-out death. Four others didn’t make it. Who knows how many other dogs those barbarians have and what they’re doing to them.”

He didn’t explain to her that underground dog racing was rarely prosecuted. Nor did he look very long at the sweet, trusting eyes of the dog before him. Instead, he looked at the hope and belief in the eyes of the woman next to him. She believed in him, believed he could and would do something to stop this.

She was right that whoever had done this had broken the law by shooting the dogs. If he could manage to link anyone back to the crime, that is. It was a state felony to kill an animal like that. If they were using live bait or gambling during the races—which, ironically,
he
could damned near put money on—those were another set of crimes all together. The issue was getting any kind of proof. He couldn’t really justify spending state funds on ballistics and fingerprint testing for an animal cruelty case, when they were so underfunded for things like murder and rape.

Carter bit back a sigh and shook his head. “Promise me you won’t go back out there. That you’ll leave this to me.”

“You’ll do something about it?” she countered, squaring off, hands going back to her hips.

“Yeah, I’ll do something about it.” He didn’t know what, but he would. He was in charge of the county for almost three weeks. He’d damned well make sure to do all he could to put a stop to the racing, but more importantly, to be sure Lily didn’t get hurt trying to take care of it on her own. Not on his watch. “I’ll take care of it, Lily.”

For a brief second, Carter let himself play out the fantasy that had been tickling the edges of his mind since he’d first met Lily Winn. In his mind’s eye, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, gently easing that strong, gorgeous body into his to see if they fit. He knew they would. They’d fit together
perfectly
. He didn’t know why he knew it, but he did. Once he had her pressed thigh to thigh, hip to hip, and chest to chest against him, he’d frame that sweet face with his hands and delve into the mouth that always seemed to tantalize and tease.

When she opened to him, he’d nibble at her plump lips. He’d do all he could to elicit a moan from her, knowing he’d be primed with need for her in the blink of an eye.

Then her hand was on his arm, and Carter had to shake himself out of the stupor he’d dropped into. She wasn’t living the same fantasy he was. In fact, her touch was all business. It was clinical as she patted him on the arm and thanked him, calling him Deputy Jenkins instead of Carter. Because that’s what he was to her. An official. Someone whose help she needed. Nothing more. He’d do well to remember that. But damn, that fantasy was hard as hell to resist.

He cleared his throat. “No problem. I’ll look into it.”

C
arter paused at
Berta Silver’s desk in the building that housed the sheriff’s office in downtown Evers. Berta was indispensable to the office. She ran things, acted as dispatcher much of the time, and generally kept all of them in check. She was also able to get any information they needed faster than most of the deputies could.

“Berta, can you see if you can find a list of ranch or farm properties that are empty or abandoned? Maybe properties facing foreclosure? Anything isolated with a lot of land.” Lily had given him the location of the property where she’d found the dogs. He’d already gone out there with Danny Widen, another deputy, and found the dogs in the ditch, as Lily had described. There’d been little else there. They found two broken dog crates and a couple of muzzles that had apparently been left behind as well. Both of those things could point to either racing or fighting. The dogs weren’t the typical breeds used for fighting, so his guess was racing. Illegal rabbit running—letting dogs loose to run after a rabbit in a field and bet on which one caught it first—was pretty big in the area. Unfortunately, they didn’t find anything that could substantiate an arrest for gambling, much less help identify who was using the dogs.

He and Danny had taken pictures of the dogs in the pit and collected the remains, but there wasn’t going to be a budget for running a ballistics match against the bullets in the carcasses. Sad as it was, the county just didn’t have the means for that type of thing when so much had to go to investigating and prosecuting crimes against people.

Berta picked up a pen and jotted a note. “Sure thing, boss.”

Carter winced. “I think we can forego the
boss
title, seeing as this is temporary.” She only laughed at him and went right on as though he hadn’t said anything.

“Whatever you say, boss. Looking for anything in particular, other than isolated and likely empty?”

“That’s all I’ve got for now.”

“Heard from John yet? He getting tired of playing house and itching to be back at work?” Berta chuckled at her own humor. Not many could accuse the sheriff of playing house, but Berta could get away with it.

Carter shook his head, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Last I heard, he was happily double-checking flower orders and picking up tuxes.”

She huffed out what he supposed was meant to be laughter. “I never thought Sheriff Davies would be trussed up in a tux voluntarily, much less dealing with flowers and frou-frou wedding plans.”

Carter forced a smile, but the pang of envy he felt made the smile taste bitter on his lips. “Love’ll do that to a man, Berta. Love’ll do it.”

As he walked away, his mind flashed to the tempting veterinarian who seemed completely oblivious to him. Well, oblivious as far as his feelings went. He’d have to see what he could do to change that. Carter had never been a man to sit and hope for things to go his way, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to rely on hope with Lily.

T
hree days later,
Lily kept her eyes on the dog at her feet. If she looked at the man standing next to her, she’d, well…she’d have to see the man standing next to her. A man whose almost-black hair and square, beard-covered jaw gave her the strangest urge to reach out and run her hand down the side of his face. What was that about? A man whose eyes she was dying to decipher, because she’d be damned if she could figure out if they were hazel or gray, or maybe even green. They seemed to change every time she glanced his way. He was tanned from the sun, with the body of someone who obviously spent time being physical instead of sitting behind a desk.

And that made her like him all the more. Only she couldn’t like him. She. Would. Not.

So her eyes stayed glued to Honey, who raised her head and flapped her tail hopefully.

“Did you guys find anything that can help you arrest the people who did this?”

Carter shook his head. “Nothing yet. We collected what little evidence there was at the site you found, but there wasn’t much to go on. I’m looking into other empty properties, but I don’t have anything yet.”

Lily shivered, and it wasn’t related to the temperature. “I just can’t help thinking that these guys must have a lot of dogs, and who knows when they’ll kill or torture another one.”

Carter turned toward her. “How do you figure?”

“If they could so easily shoot five of them at a time—” She didn’t finish. The lump in her throat wouldn’t let her. Lily looked up and found Carter watching her.
Look away, Lily
.
Eyes on the dog. Eyes on the dog.

She cleared her throat and went back to filling him in on Honey’s progress. “So, she’s doing well, moving around with assistance—”

“Assistance?”

“Sure.” Lily nodded and glanced at him briefly before looking away again. His eyes were on her. Shouldn’t he be watching the dog? That’s what he was here for. She swallowed and kept going, desperately trying to ignore the nerves he brought out in her. It wasn’t fair. She was a professional. She had an advanced degree. Actually, two of them. She wasn’t a little girl with a case of puppy love. She shouldn’t have to fight the butterflies in her stomach to give him the rundown on Honey’s medical condition.

She cleared her throat and refocused on his question. “We use a strap under her belly to help lift her as she walks. She’s able to go out for potty breaks with it, and as she gains confidence and balance, we ease up on the support until she’s no longer relying on the strap.”

He nodded. “Smart.”

Maybe if she kept talking she could ignore the fact that his arm had just brushed against hers. Because, cripes, that shouldn’t have felt so dang good. “She’ll need to go to a foster home soon, though. She’s ready for it and I want to get her out of the clinic. I mean, not because it’s a problem to have her here. It’s not. It’s just that it can be stressful. All the other dogs coming in and out, the cats, the noise. All of it can be a bit much for a dog trying to recover long term.”