Sage Creek (23 page)

“That’s the first order of business once we get Starbucks calmed down. Then we’ll take a look around. Unless you’d rather wait in the house—after I’ve checked it out.”

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

Dusk was tiptoeing in from the mountains, and with it came cooler air. Sophie found herself shivering in her sweatshirt and jeans as she helped Rafe tend to the horses and as they made a quick but thorough search of the ranch buildings while waiting for the sheriff to arrive.

It wasn’t the encroaching cold of night that made her shiver though—it was the knowledge that someone had been here at Sage Ranch, hacking away at Rafe’s corral, while they were down at the creek coming
this close
to making love.

But they found nothing further amiss. Until they circled around to check out the front of the house and the long paved drive.

Starbucks had raced nervously ahead, on full alert, barking suspiciously at every rustle of the leaves as a chill wind whined through the pines. But it was Sophie who first spotted her Blazer and gasped.

Following her gaze, Rafe swore under his breath.

“Shit. Wait here. You don’t need to look at this.”

But she did. She had to see. Had to know.

Her stomach churned as they approached the Blazer and saw in sickening detail the dead squirrel crumpled on the hood. The animal’s body had been split in two, its blood smeared across the windshield. Both side windows had been smashed in—there was shattered glass everywhere, and the shards glinted like crystals in the fading light.

Rafe’s brows were drawn together in concern as he surveyed the vandal’s handiwork. Starbucks whined, scenting blood and death.

Those flat tires weren’t a prank,
Sophie thought, feeling queasy. Deep down, she’d wondered, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, the possibility that someone had done it out of malice. Now there was no way to deny it. This was the second time her car had been damaged. And the same person had wrecked Rafe’s corral.

“We don’t have enemies, Rafe, neither one of us. Who’d do this? Any of this?”

He met her eyes in the fading daylight. “I’m not sure, but believe me, Sophie, we’re damn well going to find out.”

“You say you two were out riding when this happened. How long would you guess you were gone?”

Sheriff Teddy Hodge leaned back on one of the sofas in the Sage Ranch living room and stretched his legs out in front of him. His small shrewd gray eyes flitted back and forth between Sophie and Rafe, both seated on the opposite sofa. He was a big man with a wide girth, the shoulders of a football player, and a methodical mind. His big fingers dwarfed the pen in his hand, which he kept flicking reflexively.

Hodge had taken note that Sophie McPhee and Rafe Tanner had been out together—and that young Ivy was nowhere around.
Interesting. Not relevant to the case, of course, but from a personal standpoint . . . interesting.

These two were sitting a few feet apart, hardly looking at each other, but they’d spent the past few hours together—riding, they said—and hanging out at the creek.

It didn’t take a cop to figure out something was going on.

If he were the gossiping sort, his wife would have an earful to tell her friends tomorrow. But Hodge wasn’t.

If Joanie was to hear about this, it wouldn’t be from him.

But oh, wouldn’t she just love to know.

Of course, Rafe Tanner and Sophie McPhee could just be friends, but Tanner would have to be dead not to notice a woman as pretty as Sophie. And Tanner was anything but dead. Especially where women were concerned.

Right now, he looked tough and calm and ready for a fight. Hodge sensed his determination. The man was ready to take on the devil himself if it meant protecting his family and property. And Hodge couldn’t blame him.

But this was a matter for the law.

“We weren’t gone more than two hours,” Rafe replied as the dog next to him gave a low, uneasy growl. “We got back shortly before dark.”

“And you didn’t hear or see anything unusual before you left?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Sophie managed to speak with a calm she didn’t feel.

“But someone could have parked up on one of the side roads off Eagle’s Bluff, then come through the woods to the ranch once we were gone,” Rafe pointed out.

Even saying the words, he felt his stomach clench.

Nothing like this had ever happened on the ranch before. The idea that someone had been hiding out there, possibly in the woods that flanked the drive, just waiting for a chance to slither out and do damage, slid along his skin like a long rusty nail.

Ivy was at the age where she could almost be left home alone for a short time, if need be—but not now. Not after today.

Someone out there was sending a clear message. Someone meant harm to Sage Ranch. And possibly to the people who lived here. And that same someone had already targeted Sophie twice.

Rafe wished like hell he’d caught the bastard redhanded. The very thought of Ivy and Sophie being upset by this was worse than a kick in the gut. He didn’t want any of this to touch them again. Hodge had to get to the bottom of this before it came to that.

As Starbucks let out another low growl, Rafe set his hand lightly upon the old dog’s head. The mutt had been so wound up when they came into the house, Rafe had been worried, wondering if dogs could have heart attacks. Starbucks must have seen whoever had wrecked the corral fence and he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it.

He was slightly more settled down now, but every once in a while, his head jerked up, his ears pricked as if hearing some remote sound, and another growl rumbled in his throat.

Almost as if he was expecting whoever had smashed the fence and the Blazer’s windows—and left that dead squirrel on the hood of Sophie’s rig—to come back.

Which makes two of us.
Rafe’s instincts all told him that whoever was behind this wasn’t done yet.

“Well, I didn’t see much out there before it got dark, but I did manage to get some photos,” Hodge rumbled. “’Fraid you’ll have to leave your car here overnight though, Sophie, until the state police boys get a chance to come take their crime scene photos. I’ll be back first thing in the morning too, for another look around.

“You know,” the sheriff mused, “it’s possible kids were behind this. Teenagers, looking for mischief. The Fletcher twins got themselves drunk again last month and shot up Marv Peterson’s barn. Fools didn’t even remember doing it once they slept it off. Marv didn’t press charges, because those boys agreed to patch up his barn. And that’s about all they’re doing these days,” Hodge added.

“Mary and Jack grounded those kids for three months—they can’t go anywhere but school and to Marv’s to make up for what they did.”

“You think they might have done this too?” Sophie wasn’t buying it.

“Nope. Not really.” The sheriff sighed. “But I’ll drop by and have a word with them, just in case. Could be some other fool teenagers might have had a hand in this though.”

Rafe thought the Fletcher twins sounded like a pretty big long shot to him. He was silent as Hodge fixed those penetrating gray eyes of his on Sophie.

“You don’t have any guesses who’d have let the air out of your tires that other night? Anyone mad at you since you came back to town?”

“No one. Up until a few hours ago, I’d convinced myself it was a prank.” She hesitated. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with it, but you’ve probably heard that I’m opening a new bakery where Roy’s Diner used to be. A few people are bothered by that, so I’ve been told. I guess just because I took over so soon after Roy’s closed.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard a little grumbling along those lines. Some folks get petty now and then.” Hodge pursed his lips, scribbled something on his notepad. “Downright silly thing to grouse about, it seems to me.”

“And it’s hard to imagine anyone would let the air out of my tires because of that—or kill a squirrel,” Sophie added quickly. “I just can’t see it. But it’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Sure seems like a stretch, doesn’t it?” Hodge shifted on the sofa, his face thoughtful. “The thing is, you never can tell. Strange things go on in people’s heads sometimes. You learn that on this job pretty damn quick.”

His bushy brows drew together as he eyed Rafe. “Any problems with neighbors, ranch hands? Anyone in town? Did some horse sale go wrong, or did you fire anyone recently? Any kind of dustup come to mind?”

“There’s been nothing like that, Teddy.” Rafe thrust a hand through his hair. “All my wranglers have been with me for years. I haven’t fired anyone since—”

He broke off, frowning. “Last winter, damn it. Crenshaw.”

“Buck Crenshaw? He’s working for the Hanging W now, isn’t he? You telling me you fired him?”

“He was only hired to fill in while Rowdy was down with pneumonia and I was short-handed. I had to let him go, though, even before Rowdy came back. The man was careless and didn’t know spit about barn safety. Or couldn’t be bothered. But there’s something else, Teddy.” Rafe met the sheriff’s keen eyes.

“He and I had a little run-in at the Double Cross recently.”

“Let’s hear it.”

As Rafe explained what had happened, Hodge scratched notes on his pad.

“No punches were thrown, but Crenshaw was pissed. And pretty damned drunk.”

“In that case, reckon I’ll need to talk to him.” The older man turned to Sophie, who was trying and failing to think of any way that Crenshaw could possibly blame her for the incident at the Double Cross. It made no sense.

“Crenshaw nearly shoved Wade Holden into you, is that right? But it was an accident. He didn’t single you out?”

“It was definitely an accident. I’d only just arrived—was barely in the door.”

“Did you know Crenshaw before this happened?” the sheriff asked.

She shook her head.

“Ever run into him again after that night? Any other contact with him anywhere—anytime?”

“No—never. He has no reason to be angry with me. I can’t imagine why he’d want to let the air out of my tires—or leave a dead squirrel on my car—or do any of this.” She swallowed, and Rafe reached over, clasped her hand.

Hodge refrained from smiling at the gesture. Had he called it or hadn’t he? “Well, it doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it—him going after your car.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll run a background check on him, then see what he’s got to say.”

Rafe walked the sheriff to the door.

“I’ve got Ivy to think of, Teddy.” Rafe’s voice was low, serious. “You need to find out who did this and soon.”

“Oh, I’ll find out. Don’t you worry.” The sheriff tucked away his notepad as he stepped over the threshold. “In the meantime, you keep your eyes and ears open. Both of you,” he said, glancing back at Sophie.

He stopped again and turned back once more on the way to his cruiser. “It’s possible, if we’re lucky, this could be the end of it, you know. Whoever’s out there nursing a grudge, there’s a chance he just got it out of his system.”

Sophie’s chest felt as tight as hardened wax. Then Rafe voiced the exact same thought that was circling in her head.

“Or maybe he’s just getting started.”

Chapter Eighteen

The night glowed with a thousand stars by the time Sophie and Rafe finished supper at the kitchen table. She had tossed together a salad while Rafe grilled the steaks and corn on the cob. As the moon edged out from behind a filmy cloud, bathing the mountains in a pale silver sheen, she tilted her wineglass and drained the last drops of her merlot.

Crazily, despite everything that had happened, she felt oddly relaxed.
Merlot helps,
she thought, as the gentle warmth of the wine slid through her and she remembered she was on her second glass.

“Ready for dessert?” she asked.

“Always. What’ve you got in mind?”

She smiled. An image of the two of them in bed flew into her mind, and she had to blink to force it away.