“Yes, it worked,” Dani said. “Thanks, Al. I know this wasn’t easy...yeah. I will. Promise. Drive safe.”
Dani clicked the phone off and dropped it into her pocket. “Thanks. I kind of panicked when I couldn’t find the main and Allie was out of cell range.”
“Sure thing,” he said, brushing the loose dirt off his side. “Let’s take a look at the problem.”
The problem was that the two standpipes had been snapped off at ground level.
“This is strange,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Dani agreed.
“I’ll need a shovel.”
“You don’t have to fix them,” she said. “I just needed help shutting the damned water off.”
“And I don’t have a whole lot to do right now.” He gave her a long look and Dani finally nodded.
“I’ll get a shovel.”
A few minutes later he’d dug around the pipe to the point that they had something to work with. “Are all your standpipes PVC?” he asked.
“Only the ones that Kyle, my ex-brother-in-law, put in. He was all about saving a buck.”
Gabe surveyed the place for a moment, taking in the run-down appearance despite the fact that everything had been recently painted. It also appeared that Kyle wasn’t too deeply into working hard, either. No wonder rumor had it that he’d wanted to sell before Dani’s sister had filed for divorce. It was easier than maintaining the place. Now if he could just convince Dani that the property was better off in other hands...but no. Instead of doing that, he was helping her fix the place.
Neal would love it if he could see this. Gabe was going to keep this bit of information to himself.
The pipe hadn’t cracked below the surface as Gabe had feared. It was a somewhat clean break, one that could be sawed off and coupled to the original stand.
“All you need is an inch-and-a-half coupling, some PVC cement and a hacksaw.”
“I have a hacksaw and I’m pretty sure the hardware guy can talk me through the rest.”
And he was pretty certain he was going to do what he could to help her out—if she would let him. But there were things about his situation that bothered him. “I have to ask,” he said, leaning on the shovel, “is this the way your life always goes? Crisis to crisis?”
“Pretty much,” she said with a faint smile. “I think it’s my personality.”
“But this doesn’t seem like an accident. Not unless you have some pretty damned big gophers around here.”
An odd look crossed her face as she tilted up her chin. “It had to be. I mean...what else could it be?”
“Two snapped standpipes?”
He stabbed the shovel into the ground and crossed the distance between them, stopping short when her gaze shot up warily. “Maybe you should report this to the authorities. The mare, the standpipes—it just seems odd.”
“Yeah. Maybe so.”
“No maybes, Dani. It’s odd.”
“This isn’t exactly something I want to report to the authorities.”
“Why not?”
“Because Kyle is a deputy sheriff.”
“All the more reason to report it. Especially if you think he might be involved.”
“He’s on vacation right now.”
“But where was he when these pipes got snapped? Call.”
She held his eyes for a moment, her troubled hazel gaze meeting his no-nonsense expression dead-on. Then she said, “You’re right. You want to come in while I look up the number?”
A break. She trusted him—at least enough to let him in her house.
GABE FOLLOWED DANI through the front gate and up the walk to the two-story house. It was sturdily built, with classic Victorian lines, and he wondered if it would be possible to move it to a different location on the property. In the rough plans he’d drawn up, the main lodge would stand where the house was now. The fields beyond would become the golf course. The barns, fences and outbuildings would have to go.
Dani opened the door and then glanced back over her shoulder at him before walking inside. Her footsteps echoed, rousing the big dog enough for him to raise his head.
“You, uh, seem to be lacking furniture.” There was a recliner with a small folding table at one side, a ladder-back chair pushed against the wall with horse tack hanging from it and not much else. From what he could see, the dining room was empty except for a large carved armoire.
She looked around. “Yes.”
He frowned at her as she walked to the armoire and pulled open a drawer. After digging out a phone book, she riffled through it then punched the number into her phone. Tipping the receiver away from her mouth, she said, “The divorce wasn’t pretty. The only furniture that stayed are the things that Jolie and I—” She suddenly brought the phone back to her mouth and said, “Yes, hi, this is Dani Brody. I need to report an...incident, I guess.”
Gabe listened as she described what happened, idly surveying the tangle of leather straps hanging from the ladder-back. He doubted that the authorities were going to take her report too seriously, because the tone of Dani’s voice made it clear that she wasn’t convinced it was anything to worry about. But having her call the sheriff made him feel better. She was pretty damned isolated, living alone, and if someone wanted to screw with her, all she had for protection was that giant mutt, who appeared to be semi-narcoleptic now that he’d given Gabe the canine all-clear.
Dani hung up the phone and turned back to him with a small shrug. “They told me to report anything else suspicious.”
“Good. Now they have a record.”
“Yeah,” she said. For a moment they stood on opposite sides of the room. The awkwardness was becoming palpable and Gabe realized that she didn’t know what to do with him now that he was in her house. That deal about making friends slowly, no doubt. The last thing he wanted was her to feel self-conscious around him, so he smiled and said, “I’m glad you called. If everything’s okay now, I’d better get back to what I was doing. I have a deadline.”
“You need to work on your vacation skills.”
“I’ll make a note.”
“With an alert?” she asked mildly. “Practice vacation skills from nine a.m. to ten a.m.?”
“Something like that.” He paused at the door, debating for a split second before he said, “Call if you have other issues, okay?” When her expression started to close off, as if he was getting too familiar too fast, he added, “I’d jump at any chance to procrastinate from my project.”
He reached for the doorknob and her features relaxed—because of what he said, or because he was almost out the door?—and she took a few slow steps toward him as he walked out onto the porch. She stopped at the door, putting a hand on the frame. “I appreciate you coming. Sorry if my hostess skills are rusty.” She gave a soft snort, then smiled at him. “Who am I kidding? I was never a good hostess. That was for my sisters to handle.”
“Well, I’ve never been a big fan of anything fancy.”
“Your car says otherwise.”
His eyebrows lifted.