When the rattle of hoofbeats died away, Logan helped Isabel to his truck. He stopped Tank from careening into her lap.
“Hey, buddy. You’re riding in the back this time.”
Logan started the engine and they drove off the property. As they did so, Isabel caught a glimpse of John closing the corral gate. The hostility on his face was clear in the look he gave them.
Cassie may have trusted the man, but something in his look told her to be careful.
Very careful.
THREE
Logan eyed Isabel as she sat on the hard-backed chair at the tiny police station, waiting to talk to an officer. When her turn came, he gave her a reassuring nod. “I’ve got to pick up an order. Tank and I will meet you back at the truck when you’re done. You okay to walk?”
She nodded. “Yes, my ankle’s better. I think the swelling’s gone down.”
He felt reluctant to leave, but he forced himself out of the building. Tank fell into step next to him. Logan could not shake the instinct that told him something was wrong. The watcher in the trees? His own unease when he’d started working on Cassie’s ranch?
Maybe, just maybe, it was the result of being close to a lovely woman again. Could a woman still have the power to unsettle him? As he quickened his pace toward the print shop, he felt the familiar pain build to a wall inside, stoked by the thought of how gullible he’d been, how stupid. It was as if he could hear Nancy’s revelation about the baby word for word in his mind. The baby that wasn’t his. The marriage that had never been enough. The world tilted in that moment, throwing off his equilibrium. He’d stumbled through months, years, after that, never quite recovering his balance. He ignored the pain in his ankle, aggravated by his effort to help Isabel, and moved quicker down the hot sidewalk, Tank panting behind him.
He wondered what the police would make of Isabel’s story. Stay out of it. She can fight her own battles.
Carl Trigg pulled to the curb and got out of his truck. “Logan. How’s Isabel? Thought I’d better come and check on things. Still can’t believe someone would have pushed her.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I thought she might have imagined it at first, but there were fresh footprints on the edge that didn’t match mine or hers.”
The mayor’s brow crinkled and he let out a sigh. “I’ll make sure it’s investigated fully. We can’t have this sort of thing going on.” He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his pants. “Sheila wanted me to talk to you about a job. Gonna put up some fences, but the ground needs to be cleared first. Your schedule open?”
Logan’s face warmed. “Your son could do that job fine, Carl. You don’t need to pay me to do it.”
Trigg waved a hand. “John wants to spend every waking moment in the stables. No time for fences. We’re indulging him until he puts that law degree into practice. Got distracted by Cassie Reynolds and her horses.”
“How’s he taking it? Cassie’s death.”
“Oh, well, he was sad, of course. He respected her and they shared a common passion for horses, but that was about it. We’re all saddened about that girl’s accident. Sheila’s even decided to help Isabel plan a nice memorial service, if she wants. We want to help, you know. Speaking of help, we’ve got business with you. How about that fence project?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Look. I know you and Sheila are trying to help me make a success of this business, but you’ve done enough by loaning me the start-up money. I’m going to get this thing on its feet and pay you back.”
He smiled. “Sounds like you’re on a mission. Okay, I’ll tell Sheila, but she won’t be happy.”
Logan returned the smile. “Tell her I’ll stop by next time she makes one of her berry pies.”
“I’ll do that.” Carl waved and got back in the truck.
Logan hurried toward the shop to pick up the promotional flyers he’d ordered. If he didn’t start booking some jobs soon, he would be hard-pressed to live up to his words and all the flyers in the state wouldn’t make a difference. The knowledge that the mayor and his wife were offering charity work to tide him over left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Saving the business should have been the only thing on his mind, but he couldn’t resist a quick look back at the police station.
When Isabel was finally ushered back to meet Officer Bentley, she felt only uncertainty deep in the pit of her stomach. After a deep breath, she settled herself into a chair across from the whip-thin officer and took the offensive. “Hello, Officer Bentley. We spoke on the phone when you called to notify me about my sister.”
His dark eyes showed no expression. “I remember. A bad call to have to make.”
“Yes. I know you think Cassie’s death was an accident.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe after you hear what happened to me last night, you’ll think differently.”
He listened, pencil poised, while she related the bizarre episode. After a long look, he put the pencil down. “Ms. Ling, are you sure someone pushed you? Isn’t it possible you stumbled and fell? In the dark, and on that property, it would be easy to do.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I didn’t fall. Someone shoved me and maybe that person had something to do with Cassie’s accident, too. There are footprints there. Whoever did it wore cowboy boots.”
He sighed so deeply the breath fluttered the corners of his mustache. Isabel could see threads of silver in his hair. “You can’t throw a stick around here without hitting someone wearing cowboy boots. I’ll be happy to ride up there and check it out, if that would ease your mind.”
“But you don’t believe me?”
“People experience grief differently. Sometimes it’s easier to imagine there’s someone or something to blame. Your sister was thrown from a horse. If you want to affix blame, you can pin it on Blue Boy. Some of those horses your sister rescued had been beaten, hurt bad. You never can really heal an animal like that.”
She willed her voice not to crack. “I’m just presenting facts to you, Officer Bentley. Please listen to me.”
He sat back in his chair, the lights accentuating the creases in his forehead. “All right. Let’s say you were pushed. My next question is, who do you know that would like to see you at the bottom of a ravine?”
Isabel swallowed hard. “I—I have an ex-husband named Rawley Pike who believes I wronged him, but he’s in prison in Orange County.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll check on that. Can you tell me the date he was incarcerated?”
She drew in a breath. “August fifth, ten years ago.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And the crime?”
“Dealing drugs. Cocaine and heroin. And he killed a man during a deal that went bad.”
“You turned him in?”
Her skin prickled all over. “Yes, I turned him in.”
“I’ll check on his status.”
And that means he’ll find out everything about you, too. She nodded weakly. “The footprints?”
“As I said, I’ll take a look and if there’s something there, we’ll talk about it more. Right now, I’ve got a meeting.”
He rose and led Isabel to the door.
She wandered out into