Falcon's Run. Aimee Thurlo

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      “No,” Stan said, scowling. “Now I’m grossed out.”

      “We’ll get you out, then Michelle and I will finish up here,” Abby said, then glanced back at Preston. She was going to explain to him that Hank loved women and children, but when she turned, she saw Hank nuzzling Preston like an old friend.

      Her mouth fell open.

      Stan stared. “How did you do that?” he asked, quickly moving out of the pen.

      “It goes back to something my foster father taught me,” Preston said calmly. “All things—including animals and people—are connected. I approached the camel enclosure with a Song of Blessing, what we call a Hozonji. I honored the link between us and the camel responded by doing the same. It’s all about showing respect and demanding the same in return.”

      Abby wondered if he was trying to send her a message. Was he telling her to respect his profession and trust him to solve the case? His eyes held hers with an intensity that left her feeling bare…and exposed somehow.

      Hank stretched his rubbery lips, trying to kiss Preston.

      Abby laughed. “They’re really gentle creatures. They’re calmer than horses but they’re more…emotional,” she said after a beat. “How would you feel about volunteering here sometime?”

      “After the case is closed, I’ll do my best to fit some hours into my schedule.”

      “Good.”

      Preston glanced at his watch. “I need to go now and check out a few things. Make sure no one goes into the areas that are cordoned off.”

      “All right. Do you know how long it’ll be before the yellow tape can be taken down?”

      “I’m not sure. Some details need to be handled first. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

      Abby walked back to the parking lot with him. “Carl’s killer took the life of a very good man. He’s done enough damage. Don’t let him harm my ranch, too. Find answers quickly, Preston, please.”

      “We want the same thing, but you’re holding out on me, Abby, and that’s slowing me down. Eventually, I’ll uncover whatever it is you’re keeping back. Save us both some time and come clean.”

      He stopped walking and looked directly at her without so much as a blink. She shifted uncomfortably. There was an intensity about Preston that left her feeling off balance. She wasn’t in control—he was. The message was clear.

      “I know nothing that can help you find the killer,” she said.

      “Let me be the judge.”

      She stared at the ground. Maybe he did deserve to know, but some secrets weren’t hers to tell. Finally looking up, she shook her head.

      “If you want me to catch the killer quickly, Abby, don’t stand in my way.”

      Before she could answer, he strode away from her with the long, confident steps of a man used to being in charge.

      She watched him for a moment longer. He was all steady strength and power kept in reserve. For a second her thoughts drifted and she wondered what it would be like to lay in his arms, to touch and caress him until passion overcame all reason. It was the man beyond that iron will, the one hidden by the badge, who she wanted to see most of all.

      Realizing the turn of her thoughts, she sighed. She was truly losing her mind.

      Glancing around, she forced her thoughts back on the ranch. She couldn’t do anything more for Carl, but the ranch needed her now. Seeing Stan and Michelle outside the barn pointing up at the weathered roof, she knew what had to be done next.

      Making an impromptu decision, she headed to her truck. Maybe she couldn’t help Preston catch Carl’s killer, but she knew how to raise badly needed cash. Her first order of business—pay Rod Garner a visit.

       Chapter Seven

      As Preston drove west in the direction of the casino, he thought about Abby’s offer to talk to Garner. If he hadn’t been the kind who went by the book, he might have taken her up on it. The casino visit was bound to be a train wreck. He and Jennifer Graham, the head of security there, had a history. They’d dated for a while, and things hadn’t ended well. She’d wanted more—he’d wanted less.

      Maybe he was going in the wrong direction. He pulled off the road, waited for a break in traffic, then turned around. All things considered, he might be better off talking to Rod Garner first. Garner and Carl had supposedly been friends, so that gave him some leverage. With a little luck, Garner would help the investigation along by giving him fresh insights into the victim.

      If things went smoothly, he’d also try to persuade Garner to pull some strings for him at the casino. He had to convince Jennifer to give the department access to surveillance videos. Verifying that Carl had been there on certain dates and finding out who he’d come into contact with might help establish a motive and suggest a suspect. Of course, it was all speculation at this point, and he sure as heck didn’t have enough for a court order.

      He was headed to Garner’s estate when his cell phone rang.

      “I need your report, Sergeant,” Preston heard Police Chief Jenkins say as soon as he answered. “Miss Langdon and Sitting Tall Ranch are important to our community. They’ve put us on the map in a very good way. My own son works there as a volunteer.”

      Preston updated him on what he had so far. “I’m en route to Rod Garner’s residence, sir. Garner was one of Carl Woods’s friends, apparently.”

      “Interesting—a ranch hand and a millionaire former NBA star.”

      “Not what you’d expect, sir, but I’ve learned that Garner is also one of the ranch’s benefactors. I think he’ll cooperate with the investigation.”

      “Getting him on our side makes sense, Bowman. Garner’s got a lot of fans, and if he gets the word out that he wants this resolved, we might get the cooperation of people who wouldn’t ordinarily come within a mile of a cop.”

      “Yeah, that’s my take, too. Unfortunately Garner also has a reputation as a troublemaker, so I’ll have to tread carefully.”

      “Whatever it takes. Keep me updated,” the chief said, then ended the call.

      As Preston pulled into the long, tree-lined driveway of the former basketball star’s home, he saw a familiar pickup at the far end. Sitting Tall’s logo was emblazoned on one of the doors.

      Reaching the parking area, Preston glanced around and saw Abby heading down the cobblestone walk toward the front entrance.

      He parked beside her pickup and called out to her.

      Abby turned her head, smiled and walked back to meet him.

      “We must have just missed each other on the highway. I didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, glad to see her anyway.

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