Speed Trap. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ ten years of scrimping and saving he’d been able to buy back most of the land his father had sold off. He owned almost a thousand acres now. With the right stock, Garrett knew he could build up a breeding program to be proud of. He had a good start, but there was still a lot to be done.

      It was a dream Garrett hoarded carefully. Too many of his dreams had been squashed by people he’d trusted. Like his father and his mother. Like Judy.

      It’s better not to wish for too much. Better not to trust at all.

      Garrett pushed away from the post. Self-pity wouldn’t finish his fence. He glanced at the sun nearly straight overhead. Judy should have been here by now.

      He still wasn’t sure how he felt about her impending visit. Why was she so adamant about seeing him? Why now?

      Still pondering the question, Garrett walked to his truck. Pulling a board from the bed, he eyed it to make sure it was straight. Wiley barked twice, then raced off down the gravel lane.

      In the distance, Garrett recognized the sheriff’s white SUV approaching. A feeling of unease settled like a rock in his stomach. Pulling a red kerchief from his hip pocket, he wiped the sweat from his face, then settled his hat low on his head and waited until the vehicle rolled to a stop a few yards from him.

      There was no mistaking the woman behind the wheel. Miss Mandy Scott—big-city cop turned small-town sheriff—slowly opened the truck door. Garrett fought to quell the churning in his gut as old memories rose to the surface.

      His mother had called the police a few times, but their visits had only made matters worse. When the cops were gone, his father made her pay dearly for her audacity. Garrett had been too young and too frightened to help her.

      His mother took her husband’s abuse as long as she could. Then one day, she just left.

      The slamming of the truck door yanked Garrett back to the present. He waited as Sheriff Scott approached.

      She wasn’t tall, maybe five foot five or six, but the way she carried herself made her seem taller—as if she were looking down on him instead of up at a man who had a good six inches on her. Her honey-blond hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line.

      Everything about her from the mannish cut of her blue uniform to the shine on her black boots seemed to shout that she was a woman in charge.

      She would be pretty if she smiled. Not that she was homely—just intense.

      “Afternoon, Mr. Bowen.” Her tone was all business. Pulling off her sunglasses, she let her gaze sweep over him. He forced himself to remain still, but his gaze slid to the house.

      Shame clawed at his gut. Cold sweat trickled down his back.

      Mandy wanted the man to take off his hat. He was a person of interest in his ex-wife’s murder. She wanted to see his eyes. The bright noon sun and the wide brim of his battered Stetson made it impossible.

      “Afternoon, Sheriff.” He kept his hands at his sides.

      “Nice day, isn’t it?” Keeping one eye on him, she moved toward his truck.

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “I see you’re getting a new corral in.” She glanced at the rag-tag assortment of boards in his truck. She could see where he’d pulled down one of his outbuildings. Several more looked ready to fall down, yet his barn was in good repair.

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      He wasn’t much of a talker. Now that she had a face to put with his name, she remembered seeing him in town a few times. A tall, lean man with midnight-black hair and dark eyes, he was attractive in a quiet sort of way.

      He wore standard ranching attire. A dark brown Stetson that had seen better days, faded jeans over scuffed cowboy boots and a blue, western-style shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The taut muscles in his tan forearms and the sweat stains on his clothes told her he wasn’t afraid of hard work.

      His record had been clean since his out-of-state arrest for marijuana three years ago, but that didn’t prove he was innocent. It might only prove that he’d gotten smarter.

      He stood silently before her. The thing that struck her most was how still he was. Almost at military attention, he waited as she crossed the graveled yard toward his vehicle. The crunch of her boots on the crushed rock was the only sound except for the panting of the little dog that scampered at her feet.

      She wished the man would take off his hat.

      Strolling to the front of his truck, she noticed a number of deep dents and scratches. “You’ve got some damage up here.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      She waited in vain for him to explain. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. Finally, she nodded toward the hood. “Care to tell me how this happened?”

      “It’s an old truck. It gets used hard.”

      Wow, two whole sentences. He’s really loosening up.

      Stepping back, she cocked her head to one side. “This midnight blue looks almost black, doesn’t it?”

      He didn’t say “Yes, ma’am” this time. He said, “Is there something I can do for you?”

      His tone was clipped, lacking any emotion. His stillness bothered her. Was he hiding something?

      Garrett wasn’t used to company—especially not the company of a pretty woman who happened to be a cop. She’d come for a reason. He wished she’d get to the point.

      She gazed at him without flinching. “Do you know a woman named Judy Bowen?”

      His unease flared like a grass fire. “Yes.”

      “How well do you know her?” Her question sounded nonchalant, but it wasn’t.

      “What’s this about, Sheriff?”

      “I asked how well do you know her?”

      Something was wrong, but he sensed he wouldn’t get answers from Sheriff Scott until she was ready to give them.

      He forced his tense muscles to relax. “She’s my ex-wife, but I figure you already know that.”

      Only the slightest lift of her eyebrows acknowledged his assumption. “When did you see her last?”

      He clamped his teeth together. He didn’t like sharing details of his personal life. “Judy split about a year ago. I haven’t seen her since.”

      “I heard she was here today. What time did she leave?”

      How did the sheriff know Judy was coming to visit? “She hasn’t shown up yet.”

      “Care to tell me why she was here?”

      “I told you, I haven’t seen her yet.” He kept his face carefully blank. He’d learned as a child not to show fear or anger or anything that would trigger СКАЧАТЬ