From the size of his upper arms, she was pretty sure he worked out as hard as he drank. The combination, from her point of view, wasn’t good. He obviously liked thrills and danger, judging from the rodeo-circuit trophies on the shelf directly behind him.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he said, giving her a grin as he stepped out onto the wooden steps.
“I’m Detective Travis Blacksheep,” Travis snapped, forcing the man to focus on him. Crusher growled softly, ensuring it.
“I want to ask you some questions about an incident over at Franklin’s Feed.”
“I heard about that. Jim would love to pin that break-in on me, but it ain’t gonna work,” he said with a smug smile.
“I’m not after the person responsible. I just want to know what happened to some missing bags of fertilizer,” Travis said, playing a bluff.
Something flashed in Roy’s eyes, but it happened so fast, Laura wasn’t sure if Travis had noticed it, too.
For a heartbeat no one moved, then suddenly Roy threw a quick jab at Travis’s face.
Travis saw the punch coming and feinted left, simultaneously sinking his fist into the man’s hard belly.
As Roy doubled up, Crusher brushed past Travis and rose to his hind legs, knocking Roy backward onto the floor of the trailer. The entire unit rocked like a boat in a storm.
Travis, still holding on to Crusher’s leash, was pulled to his knees as Roy scrambled to his feet and ran down the interior hall of the trailer. Travis quickly released Crusher and the dog gave chase, followed by Travis then Laura.
Roy jumped out the back door, slamming it behind him. Crusher, a few feet behind, hit the metal panel full force with his paws. Something snapped and the door flew open, dangling from the top hinge.
“Stay here. Crusher will pin him in a minute or two,” Travis yelled, heading after his dog.
Laura looked out just as Roy, the dog and Travis disappeared into the brush behind the trailer. As she jumped down out of the trailer—there was no porch there—a flash of movement caught her eye.
Crusher had reached Roy, who’d tried to circle around, and using his massive bulk, knocked the cowboy to the ground. Growling deeply and resting his huge front paws on the man’s chest, Crusher kept him pinned.
“Atta way, Crusher!” she called, running over.
“Get this wild hog offa me,” Roy managed. Every time he shifted, Crusher pushed him back down. “Jeez, I’m drowning in drool.”
Travis arrived at the same time as Laura. “I’m going to order the dog to release you,” Travis said, “but he’ll knock you right back down if you try to make a run for it.”
“Yeah, okay. Just get him off me,” Roy said.
“Looks like you should have cooperated,” Laura said as the man rose to his knees. “Now you’re going to jail for assaulting a police officer.”
“Hey, the dog assaulted me.”
“Not until you attacked his partner,” Laura said.
Travis handcuffed Roy, reciting his rights as he led him back around the mobile home to the SUV.
While Travis was securing the prisoner, Laura took a quick look through the mobile home. She came out after a few minutes and met Travis, who was checking around the outside of the single-wide.
“There aren’t any fertilizer bags in there and there’s no garden, not unless you count the green stuff growing on the cheese in his refrigerator,” she said. “You might want to have the lab check for traces of nitrates or diesel fuel or request an explosives dog.”
“Let’s see if we can get anything out of him. He’ll be sharing the backseat with Crusher all the way to the station.”
She chuckled softly. “If that doesn’t work, nothing will.”
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