the dead body. The poor man was horribly mutilated, the slash across his neck the most obvious wound but not the only one. His hands were badly bruised and she could see two of his fingernails had been torn from their beds.
Tamping down on the rising slick of illness that threatened her empty stomach, she forced herself to think of her job. And the oath she’d taken to protect others.
And knew, beyond a doubt, she and her fellow officers had failed to uphold that collective promise with this man.
With the same precision she and Julio had reviewed the edge of the Reynolds property, Belle began the slow perusal of the site. She took in the broader swath of land, then worked her way determinedly through those quadrants, looking for clues. Unlike the lone patch of blood spatter, this area had dozens of points of interest. Spilled blood. Dirt covering a good portion of the body. And a clear trail of where the dead man had been dragged to the ravine.
Who had done this?
Her earlier conversation with Tate whispered through her mind. The assumption drugs were to blame for the cut fence seemed like an obvious answer, but was it? Drugs brought untold violence—she’d seen her fair share of it—but this was brutal.
Savage.
And a sight that would haunt her nightmares for a good long while.
She felt him before he spoke, the large presence at her side coupled with the masculine scent of man, earth and horse that was distinctly Tate. “This happened on my land? Near my family and my home and my men?”
“It appears so.”
“Because of drugs running through the Pass like an out-of-control virus.” The words dripped with derision and disdain, a clear continuation of what Tate had leveled at her earlier.
Most law-abiding people in town think the Midnight Pass police force couldn’t find justice with both hands and a flashlight.
“Despite the feelings you’ve made abundantly clear regarding the capabilities of the Midnight Pass police force, you should get back and let everyone do their job.”
“This happened on my property.”
“We’re no longer on your property. This is borderland.”
“Belle—”
She whirled on him. “No. You’re not giving orders here and you’re not in charge. Let us do our job and figure out what happened.”
Once more, she felt him before he moved. His hand closed around her upper arm to pull her closer, their faces practically touching. His grip was firm, yet retained a core of gentleness that only reinforced what she already knew.
Tate Reynolds wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t a drug dealer or a criminal either. He might be the monumental pain in the ass of her life, but he was a good man. A caring man.
And right now he was processing the fact that his home had been breached and violated in one of the worst ways possible.
“This isn’t about you and me arguing on the playground, Belle. Someone died. And by all accounts, they were killed on my land.”
“I know.” She laid a hand over his forearm and took strength from the solid muscle beneath her palm. “Which is why you need to let us do our job.”
Although conversation had restarted among the assembled officers, the sounds were muted as people spoke in quiet whispers. She kept her voice comparable, not wanting anyone to overhear them. “You need to trust that we will handle this. Regardless of your feelings.”
“That was—” He broke off. “I’m not suggesting you won’t do right by this person.”
Tate’s gaze shifted to the body, still untouched in the ravine. His hand tightened on her shoulder before he seemed to make up his mind, turning firmly away from the gruesome sight. “I know you’ll do your job. But please be careful.”
“I will.”
“Something’s wrong here. This isn’t a drug deal gone bad or dishonor among thieves.”
She wanted to believe otherwise, but couldn’t in the face of his certainty—or her own. “No. I don’t think it is.”
“You need to be careful.”
“Right back at ya.”
The same frustration from before—hell, from forever—darkened his gaze once more but other than a small sneer, he held his frustration. “That’s not what I meant. This is dangerous. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Which is why I’ve been trained. It’s my job.”
His hand fell away and Tate took a few steps back. The physical withdrawal was mimicked in the way his gaze shuttered and his mouth firmed into a straight line. “The job. Just like always.”
Belle wanted to argue. She wanted to rant and rail and give him the litany of reasons why she was not only good at her job but called to it. But the day had begun too early. And the pain of seeing him again, so up close and personal, always left her slightly empty and more than a bit bruised emotionally. So she skipped the ready defense and nodded instead.
“Just like always.”
* * *
“Will the police still be setting up here in the kitchen?” Arden asked. She’d changed out of the pajamas she’d worn earlier when he and Ace had told her what was going on at the edge of their property into a pair of yoga pants and a top in vivid neon. She was busy fixing enough food to feed ten police stations, evidenced by the heavy scent of blueberries that rose into the air as she pulled a tray of muffins out of the oven.
She looks like Mom.
The thought wasn’t a new one, Tate admitted, but as she puttered around the kitchen, he saw the clear resemblance between his sister and his mother. Well, minus the eye-boring neon.
Both were petite, but where Betsy Reynolds had seemed to fade into herself later in life, Arden was as bright and vibrant as her outfit. The yoga ensemble belied a strong, fit woman and despite her size—or maybe in spite of it—he’d dare any man on the ranch to attempt a head-to-head battle with her.
Arden was fierce.
She was also in danger, if the discovery at the edge of the property was any indication.
“I think you should consider rescheduling your classes this week. Stick close to home instead of heading in and out of town.”
Arden glanced over from where she placed the muffins on a cooling rack. “Why’s that?”
“We need to be careful until the police know what they’re dealing with.”
“And we will be. That’s what locks are for. And making plans to meet up with others and stay in groups. All of which I will take full advantage of. But I’m not canceling my classes.”
“It’s a few yoga classes, Arden. They’ll keep.”
The
