the thick gloves against his thigh. “And before you argue with me, omission’s a lie.”
It briefly crossed his mind to argue, but Tate held his tongue. Ace had a right to know. Even as he knew he’d only add to the weight that already rode his brother’s shoulders.
“There’s yellow police tape over there. Belle thinks the shape left in the grass looks like a single bag of drugs.”
“One bag?” The words were barely out before Ace shook his head. “A payoff?”
“That’s what I think.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Come take a look.” Tate led the way to the small marked area. The yellow tape was visible in the grass as they got closer. “I don’t know how she even saw it.”
“Because it’s her job.”
More truth. Raw and unsettling, but the truth all the same. Even more unsettling, Tate knew what it had cost her. What it had cost both of them. Belle took her job seriously, both the work she did and her reputation. Yet she’d still shared her initial impressions, even if she should have saved them for her colleagues.
Ace dropped into a hunch once more, his attention fully focused on the marked area. Tate moved closer, the bright, mid-morning sun seeming to throw a spotlight on the small area. With the additional light, it was easier to see the outline—easier to envision the heavy duffel bag that would have made the mark.
“One of our own.” Ace added a string of curses that matched Tate’s thoughts from the past two hours before their attention was pulled toward the bump of tires about five hundred yards away.
“Belle’s back.” Tate could see Julio Bautista in the passenger seat, his grizzled features a contrast to Belle’s smooth skin and eager visage.
Ace shaded his eyes before his hard stare swung toward Tate. “Looks like she is.”
* * *
Julio Bautista was one of the best trackers in south Texas and had worked as a field expert for the county for what had to be forty years. The man could tell you everything from the shoe size on a partial footprint to the age of animal scat to what types of scrub grass grew in the region. His senses were so refined the man predicted the weather better than any ten TV meteorologists.
While she admired it all, Belle loved him because he was the gentlest of teachers, more than willing to impart his knowledge and understanding of how living beings left their impressions on the earth.
“That the place you marked?” Julio pointed through the windshield to the area where she’d laid yellow police tape earlier that morning, his wizened face scrunched up against the glare of the morning sun.
“That’s the one. Tate Reynolds found the cut fence early this morning and called it in. I almost missed the small depression but saw it at the last minute.”
“Reynolds being cooperative?”
“Of course he is.”
The words spilled out too quickly and Belle winced inwardly as Julio’s solemn gaze shifted from his view through the windshield to her. “You sure?”
“Yes. Oh, he was a bit surprised to see it was me who arrived to take his statement, but he got over it. He understands the force is stretched thin. Understands I’m a member of that force.”
He understands the implications, too, she mused, considering what a possible payoff on his land would mean in regards to his staff.
Julio snorted at the “stretched thin” comment but said nothing, opening his door and hopping out of the SUV. The man’s services had been stretched thin of late, too. And although he worked for the county, he’d spent more than a disproportionate time in Midnight Pass over the past few years. He waved to Tate and Ace Reynolds before crossing to the two men and shaking their hands.
“Bella says you had a problem last night.”
Tate shot her the slightest raised eyebrow at Julio’s affectionate name for her before pointing toward the fence. “Not the first one we’ve had.”
“Likely won’t be the last.” Julio puttered toward the fence line, careful to steer clear of the area she’d marked off with tape. His gaze never left the ground, his steps careful in the event she’d missed other key clues depressed into the earth. Belle left him to his work, well aware he needed to get a sense of place before he’d be ready to speak with them again.
“Julio’s the best.”
“Word around town is that you’re his protégée.” Ace’s smile was warm and encouraging, a decisive counterpoint to the scowl that painted Tate’s face.
The two men might be brothers—might love each other fiercely—but they rarely saw eye to eye on anything. Her career choice was likely another item on that very long list of disagreements.
Which only served to rub salt in the wound. How could the man’s brother see her as a competent professional and Tate couldn’t? Since that line of thought only served to add to her simmering frustration, she offered up a smile instead.
“Julio’s been kind enough to take me on and train me. He’s plenty busy so I’m grateful for the help.”
Tate let out a loud snort. “The way I hear it, you more than pull your own weight.”
The comment was as surprising as the idea that Tate kept up with her career. Annabelle wanted to press him on his comment, but Julio had already begun working his way back to them, his shout and hand wave effectively ending anything else she might have said.
“Come see this.” Her mentor stopped near the taped off area and dropped to his knees. Belle was careful to watch her footsteps before dropping to her haunches beside Julio, Ace and Tate following suit. Once they were all in place, Julio traced an outline into the air. “You see here? This part Bella marked.”
“Of course.”
“I do think she’s right. It has the weight and shape of a heavy duffel. It also matches a light depression I found on the other side of the fence.”
“I missed it?”
Julio’s smile was broad. “I’m not quite ready for you to put me out of business, Bella. And the mark was faint and easy to miss. I saw it because I knew what I was looking for.”
Belle appreciated the encouragement but couldn’t hide the sting to her pride. She’d been careful this morning, but she was well aware her focus had been divided between the work and Tate. If Ace or Hoyt had greeted her, she suspected she’d not have missed the second depression Julio discovered.
But Ace and Hoyt hadn’t made the call to the precinct.
Tate had.
She risked a glance in his direction, only to be greeted by a quick flash of humor. The wholly unprofessional urge to stick her tongue out at him rippled through her before she tamped it down.
How did he do this to her?
They weren’t on
