Body of Evidence. Lenora Worth
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“Don’t go getting him all in an uproar,” she said, standing to remove their chili bowls. “Want some chocolate chip cookies and coffee?”
“Real cookies with real chocolate?”
She laughed out loud. “Yes, but they are made with wheat flour and organic brown sugar. You’ll never know the difference.”
Anderson looked her over. She was so innocent in her hospitality. As if she had a law officer eating at her table every night. Her ability to trust strangers scared him. “Yeah, I’d love a cookie and some coffee.”
Anything to keep her talking. He needed her to remember as much as she could about the happenings around here. Because he had a feeling some things were going on right under her nose without her even paying much attention. Things much worse than a cut fence.
And that was not a good situation to be in. Not at all.
THREE
Jennifer always got up early since most of her animals needed a good breakfast. Apparently, Anderson Michaels rose early, too. She saw him out the window, walking the property fully dressed in the work clothes she’d given him last night, and sipping a cup of steaming coffee. She, on the other hand, had stumbled into the kitchen and looked out the window at the rising sun, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep, only to see him blocking the sun’s warm rays.
Kind of nice to see a good-looking man standing there outside her window, the fall sunshine haloing around him like an aura. Nice to watch, but working with him would be a whole different thing. Thus, her lack of sleep. She’d worried and fretted most of the night about drug runners overtaking her property and a tall Texas Ranger hanging around for the next few days. Now the source of those dark thoughts stood out in her yard, ready to get down to business. And that meant she had to get in gear herself.
Gulping down her first cup of coffee, she hurried to get dressed. She had two volunteers coming to work the front counter and clean the supply closet and several more scheduled to help with the morning feedings and other maintenance work. Anderson wanted to brief all of them on the happenings and his presence here. They’d decided it made sense to alert everyone since Jennifer didn’t want her volunteers or workers to unknowingly walk into something dangerous. And this way, Anderson could get a fix on any regulars who seemed suspicious or jittery around him.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she tossed on some sunscreen and some medicated lip tint, then came back into the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.
Should she invite him inside?
“Oh, why not. After all, the man ‘works’ for me now, right?” she told Roscoe.
Roscoe nibbled at his own breakfast, then lapped at his water before he headed back to his bed.
Jennifer went over to pet him. “You won’t be here much longer, will you, boy?” She’d have to give him his arthritis medication a little later.
She didn’t want to think about losing Roscoe. It had been hard enough to lose her father so suddenly. How could she survive her best friend, her dog, dying, too?
She wouldn’t think about that. Dr. Jenkins was doing everything he could for Roscoe, but old age was catching up with her companion on a daily basis.
A knock at the back door caused her to spin around. Roscoe let out a feeble half bark then laid his head on his paws.
“Good morning,” she said as she opened the door to Anderson. “Want some eggs and toast?”
“I don’t want to be a bother but I don’t have many supplies in the bunkhouse yet, except some aged coffee I found in one of the cabinets, so I’d like breakfast.” He took off his hat. “I forgot and wore this. Habit.”
Jennifer took the hat, the warmth of it causing little sparkles of awareness to shoot up her arm. “I’ll hang it on the hall tree over here by the fireplace. You can wear one of our baseball caps.” She grabbed an old one off the hall tree. “It has our logo on it.” And why did his cowboy hat look right at home amidst her array of scarves, coats and her own hats?
He immediately went to Roscoe and bent down to talk to the dog in soothing tones. “He must have been a contender when he was younger.”
“He’s a purebred golden retriever,” she said, smiling at Roscoe. “So yes, he was awesome and spoiled rotten.”
“Well, the old fellow needs to be spoiled. He’s obviously had a good life with you here.”
She motioned to the kitchen. “We weren’t always here. We traveled a lot. After my parents divorced, my dad gave me Roscoe for my fourteenth birthday, I guess as a peace offering. That poor dog has been all over Texas and Louisiana. My mother never could find the right spot to settle. So we came back here a few years ago but…after Daddy died, she took off again. She’s in Arkansas now.”
“Sorry about the divorce,” he said. “That’s got to be hard on a child.”
“It was. My mother never quite got over my father. Since he traveled so much, she stayed home for a long time. She’s had a hard time since his death. We both have.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”
She turned away from the sympathy in his eyes. How could she explain to this man that her father had been an adventurer first and a family man second? She imagined Anderson fell into that category, too, since his job was demanding and never-ending. “Well, I don’t have time to dwell on that this morning.”
“Can I help with breakfast?”
“Sit down,” Jennifer replied. “I can manage a couple of eggs and toast. The toast might be burnt, however.”
“Won’t hurt me. I have an iron stomach.”
She couldn’t argue with that. At least, he looked lean and mean and made of steel. “How about you, Ranger-man? Tell me about your family.”
Jennifer loved family stories. Her friends always teased her about that. But she loved listening to their parents talk about how they fell in love and why they’d managed to stay married through thick and thin. And always wondered why her parents hadn’t done the same. Now she lived vicariously through her friends because she didn’t expect her own happy ending.
Anderson settled in his chair and stared up at her. “I have two younger brothers in their twenties and a baby sister, who’s sixteen. Talk about spoiled. We’re close, I reckon. I mean, we have our spats like anybody but when push comes to shove—”
“You stick together,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder at him.
“Yes. Isn’t that what families do?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, pouring eggs into the frying pan to scramble. “Mine didn’t.”
“My mama makes sure we do,” he said, his tone softening. “Church every Sunday and hard work on Monday. That’s her favorite saying.”
Jennifer turned to look at him. “You know, I believe in God, but church was never high on my parents’ agenda. My dad believed the whole world was a cathedral and he loved to explore it. He believed God was right there in the waterfalls and the mountains, the rivers, the oceans. I guess that’s how I learned about religion.”
“And your mother?”
“The original free-spirited, new-wave hippie, fifty-five now but going on twenty-two.”
“I see. And what about you now? Do you go to church?”
“Is that part of your job, Ranger? To show me the way?”
He looked sheepish, hung his head. “Sorry. I just thought—”
“Your eggs are ready,” she said, without rancor. She should be rankled at his question but it didn’t bother her. He was right. She should