Body Of Evidence

She only wished she could tell her girlfriends about Anderson next time they headed in to San Antonio for a girl’s night out.

Anderson looked out the window of the bleak bunkhouse, watching Jennifer walk back to the main cabin. Only one security light for the whole place and it was as weak as a flickering candle at that. Did the woman even think about her own safety at all? She was a sitting duck out here alone at night with drug runners in her backyard.

Anderson didn’t want to think what might happen if Jennifer tried to tangle with these nasty squatters. He’d seen enough crime scenes involving drug wars to know the drill—torture, mutilations and slow, horrible deaths. He couldn’t imagine that happening to this woman.

Even though he was here to watch and observe, he wouldn’t let that happen to Jennifer Rodgers.

So he checked in with his new captain, Ben Fritz, trying to stay focused on the case. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m at the rescue farm and in the bunkhouse. As a courtesy, I alerted the local sheriff, too. He wasn’t too keen on not being in on the investigation, but I’m hopeful he’ll stay out of the way unless needed. As for Jennifer Rodgers, it was a hard sell, but for now I’m on the case. And not a minute too soon. She said someone’s been messing with a new alligator pen she’s just started building on the back of her property. This place is sure off the beaten path and has about as much security as an open-air flea market. Easy pickings.”

He heard Ben let out a breath. “Be careful. Just watch and learn for now. We need to find out if anyone around there has seen either Eddie Jimenez or our mysterious coma victim. Or anyone else we can tie to this case, for that matter. And remember, I want you to follow up on any leads we get from that photo we released of our comatose suspect.”

“Got it.” Anderson planned to lock and load, too, if need be. “I can tell you right now, the place is way too isolated for my tastes. A woman alone out here—”

“Careful, buddy. That woman might think she has it all under control. You can advise her, but it’s up to her to listen.”

“Yeah, well, these are dangerous thugs. They don’t respect women.”

“I know that and so do you. Part of your job is to convince said woman of that. And your main reason for being there is to try and catch these thugs in the act, not become a bodyguard.”

“I always get the hard cases.”

“You’re good at the hard cases. Just keep the drop site under surveillance and see if there’s been any recent activity, maybe talk to some of the neighbors and the workers. Look for any kind of evidence we might use. Then wait and see if we get any more activity out there.”

“I plan to go out to the site as soon as possible,” Anderson replied. “According to what she told me tonight, things are already heating up around here. She saw a man running away from a cut fence the other day. Could get dicey.”

“Keep an eye on her. Those drug runners won’t like anyone messing around in what they consider their territory. And neither will the Lions if they get wind of this. If they risk showing up again back there, we have to catch ’em in the act.”

“I thought I wasn’t a bodyguard.”

“Not yet. But you can’t stand by and let her walk right into the middle of this, either.”

“Got it.”

Anderson put away his cell, thinking Ben was a fine one to talk about stubborn, independent women. He was so in love with Corinna Pike it wasn’t funny. But it was sweet and nice, if you went for that kind of thing. Anderson was too married to his work for such nonsense, or so his mother and his baby sister told him with disgust each time the family had Sunday dinner.

“One day, son, that tune’s gonna change into a whole different melody,” his mother would always say. “Then we’ll be hearing the ‘Wedding March.’”

Jennifer Rodgers came to mind.

“Maybe one day, Mama.”

But not today. And not anytime soon. Anderson had a strict code that required he stay focused on the case. He’d learned early on that being a Ranger was tough on family life. So he just played at dating here and there, mostly when his mother would force some nice woman on him. Never worked out. They usually ran away screaming because of his heavy work schedule and his inability to commit.

So his rule was steadfast. Get in, get the job done and keep moving.

His goal while here was to find out as much as he could about the drug runners using this land and to hopefully catch one or two. Catching one of the Lions of Texas would be even better since the Rangers had a hunch that some of the Lions often met up with the lower cartel members back there. Couple that with trying to protect a stubborn woman and, well, Anderson would be busy around the clock. No time for a love life.

His stomach growled, reminding him of that chili up at the cabin. Looking around, Anderson decided he could do all right in the austere confines of this old bunkhouse. The dusty, outdated place wasn’t user-friendly in a cozy kind of way, but it was functional, and besides, he planned to spend most of his nights out on the property.

A mean late-fall wind howled and hollered through the open pasture across from the cabin. It had already been a rainy week and from the look of those dark clouds over the horizon, more rain might come. Anderson followed the aged, worn trail past the many out-buildings and animal pens, noticing smoke curling from the big chimney. That did look cozy.

He’d studied this track of land, using old maps and internet sites to clarify just how much additional land Jennifer had bought up after Martin Rodgers’ death in a boating accident on the Amazon River. From what Anderson could tell, she’d had a fairly large piece of property to begin with but she’d added around twenty-five additional acres. Anderson would have to find the seller and ask that person about any suspicious activities, too.

“Wonder where her mother is?” Anderson muttered to himself while he tapped mud off his boots, then knocked on the side door at the back of the cabin. Another question to ask, he thought.

Jennifer opened the door without even looking out.

“You need to check who’s here before you unlock the door,” Anderson said by way of a greeting.

“You need to remember I’m not used to having people here for supper. I knew it was you.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because everyone else has left for the day and you’re the only other person here.”

Stubborn had just met up with Stubborn, Anderson decided. “Do I need to remind you why I’m here?”

She waved him to the table. “No. I pretty much got that earlier. No need to go over it again.”

“But there is a need for you to be more aware and a lot more careful. You might think you can handle any intruders but this is the big league. If they even suspect you might be on to them, you’ll be at the top of their hit list. You saw a man back there, so that’s one concern.”

“Duly noted, Ranger-man.” Then she made a face. “I have enough run-ins with mangy varmints on four legs, let alone two-legged critters. That man could have been after an exotic animal. Happens a lot.”

Anderson chuckled in spite of his concerns, but the confidence in her gaze scared him to the bone. How did she do that? Say something cute and funny and make him laugh in spite of the seriousness of this situation. He didn’t like to laugh on the job. He rarely had any reason to laugh on the job.

“You are human, aren’t you?” she asked as she ladled up two steaming bowls of chili that smelled so good his stomach growled again. Only, he couldn’t see any meat in this chili.

“Yes, I’m human and I’m hungry,” he said, grabbing a chunk of cornbread while he hoped the meat was swimming in the bottom of his bowl. Then he stood up. “Sorry. I thought you were ready to dig in.”

She giggled, then sat down. “I am. But don’t wait on me, cowboy. Eat your dinner.”

But Anderson did wait. His mama had taught him manners, after all. And the isolation here told him to be cautious. Not only about the drug runners, but also about how he handled this. He was alone with a pretty woman. Hadn’t seen that coming when he’d been assigned this case.

But his mother had also taught him to be a gentleman. And he’d rather spit dirt than disappoint his mama.

But he could enjoy the company of a woman, right?

Yeah, as long as he remained professional at all times. He said a quick silent blessing of the food with a little plea for guidance thrown in for good measure.

A few minutes later, Jennifer looked up at him while she chewed on her chili. “Is that tea okay?”

Anderson took a sip. “Yep. Tastes good.” Then he shrugged. “It’s a tad weaker than I’m used to, though.”

“It’s green tea. Has a lot of antioxidants.”

Anderson eyed the green-gold liquid. “You don’t say.” He wasn’t quite sure what an antioxidant was, but he had a feeling it didn’t involve red meat and chuck wagon chow.

And neither did this strange chili. “Uh, this is good but—”

“I’m a vegetarian,” she said, grinning. “So no, my chili doesn’t have big chunks of meat. Is that a problem?”

Anderson could see the dare in her dark eyes. “No, ma’am. Not at all. Just happy to get a meal.”

She must have seen the confusion on his face. “You don’t drink green tea, either, do you?”

He shook his head. “Mostly coffee and water, and a soda now and then. I do drink sweet dark tea. My mama makes the best—”

“This will make you healthier.”

“I’m already healthy.”

“I can see that.”

He stopped eating to give her a good long look.

And watched her blush becomingly.

Back to business, Anderson, he told himself.

He tried to sound gruff. “So…let’s go over the ground rules about this new alligator pond.”

“No rules there. It has to be built. The one I have the boys in now is not up to code. And I can’t let school children in here for educational tours until I have a proper pen for those alligators. The new one will have a strong double chain-link fence around it and plenty of open spots for sunning, plus a deeper watering hole so they can relax and hide out if they want. I purposely put it back from the rest of the animals so we’d all be a little safer. Especially my turtles.”

“That all sounds great for ‘the boys’ but we might need to warn your workers to be alert back there.”

“We can do that. They sometimes carry guns anyway—you know, snakes, coyotes and such. They mostly shoot in the air to scare any unwanted visitors away.”

“I don’t want a shoot-out of any kind, at least not between your workers and the drug cartel. Just tell them you need to know about any trespassers.”

“Neither do I. I’ll talk to them first thing in the morning. Or…whenever the construction crew shows back up. They move from job to job.”

“So, nobody else has seen anything out of the ordinary that you know of, other than your fence being damaged?” He reached into the file folder he’d brought and showed her a picture of Eddie Jimenez.

“I don’t recognize that man and if any of my workers have seen him, they haven’t informed me about it. Of course, they work during daylight hours. I’d think drug runners would do their business after dark. But that wouldn’t explain how my fence got cut. Of course, it was around dusk when I did one last check for the day.”

“Yeah, so don’t ever go back there alone after dark, okay?”

“I’m usually too tired to do anything other than come home and eat a bite, do paperwork, then go to bed.”

“Got it. So tomorrow, you can show me around. I’d like to explore the entire acreage while I’m here. And I need to question the previous owner, too.”

“Previous owner lives out of state. I’ll give you his number. We can take the horses out. I need to check on a few things, anyway. I’ll also give you the name and number of the Realtor who brokered the deal.”

“We need to update your regular employees. Just tell them I’m here to help with security for the new pen.”

“That won’t be hard. No offense, but you shout law enforcement. So working security should appease them.”

He held up a hand. “I’m in civilian clothes. Look, just remind them to keep an eye out. Tell them you suspect trespassers back there. If you can give me a list of names, I can do background checks on them, too.”

“Yeah, right. My employees and volunteers are solid.”

“I’m glad you can vouch for them but I have to explore every angle. You’d be surprised how many crimes are from an inside job.”

She nodded. “We’re very strict on the rules and regulations around here, so I’ll tell them to cooperate. But back to that lot, Jacob and his friends used to hang out there. They like to ride their four-wheelers around my property, but I did warn him after the fence was cut. I’ll do the same with the construction workers and the volunteers. I guess it pays to be on the lookout. Like I said, people have been known to try and steal animals, especially endangered or exotic animals, so that’s a valid point. Will that work for you?”

“Fair enough. Now tell me, have you had any other strange things going on around here lately—things that you’ve noticed yourself but didn’t talk to anyone about?”

She shook her head. “Not if you don’t count Boudreaux and Bobby Wayne fighting now and again. Or the coyotes howling in the middle of the night. Or my turtles trying to escape their pen. Or the llama chasing my part-time helper. Or the goats escaping and eating all my potted plants. Nothing strange at all.” Then she glanced up and away. “Or the neighbor who’s protesting that new gator pen—nothing strange there. He just doesn’t get animal rescue, I reckon.” Her head came up. “Hey, maybe he sent that man to cut my fence.”

“Tell me more about the neighbor,” Anderson said. “And we’ll talk about those ornery gators and turtles later.”

“Ralph Chason? He moved next to me about two years ago. We got along fine—I mean we rarely see each other—until he found out I’d bought the extra land. He had a fit when he heard I was digging a pond back there.”

“Why should that bother him?” Anderson asked, his radar going up.

She shrugged. “I think he likes to take long walks back there. He’s kind of a loner, some sort of artist. He works with wood and I’m sure he gets a lot of it from back there. Maybe he thinks I won’t allow him on the property. I do have to put up a double fence for safety purposes, but I’m willing to work with him about that.”

“It’s your land and your call,” Anderson said, making notes in his pocket notepad. “I’ll need to check on Mr. Chason, as your security consultant.”

“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 get back into church. “I’ve been so busy lately,” she said with an inadequate shrug. “That’s the only excuse I have.”

“I had no place asking you that,” he retorted, waiting for her to sit down. “Never mind me.”

That would be hard to do, Jennifer decided as they ate their breakfast in silence. The man filled the room with a demanding presence, like a giant tiger staking a claim.

Finally, he said, “So what’s your typical day like?”

“Now there’s a subject I can handle,” she replied. “Tell you what, rather than explain it, how about you give me time to instruct and update the two volunteers due in a few minutes. Then I’ll take you on rounds with me and you can watch and learn. And I expect you to pull your weight, too, Ranger-man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, getting up to help her clear the dishes. “Hard work on Monday.”

“It’s Wednesday,” she quipped. “And still, it’s hard work, every day, all day.”

“I don’t mind hard work. But I do have a problem with hardened criminals. By the way, I took a walk back to the new gator pond last night. Spent the night out there.”

“You did? I guess you were serious about staking the place out. Anything happen?”

“Not a thing. Not yet. But we’ll catch ’em.” He winked at Roscoe.

Jennifer thought she saw the old dog wink back.

Two hours later, Anderson wondered how Jennifer managed to do it all. The woman was a bundle of energy, whirling from task to task with obsessive determination, her love for her animals as evident as her need to keep this place going. But even with a few volunteers, how long could she keep up this pace?

“So you do this every morning?” So far, they’d fed the alligators and the horses, washed down several small animal pens, spoon-fed a passel of hungry turtles—both land tortoises and more water-inclined sea and snapping turtles—mushy bits of dog food and handfuls of worms, cleaned out some of the box turtles’ aquariums and checked on a wounded hawk in the aviary.