“You can’t be too careful.”

She turned toward the horses. “I’m so tired of hearing that.”

Anderson whirled her around so quickly, she felt the rush of air passing over her face.

“Jennifer, this isn’t a joke. It’s real.”

“You’re scaring me, Anderson. And I’ve never been scared before.”

Untying Sadie’s rein and handing it to Jennifer, he said, “I get so caught up in the facts, I forget the reality of things like this. I get that you’re used to being on your own and doing things your own way. But I took on this assignment for many reasons, one now being that I need to protect you whether you like it or not.”

“Thank you. It’s been a long time since anyone has bothered to worry about me.”

Then she took off, leaving him sitting there on a stomping horse because she was too afraid to look back to see if he was following her.

TEXAS RANGER JUSTICE:

Keeping the Lone Star State safe

Daughter of Texas— Terri Reed, January 2011

Body of Evidence— Lenora Worth, February 2011

Face of Danger— Valerie Hansen, March 2011

Trail of Lies— Margaret Daley, April 2011

Threat of Exposure— Lynette Eason, May 2011

Out of Time— Shirlee McCoy, June 2011

LENORA WORTH

has written more than forty books for three different publishers. Her career with Steeple Hill Books spans close to fourteen years. Her very first Love Inspired title, The Wedding Quilt, won Affaire de Coeur’s Best Inspirational for 1997, and Logan’s Child won RT Book Reviews’s Best Love Inspired for 1998. With millions of books in print, Lenora continues to write for the Love Inspired and Love Inspired Suspense lines. Lenora also wrote a weekly opinion column for the local paper and worked freelance for years with a local magazine. She has now turned to full-time fiction writing and enjoying adventures with her retired husband, Don. Married for thirty-five years, they have two grown children. Lenora enjoys writing, reading and shopping…especially shoe shopping.

Body Of Evidence
Lenora Worth

MILLS & BOON

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For by Him all things were created:

things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible,

whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities;

all things were created by Him and for Him.

—Colossians 1:15–16

To Tori Luce

Part tomboy and part girly girl!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ONE

She was caught between a hungry alligator named Boudreaux and a tall drink of water named Anderson. And they both had way too much attitude.

Jennifer Rodgers had had better days.

And worse ones, too, come to think of it. Someone didn’t want her to build her alligators a fancy new pen. Maybe that was why the handsome Ranger, who’d discreetly flashed his badge for her eyes only, was here.

Deciding to do things in the order of greatest urgency, she ignored Mr. Tall, Blond and Texas while she finished feeding chunks of raw chicken to cranky old Boudreaux. It didn’t take long for the younger alligator sharing this temporary pen with Boudreaux to slide toward the evening meal.

“C’mon, Bobby Wayne,” Jennifer called. Tossing some of the meat toward shy Bobby Wayne, she smiled. “Don’t worry, Boudreaux will save you a bite or two. I hope.”

Boudreaux didn’t seem worried about his buddy. He was too busy tearing at the meal. Jennifer threw the last of the bucket of stinky meat into the water hole then turned on the nearby spigot and pulled the big water hose toward the bucket to give it a good rinse. Then she pulled off the heavy rubber gloves she always wore to feed her animals and tossed them in the bucket. She’d soap the whole thing down later.

After she got rid of the Texas Ranger waiting a little too impatiently to talk to her.

Ranger Anderson Michaels used the time waiting at the Rodgers Exotic Animal Rescue Farm to analyze both the place and the woman running the big compound.

Jennifer Rodgers was cute and just about as exotic as some of her animals. Her long curly dark brown hair was caught up in a haphazard ponytail that kept shifting around to her face each time she leaned over. She was fit, her figure almost boyish, but Anderson could tell she was all woman even if she did have on grungy khaki pants and an old brown work shirt. Her brown eyes gave away her feminine charm. So did the way she grinned at that nasty-looking alligator lunging toward the meat she held down over the rickety old fence.

Surprised to see yet another gator opening his snout to snap at the raw chicken, Anderson strolled closer to the chain links surrounding the makeshift pond.

“Do they stay in there?” he asked, wondering if he could outrun old Boudreaux. He’d always heard an alligator could get up to forty miles per hour in speed. Anderson didn’t want to test that theory.

Jennifer laughed, then turned to wipe her wet hands on a towel draped over a post. After pulling a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of the deep pocket of her baggy pants, she squirted some on her hands and rubbed them together. The fruity scent of the sanitizer filled the crisp October air while her laughter filled Anderson’s head.

“Boudreaux is too old and lazy to even try and get out, but Bobby Wayne…well, let’s just say he doesn’t like surprises. Even though he’s shy and reclusive at times, he’s been known to turn aggressive if you look at him the wrong way.”

Her expression challenged Anderson to do just that. And suggested she might do the same thing as the gator.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anderson said, grinning at her. “But right now, I need to talk to you.”

Jennifer nodded, then started up the dirt lane toward the long square log cabin where, according to his notes, she worked and lived. “Is this about the incident with the fence on the back end of my property?”

Anderson’s radar went up. “Has something happened back there already?”

She frowned. “Yes. I thought maybe that was why you were here. The local authorities said there wasn’t much I could do but fix the fence.”

Anderson’s gut tightened. Had the cartel and the Lions already made her a target?

He glanced around, then pushed at his tan cowboy hat. A teenaged boy and a middle-age woman were working down a hill inside the goat pen and a few curious visitors milled around watching and asking questions about the “Closed for Renovations” sign. No one was paying him much attention. He’d purposely changed out of his official uniform into a sportscoat and jeans and his own hat. “Could we talk somewhere private?”

“Sure. I was just finishing up for the day, anyway.” She nodded toward where the two other workers were busy with the goats. “That’s Jacob—he’s my part-timer and the woman with him is a volunteer. They’ll close up and leave when they finish up with the goats.” Giving him another bold stare, she said, “C’mon in and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

Anderson looked toward the approaching orange-red sunset. “Sounds good. Now that the sun is setting, it’s kind of nippy out here.”

She pushed at the double screen doors on the long back porch, then guided him up a hall past the big open oak door that had a sign saying “Office”. “Yep, after that rain earlier in the week, it’s a little cool for October. Those two fellows out there will go into a kind of hibernation if it gets any colder. We’ve just started building them a new pond, so I hope to get them moved before winter sets in. That is, if I can stop whoever it is that keeps damaging what we’ve already built.”

She motioned toward another open door. “This way. Coffee’s in the kitchen. Oh, and I have a very old dog in here, but he probably won’t move a muscle to bark at you.” Pointing to the sand-colored dog on a plaid bed by the fireplace, she said, “Roscoe, this is Anderson. Say hi.”

Roscoe opened his doleful brown eyes and grunted.

“Some watchdog.”

“He used to be the best. But he’s arthritic and ornery now. My dad gave him to me when I was a teenager. He keeps me company.”

After offering Roscoe his knuckles to sniff, Anderson noted that the place wasn’t all that secure. No alarm system that he could see. And standard windows and doors that creaked and groaned each time the wind hit them. Everything looked a little frayed and run-down, but the place was clean. Looking through the big open door toward the front, he noticed long shelves of supplies along with pamphlets about various animal causes lining the wall behind the battered desk. A standing sign gave the cost of daily tours, stating that all students got in free.

His advance research on her website mentioned an aviary, a turtle house and pond and several other out-buildings and animal shelters, including a barn and stables. And as she’d mentioned, he had discovered she was building a bigger, better pond for the alligators. Obviously, Jennifer Rodgers was as dedicated to protecting animals as her famous late father Martin had been.

But even though her site indicated donations were always needed and welcome, it looked like she was struggling to keep things going on this remote compound.

Anderson hated to add to her troubles, but she had to know she might be in danger, especially if someone had already messed with a fence. Her rescue farm was located in an isolated spot just off I-10, about twenty miles from San Antonio. A perfect location for a drop site in drug trafficking, just like the suspect they had in custody had claimed. And he wondered now if that new alligator compound was being built too close to the alleged drop site.

Jennifer poured two cups of coffee, then motioned to the rectangular dining table on one side of the big den behind the office room. “Take a load off. And start talking, Ranger.”

Anderson watched as she turned her own chair around so she could straddle it, her hands dropping over the high back, her dark eyes centered on him.

Her fingernails were painted a brilliant candy-apple red.

Interesting. And distracting.

Taking off his hat, he ran a hand over his hair and pulled out a chair. “Ah, well, I’m here because we have reason to believe some suspicious activity has been transpiring on the south end of your property, Miss Rodgers.”

She nodded. “Yes. The brand-new fence around the pond we’re building back there was cut. It needs to be redone before we can get on with the construction. We just started last week, so I’m not happy about being set back already. I saw a man with a mustache running away, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”

“I’m not here about that, specifically,” he said. “But this could be connected to my reasons for being here, Miss Rodgers. Did the man see you?”

“He glanced back at me, then ran.” Her expression went still. “Call me Jennifer. And talk in plain English—not Ranger-speak, if you don’t mind. What kind of suspicious activity?”

Anderson didn’t need to tell her everything but he had to make her see this was important. And urgent. He only knew how to do that in Ranger-speak. But he tried to use layman’s terms. “Our captain was murdered last month. You might have heard about it—Gregory Pike?”

“I read about it in the paper and saw the story on the news. His daughter found him, right?”

“Right. Corinna interrupted the murder and found another man unconscious beside her father. That man is still in a coma in the hospital but we’ve released his photo to the media, hoping to get a lead on his identity.”

Pulling a copy of the picture out, he showed it to Jennifer. “Have you ever seen this man?”

She squinted toward the grainy picture of the unconscious dark-haired man with a scar on his face. “No. He looks rough. Hard to say. I don’t think that’s the man I saw the other day.”

Anderson decided to go on that for now. Maybe she’d remember something once they got into the particulars.

Jennifer took a drink of her black coffee. “I’m sorry about your captain and that man in the picture. But I don’t think it has anything to do with whoever cut my fence.”

Anderson saw the impatience in her expression. He’d have to talk fast, he reckoned. “We managed to bring in a suspect, Eddie Jimenez, who was captured after breaking into Corinna Pike’s house. He gave us information regarding a drop site—a designated meeting place where, allegedly, some Texas citizens are conspiring with a Mexican drug cartel. But he couldn’t identify anybody. Or so he said.”

Jennifer held out her hand. “Wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Do you believe this drop site is on my property? That these drug runners are the ones trespassing back there? Are they the ones who messed up my fence?”

Anderson tried to answer all of her questions with one statement. “If someone’s tampered with your fence, you can bet it’s probably these criminals, yes, ma’am. And if that man thinks you saw him, he might come back.”

She hit a palm on the table, causing Roscoe to open one eye. “And that’s why you’re here? Do you think I have something to do with all of this? I’m the one who called the local authorities but the deputy sheriff didn’t seem all that concerned. Now you show up—obviously very concerned.”

Anderson didn’t think she was a suspect, but that couldn’t be ruled out. “No, we don’t think you’re involved, but your property could be part of some illegal activity, and that activity could lead us to the man who murdered my captain. We need to keep tabs on your land, see who’s coming and going. And that means I need to be on site for a few days. I’ll call the sheriff and compare notes. I’ll need a list of everyone who works with you and volunteers for you or any returning visitors who might seem suspicious.”

Her eyebrows lifted like dark velvet butterfly wings. “As in—you want to hang around and…spy?”

Anderson wasn’t one to mince words. “As in—I need to work here with you—undercover—until I can find out what’s going on in the back forty.”

She held so tight to her chair, Anderson thought she might snap the wood. “Say that again?”

“I need to go undercover, here on your compound, twenty-four-seven, for the next few days. I’ve been assigned to find out anything I can, based on the information the suspect taken into custody gave us. Which wasn’t a whole lot, by the way. But if we couple that with your recent vandalism, I’d say something’s going on here and we’re on the right track.”

She put one hand on the table then moved the other over her tousled ponytail. “So when you say go undercover, you mean you want to stay here and pretend to work for me while you’re watching this property?”

Hadn’t he just told her that? “That’s it, yes, ma’am.”

“Stop with the ma’am stuff, okay?”

“Okay, ma—” He smiled. “Okay, Jennifer. I noticed you have a bunkhouse for volunteers. I can stay there.”

“We aren’t using it right now, but yeah, you’d better believe you’ll stay there. I don’t like people underfoot.”

Anderson could tell that. Her whole stance practically shouted for him to go away. “Are you here alone after hours?”

“I have the part-time helper you saw earlier—the kid who comes in after school. And a rotating list of volunteers. And we have a local vet who comes by about twice a week. Our work hours vary according to the animals’ needs, of course.” She shrugged. “But yes, for the most part, I’m here alone after hours. Just me and Roscoe there.”

He noted the sadness and the resolve tracing through her eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened to your daddy in the Amazon. My mom used to watch his local show on one of the cable channels.”

“Thank you.” Jennifer looked down at the wooden table. “My father loved what he did and he taught me to feel the same way. I’m planning to honor his dream of making this place into a full-fledged exotic animal haven, with lots of hands-on teaching. You know, children touring the place, volunteers being able to educate people on endangered animals and how to protect them. We can learn a lot from nature and that was my dad’s greatest hope.

“He wanted people to respect nature and abide by the laws set up to protect animals and he was well on his way to becoming known the world over for his work, but…now it’s up to me. He left me a little money and I used part of it to buy up the acreage behind this place. Like I said earlier, I’ve already started clearing that area so we can build a better-equipped pen for the gators. I guess the drug runners beat me to it, but that—and a little vandalism—won’t stop me from building my alligator preserve.”

Anderson saw the passion and the sincerity in her eyes. She would work hard to complete her father’s dream. And she might even do that at the risk of everything else, including her own safety.

“I think that’s mighty admirable of you. And I don’t want to interfere with that. But…you need to be careful. The people we’re dealing with are ruthless and determined. They’ll stop at nothing to keep moving drugs through Texas.”

And he couldn’t even tell her the worst of it—that the group pulling the strings was allegedly compiled of some prominent Texans calling themselves the Lions of Texas and they wanted to open the border between Mexico and Texas. Ridiculous, since it would require changing federal law and make their drug running all that much easier. “These people are powerful, Jennifer. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think I do,” she replied, getting up to take their cups to the sink. “Whether I like it or not, you’re empowered by law to be on my property. I can’t interfere with a Ranger case, and I can’t allow vandalism on my property, but I have to tell you I don’t like it one bit. And…I don’t expect you to interfere with my work while you’re here. I have to get that alligator pond built. The boys need more room and more fencing, for their protection and for the protection of people touring this place. I have all the proper licenses and permits, and I have non-profit status. I could lose that if I’m not up to code.”

“I understand. I’m not here to shut you down or disturb your work. And I don’t blame you for being a tad agitated, but I have to do my job.”

“And I have to do mine, all bad guys aside. But you need to know something about me, Ranger Michaels. I don’t back down easily.” She whirled at the sink and gave him a level stare. “And…I know how to use just about every weapon known to man. My father taught me to take care of myself. So don’t worry on my account.”

Anderson nodded and refrained from suggesting that she shouldn’t be so bold and brave in this case. But he knew that wouldn’t do any good right now. He could tell she wasn’t too keen on having him around. “Point taken. Now, if you could show me to the bunkhouse, I’ll get settled in and report back to my captain that I’m here.”

“Okay,” she said, wiping her hands down her pants. “We’ll get you situated, then you can come back for supper. I made some chili earlier and you’re welcome to share it.”

“Thanks.” Anderson was hungry and he did need to talk to her about what she did around here, her routine, the people who came and went. Might as well do that over supper. “We can go over some things. I’ll explain how I’ll go about my work and what you need to do to help me.”

She grabbed a set of keys off a peg by the door. “Sounds fair, since I have to protect and care for my animals. So I intend to go over my rules with you and I expect you to abide by those rules at all times. Think you can handle that, Ranger?”

Anderson put on his hat and tipped it toward her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She didn’t frown at the exaggerated answer as he’d expected. Instead, she grinned and pointed toward a side door. “Right this way, sir.”

Anderson smiled as he watched her prancing in front of him, her old Frye boots clicking with each step.

He’d sure have his work cut out for him, trying to run down a cartel and trying to keep this woman safe at the same time. It might turn out to be a lot harder than he’d planned. And a whole lot more interesting.

TWO

The man sure came prepared.

Jennifer watched as he lugged in a laptop, digital cameras, a recorder, a set of high-powered binoculars and a set of various flashlights. Not to mention the 12-gauge Remington shotgun, the Ruger Mini-14 automatic rifle and the slick, black pistol peeking out from his shoulder holster. And all the while his star-shaped silver badge, forged in the Ranger tradition from the cinco peso—a Mexican coin—winked over his heart at her each time his jacket fell open.

Even though he was dressed like any Texas man might be, Ranger Anderson Michaels wore the badge well and fit the bill from the top of his tan hat to the bottom of his Tony Lama boots. Jennifer watched as he purposely and meticulously placed his equipment on the shelves near one of the three bunks in the long, lonely room.

Forget the equipment inventory or the fact that she seriously needed to renovate this place. She rather liked surveying the man. Tall and built—nice. Crisp curls of wispy dark blond hair cut close to his head—nice. Wrangler jeans with a knife-pressed crease over rich brown no-nonsense boots—impressive. White button-down shirt with a hint of Western stitching around the collar and cuffs—sigh. And a brushed-suede, burnished-tan sportscoat that looked adorably worn in all the right places, especially over the broad shoulders—double sigh.

And each time he shifted his arms to put away some thing, she also saw the gun holster underneath his jacket.

“I guess I’m settled in.”

Jennifer lifted her head to find Anderson staring at her with those golden-brown cougar eyes and immediately felt like a nocturnal creature staring into a forbidden window.

Wishing she hadn’t impulsively asked him to dinner, she said, “Oh, right. I guess you are. I’ll just go and heat up that chili.”

He gave her a little half smile. “I’ll get freshened up, make some calls and be back at the main house in about half an hour.”

“That should work.”

That would give Jennifer time to wipe this silly schoolgirl fuzziness right out of her brain. The man was here to do a job and from the looks of things, he was so focused and single-minded, he probably hadn’t even noticed she was a woman. Too bad she had her own work to concentrate on. Or maybe, a good thing she did have work to concentrate on. ’Cause she sure didn’t need to walk around sighing about a good-looking Ranger. Hadn’t she learned from her parents’ divorce that good-looking, adrenaline-junkie-type men didn’t make great husband material?

Yes, she certainly had, and she would bet the farm that Anderson Michaels got a rush out of fighting crime much in the same way her dynamic father had gotten a rush out of stalking snakes and alligators. That didn’t leave much room for home and hearth.

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.

She let out a chuckle. “Tired, cowboy? Listen, this is just the beginning of my day. But, yes, I have to feed the animals every day either in the morning or at dusk, and with some of them, both. The horses like to be fed about three times per day. I get relieved about twice a month, thanks to the other animal lovers who support this place. Everyone has a job and we all stick to our jobs. I keep a tight schedule with the volunteers and the paid workers.”

“You have a lot of animals,” he replied, ticking them off on his hand. “Two pigs, three cows, four horses, two alligators, a whole slew of turtles, goats, a llama, ducks, geese, a hawk, several rabbits, two doves and Roscoe. It’s like the twelve days of Christmas around here. Do you have a partridge in a pear tree, too?”

She laughed again then tossed back that shimmering mane of dark hair. “I just might. It’s crazy, that’s for sure. I never have enough time or money. And people bring me all kinds of animals—dogs, cats, raccoons, you name it. I can’t keep some of them so I have to call the state wildlife department to come and get them. Breaks my heart, but I just don’t have the funding and I have to adhere to state regulations.”

He followed her toward the stables as she headed back by the various cages and pens toward the main house. “How do you make money?”

“I don’t. I have a board of directors that oversees operations and decides my annual salary—which isn’t much, let me tell you. I charge for tours but until I get everything up to state code with the gator pen, I can’t conduct any tours for a while. I speak at schools and civic organizations, and that brings in some funding, and I have a few corporate sponsors. But my income is at a minimum at best.”

“How do you get by, then?”

She stopped and pushed at her hair. “I have a trust fund. It’s small, though. My parents set it up for me a long time ago and it grew over the years. After I got out of college, they turned it over to me.”

“And now you use that to live? No wonder you gave up meat.”

She gave him a stare that told him he was being too personal. “I get by, Anderson. And giving up meat was my choice when I was young. Don’t worry.”

He did worry, though. Getting by was one thing. Living like a miser was another. “You’re gonna need a lot of funding to do everything you told me about. From what I could tell, digging that alligator pond is a big deal.”

“Yes, that’s true. And I’m working on funding for that. But if word gets out that a drug cartel uses my land for little get-togethers, I guess I can kiss that and my few sponsors goodbye, right along with the plans I’ve drawn up to overhaul this place.”

“Let me worry about that, then,” he replied, resolve coloring his tone. Since he’d already observed the two women who were in the office today as well as several of the other volunteers, he asked, “When does your part-time person come in?”

“After school, around three-thirty.”

He noted that. “And the construction workers?”

“They show up when they’re good and ready. They’ve got several jobs so like I told you last night, I have to wait my turn. Of course, now they’ll have to repair the fence, too.”

Anderson wondered if she let people walk all over her, but remembered she could get in your face when she wanted to. Was she stalling on the work because of lack of funds?

Not your concern right now, he reminded himself. “So when can we take a ride out and look around? I might get a better angle in the daylight.”

She tossed that hair again. “Well, I have to clean out the stables—the empty stalls are used for everything from isolating animals to storing supplies—and we’ll need to eat a bite. We could take the horses and check the work on the new pen after Jacob gets here. We’ll be able to ride the entire back part of the property, too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anderson said, glancing around. “I could either help with the stable or I can try and secure this place a little more. Add a few brighter lights here and there, make sure all the door locks are up to snuff.”

“I can’t pay for that.”

“Don’t worry about the pay right now.”

“I don’t take charity.”

“But you take donations, right?”

She frowned. “Is that some kind of Ranger trick question?”

Anderson let out a grunt of irritation. “It’s a simple question. You have sponsors and people who support this place, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, then, add my name to the list. Besides, I have to look the part of a security expert.”

She stopped next to a storage building and turned to the spigot and big industrial sink, then started dumping buckets off the wheeled wagon she’d used to feed the penned animals. “So you’re an animal lover?”

“I am. I’m as fond of animals as the next man, I reckon. Although my tendency runs toward mutts in stead of alligators. We have several interesting adopted dogs on our property.”

“Well, in that case, thank you, Mr. Ranger-man, for your kind donations and…I’m sure Boudreaux and Bobby Wayne will appreciate it, too.”

“And how about you? Will you appreciate it?”

“Of course I will,” she said, her actions telling him she was chafing underneath his intense questions. Water splashed and gurgled as she moved the spray hose over her feeding buckets with a tad too much zest.

Anderson didn’t know why he was pushing the issue. It was just a few light bulbs and some door locks. What did it matter whether she liked it or not? It was for her protection, not to win points with her. Besides, his main focus was that pond. If the cartel had already messed with her new fence, what would they do next? He had to be there to find out.

Wanting to prolong being around her in spite of her sensitivity to accepting help and in spite of his need to stay professional, he said, “I’ll help you finish up with the horses and the stables so I can get used to things, then I’ll make a list of what I need to fix this place up.” He shrugged. “I do know my way around a stable and from first glance, this one looks to be really well-organized.”

She finished spraying the buckets then motioned toward the big building. “But it could use some sprucing up. A group of horse lovers took it on when I started renovating a couple of years ago. They made the grooming buckets for each horse, organized the shelves and cabinets in the tack room and they donated galvanized trash cans for feed—to keep the other critters out. And I have a leaf blower to get rid of dust and cobwebs.” Shaking her hands to dry them, she said, “Of course, I stay so busy I don’t have time to tidy things up every day so it tends to get messy. I missed checking the tack room yesterday, but my volunteers gave me an update on the horses. I keep the tack room locked since I have medicine for the animals in there.”

“I’m impressed. I’ll check everything out and see if anything needs tweaking. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind and I’m sorry if I got testy before,” she retorted, pulling out a set of keys. “I’m learning to accept help whether I like it or not.” Motioning to him, she walked around the side of the old barn. “If you’ll put up the equipment, I’ll unlock the tack room door.”

Anderson watched her take off, then he gathered the clean buckets and put them back on the wagon and followed her.

Jennifer’s high-pitched shout caused him to let go of the wagon and hurry into the big barn. He found her at the door of the tack room, her hands covering her mouth.

The room had been ransacked. Cabinet doors were swung open to reveal ointments, medications and various insect repellants, all knocked over or rearranged. The floor was covered with blankets and saddle pads, bridles and halters. And all the books and papers that had probably been on the desk were tossed aside.

“Somebody’s already tried to spruce things up in here,” he said, taking in the scattered equipment and strewn papers. “Or does it always look like this?”

“It wasn’t like this yesterday before closing or my volunteers would have reported it,” she said, turning to him with her hands on her hips. “Did you do this, Anderson? Is that why you kept asking me about where I get my funding? You still think I might be involved with these criminals? Were you in here looking for evidence or something?”

Anderson would never understand the female logic or how a woman could ask so many questions at one time and expect a man to remember each one. Putting his hands on his hips, he said, “First, I asked about your funding because I was impressed with how you handle all of this and I wanted to help. And as far as trashing your place—now why would I do that and leave it like this? That would be pretty dumb on my part, wouldn’t it?”

Jennifer frowned at him, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would.” Letting out a huff of breath, she shook her head, then leaned back against the door. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being under scrutiny all the time. I keep jumping to the wrong conclusions about all of this and…about you.”

Anderson heard the sincerity in her words and re minded himself he was a Christian after all. He couldn’t lash out at her even if she did tend to read him the wrong way. “Understood.”

She gave him an apologetic glance. “So I wonder who decided to reshuffle my already disorganized stuff.”

Anderson studied the mess for a minute then said, “Someone who’s looking for more than evidence against your operation, Jennifer. I think we’ve been hit again by one of the drug runners. Cutting the fence and now this. They’ve seen your work crew back there near their drop site and they’re not happy about it.”

“But why mess up the tack room?”

“They were probably trying to scare you, or maybe they think you have something of theirs. Something they left behind.” He glanced around again. “Or, this could just be a deterrent, a way of keeping you occupied. Which means I need to get back out to the site as soon as possible.”

She looked frightened for the first time since he’d arrived here. “And that makes me a target, right?”

He nodded. “You became a target the minute you bought that land and started building that pen. But this just upped the ante.”

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