Rodeo Standoff

“Wait, what?” He gaped at her. “You’re not going to try to handle the investigation yourself.”

She eyed him over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you if you were me?”

“Yeah, but I’m a detective and you’re not.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to follow leads.”

“You’re too close to the situation.”

“Like I’m going to let that stop me.” She moved slowly down the side of the chute, stirring up King Slammer, who head-butted the rails.

Braden had to give Tessa credit, she didn’t even flinch. Usually, he admired a feisty personality, but now? She didn’t have the training to handle an attempted murder investigation and could get hurt along the way. In spite of that, he didn’t need to protest, as he doubted her father would let her run the investigation, anyway.

She squatted and picked something up that looked like the tip of a latex glove. She stared at it, her face screwed up in earnest concentration. Her concentration was so complete that he was convinced she was oblivious to her surroundings.

Totally oblivious. If he wasn’t standing watch, someone could easily attack her.

He had years of experience in catching killers and would-be killers and she needed his help. She didn’t realize it yet, but he’d make sure she figured it out. No matter what it took. He had to get through to her, before another attempt on her life caught her unaware and succeeded.

THREE

Near the arena gate, Tessa kept her focus on the shoe print created by a leaky water trough. She felt Braden’s intense gaze on her. With the way she was reacting to him, maybe it should be unsettling, but with a big strapping lawman keeping an eye on her safety, she didn’t have to think about protecting herself at the moment, allowing her to work faster.

Question was, why did he have such an overwhelming need to be looking out for her? Maybe it was the chemistry between them. She felt it deep in her core, and he’d made no secret that he was aware of it, too.

But that was even odder, right? She was nothing like the kind of women she’d seen him with in the past. And a handsome guy like Braden would have his choice of women. He wouldn’t have to go out of his way to help her just because they were attracted to each other.

Argh. She needed to stop speculating on his response to her. It was just a waste of time, when the last thing she needed was a man like Braden in her life.

She forced herself to concentrate on the treads embedded in the mud. She wasn’t a shoe print expert, but an athletic shoe with a crack in the sole made this one stand out. Odd. Most people associated with the rodeo wore cowboy boots or Western work boots.

“What are you working on?” Braden squatted next to her.

At his nearness and the smell of his minty soap, her heart fluttered, but she ignored it. At least she tried, but she struggled not to pay attention to the way his gaze fixed on her and didn’t let go.

She swallowed hard before speaking. “I’m trying to determine how fresh this shoe print might be to figure out if it’s from our thief.”

“How’s it even possible to determine the freshness?”

“See how the water from the dripping trough is running along the gutter? Only the tip of the print’s toe has filled with water, indicating it hasn’t been here long. If it had, the rest of the print would be flooded.”

“Looks like an athletic shoe, but that’s an odd type of shoe to wear for someone who’d steal a bull, right?”

“Right. Which is why I was debating if it’s important.” She stood to put some distance between them. “I’ll cast it just in case.”

He came to his feet and remained standing far too close for her liking. “Anything I can do to help?”

Move away so those startling blue eyes don’t distract me. “You can mix the powder while I take pictures. I’ll be right back with the items.”

Feeling like a coward racing away, she hurried to her truck to grab a zipper bag of dental stone and pour the correct quantity of water into the bag. She took a few deep breaths for good measure, then returned.

She handed the bag to him. “Simply mix this with your hands, making sure to get into all the corners so we use all the dental stone.”

“Maybe I should close the bag so I don’t risk making a mess.”

She shook her head. “Closing it could cause pressure and the bag might rupture.”

He started mixing, and she laid an L-square near the print to demonstrate the size of the shoe and started snapping pictures.

“If I had to guess, we’re looking at a male’s size ten shoe,” Tessa said.

“A pretty common size.”

She nodded and confirmed she’d taken clear photographs, before putting the scale back in her tote and holding out her hand. “I’m ready for the bag.”

He set it on her palm. She took the top of the bag in her other hand and was careful not to touch him. She squished the liquid, about the thickness of pancake batter, to make sure Braden had thoroughly mixed all the lumps. Satisfied, she poured the casting material, moving over the length of the indentation and extending out a few inches until she’d covered the entire print.

“How long will this take to dry?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “I would have thought a detective might know some of this stuff.”

He hooked his thumbs in the corner of his belt loops near a large PBR championship buckle. “I suppose I should at least have a passing knowledge, but I figure that’s why we have forensic professionals on staff, and I leave it to them.”

She’d heard that plenty of times from deputies—including her family. “From my point of view, it’s always helpful when the detective at least knows how long things take, so they don’t nag me for results.”

“I guess I’m guilty of that, too.” His lips tipped up in a playful smile that she’d seen him flash at the press and at fans plenty of times in the past, and even knowing it meant nothing, maybe less than nothing, her heart flip-flopped.

“I think I’m going to learn a lot being with you,” he said.

“About that.” She stuffed the empty bag into her tote and leveled out her tone to keep her wayward emotions out of her voice. “Let me give you a pass again on this babysitting detail. Dad will expect you to come along and shake his hand when I go to the rest area, but then you can get on with your weekend.”

“I’m good with sticking around.” His tone was causal, but irritation flared in his eyes. “You didn’t say. How long for the cast to finish?”

Good. Keep the focus on the investigation. “With this weather, I’d say twenty minutes and it’ll be set for transport.”

“And then what?”

“Then the cast sits in the lab to cure for seventy-two hours before I can wash off the dirt and clean it for analysis.”

A thick eyebrow arched. “That long?”

“It has to fully cure, or I could compromise the details of the casting.”

He kept watching her, his gaze warm and familiar as if they’d known each other for years. She had a bizarre urge to run her finger down a long scar on his cheek that a bull had likely inflicted. Instead, she smoothed out the liquid so once it dried she could write the forensic collection details on the back of the cast.

She wished he’d walk away, but she supposed it was her fault that he remained so close. She’d all but taunted him into learning about her job, and now she would have to pay the price of his nearness.

* * *

Braden shook his head in disbelief. His first day in Lost Creek wasn’t even over, and he was approaching the second crime scene of the day. Craziness. He was on vacation with a little PR volunteering thrown in. Just a few days to attend the rodeo to help friends and enjoy time away from the rigors of being a homicide detective. But this? Tessa. The stolen bull. Not at all what he had expected.

She parked close to the yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the rustic rest area. A tall male deputy stood just inside the perimeter talking to another man who was clenching and releasing his hands. Braden figured he was King Slammer’s truck driver.

“My dad isn’t here yet. Something must have come up.” Tessa shifted to peer at Braden, fatigue dawning as if she was coming down from the adrenaline. “I suppose since you took my phone and proved how pushy you can be, it’s too much to hope you’ll wait in the truck for my dad to arrive.”

“Sorry about grabbing the phone,” he said sincerely. “I just didn’t think it was a good idea if you took off on your own, and I knew I didn’t stand a chance of convincing you on my own. Plus, I can help you here. I’m a detective, after all.”

She pointed at the men. “So is my brother Matt.”

“But is he a bull expert? Because if he is, I’ve never seen him at a competition. I can tell you if any evidence you collect regarding the bull is off. Can he?”

“Fine,” she said reluctantly. “You can come with me. Just don’t get in the way.” She hopped down and grabbed her equipment from the jump seat. She stacked several cases under her arm and looked like the weight or bulk, or both, might take her down.

He tried to take the largest case from her.

“Look.” She stepped back. “I don’t want to come across as ungrateful for your rescue—and for your ongoing offer of help. I am and will always be most grateful to you. I owe you my life.” Her tight rein on her emotions seemed to be failing, and she bit down on her lip as if she didn’t want to lose control.

“It’s okay to let go, you know,” he said. “Anyone who’s been through what you’ve experienced today would be shaken up.”

She took in a long breath and shifted her cases. “I’m good.”

She was simply acting as any law enforcement officer would in this situation, and he didn’t take it personally. “I always knew you were gutsy.”

“Always?” She eyed him, her gaze digging deep. “We just met.”

“I watched you compete plenty of times.” And watched you off your horse, too.

Her eyebrow went up, but before she could comment, her brother slipped under the fluttering yellow tape and jogged toward them, taking her attention. Tall, powerfully built, the guy didn’t look at Braden at all, and his concern tightened features closely resembling Tessa’s. She frowned as he kept coming.

Matt took the equipment cases from her, and she didn’t argue. He set them on the ground and pulled her into a tight hug. “Dad told me what happened. You could have been killed.”

“Don’t overreact. I’m fine.” She struggled to get free, but Matt held on.

Interesting. Braden didn’t expect her to put up the same stubborn front with her brother, but after the way she’d reacted to her father’s call, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. She acted like she had something to prove, even with her own family.

Matt let her go. “You’re not as tough as you always try to pretend.”

She sighed and glanced at Braden. “It’s not the easiest being the baby in a family of law enforcement officers.”

“So that explains your prickly barbs,” Braden said before thinking.

“Prickly?” Matt’s gaze traveled between them. “She’s usually pretty easygoing unless you try to get overprotective with her.”

“Guess that’s where I went wrong.” Braden looked at her brother and offered his hand. “Braden Hayes.”

“I’m Matt McKade.” He smiled as they shook hands. “Come to think of it, she’s the only sibling with red hair, and we used to tease her as a kid that she was adopted. She was pretty prickly about that, too.”

“I don’t need to stand here and be picked on when I have a job to do.” She scooped up her cases and marched off, but Braden saw a hint of a smile as she moved away.

Oddly enough, it pleased him to see she had a sense of humor and that she could take a little teasing—at least from someone she trusted. But he wasn’t here to decide if he liked her or her sense of humor.

“Mind if I hang around?” he asked Matt. “I’m a homicide detective with the Austin PD and a former bull rider. I might be able to help.”

“Fine by me,” Matt replied. “Not sure what Dad will say when he gets here about how long you can stay, though.”

If their family was anything like Braden’s, he had no desire to get involved in their family dynamics. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to work on a law enforcement team with your siblings and father. An only child, Braden could hardly stand to be in a room with his parents, never mind working with either of them. Not with the way they bickered and snapped at each other so often that they ended up ignoring him unless they needed something from him. He’d grown up with broken promises and their many failed marriages, and he still had issues trusting people, much less counting on them to have his back. The only person he’d ever really trusted was his partner on the police force, and even then he’d had reservations.

He followed Matt to the crime scene under the shade of a majestic bald cypress. Getting out of the blazing sun that had dried up most of the Texas Hill Country this past month was a welcome relief. Tessa set down her cases by the curb, then came over to join them.

“This is King Slammer’s truck driver, Wyatt Adams.” Matt introduced Tessa and Braden.

“The Braden Hayes?” Adams’s eyes widened. “Man, you’re like a legend. No one’s managed to ride Fearless Whizz since you retired. That last time sure was something.”

Braden cringed inside at the mention of his successful last ride. Successful at least in terms of the timer. But then he’d gotten his hand hung up in the bull rope, and once freed, he had been hurled to the ground and stomped on, resulting in a lacerated liver and broken ribs. “God was watching out for me.”

Adams shook his head. “No sirree. Your skill got you through. You were one of the best. How come you quit?”

“I think Braden would appreciate it if we stuck to the theft,” Matt said as if reading Braden’s mind. “Go ahead and tell them what you told me.”

Adams’s eyes narrowed, emphasizing deep wrinkles in his leathery skin. “Not much to tell. Pulled in here to use the facilities and take a quick catnap. When I came out, the truck and trailer were gone.”

“Did you leave the truck running?” Braden asked.

“Yeah, but I locked it. Carry an extra key just so I can.” Adams lifted his chin. “Diesels are hard on starters and batteries. Leaving it running means I have to crank it over one less time, extending the battery and starter.”

“Or did you just want the AC running to keep the truck cool for your nap?” Braden asked.

A sheepish look crossed Adams’s face. “That, too.”

Diesel truckers commonly let their vehicles idle, but if Adams had taken the keys, he wouldn’t have been in this situation unless someone hot-wired the vehicle, and Braden was having a hard time believing he’d risk the loss of an expensive bull for a more comfortable nap. “You’re in town awful early for a nine o’clock check-in.”

Adams’s brow furrowed. “Which is why I was going to rest a spell.”

“I get that, but why leave Waco so early in the first place when you could have slept in instead?”

“To beat traffic.”

Traffic between Lost Creek and Waco on weekday mornings was rarely heavy, but Braden didn’t have facts to dispute Adams’s statement, so he let it go. “Who all knew when you were leaving town?”

“Let’s see...” Adams paused, eyes raised to the tree, as if this was a difficult question. “King Slammer’s owner, Ernie, of course. His ranch foreman and the ranch hand who helped me load the bull.”

Matt fixed his gaze on Adams. “Remember, I want Ernie to confirm the names and contact information you gave me before you leave here.”

Adams nodded.

“Do you work for Ernie or are you an independent hauler?” Tessa asked.

“Ernie only contracts out transport when he has several bulls signed up for the bigger rodeos. I work for him and handle his small loads.”

Even more reason why he shouldn’t have risked leaving an expensive bull unattended with the truck running. Braden assumed the guy would lose his job for doing so. “Have you noticed anyone unusual hanging around the ranch?”

Adams shook his head.

“How about on the road behind you on your drive?” Braden asked as he spotted a county sheriff’s SUV pulling into the lot. In law enforcement, supervisors often used SUVs to carry additional gear patrol officers might need, so Braden suspected this was Sheriff McKade’s vehicle.

“I don’t have a habit of watching the rearview all the time. King’s pretty expensive cargo, so I keep my focus ahead.” Adams removed his hat and ran a hand over a bald head slick with sweat. “Man, Ernie’s gonna kill me if that bull is hurt in any way.”

“Trust me,” Tessa said. “He’s just fine and ready to rumble.”

A curious look crossed Adams’s face. “You the one he wanted to meet up close and personal?”

She nodded.

Adams’s expression turned to relief. “He’s a real ornery fella, so I’m glad you two didn’t actually meet.”

The sheriff exited his car and took everyone’s attention as he came to full height and paused to survey the area. He was fit and over six feet tall in his navy blue uniform. He locked gazes with Braden. His piercing brown eyes gave Braden a moment of uncertainty. He doubted criminals fared well under the man’s attention. He marched across the asphalt, his gaze lighting on his daughter and unfettered concern replaced the intensity.

The only concern Braden ever received from his dad was back in Braden’s bull riding days. His dad constantly worried that Braden would quit earning big bucks and his dad wouldn’t be able to mooch off him any longer. Braden was bad at saying no, but he couldn’t stomach paying for his dad’s lifestyle. That was one of the factors in his leaving bull riding at the pinnacle of his success.

He watched to see if the sheriff would hug Tessa as Matt had done, but he simply stopped in front of her.

“You’re sure you weren’t harmed?” He might not have hugged her, but his voice hitched and it was clear that the man loved his daughter.

“Not a scratch on me.” Her lighthearted tone didn’t match the rigid set to her shoulders.

He gave a firm nod and ran his fingers over a graying mustache. Braden saw him clamp down on his jaw and work the muscles hard before speaking again. “Be that as it may, you’re not to step foot out of the house without another deputy at your side until we find the jerk who tried to kill you.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but her father spun to face Adams, who stood gawking at them. “How about taking a seat on the bench over there while we have a chat?”

Adams nodded and seemed glad to escape the group of lawmen.

Walt shot out a hand to Braden. “You must be Braden. Walt McKade.”

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

“It’s Walt.” He released Braden’s hand. “Thank you for all you did in keeping my little Peanut safe.”

“Dad, please.” Tessa planted her hands on her hips. “Enough with the Peanut thing when I’m working.”

Braden started to smile, but when she caught his gaze with a feisty one of her own, he controlled it. “I’m glad I was there at the right time.”

Walt faced his son. “Bring me up to speed on what the driver had to say.”

Matt filled him in, his narration concise and organized, impressing Braden.

“Now the question is, is this a onetime attempt to hurt Tessa or an ongoing threat?” Matt asked.

The sheriff frowned. “We have to proceed as if the suspect plans to make another attempt.”

Braden nodded. “Something that could happen at the rodeo, though at this point we can’t confirm that this attack is related to her competition.”

Tessa planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t even suggest that I bow out of the competition. We have two days before that’s a factor, and I hope we have this resolved before then.”

“I hope that happens, but we need to plan how we’ll keep you safe in case it isn’t.” Walt frowned, his mustache drooping, as he looked at Braden. “I’d demand that she drop out, but she’s a McKade through and through and telling her to give up on something she’s passionate about would be like trying to talk sense into one of those bulls you used to ride. Besides, she’ll only be in the arena for what? Fifteen seconds? Minimal exposure. Only a gun could take her out that quickly, and we’ve never allowed them in the arena. We search all backpacks and anyone looking suspicious.”

“I don’t think he’s going to try anything in a crowd, anyway,” Matt said. “Or even use a gun.”

“How’s that?” Braden asked.

“He could have shot her today, right? Instead, a bull was his weapon of choice—even though that must have taken a lot of time and planning. Maybe there’s a message there. Maybe not. But either way, he acted at a time when no one was around. Used a weapon that couldn’t easily be traced back to him. Says to me he’s being extra careful not to get caught.”

“Good point,” Walt said. “And if he tries something in a crowd of witnesses, he has to know we’ll arrest him on the spot, making it even less likely that he’ll act during the rodeo.”

“Not that you’re asking me.” Tessa’s arms relaxed. “But I can skip the opening night ceremonies and the contestant introductions before the competition begins, too, to limit my visibility just in case. And I promise, if at any point we think fans are in danger, I’ll bow out of the competition.”

“You still need protection.” Braden shifted his gaze to Walt. “And I’d like to help out with that going forward.”

“Agreed on the need for protection, but what are you proposing?” the sheriff asked.

“As Matt said, since this attempt was made at the arena, we can’t rule out a connection to the rodeo. My experience in this area makes me better able to recognize anything out of the ordinary there.”

“Good point.” Her father appraised him. “But why would you want to give up your free time?”

Though this had a lot to do with promises he’d made to himself after Paul died, Braden wasn’t going to mention that. However, he could offer another explanation that was equally valid. “You ever have something happen on patrol where you just can’t let it go? You can’t put a finger on why, but it haunts you and you know you have to keep after it and see things through to the end?”

The sheriff nodded and so did Matt. Tessa even looked like she agreed.

“Well, that’s how I feel. Like I have to be here to help Tessa, and if I leave, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

An obvious look of approval crossed the sheriff’s face. “Then I’m happy for your help, son. What with the Fourth of July celebration and rodeo, my department is stretched to the limit as it is. You might be a real blessing, and I’d appreciate your help this weekend.”

“Hold on.” Tessa held up her hands. “I can’t believe you’d let a man we know nothing about into our lives like this. That you’d leave me alone with him while you go about your business.”

“Seriously, girl.” Her father frowned. “You know better than that. Why do you think I’m so late? I was checking him out. His lieutenant says his skills are top-notch, and he’d trust him to protect his own family, which is all I need to know. And as to our family? You know we’re not going anywhere. We’ll still be involved in protecting you and in tracking down this guy who wants to hurt you, but Braden here has insider knowledge we don’t have and can recognize suspicious situations we’d have no idea to look out for.”

“Maybe this is just a random theft.” Tessa sounded like she was grasping at straws to keep from having him around and it stung. “A guy sees the truck running and decides to steal it. Then he finds the bull in the back and dumps him at the arena to get rid of him. Doesn’t even look inside to see if anyone is around.”

“Only one problem with that theory,” Walt said, his gaze going to Tessa. “The truck and trailer were just found abandoned on the far side of town. The thief was after the bull, not the vehicle. Which is positive proof that the primary goal was to harm you.”